#like no one was around to see that it was clearly not for show

[ratatattouille]

arcane season 2 was artistically beautiful and thematically cheap. every interesting and meaningful thing it did with its characters (even in season 2 act 2) was reduced to romanticized bullshit, utterly divorced from its season 1 roots. it's so bad it can be considered pro-status quo propaganda (and i do mean that). good ships aside (and i do mean the caitivi, jayvik, timebomb holy triad), this season squats and shits on every zaunite character in the show. not just their zaunite-ness, but how it literally shaped who they were as characters.

Let's start with Vi:

-Vi and Vander: Vi's loyalty to The Lanes always went beyond Powder. Zaun was her father's, Vander's dream. Zaun was her friends (do you remember how protective she was of Ekko aside from her adopted brothers?) and her family. When she's giving Caitlyn a tour of The Lanes, we see how much she embodies and revels in Zaunite culture (esp in the food scene). She cared for Zaun like Vander taught her to. Her "protective" trait extended to ALL the vulnerable in The Lanes, because Vander taught her that. It wasn't EVER just Powder. Zaun is her HOME. As a child, she wanted to make a name for herself IN ZAUN "one day, this city's gonna respect us." You can make the excuse that Vander's death meant that side of her died, but it clearly didn't because of how she regarded it while showing Caitlyn around. "Family" to Vander, extended to the vulnerable of Zaun, which is how Vi and Powder came to be his "daughters" in the first place. Because Zaun was for THEM. Zaun WAS THEM. Vander and Silco "weren't allowed to fail" at Zaun (i.e. the two daughters). Additionally, Vi and Jinx were supposed to succeed where Vander and Silco hadn't: forgiving each other and uniting so they could realize their dream for a free Zaun. The whole reason Zaun struggles to be free is because of their own internal divisions (the different gangs fighting for scraps). But if they united, they would be able to liberate themselves from Piltover (who is still the enemy). The whole reason the others are prosperous in the alternate timeline Ekko and Hemmerdinger travel to is because Vander and Silco reconcile (not because Vi dies).

-Vi and Caitlyn: Caitlyn was an interesting development for Vi, particularly because Caitlyn mirrored Vander's care for all people. Caitlyn was an enforcer that wanted to truly understand and help people. This challenged Vi's biases and also gave them a common goal. Caitlyn appealed to Vi because she gave Vi renewed hope for peace in The Lanes. That Zaun could be free through co-operation instead of violence. Her whole teaming up with Caitlyn, romance aside, was predicated on Vi brokering for peace between Zaun and Piltover. The first break-up between the two (Season 1's "Oil and Water") centred around Jinx, more or less. Vi believes Silco is a threat to peace between Piltover and Zaun (even though The Lanes aren't known as Zaun to her, I'm just using the names interchangeably). She believes Jinx is acting out due to Silco's influence, as well (and she isn't entirely wrong). Had Caitlyn not been injured on the bridge (and had Jinx not felt betrayed by Vi), Vi was going to leave her in pursuit of Jinx. Vi has never fit into Piltover (and that's also shown in Season 2 act 1-2).

-Vi and Jinx: This show was ALWAYS about a tale of two sisters/cities (cue the record insert of their two faces at the beginning of every episode). When Vi becomes an enforcer, it isn't because she's switched loyalties. She wants peace for Zaun, she just wants to take Silco's (and her own) creation--Jinx--out of the equation so it can work. The only reason she agrees to Caitlyn's plan is because, again, their two goals align: get Jinx. The difference is Vi wants to kill Jinx to get Powder back, while Cait wants to kill Jinx to get her city (mother) back. The show in season 2 TOTALLY LOST THIS FOCUS. Vi's guilt at hunting down her own people with enforcers (and it's already insane that Vi would even agree lmao) is ignored a lot by fandom, especially bc her post-breakup scene where she goes full goth is framed as regret for letting Cait down (rather than the self-disgust she would feel for joining her oppressors). Vi played a part in creating Jinx. Every single step of the way. This is barely acknowledged, and every time it might be, it gets shoved aside for romance with Cait. Cait, who, literally became a dictator and weaponized the air ducts her mother had created to SAVE ZAUNITES. The whole thing is viewed as Vi betraying Cait instead of Vi betraying Jinx/Zaun/her family and Cait betraying Vi ("promise me you won't change") and her mother. Cait was the one who sought to help Zaun (like her mother) but betrayed who she was when she was willing to kill Isha, an innocent child. (ALSO IMPORTANT: Just to further prove my point on how integral the sister's love for each other was, every show started with a record playing. The cover of the disc was Vi and Jinx. They were always the center focus of the story. The song that the record played? Likely "Our Love" by Curtis Harding and Jazmine Sullivan which goes "Our love is a bubblin' fountain, our love, that flows into the sea, our love, deeper than the ocean, our love for eternity." This love deeper-than-the-ocean can apparently crumble in the face of a dictator girlfriend you've known for less than a year lmao).

Where the writers FUMBLE is:

-Vi's and Jinx's relationship becomes secondary not just to the entire plot of the show but to Vi's arc. Zaun and Piltover's conflict was set up to be the epitome of the show, and the fact that it got shelved for a more *ahem* American industrial military complex epic battle between humans and robots is very telling about the writers and showrunners.

-Vi forgives Cait easily and prematurely, trashing Vi's true loyalties as established in earlier seasons/episodes

-Vi herself takes a back seat in most of season 2, and becomes a passive yes-man to Cait

-Vander's re-introduction is almost completely worthless to the plot and narrative (he comes back just to die), and he is used as a cheap way to re-unite the daughters in a way that has no significance to the themes (also, Silco as Jinx's father is completely ignored)

-Cait's deferral to fascism should have been permanent. Idc about the shippers at this point. Vi and Cait should have never come back from Cait shoving the back of her gun into Vi's injured side (let alone the gassing of the ducts). Vi would've never forgiven her, attraction or no. The fact that Cait could become a dictator after losing one parent is proof of their class divides (after all, Vi held onto hope despite losing all her parents to enforcers and Jinx was all she had left of her family). That should have cemented the death of that relationship (and it would have made for more compelling storytelling on class). The only reason it was kept was because it matters more to white Western audiences to have a Romeo x Juliet rendition that assuages their classist sensitivities. Cait becoming a fascist made sense and was true to her character and the world. Vi forgiving her (and then having sex with her in the prison she was thrown into as a child?) destroyed both her character and the narrative. And it's frankly made the ship that much more unpalatable. If Vi had to be destroyed as a character for the ship to work, then the ship wasn't all that good (even though it started off that way). It's honestly left such a bad taste in my mouth. What a fuck you to oppressed groups that whole subplot was. (And it's made worse by the fact that the creator thought that was somehow an empowering and liberating act for Vi, like fuck that).

Let's Talk About Victor:

-Viktor and Heimmerdinger: This is one of the biggest fumbles, IMO. Heimmerdinger and Viktor were the most polar of opposites. Heimmerdinger was not only a privileged, ulta-wealthy Piltoverian, but he had a comparatively endless lifespan while Viktor's own human life-span was cut short due to being a Zaunite, born at the bottom of the barrel and raised on toxic fumes that led to his terminal illness. Viktor's desperation to unlock the Arcane was explicitly about him overcoming his circumstances, his illness, his premature death. It wasn't merely about his internalized ableism, but the unjust way in which he had to suffer. Heimmerdinger could afford patience because he had all the time and resources in the world, but Viktor didn't. Not merely because he was a mortal, but because he was a Zaunite.

-Viktor and Singed: Viktor's arc with hextech is foreshadowed with his childhood interaction with Singed. I understand that in the games, Viktor is a villain-type character and his catchphrase or whatever is "Join the Glorious Evolution." While Viktor is horrified by Singed killing the creature that he eventually uses for shimmer, Viktor later says, "I understand," hinting that he saw the sacrifice (and death) necessary to "heal" the world of its ailments. Both Viktor and Singed grow up in The Lanes, and both have ailments they want to cure (for Viktor it is his lung cancer and for Singed its his daughter's dying). In season 2, Viktor tells Singed that while he understands what healing all those people could cost him, he will not sacrifice their humanity for Singed's cause. Then Jayce blasts him in the chest and that all goes out the window. All this despite Sky being there with him in the astro-nether. Now Viktor's idea of becoming a higher being is just getting rid of emotion (despite the fact that his character was one that was consistently willing to sacrifice himself and die in order to not harm others, and Sky's death only solidified that). Jayce killing him without explanation was all of a sudden all he needed to become a divine dictator, lmao. The same Viktor that looked terminal illness in the face and preferred to spare others instead of himself? The same Viktor who's immediate action after waking up with a new body was to go and use the arcane he wished had been destroyed to help others? Sure.

-Viktor and Jayce: Now, I think Jayce's speech had some merit and could have been framed better with a little more time and thought. The philosophical idea of perfection or a perfect world (one which Piltoverians strive toward) being untenable, maybe even undesirable, is a fascinating concept worth exploring. BUT MAKING IT ABOUT SOME INTERNALIZED ABLEISM FROM VIKTOR IS FUCKING STUPID!!!! I'm sorry, but Piltover being the city of progress until it actually included becoming progressive with Zaun was absolutely one of the things Jayce and Viktor's sub-plot was trying to explore. Viktor WANTED TO LIVE. Viktor wanted his people to STOP SUFFERING. Viktor WAS RIGHT. He wasn't merely eliminating "imperfections" (and of FUCKING COURSE A PILTOVERIAN WOULD SEE IT THAT WAY), he was trying to cure sick and dying people who did nothing to deserve it. He was buying them time that people like Jayce and Heimmerdinger had in spades, but Viktor and Zaunites had stolen from them. Children dying of disease and violence in The Lanes was by Piltoverian design! It was not some predestined cosmic necessity. Viktor WAS RIGHT TO HATE HIS FUCKING TERMINAL ILLNESS ARE THESE GUYS INSANE??! Wtf kind of message is Viktor embracing it as part of himself sending to vulnerable, impoverished and ill people? Is that supposed to be some kind of fucking comfort? Fuck off right to hell! And don't even get me STARTED on Jayce's trip to other-world hell being some kind of "Jayce seeing the world through Viktor's eyes" bs. Yes, it was good that our idealistic Jayce got to see the dark side of the Arcane as Viktor showed Jayce the beauty of the dream he sought for all people, but whatever message on class struggle Jayce is said to have learned or paralleled in his alternate timeline clearly didn't sink into his head because he still gave that dumbass speech to Viktor. And I'm glad if it resonated with any disabled people, but Viktor's struggle with his body was a protest against Piltover, not himself, and I hate that the writers gutted that character development. Viktor's and Jayce's paths "diverged a long time ago" because Jayce had the luxury and time of pursuing his dream while Viktor didn't. Viktor, even up there as a scholar of Piltover, was still getting the Zaunite treatment. Jayce had the time to pursue a better world, while Viktor had to struggle for a little more time. When Viktor becomes part of the arcane, suddenly he has all the time in the world to realize HIS OWN DREAM. Why would wanting a better world for others have to result in "dreamless solitude"? Viktor becoming obsessed with fixing what ailed humanity was warranted, and his extremism was hinted to have been due in part to the effect the arcane had on him, but it still made the themes of arcane a joke. There was so much potential and the writers (and showrunners) just squandered it for some more romantic bullshit.

Where season 2 FUMBLED:

-"Humanity, our very essence, is inescapable. Our emotions, rage, compassion, hate. Two sides of the same coin, intractably bound. That which inspires us to our greatest good is also the cause of our greatest evil.” That's a neat quote, but wars don't start simply due to emotions or whatever. This lacks class analysis, and it's annoying that the writers made this the whole theme of season 2 (and retroactively the show) in a story on class divides. Cait did not merely gas the Zaunites because of her mother, but because of her privileged upbringing that made it more acceptable to her to view Zaunites as animals (remember Ekko telling her "you guys hunt us down like animals"). Cait knew the humanity of Zaunites was real. She'd seen it. She just chose to ignore it because she could afford to. While it is interesting that Viktor would come to see being human as a flaw that destroys any hope of achieving peace (conflict theory would like a word with you), it ignored that fascism is not an inherently human trait and detracts from how or why it persists in the first place. It's almost the same as saying men/white people oppress women/poc because the latter were mean to them. It's victim-blaming (and false lmao). The British didn't colonize the Americans because the natives did anything to them. All prejudice is unjustified, that's what makes it prejudice. Again, Cait became a fascist when her mom died, but Vi still drew the line at killing children and even council members despite losing every single one of her family members to Piltover's violence against The Lanes.

-Jayce's speech would have been cute in another story, but it's downright insulting in Arcane's. Yes, yes, Jayce's words would have been the only ones to have broken the real Viktor out of Arcane Viktor's grasp by appealing to this deep childhood wound, but Viktor's desperation was not to belong (because his leg kept him from playing with other children) but TO LIVE (because he was dying of an illness). Jayce's speech isn't bad, just misplaced.

-Viktor did not have to become a fascist-aligned deity in his quest to heal people. It is a typical MCU thing to have a "villain" that's technically right and then destroy their entire character to make their (correct) philosophy untenable by making them do something extreme. Typical pro-status quo propaganda trope. Idc if it was so we could get some game version of him. Viktor was right in bringing progress and his discoveries to The Lanes instead of devoting his efforts to Piltover, the fake city of progress.

-While I am annoyed that the climax of the show hinged on Jayce and Viktor and hextech (a tool to explore the inequalities of Piltover and Zaun) instead of Jinx and Vi, I think it kinda makes sense. Hextech built what Piltover has now become. Jayce, Viktor and hextech kinda represent Piltover (what it could be) and Jinx and Vi represent The Lanes (and the Zaun it could be). Both would have been integral, but the story shouldn't have hinged on hextech, IMO. Hextech should have remained a tool to explore the politics of both cities, but instead it overshadowed everything, cheapening the story's themes, characters and world-building.

-Jayce calling the Zaunites to arms was downright absurd. But not as absurd as Zaunites volunteering.

And Then There's Jinx:

-Jinx and Isha: Isha's only use, as far as I'm concerned, was to be a reconciling force between the sisters. When Cait was willing to shoot her to get to Jinx, that should have stopped Vi right there and brought her back to defending Jinx 100% idc. When Isha sacrificed her life to save Jinx, that should have been Jinx's wake-up call right there and helped her understand why Vi kept leaving her out of missions as a kid. But instead what do we get? Depressed, suicidal Jinx and an astoundingly even more resentful and indifferent Vi. Vi still refuses to acknowledge her own hand in creating Jinx in the first place. Jinx, who has always wanted to be useful to those she loves. Who pursued her own hextech inventions in order to give her siblings a fighting chance when facing down Silco. Who wants to give Zaun a fighting chance as Silco's daughter. To be useful to the goals and dreams of her family. Isha was the perfect opportunity to bring the sisters together, but no. Instead, the kid was some kind of foreshadowing to Jinx's own heroic self-sacrifice for her sister (a message that left both sister's arcs unfinished). Vi had to acknowledge how wrong she was for abandoning Jinx and Zaun (instead of taking responsibility as Vander had taught her). Jinx needed to accept herself and the love others showed toward her (Silco, Vander, Ekko and Vi). Jinx keeps blowing things up because she repeatedly rejects herself (both Powder and Jinx), ignoring the good she's done and tried to do. Isha was a call back to the good Jinx has done and can continue to do for Zaun and others.

-Jinx and Ekko: Timebomb is the only ship that didn't ruin anyone's character, lmao. Because Ekko's and Jinx's relationship is precisely an exploration of how Piltover's violence against Zaun forced these children with entire futures ahead of them (they are both child prodigies) into endless war and hellish heroism. Ekko and Jinx are repeatedly shown to be hesitant and even unwilling to participate in violence against others, especially their own. Ekko does not hate Jinx, though he wants to, and Jinx does not like who she is when she's violent. She is trigger-happy because she already expects Vi and Ekko to want to kill her (projecting her self-loathing on them, but not entirely unreasonably). She doesn't have faith in their love or mercy because she doesn't see any part of herself as redeemable or loveable, which is why she consistently sabotages her life (but not without help from Vi and others). Ekko and Jinx are symbols of progress for Zaun AND Piltover (and Heimmerdinger saw that, especially when Ekko insisted he had to go back to his timeline, even if the one he had landed in was better). Heimmerdinger saw what they could have been in the alternate timeline, all the genius that was squandered in The Lanes. Jinx and Ekko are the ones most willing to put an end to violence and injustice because both of them are nostalgic for their families. Jinx just doesn't have the same faith in her ability to do so as Ekko does, but Ekko manages to convince her for a moment anyways. Ekko recognizes (like Silco, Viktor and Isha) how integral Jinx is to the creation of a new world. She injects colour and life and hope into Zaun and is the only one who can unite all warring factions in Zaun in the first place. Both her and Ekko are rebel leaders, but that is hardly used in Zaun's interests in the end. (ALSO THAT WHOLE CONVERSATION WITH VIKTOR AND JINX. This show would have won with a Viktor and Jinx team-up to unite Zaun--also in parallel to Jayce and Vi's team up. We could have had it all!)

-Jinx and Silco: This, is only second to Vi in the most FUMBLED things about Jinx. Silco was her guide once Vander died and Vi ran away. Silco not only took care of her, but gave her purpose and nurtured her talent (one that Vi and their brothers scorned). Silco accepted Jinx (he did not create her, Vi did) even though he weaponized her (which backfired for him). Silco, like Ekko, was the one who saved Jinx from death and offered Jinx a home. While everyone else patronized Jinx for her own childhood trauma, Silco was gentle, understanding and provided space for that, even when her psychosis killed him. He showed zero resentment toward her. But when Silco dies and Vander returns, Jinx just . . . oopsie, doopsie! Forgets about Silco until one final hallucination she has of him in the jail cell. The only one she has where he talks. And what does he say? She needs to break the cycle. How? Not by eliminating Piltover or gaining Zaun's independence like he'd talked about and dreamed about. Not by accepting herself as Jinx and Powder, the inventor, the fighter, daughter of both Silco and Vander, but by offing herself? Leaving her family to think she's dead? Embracing the lie that she really was the poison in their lives and the reason none of them could be happy? The reason they died? NICE! SWELL! WHAT A SATISFYING CONCLUSION! Even worse, they made her "death" staged. I'm sorry, but do we really believe that this same girl who killed herself multiple times in front of Ekko just 24 hours ago somehow found the will to live and escape into air ducts when she was falling with Vander? She decided to live right when she was about to die? And let's not forget that she was falling to the same song that was playing when she was trying to commit suicide. Why? And why would a heroic death (staged or not) be any form of character growth for Jinx in the first place? When her whole thing is distrusting the love offered to her? Or was she accepting herself by being the one to kill Vander because she knew Vi couldn't? Either way, it's cheap!

Fumbling points summarized:

-Jinx not being radicalized by Isha's death and the sight of her sister hunting her down with enforcers.

-Vander's letter to Silco could have been why she hallucinated Silco talking to her about forgiveness, but breaking the cycle here is about forgiving (unapologetic) Piltoverians instead of herself, which needed to happen to complete her arc.

-Jinx being the reluctant Girl Saviour of Zaun after clinging onto her identity as a jinx so she didn't have to take responsibility for Silco's dream (and by extension death) should have been the point of the show, IMO. As far as Jinx's arc is concerned, she was meant to reject the identity of jinx that Vi gave her and embrace the identity of Jinx that Zaun (and Silco) gave her. Loveable and capable of doing the right thing and saving others. Using hex-tech, something Jayce and Piltover had levelled against her people, against them. And she does this to some extent, but we don't even get a hint as to why Ekko's speech worked (and how he got her to fight alongside him and the Firelights in the first place). We know she does so for Vi, but she so quickly gives up once she and her sister are back on the same team. She allies herself with her sister just to die and then fuck off to another land? BRUH! Like act 3 is SO FRUSTRATING!

-The commitment to saving Piltover instead of destroying it ruined so many arcs, most notoriously Vi's and Jinx's. This should have ended in a war between the two cities, not one where both fought against robo-people and Ambessa.

I could go into how the show fumbled Mel, Ekko, Sevika, Jayce and more, but I think they still fare better than the ones I've talked about here. Caitivi has now (narratively) become distasteful, jayvik a joke, and timebomb unnecessary misery porn with little to no reward for all their efforts.

TLDR: Bad message to send to oppressed people, mentally ill people, and people dying of terminal illnesses, lmao. The Zaunites ALL LOST with this one.

P.S.: It's okay if you think the show is good because it succeeds in many other things, I just think it drops the ball in the places I've mentioned. But if your main criticism of my criticisms is going to be defending your ships, please find another post. Oppression is a serious reality that deserves serious depiction and it's insulting to have such necessary political discussions devolve into dumbass ship wars.

[misswynters]

short drabble

Ekko and heimerdinger are being nerdy while you sleep

requested. by anon

There was always a soft hum of machinery that filled the air in Heimerdinger’s workshop. And with that accompanied by the occasional clink of tools and the professor’s enthusiastic ramblings. The workshop had an oddly calming atmosphere, a mix of glowing gadgets, bubbling contraptions, and the gentle warmth of lamp-lit light. It was perfect for dozing off, especially after a long day of following Ekko around Zaun.

You were sprawled out on the old, lumpy couch tucked in a corner of the workshop, your head cushioned by one of Ekko’s jackets that you’d claimed for yourself. Curled up against your side was your pet, a small, scrappy Zaunite fox. Its fur was a mix of gray and russet, with glowing green streaks running along its ears and tail. Ekko had found it injured near one of the Sump scrapers, and after some patching up, it had attached itself to you like glue.

Ekko called it “Scraps” (because of course he would), and Scraps was now peacefully snoozing, just like you.

Across the room, Ekko and Heimerdinger were huddled around one of the professor’s latest inventions, discussing something that involved words you didn’t fully understand.

“…but if you accelerate the core’s energy output without stabilizing the oscillation, it’ll implode,” Ekko said, gesturing animatedly at the device.

Heimerdinger adjusted his tiny glasses, nodding. “Precisely! Which is why you must ensure the harmonic calibrations are synced—ah, but don’t forget to account for temporal distortions.”

As the professor continued explaining, Ekko’s focus wavered. His gaze drifted toward the couch where you were sleeping, your form softly rising and falling with each breath. Scraps twitched its glowing tail but stayed nestled close to you.

A small smile crept onto Ekko’s face. You looked so peaceful, completely at odds with the chaos that usually surrounded you both in Zaun. Your hand was loosely tangled in Scraps’ fur, your other arm tucked under your cheek.

He didn’t notice the professor had stopped talking until Heimerdinger’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Ah, young love,” Heimerdinger said, his tone tinged with teasing amusement.

Ekko snapped his head back toward him, blinking. “Huh? What’re you talking about?”

Heimerdinger chuckled, folding his hands behind his back. “There’s no use denying it, dear boy. The way you’re looking at them, it’s rather endearing, really.”

Ekko’s ears burned. “I wasn’t—I mean, I was just—” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “They’re asleep, alright? That’s all.”

Heimerdinger hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Still, allow me to impart some wisdom, as one who has witnessed countless romances blossom and wither over the centuries.”

“Oh no,” Ekko muttered, groaning.

Ignoring him, Heimerdinger continued, his voice taking on the tone of a well-meaning but meddling elder. “When courting a significant other, one must always show respect, patience, and attentiveness. Flowers are an excellent gesture, but so is active listening. Communication, you see, is the foundation of—”

“Professor,” Ekko interrupted, exasperated. “I don’t think you understand. We’re not—”

“Young people these days,” Heimerdinger said with a dramatic shake of his head, cutting him off. “Always so quick to dismiss advice. But mark my words: treat them well, or you’ll regret it!”

Before Ekko could retort, Scraps stirred, lifting its head with a sleepy yawn. The movement must’ve disturbed you because you shifted slightly, blinking groggily as the sound of their voices filtered through your half asleep haze.

“Mm… what’s going on?” you mumbled, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. Scraps hopped off the couch and stretched before circling back to your lap.

Ekko winced, shooting you an apologetic look. “Sorry, Firefly,” he said softly, using the nickname he’d given you. “Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Firefly—because you were always a little light in Zaun’s darkness, buzzing around him with endless energy.

You shook your head, a sleepy smile tugging at your lips. “It’s fine,” you murmured, scratching Scraps behind the ears. “What were you guys talking about?”

Heimerdinger perked up. “Oh, nothing of consequence!” he said cheerfully, though his smirk told a different story. “Merely enlightening young Ekko on the art of courtship.”

You blinked, then glanced at Ekko, who looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. “Courtship?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t start,” Ekko muttered, shooting Heimerdinger a look.

The professor chuckled, his ears twitching. “Ah, youth. So easily embarrassed.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Ekko’s expression, your earlier grogginess fading. “Well, did you learn anything useful?” you teased.

Ekko rolled his eyes but smiled despite himself. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”

He reached out, ruffling your hair gently before pulling his hand back. “For real, though. Sorry we woke you up. Want me to walk you home?”

You shook your head, leaning back against the couch. “Nah, I’m good here. I like listening to you two talk.”

Heimerdinger beamed. “A kindred spirit indeed! Intellectual discourse is a joy to behold, is it not?”

Ekko groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “And now you’ve encouraged him. Great.”

You just laughed again, feeling the warmth of the moment settle around you. Scraps let out a contented sigh, curling up in your lap, and Ekko plopped down on the couch beside you. His hand found yours, giving it a quick squeeze before letting go, his usual ease returning.

The three of you stayed in the workshop, for endless hours as the two nerds worked on their projects. Whereas you cheered them on at the sidelines with cute ol’ Scraps to keep you company. Especially when they would talk about all the science lingo that you did not understand. Even though ekko would sometimes explain it in more simpler terms. It didn’t quite go through your head. Needlessly to say you enjoyed the days you would spend at the workshop.

taglist. @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @thesevi0lentdelights

banner. @anitalenia

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

i loved the dom nanami headcanons, can you do one with shiu?🤍

The way Shiu obviously doms you

Tags: Shiu x fem!Reader, dom!Shiu, sub!Reader, dom/sub relationship, aspects of bdsm, daddy kink, NO age regression, nsfw, mdni

An: yeahhh nanami is very subtle, but shiu is quite obvious in his domming antics

• Shiu’s the type of man to cook for you nightly. He’ll employ your help with smaller tasks, but he’s the head chef in the kitchen: showing you how to do basic tasks.

• He’s the one in charge, but like…. is he? When you give him those puppy dog eyes, Shiu will bend over backwards to give you the world and more. He lives life by making sure you don’t get too big for your britches and by the saying, “happy wife; happy life.”

• He worships the ground you walk on. You’re his princess. Why wouldn’t he?

• If you’re shoes are untied, Shiu’s the type to put his cigarette in his mouth, get down on his knees, put your foot on one of his legs as he ties it back for you.

• Unlike Nanami, Shiu will tell you what you can and can’t wear. He’ll honestly pick out your clothes for you on most days, dressing you up like his little doll.

• Loves to bathe you along with simple tasks of taking care of you like brushing/styling your hair. Although, usually bath time turns into something more as you can’t handle when his hands are tenderly rubbing and massaging all over you.

• Shiu does not care where you two are. If you’re acting in a way that could potentially be troublesome, he’ll turn his attention to you and give you that stern but caring. “No.” or “You better start acting right.”

• A little bit condescending when he’s asserting his dominance over you. “Don’t you think daddy knows what’s best for you?”

• He’s the type to say, “Because daddy said so.” When you’re questioning why you can’t do something.

• Shiu’s favorite form of punishment for his sweet sub is spanking your bottom. When he catches you misbehaving or mouthing off, it only takes a few swats from his hand to make you act right.

• Don’t get him started on the rare times he has to bend you over his lap, pull your panties down, and leave handprints on your ass. You also better be counting and saying thank you after each one.

• HATES when you interact with Toji. He tries to keep you separated from his work, but you’ve met Toji on a couple occasions. Shiu gets extra handsy when Toji’s around, clearly staking his claim on you in any way he can. If he didn’t want Toji seeing how pretty you look when you come undone, he would’ve already finger fucked you in front of him.

• Shiu’s the king of mixing praise with degradation. “Yeaahh, you like when daddy treats you like a slut? Mmm, go on. Show daddy just how much you can take. Fuuuuck. Good girl.”

[prythianpages]

Out of My Head | Azriel x Reader

Azriel x Reader x Eris | Your father, the Night Court’s astrologer, is called to Velaris and you tag along with the hopes of catching a glimpse of Azriel, the one you’re madly in love with. The opportunity for Azriel to show you around comes up and you take it, unaware that things are about to become messy…

warning: this was meant to be cute & short to show your relationship with Az but it ended up being 5,685 words oops lol, some angst, rhys kinda being an asshole again

a/n: Eris does make an appearance in this if you look closely 🤭 I tried to write this fic off as a stand alone so it's still easy to follow but if you need more context, here is the masterlist.

Meeting Azriel had felt like fate, as if the stars and his shadows themselves had conspired to cross your paths. Becoming his friend had been a choice. But falling in love with him? That was out of your control, like being swept away by a tide you hadn’t noticed rising. 

Now, you were drowning and happy to drown. To let the flood of him consume you entirely. Every time you’d see him, even from afar, it’d fill your chest with a feeling you couldn’t explain, your heart leaping at the mere thought of catching his gaze.

You welcomed the flood of emotions, let it carry you to depths you’d never dared to explore. Your heart was so irrevocably his, you had no desire to find the surface.

So when Rhysand had invited your father to Velaris to discuss his first born’s birth chart, you insisted on coming along. It had taken days of pleading to wear down his resolve, but you had done it. Manifested it, rather, with the help of the moonwater you kept hidden beneath your bed.

Seeing Azriel was not guaranteed, as you were unsure if he’d even be in Velaris. But that wasn’t the only reason you wanted to go. Leaving behind the harshness of the Court of Nightmares, even for a short while, was reward enough. And if fortune smiled upon you, perhaps your father would let you assist with the reading, just this once.

Your father had never quite embraced your desire to follow in his footsteps.  The way he’d look at both you and your brother with that disappointed gleam in his eyes stung. He had always hoped you would stay at home and learn the ways of a “perfect,” traditional Night Court wife, much like your mother. His dreams of a successor rested squarely on your brother’s shoulders, not yours. But much to his dismay and your relief, your brother had chosen to become a warrior in Keir’s army.

Everything you knew of astrology, you’d learned by sneaking into his sessions, stealing glances at his star charts, or losing yourself in the dusty books of the Night Court’s observatory. That cold, stone-walled tower had become your sanctuary—your only glimpse of the night sky.

Though still in the Night Court, the air in Velaris was different. It felt cleaner, lighter. Freer. A wonderful contrast to the oppressive weight of the Court of Nightmares. You took a deep breath, savoring the rare glimpse of the day sky from the High Lord’s impressive townhouse, your father having just winnowed you both.

The sun felt so warm and soothing against your skin. Too caught up in the beauty of the daytime sky, you didn’t notice when your father abruptly stopped. You walked straight into him, sending the heavy box and stack of books in your arms tumbling to the ground.

A hiss of disapproval escaped your father as he turned to scowl at you.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, quickly dropping to your knees to gather the scattered items.

“I should’ve left you at home,” he said with an exhausted sigh.

"But who then would assist you in bearing the weight of all these books, given the state of your back? Rest assured, my arms are more than capable,” you said with a huff as you slowly rose back to your feet, arms overwhelmed with the weight of your father’s things. “I shall gladly bear the burden for you, father."

“Clearly.” Your father said dryly, his gaze pointedly lingering on the dented corner of one of the boxes.

You winced at his tone, grateful his back was turned to you again. The door to the High Lord’s and High Lady’s house opened, the former being the one to greet you. Even Rhysand was different here. His violet eyes gleamed warmly, free of the cruelty he wore like armor in the Court of Nightmares. The smile he sent you both softened some of the tension knotting your chest.

 “Damus, Y/n,” he greeted. “I appreciate you both coming all this way.”

Rhysand gestured for you to follow him. This was not your first time in Velaris but it was your first time meeting Rhysand in a private residence of his here. You couldn’t hold back the small gasp that escaped you as you marveled at the beauty around. Paintings, no doubt crafted by the hands of your High Lady, adorned the wall and there was light. So much light and warmth in this house. It truly felt like a home. No stone walls, no darkness, no cold.

There was a flutter in your chest when you felt something cool and velvet-like brush against your legs. You instinctively glanced down, though the books obstructed your view. And when you looked back up, there it was–that giddy leap in your heart.

Azriel immediately rose from the couch he had been seated on, his hazel eyes meeting yours before they dropped to the weight in your arms. With a few swift steps, he was in front of you, plucking the boxes and books from your grip as though they weighed nothing. You exhaled softly, your thanks barely audible over the rush of blood in your ears.

Azriel smiled, shadows curling gently around him as he shifted closer. “I wasn’t sure you’d be coming along today,” he murmured.

“Neither was I,” you admitted, turning your head toward him as you continued to walk. “But I’m glad I did.”

“So am I,” Azriel said.

Your cheeks burned at his words, and you quickly averted your gaze. Azriel was glad you were here. Perhaps, even waiting for you, hoping for you to show up. That had to mean something, didn’t it? Perhaps it was proof of what you’d always suspected—that the bond you felt pulling you toward him wasn’t one-sided. A spark of vindication flared as you imagined Eris sneering at you from some dark corner of your mind. If only he were here to witness this moment. To see just how wrong he’d been.

Azriel did like you and it was only a matter of time before it evolved into something more.

You frowned, shaking the thought away. Why were you even thinking about Eris? And since when did proving anything to him matter?

“Y/n.” Your father’s sharp tone dragged you back to reality. “The books.”

“Oh,” you breathed, glancing at Azriel, who still held them. Before you could speak, your father’s gaze darkened as he realized the task you were supposed to handle had been passed off.

Azriel’s jaw tightened but he said nothing as he handed the books and boxes over.

You moved to follow your father into the study, but he blocked your path, his glare cutting through you. “Stay here and don’t cause trouble,” he said before the door shut with a resounding thud.

You flinched, staring at the closed door. “Sweet Cauldron,” you muttered under your breath, “did Mercury retrograde move into his mood?”

A shadow curled around your wrist, the soft caress of it soothing the sting of your father’s dismissal. The corner of your lips lifted slightly. Azriel had told you once how the shadows came to him during a time of unbearable darkness, offering comfort when nothing else could. They showed him that darkness wasn’t inherently wicked, that it could hold its own kind of solace and strength.

Azriel had also told you that his shadows didn’t approach others. At least not like this, so openly and friendly. To them, you were one of the few exceptions, having met them before you properly acquainted yourself with their master.

You often wondered why. Did they sense the sorrow you tried to bury beneath and conceal? The longing that seeped into your soul–longing not just for their master but for freedom, for a life beyond the suffocating confines of the Court of Nightmares?

Your gaze lifted, finding Azriel’s attention focused on the tendril wrapped around your wrist. His hazel eyes darkened slightly, thoughtful, as if trying to decipher a mystery.

“Well, what am I supposed to do now?”

Azriel blinked, his attention falling back to you, gaze softening. The siphons on his leathers caught the light and your eye. You followed the movement of his arms as he slid his hands into the pocket of his leathers and wondered what they’d look like in casual clothing. And how far did those tattoos stretch, the ones that peeked above his collar and disappeared into those leathers? 

“We could go for a walk?”

Your brows lifted in surprise. “A walk?”

Azriel sauntered closer to you and a tingly sensation bubbled up in your stomach. “It’s a beautiful day outside and I would hate for you to waste it in here.”

“But my father…”

“He doesn’t have to know,” Azriel replied with a small, sly grin that felt almost boyish, his shadows dancing around him. He then gestured toward the door to Rhysand’s study, where some of his shadows had already slithered beneath the gap, lying in wait.  “Your father will be in there for a while. And besides, I did promise you I’d show you around, didn’t I?”

You bit your lip in contemplation, gaze flickering between the door and Azriel. This was what you’d wanted, been hoping for, wasn’t it? A chance to see Azriel, and now here he was, offering you his time. Your heart leaped at the opportunity, already screaming yes.

But your mind wasn’t so easily swayed. What if your father needed you? Wouldn’t this be your perfect chance to prove your worth, to show him how capable you were? Then again, the way he had dismissed you earlier, slamming the door in your face, made it clear he wasn’t expecting or even wanting your help…

“Only if you’d like, of course,” Azriel added, his tone soft. He must’ve sensed your troubled thoughts. “I can always keep you company here instead.”

The flutter in your chest returned with full force. Azriel seemed to really want to spend time with you. Alone. And as much as you admired the beauty of the High Lord’s house, the promise of fresh air, open skies, and Azriel’s company was too tempting to resist.

You found yourself nodding, your heart overriding your head. “I think I’d like to go for a walk.”

**

Velaris continued to take your breath away. 

Children darted between market stalls, their faces alight with pure delight as they chased one another without fear. So incredibly and unbelievably different to the cold silence and rigid rules of propriety in Hewn City. Here, no one glanced over their shoulder with suspicion or hurried along with their head bowed.

The people of Velaris moved freely. Kindness radiated from strangers who greeted one another warmly, who paused to chat in the bustling markets or helped an elder carry their bags. Artists lined the streets, painting the city’s beauty on canvas while musicians filled the air with beautiful melodies.

Azriel led you through the city, showing you as many places he could. He took you to a small bakery first, where he swore the best chocolate croissants were made. Then, to a cafe that sold a variety of appetizing teas. You drank it all in, committing the wonders of Velaris to memory.

As you walked along a bridge, the river’s gentle current caught your eye. It was broad daylight yet, the water glimmered like liquid starlight. You paused, resting against the bridge’s railings. Azriel moved to stand beside you, tucking in his wings so they wouldn’t bump against you. 

You couldn’t help but think how unfair life could be. For a place such as Hewn City to exist at the same time as this one. Both of the same court, yet so divided. And why had you been born in the wrong one? 

Azriel picked up on the way your expression had fallen. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you said and at the way Azriel’s eyes watched you closely, you knew he was not convinced. You let out a soft sigh, relenting.  

“It’s just…I thought places like this only existed in my dreams,” you glanced down at your hands. “And now, I just can’t help but dread my attendance at the next Court of Nightmare’s ball even more…when I could be here instead, watching the stars from the City of Starlight itself..free of any worry, any burdens.”

Azriel frowned at the hidden implication of your words.

A dark tendril fluttered toward you, brushing the hair that had fallen back behind your ear. Another softly brushed against your face and wiped a stray tear away. More went to you, wrapping around your hands, seeking to give you comfort and you honestly weren’t sure if it was of their own will or Azriel’s.

Their comfort brought you back to the fateful night you first met them. You’d known of them–of the Night Court’s shadowsinger, at least–long before you actually knew them. The same way you had known Cassian was the Night Court’s leading general and Morrigan, the court overseer.

**

Things had changed after the events under the mountain. High Lord Rhysand had gathered the Court of Nightmares council, a tense meeting filled with bitter accusations thrown across the room. Keir and a few other noble lords, including your father, sat around the table, each one arguing fiercely over who did what under Amarantha’s rule.

As the heated exchange unfolded, your father’s loyalty was questioned, and the words left you unsettled. You had nearly spilled wine over one of the lords in your discomfort, hands trembling as you failed to properly grip the chalice.

But then, a dark shape emerged from the shadows, winding its way around your wrist like a silent guardian. The shadow stayed there, curling around you in such a way that was strangely comforting.

You had snuck glances at the shadowsinger then. 

Azriel stood just behind Rhysand, his face a stoic mask. His attention was elsewhere, either unaware or pretending to be, of the shadow that had strayed from him and wrapped around you.

A break was called. And then, Keir, always the one to provoke, threw an insult at your father. You had no control over your tongue, the words slipping from you without thought. It was in defense of your family but speaking out of turn was a dangerous thing for a female to do. Especially in this court. 

And though you had done it in your father’s defense, he did not return the favor. His face twisted in a mixture of disgust and disapproval, making you feel smaller than you ever had.

Keir’s face reddened with rage and as he glared at you, the shadow around your wrist tightened. Azriel’s eyes flashed, a cold, sharp stare locking onto Keir. It was the closest thing to protection anyone had offered you in this ruthless court. It left you stunned and wide-eyed. 

You had been quickly dismissed by your father then. The weight of your court’s cruelty pressed down on you, suffocating. You fled, finding an empty room, locking yourself away in a cold, lonely corner of the building.

And then the tears came. You didn’t even notice the darkness that had formed around you, so accustomed to the shadows yourself. But this wasn’t the same darkness. This one was… different. Comforting. Protective.

You could only stare at them in awe, one hand reaching upwards to touch the shadows.

But when the door creaked open, your hand fell back to your side. Fear had risen in your throat as your gaze shot to the tall figure in the doorway. You shifted backwards, your back hitting the stone wall behind you, fearing the worst. It was the shadowsinger. And he had come to punish you on behalf of your father.

But he did no such thing.

His eyes swept over the shadows surrounding you—his shadows. The mask of indifference he always wore slipped for just a moment. A faint furrow appeared between his brows, shock flashing in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, sending the shadows a look that had them slithering back to him, albeit reluctantly. “If they’ve scared you. They don’t normally do this…are you alright?”

You blinked the tears from your eyes. “You’re not going to punish me?”

His brow furrowed deeper, confusion crossing his face. “Punish you? For what?”

There was a flicker of recognition in his gaze, followed by a soft exhale. He studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. His shadows swirled around him, some curling around his ear, whispering to him. Whatever they whispered to him had his expression softening.

“If anyone needs punishment, it’s Keir. For having the nerve to talk to you like that.”

Azriel took your silence as an invitation. He lowered himself, slowly, attentive to the way your breath hitched. Finding no resistance from you, he flared his wings slightly to allow him to settle on the floor across from you. His boots brushed against your shoes, and he gave a quiet apology. Others had done much worse and yet, no one had ever apologized to you.

“I’m Azriel,” he told you with a small smile, quickly adjusting himself to the cramped space. “You’ve met my shadows. Though I control them, they don’t always listen. Sometimes, they follow their own will. I really hope they didn’t frighten you.”

You were still frozen in disbelief, but in that moment, something inside you shifted. A spark of hope—a spark you hadn’t known existed in the Court of Nightmares, didn’t know could exist.  

“They didn’t. They’re nice,” you admitted quietly, gaze following the movement of his shadows. Your eyes then met Azriel’s, surprised at the warmth you saw in them.

And then slowly, you felt your body relax. “I’m y/n…”

**

A shadow wrapped itself around your wrist, squeezing you gently, pulling you from your thoughts. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was the same one from that night.

“Sorry,” Azriel murmured sheepishly, the same way he always did when his shadows caught him off guard.  “They really like you.”

The shadow unraveled from your wrist, slowly and reluctantly. It returned to Azriel, the others that had begun to surround you doing the same.

“S’okay,” you shrugged, though a small wave of disappointment settled over you at the thought of his shadows acting on their own will and not his. “I like them too. My little friends, they keep me company during those dreaded court events. Them and Eris, though the latter isn’t exactly one I welcome…”

Azriel’s body tensed at the mention of the Autumn male.

“But it’s strange,” you continued, not sure why you were telling Azriel this. “Despite all the insults he throws my way, he’s somehow kinder than all the other males at court. Maybe Autumn males are–”

“Please, don’t ever pair Eris and the word ‘kind’ in the same sentence,” Azriel interjected, his tone filled with disbelief. “You have to be careful around him, Y/n. I don’t know why he gravitates toward you…” Your heart stuttered in your chest and Azriel's gaze hardened. “But he’s not to be trusted. If he continues to bother you…”

Was that… jealousy? The thought made your pulse quicken, but you kept your expression steady.

“He’s fine,” you said, your voice a little too casual. Azriel went still, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. You felt the heat rise in your neck, and you hastily added, “I mean—it's fine. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to,” Azriel insisted. He turned to face you fully, and your stomach fluttered at the intensity in his gaze. “I can handle him for you.”  

Azriel’s presence alone was enough to make anyone think twice before crossing you. It sure kept Keir from lashing back at you all those years ago and the handsy, sickening males away from you during court events. You knew he would handle Eris without hesitation. So you should’ve said yes, and accepted his offer. 

But, as the words settled on your tongue, you hesitated. You weren’t sure you wanted him to.

However strange and uncomfortable your encounters with Eris often were, there was something intriguing about him. Something that pulled at you despite his sharp words and caustic demeanor. It was almost like a game, a dance of sorts, and you found yourself drawn to it. To him, more than you cared to admit.

A small part of you wanted to continue this twisted back-and-forth with him. He was not a welcome companion but one whose absence would, much to your denial or disbelief, go noticed. The way he challenged you, made your pulse quicken, even when you didn’t want it to. The way his eyes lingered just a little too long, and how he always seemed to know exactly how to get under your skin…

No. You didn’t want Azriel to step in. Not yet. Not while this strange curiosity about Eris still simmered beneath your skin. 

“I can handle it,” you murmured, though the words felt more like a reassurance to yourself than to him. Your gaze trailed after the fae strolling along the river’s edge. Before Azriel could protest, you turned to him with a smile, changing the conversation. “Can we walk along the shore?”

The Sidra river was even lovelier up-close. With the sun beginning to set, the sky blushed in hues of pinks and oranges and you felt as if you were walking through a dream. A dream you didn’t want to wake up from. Azriel walked quietly beside you, the tension from earlier gone.

You breathed in deeply, reveling in the sweet mixture of fresh air and Azriel’s scent. The sound of water rippling against the shore was just as soothing as the early evening breeze. Your gaze fell on a rock ahead, its smooth surface glimmering in the fading light, and you quickly bent down to pick it up. 

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, watching as the stone sparkled like starlight cupped in your hand.

“It’s a rock,” Azriel said drily.

You couldn’t help but grin, lifting the rock to show him. “It’s not just any rock,” you corrected him. “It’s a rock from Velaris. It’ll make a perfect addition to my growing collection of–”

“Rocks,” Azriel finished for you, amusement dancing in his eyes.

He knew about your rock collection. Of course, he knew. How could he not? Azriel had been the one to enable it. It had started as a joke, a silly request from you when he had mentioned visiting Spring. You had asked for a souvenir, half expecting him to politely decline.  

"What could you possibly want from Spring?" he had asked. “A rock?”

And out of all the things you could’ve chosen, you had simply nodded your head. “Sure.”

The way he had returned from his mission, slipping a smooth rock from his leathers and placing it in your hand, had been so unexpected, so sweet. You’d gasped, unsure whether to laugh or cry. He had remembered. 

And when he mentioned going to Winter Court next, you had shyly grinned at him, asking for another “souvenir.” What had started as an innocent collection had become something far more significant to you. Azriel didn’t know but that rock from Spring was the first gift you had ever received in years–decades, almost.

You treasured those silly rocks, keeping them lined up neatly on your dresser. You even painted them with little designs—daisies on the rock from Spring, a tiny shell on the one from Summer, and snowflakes on the one from Winter.

“This may actually finish my collection,” you mused, slipping the rock into the pocket of your skirts, your smile soft.

“I thought I had brought you one already?”

“Must’ve slipped your mind,” you replied with a playful shrug of your shoulders.

Azriel’s expression shifts into one of mock seriousness. “Forgive me, my lady,” he said, bowing his head before his voice turned teasing. “What will I bring you now, then? I’ll be flying out to Dawn next week. You sure you don’t want another rock from there? Or perhaps, this time, a jar of dirt?”

You rolled your eyes, the motion automatic but immediately followed by a sharp pang in your chest as your heart seemed to freeze. A lady, especially one from your court, rolling her eyes at a male? No matter how familiar you could be with a male, a gesture such as this was dangerous and unforgiving.

But Azriel only chuckled, his gaze warm and unbothered. Relief rushed through you, leaving you momentarily breathless, though you tried to play it off with a dry tone. “Ha,” you said, your thoughts already drifting to other possibilities. “But, if you are going to Dawn…”

He tilted his head, eyebrows raising slightly as his lips curved. “Go on.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to a feather…”

His dark brows furrowed in confusion, and you felt your heart beat louder in your chest. “A feather?” he repeated.

You shrugged again, trying to look casual about it. “A feather from a swan from Dawn. They’re native to the court and mate for life, you know. Some see them as a symbol for love and fidelity. I’d like a feather so that I can add it to my Aphrodite altar.”

“I see.” Azriel’s gaze had turned thoughtful, clearly processing the information. There was a brief pause, and you held your breath, suddenly aware of how ridiculous your request might sound…

 “Y/n, are you… practicing witchcraft?”

You react almost too quickly, it’s suspicious. 

“No,” you said, shaking your head with a small laugh. Even though you had sought out the help of a witch not too long ago, something you’d probably take to the grave with you, given the failed results. Or the fact that this feather would be an offering given with intent to Aphrodite for luck and blessings in love…

”Well, not exactly, I just–it’s a…”

“I don’t think I want to know,” Azriel mused with a chuckle, saving you from whatever disaster of an excuse you could come up with. The sound of his laughter was like a release, the tension in your shoulders easing. “If it’s a Swan’s feather you want, then I’ll make sure I bring one to you.”

There was something in his tone, the certainty in which he said the words, that had warmth pooling in your stomach. It was the kind of warmth that spread quickly, making your whole body feel lighter and creeping up into your chest. 

You turned to look at him. “Really?”

“Really.”

Your feet faltered as the rush of emotions made you dizzy. You barely noticed the uneven ground beneath you, and before you could regain your balance, you felt yourself tipping forward. Azriel’s hand shot out, gripping your arm and pulling you steady against him.

Your breath hitched at the feeling of his touch, gaze falling to where his hand rested on your arm. Slowly, your gaze trailed upwards. Azriel’s gaze was soft, his eyes searching yours in that way that made your heart race. 

“Thank you,” you breathed.

“Of course.”

You were both so close now, you could feel the heat of his breath. The world seemed to narrow to just the two of you. The sound of the river faded, replaced by the pounding of your heart. His free hand brushed against yours, a touch that sent a spark skittering across your skin.

And then, it happened.

A sharp, sudden tightening in your chest.

It wasn’t the pleasant flutter you’d grown accustomed to in Azriel’s presence. No, this was something else entirely. A pull, intense and demanding, like an unseen thread yanking you backward. You gasped, flinching out of Azriel’s grip, who immediately let you go when he felt your resistance.

Your hand flew to your chest. Azriel’s brows furrowed in concern and his shadows stirred anxiously, circling you as if they could shield you from whatever had caused your distress. “Are you alright?”

“I… I don’t know,” you murmured, your fingers pressing against the spot where the ache had settled, desperate to soothe the inexplicable burning. “But I think I’m fine now. ”

You weren’t sure if you were reassuring him or yourself. But you pushed the feeling aside, turning back to Azriel with an uncertain smile.

He took a hesitant step closer, hand hovering over your shoulder. “Are you sure? I can take you to a healer–”

“No,” you immediately shook your head, eyes widening. Calling for a healer meant risking your father finding out you had not heeded to his order of staying put, of you not causing trouble. You’d rather suffer the consequences of whatever sickness had suddenly struck you than be left to deal with your father’s reproach.

“I’m okay. Could we–could we head back now?”

**

Azriel's pov

Worry continued to brew in Azriel’s mind as he watched you settle onto an armchair, hand still rubbing at your chest. His shadows twitched restlessly, curling tighter around him. You had always been easy to read but he found himself struggling to decipher the distant look in your eyes. You hadn’t even looked his way once since he winnowed you both back to the townhouse.

He parted his lips, ready to urge you to see a healer, despite your earlier protest. But a shadow curled itself around his ear and he made himself busy with the book in his hand instead.

The door to Rhysand’s study opened. Azriel’s shadows whispered to him as they noted the way you had stiffened the moment your father stepped out and forced a smile onto your face. He was always unsettled by your father’s indifference to you, his grip on the book he held tightening.

"Let’s go home."

Lord Damus’s voice was detached as he dumped the books in his arm into yours. Azriel noticed immediately that it was a smaller load than what you had arrived with, but that did little to ease him as you winced under the weight.

He moved instinctively to help you, but the harsh stare Rhysand shot at him from across the room made him pause. Azriel blinked, momentarily stunned by the anger that flashed in Rhysand’s eyes.

"Thank you for your time, Lord Damus. I wish you both a safe trip back," Rhysand said, his voice smooth and composed, contrasting the look he had sent Azriel.

Lord Damus bowed in respect and you did the same. Albeit, with a struggle, given all the weight in your arms. Some of Azriel’s shadows darted toward you, hiding within the shadows of the sitting room. They settled underneath the books you carried, helping you silently. And at the way your arms eased, so did Azriel’s.

It was short lived because as soon as you and your father disappeared, Rhysand turned back to him.

“My office. Now.”

Rhysand’s tone left no room for questioning or contemplating. Azriel’s shadows hissed at the sharpness but the shadowsinger yielded to his High Lord’s command. As he entered the office, the faint traces of Feyre and Nyx’s scent lingered in the air, but neither was there now. 

“Did something happen?” Azriel asked, senses on high alert.

Rhysand leaned against the front of his desk, his gaze locking onto Azriel. "I didn’t think I’d have to ask this twice, but... are you out of your mind?"

Azriel’s shadows swirled around him, speaking in tongues. He let out a sound, a mix of disbelief, defensiveness, and the all-too-familiar hint of rage that had been waiting just beneath the surface. Not again.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered.

Rhysand’s humorless chuckle cut through the air. “Oh, trust me, I wish I was.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. 

“I can’t believe you would be so careless as to sneak her out of here when…”

“Her father has no clue,” Azriel shot back, trying to defend the choice, though even he knew it wasn’t enough.

“I bet your scent still lingers on her,” Rhysand snapped. “Do you know how dangerous that could be? For an unwed lady of her status to be caught alone with another male, to smell like another male? It could ruin her. I don’t know what you’re intentions are with her but Y/n is in love with you—”

“I know.” Azriel cut in sharply.

Rhysand’s expression darkened further, his voice hardening into ice. “So you do know. What’s your game here, Az? Because all I can think and worry about is how it will end for her.”

Before Azriel could respond, Rhysand’s voice rang out again, cutting through the growing tension like a blade.

“You will stay away from her.”

The words hit Azriel like a slap, his body going rigid as the words seemed to echo in his mind.  Because this was not his brother talking to him. It was his High Lord. His shadows were seething, reflecting the storm brewing inside. How had it come to this…again? The same damn warning, as though Azriel couldn’t be trusted to make his own decisions. 

First, it was Mor. Then, it was Elain. And now you.

Unbelievable. His lips twisted into a humorless, bitter smile then. “Should I just ask you for a roster of females I’m allowed to be with? It would save us both a lot of time and trouble.”

“I said it before and I’ll say it again.” Rhysand breathed in sharply, barely able to restrain his vexation. “And I pray to the Mother I won’t have to say it for a third time...”

Azriel’s shadows froze mid-whisper. The room grew quiet and unnervingly still. His wings twitched, as if they too, braced themselves. Because he already knew what was coming. 

But knowing didn’t make it any easier.

“If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall. Heck, I’ll offer to pay for it this time.”

And the words stung just as sharply as they had the first time.

“Just stay away from y/n.”

[series masterlist]

A/n: I had fun writing this <3 and I hope you can understand a bit more of why reader is madly in love with Az. I mean, who isn't? lol But does he like her back or simply like the idea of someone being in love with him for a change…😈

series tag list: @kaitttttttt , @nebarious , @daughterofthemoons-stuff , @justyouraveragekleemain , @tothestarsandwhateverend ,

@ratgirl2020 , @myromanempiree , @vanserrasimp , @itsswritten, @acourtofbatboydreams

@imjustagirl713, @paleidiot, @scarsandallaz, @marina468

@utterlyhopeful-fics, @bia-wayne-west

if you asked to be put on the tag-list and don't see your username, please remind me!

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444 @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits15, @lorosette

@alwayshave-faith

[notlongtolove]

the cup holds the tea

It hits you all at once and you’re out of the booth in a flash, Spencer right behind you. You’ve barely made it to the sidewalk when the drinks betray you—straight onto Spencer’s shoes. The world blurs, and all you can think, mortified, is that you’ve just broken one of the cardinal rules of dating.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff

content: bau!reader has too much to drink and its up to bf!spencer to get her home. and brief mentions of puke... oh reader...

word count: 3k

note: well personally i don't know if i could ever love someone enough where i would lay on my bed in my 'outside clothes' but good on you spence! once i slipped and fell in someone's puke and cried all the way home.

a line: They’ve seen Spencer look at a thousand things with fascination—books, theories, puzzles, statistics. But this? This is something else entirely.

It is a kind of love, is it not? How the cup holds the tea, How the chair stands sturdy and foursquare, How the floor receives the bottoms of shoes Or toes. How soles of feet know Where they’re supposed to be. - Pat Schneider

The room hangs on your words, the perfect moment of suspense stretched like a tightrope. You let it linger, savoring the pause.

“And they ate every last drop of it!”

The punchline lands, and laughter spills out around the table, loud and easy. You beam. Spencer watches you, his gaze warm, almost reverent. He’s always known you had this gift—how you could spin a story, command a room. If he weren’t so completely in love with you, he might’ve envied it. No amount of books or degrees could teach him your knack for recounting stories with such flair, or your ability to whip up comebacks at speeds that leave even Derek speechless.

Spencer’s lucky, and he knows it. His eyes trace the curve of your smile as you sip from your glass, your third—or fourth? He’s lost count. He notices you’re not wincing at its taste anymore and well, you know what they say when the drinks start to taste like water. The fact that you’re tearing up at something Garcia’s showing you—a sloth video, from what he can tell, doesn’t ease his worries in the slightest either. He's not entirely sure what Emily has been ordering for the table but whatever it is, it’s clearly doing its job.

It’s one of those rare nights out, the kind where the team sets work aside and pretends, for a few hours, that the weight of the world isn’t on their shoulders. Rossi had insisted, his treat he said, but Spencer suspects it was just an excuse for the team to watch you two loosen up, to let your guard down. A carefully orchestrated opportunity for the team to see something they hardly ever got to see. They’ve seen you two in the field, sharp and focused, in sync like clockwork. But tonight it's the way you lean into Spencer’s side without realizing it, the way Spencer gently moves your glass out of harm’s way when you gesture too wildly. This is a glimpse of something sacred, something rare.

It’d only been about a month since you and Spencer had made it official. Everyone saw it coming long before you did, but that didn’t stop the teasing once the news broke. They could barely pick their jaws up from off the floor even tonight when Spencer had his hand resting lightly on your waist, steadying you through the crowd as you laughed yourself breathless, stumbling. At work, you both keep it professional, steering clear of anything that might make Hotch raise an eyebrow. But the dim light of the bar is ever so tempting. The bar is full of loud laughter and clinking glasses and you just can’t help but take Spencer's hand into yours, fingers laced without hesitation. 

Spencer catches the way Derek’s eyes light up at the sight, the subtle nudge he gives Emily. He knows they’re going to bring this up later, probably all week.

But he doesn’t move his hand. He doesn’t let go.

The booth is packed tight as you’re all wedged together, shoulders brushing. Everyone’s smiling, unwinding in a way you rarely allow yourselves to, laughter bouncing in overlapping bursts. Spencer sits nursing his water, content to observe. His eyes are drawn back to you over and over, catching on the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh and the animated gestures of you make as you speak.

“C’mon, pretty boy, live a little,” Derek teases, “Just one drink.”

Spencer gives a sheepish smile, waving it off. “I’m fine,” he says, eyes flicking over to you once more.

He can’t keep his eyes off you tonight, it seems. You’re laughing, and It’s unmistakable, the adoration in his gaze, something so un-Spencer-like that makes Derek smile.

He knows Spencer’s not one to drink. You, on the other hand, seem a little too eager, maybe encouraged by Emily’s coaxing, and you’re already on your next drink, cheeks bright and eyes sparkling. You lean into Garcia’s cheers, your glass lifted high. Your laughter is bright and unrestrained, pulling everyone else along with it.

Spencer considers saying something when you're giggling a little more than usual, laughing too hard at a joke that doesn't warrant it. But he knows how you’d take it. You’d wave him off with that familiar insistence, the same as always. It wasn't like you couldn't hold your own, Spencer knows that. You’d held your own at Rossi’s birthday last year just fine, outlasting nearly everyone—everyone except Rossi of course. And that’s probably why he’d already taken his leave tonight, not wanting to get caught in the tail end of whatever chaos this night will inevitably bring.

But that was then and now— Well, it’s different now. Now, the role of boyfriend sits heavier on his shoulders, a title he’s all too happy to hold. And tonight, it’s a card he’s all too happy to play. It gives him leverage, an edge that makes him feel like he has a little more room to step in without you pulling the I don’t need anyone to take care of me speech. 

Spencer sees his opening as lean back into his side a little too comfortably. “Here,” he murmurs, pressing his glass into your hand. “Drink this.”

He hopes you’re just tipsy enough not to ask too many questions, as long as it’s something from the bar. For a moment, it seems like it works—you sit up, eyeing the glass cautiously, then take it from him with slow deliberation.

Almost there, he thinks.

You peer into the glass, squinting at the clear liquid, then give it a small sniff. Spencer’s heart sinks as your expression shifts.

“This is water,” you say, suspiciously.

“Yes, it is,” he admits.

Your brow furrows, the faintest pout tugging at your lips. “I’m drinking vodka.”

“And now you’re drinking water.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you, and I’d rather not carry you out of here tonight,” he says softly, the faintest flush colouring his cheeks.

You look up at him, unimpressed, but he stays firm. “Just drink the water, sweetheart,” he says quietly, his voice barely cutting through the noise.

He braces himself for your resistance. Instead, you huff, give him a pointed glare, and drink it. He watches as you sip, your nose scrunching at the lack of a bite. Spencer lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

The night winds on, the team louder than usual, swept up in Derek’s overly dramatic retelling of the prank war that once took over the bullpen. But you’re quieter, Spencer notices, the drinks maybe finally settling in a little too fast. Your smile slower, your laughter softer, head resting on his shoulder now and again. 

And then, suddenly, you’re not looking so well. It hits you all at once. The queasy welling in your stomach, the cold sweat prickling your skin. You’re out of the booth in a flash, Spencer right behind you as you stumble toward the door, your hand clamped over your mouth. 

You’ve barely made it to the sidewalk when the drinks betray you—straight onto Spencer’s shoes. The world blurs, and all you can think, mortified, is that you’ve just broken one of the cardinal rules of dating.

Of all people it had to be Spencer—germ-conscious, always-prepared Spencer—your lovely boyfriend who at this moment you’re not sure you can ever look in the eyes again Spencer. 

You don’t have to look up to see the team’s reaction as they round the corner, wide-eyed as they process what just happened. Derek’s mouth falls open in disbelief, Emily stares in shock, and Garcia whispers a dramatic, “Oh, no…”

They’re frozen. Because Spencer—Spencer, who uses hand sanitizer like it’s an extension of his arm, Spencer who’s the first to scrunch his nose at anything remotely messy—has just had his shoes christened in the worst way. You know they’re waiting for Spencer’s reaction, the tense recoil, the carefully contained grimace.

But it doesn’t come.

Instead, Spencer pauses, takes a measured breath, and steps closer to you, his hands steady on your shoulders. “Hey,” he asks, voice low and soothing as he crouches to meet your gaze. “Sweetheart, you okay?” He brushes your hair away from your face, his touch careful and kind.

“Spence—” you mumble, your voice cracking with embarrassment. Your hands fly to cover your face. “I’m so sorry. Your shoes—oh my God, your shoes—”

Spencer shakes his head, a quiet laugh escaping as he crouches to steady you. His voice is impossibly gentle, calm in a way that eases the edges of your shame. “It’s fine. They’re just shoes,” he says softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your flushed face. “Let’s get you home, okay?” 

You nod, eyes shut, clearly mortified but he doesn’t let you dwell on it. He takes your hand, his grip firm but gentle. For a brief moment, Spencer contemplates asking the bartender for a glass of water to rinse off the mess, but he glances at you—your slightly swaying frame, the way your head droops just a little—and decides against it.

Getting you home safely takes precedence over everything else. Shoes can wait. You can’t.

Emily’s mouth falls open slightly as she watches, “Did Reid just…?” she murmurs, half to herself, as Derek gapes beside her. “Didn’t think the kid had it in him,” Derek says, shaking his head, a grin slowly spreading. Garcia sniffs, dramatically dabbing at her eyes. “I knew he loved her, but this? This is another level.” she says letting out a dreamy sigh. 

They linger, watching as Spencer guides you steadily toward the car with careful patience. He helps you in, crouching to fasten your seatbelt. You’re still mumbling apologies, your voice thick with embarrassment, but Spencer doesn’t falter. Instead, he shrugs off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders even as the mess on his shoes remains. There’s not even a hint of disgust on his face—if anything, he’s focused, caring, murmuring words of reassurance as he tucks his jacket around you. His hand lingers on yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a silent promise that nothing about this has shaken him. 

“I’m so sorry, Spence,” you whisper again, your voice small and heavy with guilt. “I ruined your shoes. And your jacket. And—”

“It’s fine. You’re fine. Besides, I was planning to throw them out anyway.”

You shake your head weakly, your tone petulant even through your embarrassment. “Nooo, don’t throw them out because of me.”

His lips twitch, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Well, what do you suggest I do with them, angel?”

“I’ll wash them,” you declare, your words slow and sleepy.

Spencer raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “You’ll wash them?”

“Mhmm,” you murmur, already halfway to drifting off against the seat.

“How about we get you home first and then worry about the shoes, okay?” he says gently.

“’Kay,” you whisper, your voice barely audible as sleep begins to take hold.

Spencer stands, glancing back at the bar where the team is gathered. They’re not even pretending to hide their stares anymore, and he knows he’s going to hear about this for weeks. He raises a hand in a small, sheepish wave before climbing into the driver’s seat.

Derek shakes his head, laughing softly. “He’s gone,” he says, his voice carrying just enough awe to balance the humor. “Kid’s completely gone.”

Emily doesn’t need to ask what he means. Neither does Garcia. Because they’ve seen Spencer look at a thousand things with fascination—books, theories, puzzles, statistics. But this?

This is something else entirely.

The ride home is quiet, save for the occasional slurred apology from you. Spencer reassures you with the same soft patience each time, his hand steady on the wheel and his gaze flickering to you every so often, checking to make sure you’re okay. By the time he gets you home, your protests have faded, replaced by the heavy pull of exhaustion.

His arm remains firm around your waist, steadying you as he helps you inside, careful and methodical in the way he moves. He guides you to the bathroom, where you try to freshen up, fumbling with the faucet and splashing water on your face. Spencer steps in without hesitation and takes over when your movements falter. His touch is featherlight, but there’s no mistaking the care in every movement. The closeness makes your cheeks flush, though whether it’s from lingering embarrassment or something else entirely, you’re too tired to decipher.

“You don’t have to,” you murmur, your words sluggish but sincere.

“Of course I do,” he replies, his voice light but firm. “I want to.” 

He guides you to the bedroom with careful steps, his hand steady on the small of your back. Once there, he sets a glass of water on the nightstand, the gentle clink breaking the quiet.

“Drink,” he coaxes softly, his tone patient but firm.

You take the glass without protest, sipping obediently. Spencer watches, a small smile tugging at his lips. He considers making a playful comment about how quickly you’re drinking it now—so much easier than earlier—but he decides against it.

You’ve been through enough tonight, he thinks.

When he finally tucks you into bed, you’re too tired to resist. You mumble something incoherent, your hand brushing his as he leans in. Spencer pauses, his gaze lingering on your face—peaceful now, the traces of the evening’s mishaps melting away. He presses a light kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

Spencer steps out of the room, leaving the door cracked just enough to hear you if you call out. He lingers in the hallway for a moment, his shoulders sagging slightly now that the night’s adrenaline has begun to wane. He glances down at his shoes—still damp and stained. With a resigned sigh, he makes his way to the kitchen, grabbing a plastic bag. He slips the shoes inside, tying the bag tightly before heading outside. The cold air bites at his skin as he steps toward the dumpster behind his building.

He stands there for a moment, holding the bag. The sight of the shoes, oddly enough, makes him smile. It’s ridiculous, he knows. They’re just shoes. Ruined, stained, completely unsalvageable. But they’re also a reminder of tonight—a reminder of how he’d taken care of you, how you’d let him take care of you. 

With a soft thud, the bag lands in the dumpster. Spencer dusts off his hands, turning back toward the building. When Spencer steps back into his apartment, the soft hum of the heater greets him, a gentle reminder of the warmth waiting inside. And there you are, standing in his shirt in the doorway of his bedroom. Spencer thinks it's a sight he'll never get tired of.

There's a pout tugging at your lips. “Where’d you go?” you ask, your voice thick with sleep and just a hint of a whine.

“Had to throw out the shoes angel,” he says as he steps into the kitchen to wash his hands.

Your gasp is exaggerated like he’s just committed an unspeakable betrayal. “I thought I told you I’d wash them!” you exclaim, your voice rising. 

“And I thought I tucked you into bed,” Spencer counters, his laugh soft and full of affection. “Why are you out of bed sweetheart?”

You shuffle closer, blinking up at him with drowsy eyes. “Missed you,” you say simply, your earlier outrage regarding the shoes already forgotten. “Wanna cuddle.”

Spencer’s expression softens, but he gestures to his clothes. “I’m dirty,” he reminds you gently, pointing to the coat still hanging off his shoulders and the shoes he’s yet to remove. “Outside clothes, remember?”

“Change then,” you reply stubbornly, tugging at his sleeve as though that’s the simplest solution in the world.

“I need to shower first,” he says, his voice patient as he begins to guide you back toward the bedroom.

“I didn’t shower either,” you argue, leaning heavily into his side as though that somehow strengthens your case.

“Because you’re drunk,” he replies with a small smile.

“Am not,” you insist, though your tone is far from convincing.

“Wanna tell that to my shoes?” Spencer teases, raising a brow.

You ignore him, brushing past his comment with a huff. “You’ll take too long,” you complain, your bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “I’ll miss you.”

“And I’ll miss you too,” he replies, his voice tinged with amusement as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Then cuddle,” you plead, your tone slipping into that sing-song quality you know he can’t resist. “Pleaseee”

Spencer hesitates, the logical part of him warring with the sight of you—soft, vulnerable, and looking at him like he hung the stars. He knows you’re usually the enforcer of the outside-clothes rule, a stickler for order when sober. But right now, you’re anything but sober, and he can’t find it in himself to deny you.

“Pleaseee,” you say again, drawing out the word for emphasis, “I’ll buy you new shoes,” your eyes wide and imploring.

He knows you probably will.

“Enough about the shoes,” Spencer rolls his eyes fighting back a smirk, “Just help me change the sheets tomorrow,” he relents, his voice warm with affection.

He knows you probably won’t. But he lets you drag him toward the bed anyways.

You beam, looping your arms around his waist in triumph. “Knew you wouldn’t say no,” you mumble into his chest.

Spencer laughs softly as you settle against him, burying your face in his chest with a soft, muffled sigh. He feels his heart swell in a way he can’t quite put into words. He’s never been one for mess—for dirt, grime, or anything out of place. Heck, he hadn't even wanted to shake your hand the first time he met you. It’s in his nature to keep things neat, orderly, clean. But now, with you?

His shoes could be ruined, his clothes crumpled, and the night an absolute whirlwind. And still, all he can think about is how peaceful you look now, your eyelids fluttering shut as sleep starts to claim you.

Spencer presses a kiss to the top of your head, his hand moving in slow, soothing circles along your back.

For you and only you, he thinks, he’d make an exception every time.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

[heavyhitterheaux]

No Judgments

See Me Through You Blurb

Synopsis: You and Joe do the 'We listen and don't judge' TikTok challenge 🤭

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: a few gorgeous anons 💕

Series Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

After wiping your mouth and rinsing it out with mouthwash from your sudden episode of morning sickness, you made your way back into the bedroom where your husband was still peacefully sleeping.

You attempted to climb back into the bed without waking him up, but feeling the weight shift made him flutter his eyes open. Joe had never been a really deep sleeper, but since he found out you were pregnant, usually he wakes up at the smallest noise and it left you surprised this morning when he didn’t feel you get out of bed the first time.

“Baby, you okay?” He asked as he pulled you towards him so he could wrap his arms around you and kissed the top of your head.

“Your children won't let me be great and made me throw up again.” You quietly answered and you had now grown frustrated since it seemed like the morning sickness wasn't only happening in the morning, but throughout the day.

“You want me to make you some tea?”

“Yes, please. I'm miserable.”

Joe then placed his hand on your belly and began to rub small circles on it as he noticed that your bump was actually starting to show.

“Babies, stop making mommy sick so she can sleep. Daddy’s orders.”

“Hopefully they'll listen to you because clearly they pay me no attention.”

“When they hear ‘the voice’ for the first time, they're going to be running for their lives.” Joe said, referring to the first time he heard it and made sure to stay out of your way for the rest of the day.

“I still to this day have no idea what you are talking about when you say that.”

“It's a voice you make when you get really annoyed. Ask Ja'Marr, he'll back me up.”

“I just think you two are being dramatic.”

“Says the most dramatic person in the room….”

“Husband! Take it back!”

“Nope, it's facts and I'm not going to lie to you.”

All you did was roll your eyes in response as Joe raised his eyebrows at you.

“Don't catch an attitude with me because it's something you didn't want to hear. Fix your face.”

“I'll fix mine if you let me ride yours.”

“I… These pregnancy hormones are giving me a run for my money and got me fighting for my damn life. One thing at a time and let's get your nausea under control first.”

Later on in the day, when Joe was sitting at the island in the kitchen, you went and sat next to him while setting up your phone. He quickly noticed and looked over at you.

“Whatever it is, no.”

“But baby! Pleaseeee?!”

You knew Joe hated being in front of a camera, but you loved doing TikTok challenges with him from time to time.

Sighing and finally giving in, he put his phone down to give you his undivided attention.

“Okay, what are we doing?”

“We listen and we don't judge challenge. I sent you a few so you would have an example to know what to do.”

“Only because it's you. Let's get this over with.”

“Yay! And I want you to go first.” You told him as you pressed record.

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“When I feel like I'm getting sick, I act like I'm so drained so I can't do anything so you'll baby me.” Joe was the first one up and smiled at you when he was finished.

“What the? I baby you anyway! Like 98% of the time.”

“AHT! No judging. You just take it to a different level. Moving on.”

“You are literally MY baby though. My 6’4 baby and I'm 4'11, but who's to say anything about that? I love you bad and I see you're using it to your advantage.”

“To get endless cuddles from my wife? Hell yeah I'm taking advantage of it.”

“Okay, next.”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“So after you fall asleep since your bedtime is like 6 pm.. like a grandpa…” You started to say, but was immediately interrupted.

“9 during the season!”

“Stop interrupting me, husband! After you fall asleep, I go and buy things on your phone and make sure to delete the notifications so you don't find out.”

“BABY!”

“HEY! I BUY YOU THINGS TOO!”

“And you hide the packages too because I literally never see any of them.”

“Hmm, maybe.”

“Fine. Keep your secrets.”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“When we were at LSU and we were just friends, I memorized your schedule and knew you had a lot of late classes and I would purposely wait for you if it was dark outside to walk you to your car to make sure you were safe. And it gave me a chance to spend more time with you.”

“So, that's why it seemed like you were always around? Aww, you love me!” You told him as you pinched his cheek.

“And don't you ever forget it.”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“During last season when I saw you wore THOSE PANTS, yes you know the ones I'm talking about, after I specifically told you not to because they looked crazy and you wore them anyway, you kept asking if I've seen them but I hid them somewhere in our house and they have been hidden for so long that I forgot their location.”

“I LOVE THOSE PANTS, BABE!”

“THEY ARE HIDEOUS, BABY. NO!”

“I'm making it my mission later to find my pants.”

“I know Ja'Marr probably bought you those ugly ass pants.”

“AHT! You're judging!”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“When you're mad at me, I purposely go into the cabinet and make all of the jar lids tighter so you have to come and talk to me.” Joe confessed and you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms at the same time.

“SERIOUSLY? And here I am thinking I'm a weak bitch! I can lift almost as heavy as you can! And a jar lid is what does me in?!?”

“Works every time.”

“I'm going to have to do it myself next time.”

“Like that will ever happen…” Joe said and you playfully rolled your eyes.

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“Okay, so….” You started to say as you glanced at Joe and he sighed knowing that something crazy and out of pocket was about to come out of your mouth.

“Oh shit, here we go.”

“Sometimes, I purposely piss you off and I don't know that you know you do this but your voice gets deeper and it turns me on so bad. Like your voice by itself turns me on, but when you get mad, whew. Sign me up for EVERY position. It's happening now and I'm just thinking about it. Gets your girl all hot and bothered.” You quietly said as Joe stared at you since you were now squirming in your chair and trying to keep your legs as tight as possible.

“Are you seriously squirming over there? And I’m not surprised by this in the slightest. Just wait until we're finished with this, I'm about to turn you every way but loose. And hold on! I thought we were keeping this PG!?” He asked as he leaned over and kissed you.

“Don't threaten me with a good time and when are the videos we do ever PG? Especially when it's something like this? And don't get me started because I will literally rip off your clothes at this very moment.”

“Good point and see? And that's why you're pregnant now.”

“Because my husband is fine as hell and I'll fu-” Joe's eyes went wide as he promptly covered your mouth with his hand and in protest, you licked it, making him look at you dumbfounded.

“No! Do not finish that sentence. This is really about to turn into something else if you don't stop. And did you just lick my hand!?”

“I wanna lick something else too, but I'll save that for when we turn the camera off.” You tried to whisper, but failed miserably.

“BABY QUIT IT!” Joe pleaded and all you did was shrug.

“I was like this before you married me and you should have known that once this ring was on my finger, I was about to be ten times worse.”

“Hmm, that's putting it lightly.”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“I hide some of your perfumes so that you'll only use my favorite ones that I've bought for you.”

“Babe! How many have you hidden!? And here I am thinking that I've lost them!”

“Hmm, not telling.”

“You're annoying.”

“I'm cute and you love me.”

“Survey says that both of those responses are correct.”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“So, when you got hurt during your rookie year, I was watching the game and saw it happen and my heart immediately dropped. Because we literally had an argument hours before that game and we weren't talking and now I think back on it, I had no idea what the argument was about. But, I low-key felt that you getting hurt was somehow my fault. I remember packing my things and getting on a plane and crying the entire way there and I honestly didn't know if you wanted to see me at that point. Because I had sent you a text right before the game and you didn't respond. And to this day, I still feel like that.”

It was quiet for a few seconds before Joe said anything.

“That… baby that wasn't your fault. It was a bad hit. And of course I wanted to see you. You were actually the first person I asked for. I never knew you felt like that.”

“I hate seeing you in pain and I…. I'm about to cry again.”

“I can tell, hormones.” Joe replied as he wiped your eyes for you.

“But I came back from it because of you and how you helped me. You being there was enough. You love me bad, don't you?” He asked as he was trying to get you to smile.

“So much, and you know it.”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“Ever since you told me you were pregnant, I watch you until you fall asleep to make sure you’re okay. Doesn't matter how long it takes or if I have to get up early. You're my priority.”

“And, I'm about to cry again. Damn these hormones.”

“You are literally MY person and I don't know what I'd do without you.”

“Ladies, get you a husband who treats you like the queen you are every day because….. shoutout to Jimmy and Robin because the two of them gave me one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

“Wait… ONE of the best things? I'm not THE best thing!?”

“Hmm, you're top five.” You replied as you shrugged.

“Uh? You mean number one?”

“If it makes you feel better, the top five things all have to do with you.”

“That sounds suspicious, but I'll let it slide for now.”

“I love you Joseph Lee Burrow!” You exclaimed as you kissed his cheek and wrapped your arms around him.

“Stop trying to change the subject and I know for a damn fact you didn't just call me by my full name. I get anxious when you do that.”

“Wait, huh?”

“We've gone over this a million times. My name is BABY to you. When it comes to you I don't know who Joseph is.”

“And he calls me the dramatic one.”

[nkogneatho]

FREAKY ON THE ROAD

—cw: 1k, fem!reader, nicknames, semi-public, voyeurism kink mentioned, blowjob, dirty talk.

—a/n: i am gonna marry this UV light eyed freak.

You never knew you were so starved for his touch until he brushed his knuckles against your cheek. His other hand held your waist, inching you ridiculously closer to him, as if he wanted your souls to merge. It was getting harder not to kiss him. Especially, when those cerulean eyes were hooked on you, having a full blown monologue in his mind.

“Give up. You know you're going to lose,” he whispered against your ear in a gravelly voice.

“I won't. Kiss me if you're that desperate.” Even though you said that, it was driving you crazy that he was so close to you, yet you cannot kiss him.

“Oh you have no fucking idea how badly I want to. But my urge to see you lose control is stronger,” he blurted.

You knew how to play this game. You might be down bad for him but you were aware of one thing that makes him lose his mind. So...you played your ace.

Your fingers grabbed the hem of his shirt, stood on your heels since he was a little taller and moaned his name in his ears. That's all it took for him to just grab your lips with his. It never started soft. It couldn't since you tipped him over the edge.

“fuck baby! you make me lose my fucking mind,” he groaned as he brushed his body against you, where you could clearly feel his little general waking up.

“Toru mhm...” It took you all your strength to push his lips away to talk because he won't let go. “I know you lost our game but did you lose your mind too? We're in a room full of people.”

“Blame yourself sweetheart. Should've never started something you know won't end nicely.” His big hand squeezed your ass. “Wanna give them a show pretty? You know,” his fingers started playing with the fabric of your dress, “...that girl over there asked me out, because she thought we weren't together since you won't kiss me earlier.”

“Now why don't I just fuck you raw in front of her so she can get her answer?”

“You're fucking crazy, Toru.” It turned you on.

“Crazy about you. I am so hard for you. Feel,” he guided your hand to his hard on. You squeezed it to mess with him.

“Fuck! See?”

“Screw this party. Let's go home.”

Did you really think Satoru's gonna keep his dick outside your pussy for more than five minutes? You couldn't even make it out of the parking lot before he was touching you and kissing you all over again. The lights of the parking lot were dim and since everyone was enjoying the huge party, there was barely anyone there except for the valet who was dozing off.

“shit. toru...ngh can we at least—fuck! can we at least hit the corner of the road?”

“how many favors you gon' ask from me, princess?”

But he listens to you regardless. He pulls the car out of the dimly lit parking lot, the only sound emerging was the hum of the engine and your heavy breathing.

He drove for solid ten minutes—one hand rubbing your pussy through your panties—before he pulled over on a secluded road with almost no one around.

“Glad like we ditched that boring party for something much more interesting, didn't we?”

He grabbed your hand and placed it to his leaking cock through his black pants. It was hard to se because of the dark but now you could clearly feel the wet patch from the pre-cum on them. Shit. he really did hold out for long

His face had the saddest and most desperate look ever. You kissed his jaw as you unbuckled his belt and quickly freed his cock.

He took a deep breath, savoring your intoxicating scent as you leaned in, your soft lips brushing against his tip.

“Holy fucking god!” He moaned loudly when your warm mouth engulfed his cock. “Mmm, that's more like it, baby.” His tip was so swollen, so red. He needed this. He needed you.

He wrapped his hands in your hair, guiding your movements as you begin to bob your head, taking more of him into your mouth with each pass

“That's it, baby... fuck sss...” He hissed. “Take it all the way down. Let me feel those warm, wet walls squeezing my cock.”

He groaned softly as you hit a particularly sweet spot, making him jerking his hips upwards involuntarily “Fhuuck, that's so good, baby. Keep going, just like that. ah!”

He looked down at you, his blue eyes sparkling with pleasure as he watched you work your magic on his cock.

“You look so pretty with your mouth full of my cock, baby. Such a good little cocksucker. If I could, I would be stuffed in you 24/7”

He started to thrust his hips gently, fucking your face in slow, deliberate strokes.

“Mmm, yes... take it deep, sweetheart. Want me to fill you up? Yeah?” A grin laced his lips as he watched you nod a yes on his cock.

He grabbed the back of your head, holding you steady as he picked up the pace, his cock slamming against the back of your throat with increasing force.

“Good. Fucking. Girl. Fuck, yes! Squeeze that dick with your throat. Show me how much you need my cum.

His hold tightens in your hair as he neared the edge, the pleasure building to a fever pitch within him.

“Fuck! princess... I'm close. Gonna cum down your throat. Get ready to swallow every drop. Fuckfuckfu—aghh!” With a final, brutal thrust, he exploded, pumping jet after jet of hot cum directly into your waiting mouth.

“Swallow it all, baby...” And you did, lapping your tongue like a kitten to clean every drop off his cock. Panting heavily, he pulled you off his softening cock, his fingers tangling in your hair as he held you close

“Mmm, that was—fucking incredible! You always know just how to play with me.”

“Let's go home. toru...I am so wet. I can't take it.” You complain.

“Aww, my poor baby. We can just fuck here if you can't wait.” He suggested as he wiped the sweat off your forehead.

“No. I want you to fuck me in all the positions. This is too cramped to try all that.” You bit your lip. Not another word was uttered as he revved up the engine again. Fuck. That might be the hottest thing he has ever heard you say and he wasn't going to waste another minute.

“Take a leave for tomorrow from work. Not gonna make it when I fuck you all night.” He said, one hand on the steering wheel with eyes filled with lust.

“Already did.” You winked and he groaned.

“You know I am gonna marry you, right?” You chuckled at his words. You were made for each other. There was no one else that could drive him this wild and there was no one else that can see this part of you. You turned to him for sex but now...you had found your soulmate in him.

[dissapointu]

Could you please write “How Arcane character and reader argue”. Who is the first to apologize?

Of course!

Jinx

• How the argument goes:

Jinx’s arguments are chaotic, loud, and emotional. She struggles to articulate her feelings clearly, so it often spirals into sharp words or exaggerated gestures. Her frustrations may not even be entirely directed at you—it could be other stressors she’s projecting onto the situation.

• Who apologizes first:

You might have to take the lead in calming her down, but she’ll eventually mumble an apology, her voice shaky. She doesn’t want to lose you and will make an effort, but you’ll need patience as she works through her emotions.

Vi

• How the argument goes:

Vi’s arguments are fiery but surprisingly short-lived. She’s direct, saying what’s on her mind without sugarcoating it, which can sting. However, she doesn’t hold grudges and prefers resolving things quickly.

• Who apologizes first:

Vi. She hates dragging things out, and even if she thinks she’s in the right, she’ll be the first to say, “Alright, I was out of line. I’m sorry.” She values your relationship too much to let an argument fester.

Sevika

• How the argument goes:

Sevika’s arguments are calm but cutting. She’s not one to shout or lose control, but her words can be harsh, and she has a tendency to shut down the conversation if it gets too emotional. She’ll lean into cold, sarcastic remarks if she’s hurt.

• Who apologizes first:

Sevika struggles to apologize first. She’s prideful and might avoid the topic until you approach her. However, once she sees you’re genuinely upset, she’ll soften and apologize in her gruff way: “I was being an ass. My bad.”

Silco

• How the argument goes:

Silco’s arguments are calculated and composed. He uses logic and carefully chosen words, which can sometimes come off as condescending. If he feels cornered, he might lash out emotionally, but he rarely lets it show.

• Who apologizes first:

It’s rare for Silco to apologize outright unless he realizes he’s truly hurt you. If he sees the argument has pushed you away, he’ll approach you with a quiet, sincere apology, though it may take time for him to get there.

Vander

• How the argument goes:

Vander argues with patience but a hint of exasperation. He doesn’t raise his voice often, but when he does, it’s usually because he feels deeply about the issue at hand. He might pull the “I’m just trying to protect you” card, which can be frustrating.

• Who apologizes first:

Vander is quick to apologize. He values keeping the peace and will sit you down to talk things out properly, often over tea or a drink at the Last Drop.

Ekko

• How the argument goes:

Ekko’s arguments are heated but full of heart. He speaks with passion and frustration, especially if he feels like he’s not being heard. He may pace around or throw his hands in the air when he’s upset, needing to burn off his energy.

• Who apologizes first:

Ekko is quick to apologize. He hates seeing you upset and will approach you soon after to make things right. “I didn’t mean half of what I said. Let’s talk, Firebug.”

Jayce

• How the argument goes:

Jayce’s arguments are emotional and impulsive. He speaks before thinking, which can lead to hurtful or defensive comments. He may raise his voice unintentionally, especially if he feels misunderstood.

• Who apologizes first:

Jayce. He feels bad almost immediately and will apologize once he cools down. He’s the type to come back with a heartfelt apology and maybe even flowers to make it up to you.

Viktor

• How the argument goes:

Viktor’s arguments are calm but distant. He doesn’t like conflict and will try to rationalize his point of view. If he feels attacked, he might retreat emotionally, leaving things unresolved until you approach him.

• Who apologizes first:

You might have to initiate the reconciliation, but Viktor will apologize for his part once you talk things out. “I didn’t mean to dismiss your feelings. I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.”

Caitlyn

• How the argument goes:

Caitlyn’s arguments are composed and thoughtful. She listens before speaking, but her points are sharp and difficult to refute. If she feels hurt, she’ll withdraw rather than lash out.

• Who apologizes first:

Caitlyn is quick to apologize, especially if she realizes she’s hurt you. She’ll approach you calmly and make sure the issue is fully resolved before moving on.

Mel Medarda

• How the argument goes:

Mel’s arguments are strategic and emotionally restrained. She doesn’t raise her voice or argue out of anger but will use her sharp intellect to point out flaws in your reasoning. If she’s deeply hurt, she might retreat behind a wall of cool indifference.

• Who apologizes first:

Mel. She values connection and doesn’t like letting things fester. Her apologies are thoughtful and sincere, often accompanied by a gesture to show her commitment to making things right.

Ambessa Medarda

• How the argument goes:

Ambessa’s arguments are intense and unyielding. She’s used to being in charge, so she can come off as domineering or dismissive if you push back too hard. However, she respects strength and will listen if you stand your ground.

• Who apologizes first:

Ambessa rarely apologizes first, but if she knows she’s truly wrong, she’ll admit it in her own way: “You’re right. I was out of line.” It’s blunt but meaningful.

Maddie Nolen

• How the argument goes:

Maddie’s arguments are fiery but brief. She’s passionate and speaks her mind, but she doesn’t hold onto grudges for long. She may storm off in the heat of the moment but regrets it almost immediately.

• Who apologizes first:

Maddie. She doesn’t like staying mad and will come back quickly with an apology, often accompanied by an attempt to make you laugh.

Lest

• How the argument goes:

Lest’s arguments are quiet but firm. She’s not one to shout or make a scene, but her words can sting if she feels deeply about the issue. She prefers to resolve things quickly and hates lingering tension.

• Who apologizes first:

Lest will be the first to apologize, often with a soft touch or a quiet “I’m sorry” as she leans into you. She hates seeing you upset and wants to make things right as soon as possible.

[sweetlyvibe]

» 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗪𝗔𝗦, 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗜𝗦, 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗 𝗕𝗘 «

PAIRING : Atsumu Miya / Suna Rintarou x Fem!Reader

GENRE : hurt / comfort

WORD COUNT : 4.8k

SUMMARY : Unspoken feelings break the bond between you and Atsumu. As you try to heal, Rintarou steps into your life in ways you never expected. But with lingering regrets and new emotions, what happens when the past tries to catch up?

CONTENT / WARNINGS : Angst, emotional hurt/comfort, unrequited feelings, heartbreak, romantic tension, use of [Y/N], mentions of past relationships, slow burn, and light references to jealousy.

You and Atsumu Miya had been inseparable for years. From the very first day you met, something clicked between you two. You knew each other’s quirks, your favorite foods, the stupid inside jokes that no one else would ever understand. Everyone around you always teased you both, constantly dropping hints that it was obvious to anyone that you liked each other. But you two? You pretended to ignore it.

Atsumu never said anything, and neither did you. There were moments, small gestures, like the way his eyes softened when you laughed, or the way you could tell he was thinking of you just from a quick glance. But every time the tension became too palpable, one of you would retreat. It was always safer to stay in the realm of friendship. But everyone could see it. And deep down, you could feel it too.

Then, everything changed. It wasn’t sudden—more like a gradual shift that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It started when Atsumu began pulling away from you, and at first, you chalked it up to him just being busy with volleyball. But days turned into weeks, and the distance between you two grew too noticeable to ignore. He was still the same Atsumu—playful, loud, and always there for the people he cared about. But he wasn’t there for you. Not like before.

You’d come to expect him to show up at your favorite café, or to make his usual sarcastic remarks when you were hanging out with friends, but he stopped. You’d leave him text messages, but the replies were shorter, less frequent. He’d cancel plans, and when you saw him at school or during volleyball practice, there was a clear gap between you two—an invisible wall that you could never quite break.

It hurt.

You couldn’t understand why he was distancing himself. Every time you saw him, you fought the urge to confront him, to demand answers. But you knew him too well. Atsumu wasn’t the type to share his feelings easily, especially when it came to something like this.

It was a quiet afternoon when it all hit you. You had been sitting in the back corner of the café, sketching aimlessly in your notebook, trying not to notice how the seat across from you was empty.

Then Atsumu walked in. For a moment, your heart skipped a beat. His usual grin was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t even glance in your direction as he walked past you and sat with someone else—another teammate, someone you didn’t even know.

Your stomach twisted into knots, but you kept your cool. You told yourself it was nothing. But the longer he stayed, the more you felt the weight of the situation. He was avoiding you.

You were left with only your thoughts. Had you done something wrong? Did he find someone else? Was it possible that Atsumu had grown tired of your friendship?

—

A few days later, you found yourself standing in front of his house, your heart pounding against your chest. You hadn’t seen him in days, and you couldn’t take the silence any longer. You had to know why.

You knocked on the door, and when Atsumu answered, you were met with his usual teasing smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Well, well, look who decided to show up. What’s up?”

His voice was too casual, too distant. Something in his expression made you feel like a stranger, like he was seeing you through a veil.

“I need to talk to you,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

He blinked at you, clearly caught off guard by the question, but the smile stayed. “Avoiding you? C’mon, you’re overthinking it.”

But you weren’t. You could feel it. The distance, the silence, the coldness. It wasn’t like before.

“Atsumu, stop.” You stepped forward, your voice trembling. “You’ve been pulling away for weeks now, and I need to know why. What happened?”

For a moment, it seemed like he might actually say something. You saw the conflict flash in his eyes, but just as quickly as it came, it disappeared. He took a deep breath and sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s nothing, alright?” His tone was defensive, but there was something in his voice that made you pause. “I just need some space, okay? You… you won’t understand.”

You felt your heart drop into your stomach. You had no idea what was happening, but the feeling of rejection stung deeper than you’d ever imagined. You could tell this wasn’t a simple issue. But instead of pressing him further, you took a step back, feeling like the words you wanted to say were stuck in your throat.

“I’ll give you your space then,” you whispered. “But I don’t understand why you can’t just tell me what’s going on.”

Atsumu didn’t respond. He just watched you walk away, the door clicking shut behind you.

Days turned into weeks, and you fought every urge to reach out to him again. You tried, really tried, to keep yourself busy. You spent more time with friends, buried yourself in schoolwork, but everything reminded you of him. The silence between you two was unbearable.

—

It had been weeks since you last saw Atsumu properly—really saw him, like how it used to be. You were tired of the confusion, tired of overthinking, and most of all, tired of missing someone who was right there but felt a thousand miles away.

So when you caught him alone after practice one evening, you didn’t hesitate. He was leaning against the wall of the gym, scrolling on his phone, and when he noticed you approaching, his expression froze.

“We need to talk,” you said, your voice firm but not angry. You weren’t sure what you were feeling anymore—too many emotions swirling in your chest.

Atsumu sighed, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Alright. Let’s talk.”

You searched his face, looking for the boy you used to know, the one who made you laugh so hard your stomach hurt. But all you saw now was a mask of discomfort, like he was bracing himself for a storm.

“Why?” you asked simply. “Why have you been avoiding me? What did I do wrong?”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking away from you. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why?” Your voice cracked, but you pressed on. “Why did you push me away? Why did you leave me out of your life like this?”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. For a moment, it seemed like he wasn’t going to answer. Then he took a deep breath. “I’ve been seeing someone.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You felt the air leave your lungs, your heart dropping into your stomach. “You… what?”

“I’m dating someone,” he said again, his tone quieter this time. “That’s why I’ve been distant.”

You stared at him, trying to process the words. It wasn’t just that he had moved on—it was that he had chosen to leave you behind without a word, as if you were disposable.

“So that’s it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re leaving me—your best friend—for someone you’ve known for what, a few weeks?”

“It’s not like that,” he said quickly, but you could hear the guilt in his voice. “She’s… She’s uncomfortable with me having a girl best friend, okay? I didn’t have a choice.”

Your heart cracked further at the excuse, the way he tried to justify abandoning you. “You didn’t have a choice?” you repeated, bitterness creeping into your tone. “So instead of talking to me, you just decided to disappear? To act like I don’t matter anymore?”

“It wasn’t like that,” he insisted, though his voice wavered. “I just— I thought it’d be easier for both of us.”

“For both of us? Or just for you?”

Atsumu looked at you then, really looked at you, and for the first time, you saw the truth in his eyes. It wasn’t about the girl he was dating. It was about something deeper, something he wasn’t saying.

But you were too tired to push any further.

“Fine,” you said, swallowing the lump in your throat. “If that’s what you want. If you really think it’s easier to just… cut me out of your life, then fine. I’ll do the same.”

“(Y/N)—”

“No, Atsumu,” you interrupted, your voice trembling. “You don’t get to leave and then act like you’re the one hurting. You made your choice. I hope it’s worth it.”

His face fell, but he didn’t stop you as you turned and walked away. You didn’t look back, even as your vision blurred with tears.

And Atsumu, standing alone outside the gym, let you go. Because even though every part of him wanted to stop you, he convinced himself that this was for the best.

Rintarou Suna wasn’t usually one to get involved in other people’s business. He observed things from a distance, took mental notes, and let the world unfold without interfering too much. But watching you these past few weeks made something in him stir.

You were a shadow of yourself—walking through the halls like you carried the weight of the world on your shoulders. The bright, cheerful person who used to light up every room was gone, replaced by someone quieter, someone hurting.

It was impossible not to notice.

And as much as he tried to convince himself it wasn’t his place to step in, he couldn’t ignore the pang in his chest every time he saw you. He knew what had happened with Atsumu. It was impossible not to know. Atsumu might’ve been his closest friend, but even he couldn’t understand why the setter had let you go like that.

So, one evening, Suna found himself staring at your name in his messages. He didn’t overthink it—just sent a simple text.

True to his word, Rintarou showed up at six the next evening. You weren’t sure what to expect—it wasn’t like the two of you had ever hung out one-on-one before. You were always part of a group, usually with the Miya twins.

He took you to a casual ramen shop, the kind of place you wouldn’t have picked yourself but immediately loved. It was quiet, tucked away from the busier streets, and the food was amazing.

You were nervous at first, unsure of how to act around him. But Rintarou had a way of making things feel easy. He wasn’t overly chatty, but he had this calm, steady presence that put you at ease.

After eating, the two of you wandered to a nearby park. The sun was just beginning to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink.

“I didn’t know you liked ramen so much,” you said as you both sat on a bench overlooking a small pond.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Rintarou replied, smirking slightly.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“Like the fact that I’m ridiculously good at claw machines.”

You laughed, the sound surprising even yourself. It was the first time you’d genuinely laughed in weeks, and Rintarou noticed.

“See? Told you I was good for something,” he said, leaning back against the bench.

The conversation flowed easily after that. You talked about everything and nothing—your favorite shows, the places you wanted to travel, the things that made you happy. For the first time in weeks, you felt like yourself again.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, you glanced at Rintarou and realized how much you appreciated his company. He wasn’t trying to fix you or force you to talk about what happened with Atsumu. He was just… there. And that was enough.

—

A month passed, and your hangouts with Rintarou became more frequent. What started as casual conversations turned into late-night texts, impromptu coffee runs, and long walks through the park. You hadn’t felt this close to someone in a long time, and it scared you a little.

One evening, you were sitting on the swings at the same park, the stars shining brightly overhead. Rintarou had been quieter than usual, and you could tell something was on his mind.

“What’s up?” you asked, nudging him with your foot.

He looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I like you,” he said, the words blunt but sincere.

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “What?”

“I like you,” he repeated, his voice steady despite the vulnerability in his eyes. “And I know you’re still trying to move on from… everything. I’m not trying to rush you or make things harder for you. I just wanted you to know.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding. You didn’t know what to say, and he seemed to notice your hesitation.

“I’ll wait,” he added quickly. “As long as it takes. I just… I think you deserve to be with someone who actually sees you. Someone who doesn’t walk away when things get hard.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. You thought about all the times he’d been there for you over the past month, the way he made you feel seen and understood.

You didn’t know if you were ready for something new, but one thing was clear: Rintarou wasn’t like anyone else.

“Rin,” you started, your voice soft. “I don’t know if I can—”

“I know,” he interrupted gently. “And that’s okay. I’m not asking you for anything right now. Just… think about it, alright?”

You nodded, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. For the first time in a long time, you felt a spark of hope.

The relationship with the girl Atsumu had chosen over you didn’t last long. At first, it felt like a distraction—a way to silence the feelings he was too scared to confront. But the more time he spent with her, the clearer it became: she wasn’t you.

Every laugh, every conversation, every small moment felt hollow. He’d catch himself comparing her to you—the way she didn’t understand his jokes the way you did, or how her presence didn’t bring him the same comfort.

By the time the relationship ended, Atsumu was left with an emptiness he couldn’t ignore. He had thought pushing you away would make things easier, but all it had done was make him realize how much he needed you.

And now, as he sat alone in his room, scrolling through old photos on his phone, the ache in his chest felt unbearable. One picture caught his attention—it was from last year, the two of you grinning at the camera with Osamu and Rintarou behind you, all mid-laugh.

He stared at the image for a long time before closing his eyes, his fists clenching. He couldn’t keep running from his feelings. He needed to tell you.

It had taken Atsumu days to work up the courage to confess. He had rehearsed what he would say over and over in his head, imagining every possible scenario. Would you forgive him? Would you hate him? Did you still care at all?

But before he could act, something stopped him in his tracks.

It was a Friday night, and he was scrolling aimlessly through Instagram when he saw it: your story.

The first slide was a picture of food—burgers and fries from one of the places Atsumu knew you loved. He almost swiped past it, but the next slide made his heart drop.

It was you, sitting across from someone at a dimly lit table. The photo was candid, your smile so wide and genuine it almost hurt to look at.

Then came the next slide: Rintarou, leaning back in his chair with a small smirk, his eyes focused on you like there was no one else in the world.

Atsumu’s chest tightened, his breathing shallow.

No.

His thumb hovered over the screen, his mind racing. He stared at the story until it looped back to the beginning, unable to process what he was seeing.

It couldn’t be.

But it was.

He put his phone down, his hands trembling. All the confidence he’d built up, all the plans he’d made to confess—it shattered in an instant.

Because it was too late.

He spent the rest of the night lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His thoughts were a whirlwind, alternating between disbelief, regret, and a sharp, unrelenting pain.

Rintarou. Of all people, it had to be Rintarou.

They had been friends for years, practically brothers. Atsumu couldn’t even be angry at him—he knew Rintarou wasn’t the type to swoop in unless he was serious.

But knowing that didn’t make it any easier.

The memories flooded back: the way you used to laugh at his dumb jokes, the way you’d tease him when he got too full of himself, the way you always seemed to know when he needed someone to lean on.

He had taken it all for granted.

And now, someone else had stepped in to fill the void he had left.

The next time Atsumu saw Rintarou at practice, he couldn’t meet his eyes. The usual banter between them was gone, replaced by an awkward tension that neither of them addressed.

He wanted to say something, to confront him, to ask if it was true—but what right did he have? He had been the one to push you away. He had been the one to hurt you.

Later, when Osamu asked him what was wrong, Atsumu just shook his head. “Nothin’,” he mumbled, forcing a smile.

But Osamu wasn’t fooled.

“Yer terrible at hidin’ things, y’know,” Osamu said, crossing his arms. “This about her?”

Atsumu froze, his eyes widening. “What?”

Osamu sighed. “(Y/N). I ain’t stupid, Tsumu. I know how ya feel about her. And I know ya messed up.”

Atsumu looked away, shame creeping up his neck. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” he muttered. “She’s with Rin now.”

Osamu raised an eyebrow. “And yer just gonna give up?”

“What else can I do?” Atsumu snapped, his voice cracking. “I already lost her.”

Osamu didn’t say anything for a long moment, just staring at his twin. Then he clapped him on the shoulder, his grip firm.

“Then don’t screw up yer next chance.”

Atsumu didn’t respond, but Osamu’s words lingered long after he walked away.

Atsumu hadn’t planned to do this. He wasn’t sure why he thought talking to you would help, but the knot in his chest had grown unbearable. It wasn’t fair—not to you, not to Rintarou, and certainly not to himself. He needed to say something, to let it out, even if it meant facing the harsh reality that you were no longer his to have.

The opportunity came one quiet evening after practice. He saw you sitting on the bleachers, scrolling through your phone while waiting for Rintarou to finish up. You looked peaceful, content even, and it made his chest tighten.

“Hey,” he called out, his voice hesitant.

You looked up, surprised. “Atsumu? What’s up?”

He hesitated for a moment before sitting down beside you, leaving a noticeable gap between you. The silence stretched as he searched for the right words.

“Can we… talk?” he finally asked, his tone softer than you were used to.

You frowned slightly, concerned by his unusually serious demeanor. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

Atsumu exhaled shakily, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been thinkin’ a lot lately… about us.”

Your eyes widened slightly, but you stayed quiet, giving him space to continue.

“I know I screwed up,” he admitted, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Pushin’ ya away, makin’ ya think I didn’t care… That was on me. I thought it’d be easier, y’know? If I just… buried how I felt.”

Your heart sank as his words sank in. “Atsumu…”

He finally looked up, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But it wasn’t easier. It just made everythin’ worse. And now… now I’m here, watchin’ ya with Rin, and I can’t stop thinkin’ about how it could’ve been me.”

You bit your lip, your chest tightening. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because I need ya to know,” he said, his voice trembling. “I need ya to know that I loved ya—still do. But I know it’s too late. I can see it in how ya look at him. And I don’t wanna mess that up for ya.”

The weight of his confession hung heavily between you, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say.

“Atsumu,” you began carefully, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. “I’m not going to lie. When you pushed me away, it hurt. I didn’t understand why, and I hated that you wouldn’t tell me. I spent so long trying to figure out what I did wrong.”

He flinched at your words, guilt washing over him.

“But now I get it,” you continued, your tone softening. “And I appreciate you telling me this. I really do. But… things are different now.”

Atsumu nodded slowly, his throat tightening. “Ya really care about him, don’t ya?”

You smiled faintly, a warmth spreading across your face at the thought of Rintarou. “I do. He’s been there for me in ways I didn’t expect. And I don’t want to hurt him, Atsumu. He deserves better than that.”

He swallowed hard, forcing a small, bittersweet smile. “Yeah… he does.”

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the weight of unspoken feelings finally settling. It wasn’t the ending either of you had envisioned, but it was the one you both needed.

“I guess this is it, huh?” Atsumu said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned to him, your eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and gratitude. “It doesn’t have to be. You’re still important to me, Atsumu. Maybe not in the way you want, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

He gave a small nod, though the ache in his chest didn’t lessen. “I’ll always care about ya too.”

As you stood to leave, Rintarou approached, his gaze flickering between you and Atsumu. He didn’t say anything, but his presence alone made Atsumu realize it was time to step back.

“Take care of her,” Atsumu said quietly, meeting Rintarou’s eyes.

Rintarou nodded, understanding the weight behind the words. “I will.”

That night, Atsumu walked home alone, the cool breeze biting against his skin. For the first time in months, the knot in his chest felt looser, the weight on his shoulders lighter.

He knew the pain wouldn’t go away overnight, but he also knew that holding onto something that was no longer his would only hurt him more.

You were happy, and that was all that mattered.

As he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, a single tear slipped down his cheek. He let it fall, letting himself feel the loss one last time before closing his eyes.

Tomorrow would be a new day, and Atsumu Miya would find a way to move forward.

Rintarou had never been one to act impulsively, but watching you over the past few months had tested his patience. He had seen you laugh, cry, and slowly stitch yourself back together after Atsumu broke your heart. He’d been there for the late-night texts, the casual hangouts that became something more, and the quiet moments when you thought no one noticed how much you were still hurting.

He noticed everything.

From the beginning, his feelings had been something he shoved to the side. You were Atsumu’s best friend, practically untouchable in his eyes. But now? Now, you weren’t just someone he admired from a distance. You were the person he wanted to see happy, even if it meant waiting until you were ready.

Rintarou was deliberate about everything. If he was going to confess, it had to be perfect—not flashy or overwhelming, but something that felt like you. Something thoughtful.

He remembered a conversation you’d had weeks ago about how you missed doing creative things, like drawing and painting. The way your face lit up when you talked about it stuck with him. That’s when he got the idea.

He spent the next week preparing: buying canvases, paint, brushes, and even scouting the perfect spot in the park where you’d have privacy. The confession itself was the tricky part. How could he say everything he felt in a way that wouldn’t scare you off?

That’s when he decided to let the moment speak for itself.

—

The day of the confession was perfect. The late afternoon sunlight bathed the park in warm hues, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves. Rintarou arrived early, setting up the picnic blanket under a tree with the canvases and paints neatly arranged to one side.

When you arrived, he felt his heart skip a beat. You looked happy, carefree even, and it made his nerves settle just a little.

“This is so sweet, Rin,” you said, sitting down beside him. “I didn’t know you liked picnics.”

“I don’t,” he teased, smirking. “But you do, so here we are.”

You laughed, nudging him lightly. “You’re not as lazy as you pretend to be, huh?”

He shrugged, pulling out the canvases. “I thought we could try somethin’ different. You said you missed drawing, so…”

Your eyes widened, a soft smile spreading across your face. “You remembered?”

“‘Course I did,” he said, avoiding your gaze as his ears turned pink.

The two of you spent the next hour painting and chatting, the conversation flowing effortlessly. You decided to draw each other, and while you tried your best to capture Rintarou’s sharp features, he seemed oddly focused on his own canvas.

“Are you even trying?” you teased, leaning over to peek at his work.

He quickly pulled the canvas away, his smirk widening. “Patience, (Y/N). You’ll see when it’s done.”

You rolled your eyes but went back to your own work, tongue poking out in concentration as you added the finishing touches. When you were finally done, you turned your canvas to him.

“Okay, don’t laugh,” you warned.

Rintarou’s eyes softened as he took in your painting. It wasn’t perfect, but it was undeniably him—the way you saw him, not just as a friend but as someone important.

“It’s great,” he said sincerely, his voice quieter than usual.

You blushed under his gaze. “Thanks. Now let me see yours.”

He hesitated for a moment, then handed you his canvas without a word.

Your breath caught as you looked at his painting—or rather, what wasn’t a painting at all. Instead of a portrait, Rintarou had written words in bold, neat letters across the blank canvas:

Will you be my girlfriend?

You stared at the canvas, your heart pounding in your chest. Slowly, you looked up to meet his gaze.

“Rin…”

He scratched the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “I know this might be bad timing, and I know you’re still—well, I just… I like ya, (Y/N). I’ve liked ya for a long time. And I get it if you’re not ready, but I just wanted ya to know how I feel.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten. You thought back to all the little moments with Rintarou—the way he had been there for you when you felt at your lowest, the quiet understanding he offered without expecting anything in return, the subtle warmth that had started to grow between you.

Tears pricked your eyes as you smiled. “You’re not bad at this romantic stuff, huh?”

He let out a breathy laugh, relief washing over him. “So… is that a yes?”

You nodded, setting the canvas down and leaning forward to wrap your arms around him. “It’s a yes.”

Rintarou froze for a moment before hugging you back, his usual smirk replaced with a genuine, almost shy smile.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice soft. “‘Cause I wasn’t gonna give up that easy.”

—

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, the two of you stayed close, the world around you fading into the background.

Rintarou couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, waiting had been worth it after all.

The next time Atsumu saw you, it was at school. You were sitting with Rintarou, your heads bent close together as you shared a laugh. He watched from a distance, his chest tight with emotions he couldn’t quite name.

It hurt, but it also gave him clarity. You were happy, and Rintarou was the reason why.

For once, Atsumu didn’t interrupt, didn’t try to make a joke to ease the tension or fight for your attention. He turned and walked away, knowing that this was the choice he had to make—not for you, but for himself.

He’d hold onto the memories of you, of what you’d been to him, but it was time to let go.

And maybe, just maybe, that was the first step toward his own new beginning.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Can I request an Eddie Munson smut, maybe holiday themed? Maybe the whole thing that’s like, reader manages to tie a bow around herself as a gift, and suddenly gets insecure, but hey can’t herself undone before Eddie gets home.

He uses the bow to his advantage and shows reader how great she is without her intervening. 🫶🫶

I love this idea!

cw: MDNI (18+) nipple play, oral (f receiving) body insecurity

You stand in the mirror wearing nothing but a piece of ribbon that you had intricately tied around yourself. Part of it is draped across one of your shoulders while another is covering your cunt while the bow is tied to cover your tits. Not only did it take you forever to find a ribbon big enough for this, but it also took you over an hour to figure out how to make it cover all the proper places. You feel good, excitement coursing through you as you can’t wait for Eddie to get home. He’s been doing a bunch of holiday concerts and is coming home just in time to spend Christmas with you. 

You haven’t seen him in weeks and want to surprise him with a gift you think he deserves: you. You’re so needy for him and are sure that he feels the same for you. But as you look in the mirror again, you suddenly feel very insecure about yourself, not knowing how you had talked yourself into doing something so scandalous. You go to untie the bow, but it won’t budge, the intricate way you’ve tied it clearly backfiring as it stays there, not coming undone no matter how hard you tug on it.

You hear the front door close and panic as you reach for your robe, quickly wrapping it around yourself, trying your best to hide the bow even though it’s very obvious underneath the very thin silk of your robe. But it’s too late to fix it as you see Eddie enter the room through the reflection on the mirror. 

You turn around to face him, temporarily forgetting about your whole predicament as you make a beeline for each other. He’s quick to wrap you up in his arms, giving you a tight hug as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, peppering it with kisses. 

“I missed you so much,” he says as he pulls back to look at you, so much love in his eyes as he stares into yours. 

“I missed you too,” you reply and he leans forward, capturing your lips with his as he pulls you to his chest, noticing that there’s something odd pressing against him. 

He pulls away, his eyebrows furrowing as his gaze shifts to the robe, seeing that there is definitely something underneath it. He wants to know what you’re hiding. What you’re wearing and why you seem so embarrassed by it. He’s seen you naked more times than he can count so he doesn’t know what’s so embarrassing about what you’re wearing

“What’s under the robe, baby?” He asks and you feel your cheeks heat. Wrapping the top even tighter around you as you cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to hide the bow. But Eddie’s not falling for it. “Baby?” He asks, his voice softer now, no longer teasing as he sees tears welling up in your eyes. 

You step away from him and close your eyes tight as you slowly untie the robe and open it to show Eddie what you’ve been hiding. You hear him gasp and open your eyes just in time to see him grin. He steps closer to you and grabs onto the robe, opening it even more to get a good view of what you’re wearing. 

“Merry Christmas to me,” he says in a flirty tone as his eyes roam over every detail of the ribbon you’ve tied around yourself. You turn away from him, feeling very uncomfortable and eddie grabs onto your face softly, forcing you to look him in the eyes. 

“What’s going on?” He asks. He’s not doing to pry, but so that he can help you not feel the way you’re feeling anymore. 

“I-I did this whole thing and then I don’t know-I started to feel silly so I went to take it off so I could change before you got home, but it’s stuck,” You reach for the bow and pull on the end, but it still won’t budge. 

“Do you want some help?” He asks, a chuckle falling from his lips and you know he’s not laughing at you, but the situation as a whole. He slowly reaches for the other side of the bow and looks you up in the eyes, his growing dark. “I’ve gotta say, this is the best gift I’ve ever gotten. It’s really thoughtful of you, hon.” He yanks on the bow and the whole thing comes undone. 

“You think?” You ask and he nods, pushing the robe off of your shoulders so he can see the full thing you’ve managed to do with the bow. 

“Oh, I know, baby. Why don’t you let me show you just how grateful I am?” You’re suddenly not embarrassed anymore, your need for him overpowering everything else. 

“Please,” you whine and he puts on a devilish grin as he begins to take off all of his clothes while you watch, impressed by how quickly he’s working and pretty soon, he’s down to his boxers and he’s reaching up to remove the rest of the ribbon from your body, eager to see you, all of you. 

The ribbon falls to the floor and Eddie’s quick to pull you to his chest, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth as his hands rest on your back, moving down slowly, grabbing your ass which makes you gasp into his mouth before he grabs onto the back of your legs. 

You jump like you know he wants you to and he catches you as your legs wrap around his waist and your lips connect once again as he backs up to the bed, turning around and collapsing onto it, taking you with him. 

He falls on top of you and pins your wrists to the bed, his lips swallowing your giggles, quickly moving down to your neck, your chest, kissing as well as nipping at your skin before he goes in for a rough suck. Because you’ve expressed how insecure you felt wrapped up in the ribbon, Eddie is determined to make you feel good, especially since he’ll get to do it with his mouth the way he always likes. 

“You’re so pretty, baby,” he says as he goes in for another suck, this time right above your tit. “You don’t have to hide from me. I always want to see you. All of you.” Your skin grows hot at his compliment and you’re about to thank him, but he goes on. “And I intend on loving on every single inch of you until you believe me.” 

The last part comes out more raspy and you’re so wet now that you feel your slick trickling down your leg. You need him so desperately to take care of it, but you also want to soak up everything he’s doing to you, to enjoy it as much as possible. He’s going through all the effort to make you feel good, after all. Even though you know he enjoys it just as much as you do. 

He pulls back to look at you, his eyes darkening as a devilish grin spreads across his face. He then lets his gaze fall to your tits and you arch your back, moving back and forth to tease him as he feels drool forming in his mouth as he thinks about just how much he wants to lick and bite and suck on them. 

“C’mon, Eds, you know you want you,” you bat your lashes and Eddie is quick to pin your back down to the bed, his mouth latching onto your nipple, bringing it into his mouth as he gives them a rough suck, causing a gasp to leave your mouth. 

“E-Eddie, oh my god,” you whine and he continues to suck even harder as you grip onto the bedding underneath you for dear life. Your eyes shut tight as your back arches in pleasure, feeling so good, already feeling like you’re close. 

Your hands grip the bedding underneath you even harder as you feel even more slick rolling down your leg. And just when you think Eddie’s done, he takes your nipple between his teeth, giving it a bite which causes you to absolutely lose it. A loud, delicious moan falls from your lips as your back arches in pleasure. Eddie bites down again and you moan even louder, grabbing onto whatever part of him you can get your hands on as an orgasm tears through you. 

“Eddie, sh-shit, oh my god,” you whine and he pulls away, smiling to himself as he sees your tit shining with his spit. As you’re coming down, he moves onto the next one, not being gentle as he noticed that you liked how rough he was previously. 

He just goes straight in for a bite, biting down a little harder, but not hard enough to hurt you. But that’s what you think you want: for him to hurt you just a little bit. Just to add a little spice to what’s going on. 

“Harder,” you command and he listens, biting down harder and you wince at the pain, but you still don’t feel like it’s enough. “Harder.” He bites down even harder and you’re wincing even more, but it just feels so good. “Yeah,” you nod enthusiastically. “Just like that.” 

Eddie pulls on your nipple and your nails dig into him as you feel another orgasm coursing through you. He somehow always knows exactly what you need and when you need it. It’s almost like he can read your mind and it seems like he can because of how well he knows you.

“That’s it, baby,” Eddie encourages. “Just like that.” He pulls away just in time to see you orgasm again and he’s eating it up. He loves seeing you like this, your mouth wide open as you moan so loudly that it’s surely going to wake up your neighbors, but he couldn’t care less. 

He kisses his way down your torso and stops once he gets to your cunt, spreading your legs wide so he can see what he’s working with, letting out a dramatic gasp as he looks down at your cunt and how sopping wet you are. 

“You’re fucking soaked,” he says. “Looks like you need me to clean you up, hm?” 

“Please.” You’re begging now, pleading and Eddie loves when you get like this. He loves when you beg and it doesn’t take much for you to get needy. 

He spreads your legs even wider before getting down on his knees, draping them over his shoulders, scooting closer so that his face is right in front of your cunt. 

“I’ve been thinking about this for weeks,” he sighs before diving straight in, his lips latching onto your clit, giving it a suck and you’re quick to moan in response, your hands threading through his hair, giving it a rough tug.

“Eddie, fuck,” you whine as his tongue swirls around, his fingers digging into your thighs as he does so. He’s eating you out like he’s a man starved and now you’re actually becoming grateful for the time you’ve spent away from each other. 

“Taste so good, hon,” he comments. “Think this is the best you’ve ever tasted. God, I could eat you all night.”

“Then w-why don’t you?” You ask through labored breaths, grabbing onto his hair again as his lips travel down to your slit, his tongue moving back and forth across it, warming you up before he lets his teeth do all the work, scraping them along your cunt, eating up not only you, but the way you’re yanking on his hair as the hottest moans pour from your lips. 

You stay like that for a while, Eddie eating you out for hours as you hold on to his hair for dear life as he makes you orgasm over and over until you’re absolutely spent, your words slurring. And even though you’re more than willing to keep going, Eddie decides that it’s time to go to bed since you’re already close to falling asleep anyway. 

So he cleans you up then climbs into bed next to you, pulling you close so that your body is flush to his, his hand running up and down your side as you fall asleep right in front him and he’s hoping, praying that you really do know just how much he loves you.

[princessshikky]

The whole "Justice became Vengeance" thing is extremely iffy, imo.

First of all, if there's anything in common between all demons we've seen in-game, it's that they're selfish. Ultimately driven by their desires. Granted, those desires range from "take over the world, mwa-ha-ha" to "avenge people I/my host cared about" to "just roam around and see the world with my own two eyes", but. We've never seen a demon in-game who'd be content just sitting in a sewer for seven years, holding a free clinic for the downtrodden and risking their host's life in order to save mages from the circle. That's not something demons do. Ever.

Second of all, Anders' and Justice's actions are almost never about vengeance. Mostly they're about the cause of mages. Not "killing everyone in the chantry for hurting mages", not "hurting every templar so that they know what it feels like", but "saving mages and giving them freedom". Anders-and-Justice very rarely care about retribution. Even the chantry boom wasn't about vengeance, but about showing to the public how unjust the current system is and how it is heavily skewed against mages.

Third of all, if you take Anders to the Fade during the Feynriel quest in act II, Torpor - an actual demon of Sloth - literally says "Ignore this tiresome little spirit". We meet someone who clearly knows a thing or two about spirits and demons, and this person takes one look at Justice and goes "Yep. Spirit through and through".

Finally, what's our primary source of information about Justice having turned into Vengeance? Anders' words. And while I love Anders with all my heart, I can't honestly call him a specialist on the subject. He's been influenced by the Chantry teachings and biases whether he wants it or not. Sorry, honey, I won't take your word for it.

I do believe there's one instance in the game where Justice comes dangerously close to being corrupted into a demon - namely, that one meeting with Sir Alric, where Anders-and-Justice/Vengeance almost kill Ella (or without "almost", depending on whether Hawke manages to talk them down). But they quickly snap out of it.

Tl;dr: there's numerous evidence that Justice wasn't corrupted and remains a spirit, and I don't believe otherwise. Sorry to hijack your post, OP.

All of the discussion about spirits and demons in DAV has really got me thinking about DA2. Solas (and the game itself) tells us that when a spirit is denied its true purpose, it becomes twisted into a demon.

I think this suggests that Justice became Vengeance not because he was poisoned by Anders’ rage/desire for revenge, but because he was denied his original purpose as a spirit of justice in Kirkwall. The mages there were so oppressed and persecuted by the templars that after years of running a clinic and working to effect change without achieving any real justice for the mages, Justice was twisted from his true purpose into Vengeance. He was literally unable to fulfill his role and promote justice in that environment, so he was forced to become vengeance instead.

Anders wasn’t the reason Justice became Vengeance. Kirkwall was.

[dollyonm0lly]

THINKING ABOUTTT

caracalla lusting after getas wife, crying because he can‘t have her and finally going to geta to propose having her marry him aswell

at first geta is against it because you‘re HIS property and sharing with his whiny stupid brother makes him angry but eventually he caves in

„but we can take turns“ caracalla whines and cries until geta gives in, the thought kind of entices him 👀

and you‘re absolutely not pleased, caracalla freaks you out but now you have to obey him aswell

TW: kinda of noncon, crazy Caracalla.

“This is a bad idea" is what you don't say, but it shows in your gaze as your eyes meet Geta's, he being a little further away from the bed where you are sitting, making it a little difficult to see him clearly in the partially dark room, only lit by the ambiance outside of the windows. Your eyes now wander towards the brother closest to you, Caracalla, who is standing in front of you, you try to ignore him, fix your head in the same position and keep it that way, your attention only on his detailed robe so close to you.

“She defies me” - Caracalla says to the wind, there is no immediate response, and you can't detect what the mood of his voice could be, neutral, perhaps? There are moments with Caracalla when you can feel all his emotions, he screams, cries, reacts violently and impulsively, and there are times when it seems like there is nothing... Nothing, you haven't felt anything of what might be coming now, what emotion he will show you next, and that scares you. He scares you. And when you feel a strange hand coming towards your face, unfamiliar, you don't think twice about dodging it, your head slightly hesitating back, running away.

You can feel your face sweating from the tension in the room, and you know you've screwed yourself after running from your Emperor's grasp. You hold still, your hands clenching the fabric of your dress, your knuckles white with the intensity of your grip. - "Stay still for him, dear” - You can hear Geta say in the distance, your heart immediately tightens in your chest in a feeling of betrayal, however, you don't seem to be the only one reacting badly to his words.

“Stop bossing her around, you're too bossy and I'm tired of it, and... And I talked to you about it! You said you'd share control over her, so stop trying to talk for me” - You hear Caracalla complain to his brother, his voice still a bit too steady for the stiff way he said them, you can see in your peripheral vision how he clench his own hands into fists as he speaks, and it doesn't help your nervousness one bit. Geta doesn't offer him an answer.

“Take off your clothes” - The older brother says as he turns his attention back to you, he seems to want to take on a commanding tone, but when you listen a little better to the edges of it, you can hear a slight whimper of a sulking child in the background of his words, as if he is begging you to obey him, and that, that is never a good sign with Caracalla.

You hesitate again, not moving a muscle. You feel numb, lost.

“WHY ARE YOU NOT OBEYING ME? WHY ARE YOU PRETENDING NOT TO LISTEN TO ME? I TOLD YOU TO TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES. WHY ARE YOU STILL IN PLACE? ARE YOU STUPID? STUPID, STUPID, STUPID” - There it is, what you hate the most, the screaming and the crying, the way he freaks out, and you are the target of it now, you feel a burning disgust in your body for your husband, you look for him in the room, and when your eyes meet, Caracalla notices, and misunderstands the situation - “Why... Why are you looking at him?? ARE YOU SEEKING AUTHORIZATION FROM HIM? I AM EMPEROR TOO! DO YOU FORGET? DOES EVERYONE FORGET? IS GETA EMPEROR ALONE? HE IS THE ONE EVERYONE LISTENS TO, EVERYONE PLEASES, EVERYONE RESPECTS…” - The older brother screams and screams in your face, and eventually, you can start to hear the strangled sobs in his voice, he's crying now and curling up in himself, you try not to roll your eyes at the crybaby in front of you, and you even think about talking back to him, when you're interrupted.

“Fuck it, just stand still then, stupid” - You hear him say in a harsh tone, and soon after, you feel his rough hand grab your entire face, throwing you back on the bed until your head hits the mattress. He climbs on top of you, and with so much access and advantage over your body, he begins to forcefully undress you, tearing the delicate nightgown of your body, throwing what are now rags to the bedroom floor, you scream and try to hide yourself with your hands, but it does little good when you see the excitement in the Emperor's eyes above you - “You are so beautiful, so beautiful, so beautiful, I'm so happy, brother! She is perfect” - He repeats, like a kid in a candy store, he examines you all over, forcing the hands that previously protected you from his intrusive gaze against the bed, holding you down, you squirm and try to kick him, but his weight on top of you makes your struggle more difficult.

“Make her feel good, brother, soon she will be less wary of you" - Geta says as he leaves the shadows from which he watched the whole scene, approaching the bed to sit on it, you hate the way his words treat you like an animal, how his eyes seem hungrier watching his brother attack you than when it's just the two of you alone, how his hand still dares to try to caress your face affectionately, resting it on top of your head like he always does. You feel like you could vomit right now. He senses it - “Her breasts are sensitive, why don't you try?" - He suggests, licking his lips in anticipation, watching his brother nod.

Caracalla still seems a little dizzy admiring your body, his own trembles with satisfaction just from seeing you, from feeling you so close, your eyes, your mouth, your skin, your smell, everything about you calls out to him, he can feel his body warmer than normal and his eyes fall as if he had never slept in his life, it feels like a dream. He pants through his mouth, seeming to prepare himself, slowly lowering, as if not to scare you, as if he doesn't scare you just by existing, his eyes never stray from yours, nor yours from his, what you think is rebellion on your part, he takes as affection.

At his first contact with your breasts, you feel a weak moan leave your lips, not yet prepared, seeming to forget that you should contain yourself, that you hate him, he leaves kisses down the center of your chest, slowly leading them to your left breast, kisses all over, and then to the right, kisses all over, he seems strangely affectionate compared to the outburst from seconds ago, he takes his tongue out, showing it off quite a bit to your suspicious eyes, and takes it to one of your nips, circling it, testing the waters, and reciprocating positively when you moan even with your lips closed. He closes his eyes as if enjoying a feast, let his tongue travel over you, and licks soon turn into sucking, it doesn't seem enough for him, he needs more, much more, he needs to have your entire breast in his mouth and suck it as if his life depends on it, release it with an audible 'pop' and then, go to the other one. And that he does.

Minutes seem like hours, you moan and moan, and not only you, you hear Caracalla moan as much, seeming to feel more pleasure in sucking your breasts than you in having them sucked, he pants and growls against them, bites them, and makes it seem as if he is not even stopping to breathe, too busy admiring your body as if to him you were God, he can't hold himself back, he has wanted this for so long, you were everything to him, still are, he can't believe he deprived himself of touching you for so long. You can feel him humping pathetically against one of your legs, his erection still under his red robe, he doesn't even care, he cries with pleasure as if he is already inside you, as if just rubbing himself like a dog against your thigh was a blessing, you can hear the cries and sobs again, the little whimpers, but now he seems to be in heaven on Earth.

“Make my brother happy, moan his name, dear” - You hear Geta whisper in your ear just for you alone to hear, something malicious and perverse in his voice, he seems to be entertaining himself watching, you can't see him well where you're lying, you wish you could, you wish you could see if he's touching himself by the image of his brother defiling you, you wish he'd bend down and capture your lips with his, you wish you could suck him off and bring him the satisfaction his brother is feeling at the moment. But the only thing you get are caresses in your hair, on your forehead, like a puppy that has done well.

“Ca- Caracalla…” - You say in a weak moan, uncertain of your own words, even as he begins to make you wet between your legs. You don't feel like yourself when the words leave your mouth, and maybe you've been out of your own body for a long time, you just hadn't realized it. You feel him writhe and moan in gratitude as he hears his name come out of your mouth, something wet smearing your leg. It doesn't take you long to realize that the sticky stuff is coming from Caracalla's robe, he's cumming inside his own clothes, just by humping himself against you. Next, you feel your chest wet, more tears probably, since you can hear him sniffling below you.

You unconsciously rest a hand on Caracalla's head, closing your own eyes.

[ink-perfect]

short n sweet 2024 ⋆. masterlist ⋆. @creamflix

it all began with a vase. 

a very expensive vase. 

the kind you were supposed to admire from afar, with your hands buried deep into your pockets to ensure you wouldn’t even accidentally touch it.

and it was megumi’s pride and joy, though he’d never outright admit it. instead, if anyone dared approach it, he'd throw out a dry warning like, “careful. that vase is worth more than your life,” before quickly diverting his attention back to whatever menial task he was pretending to do. it was a classic megumi move - a nonchalant comment carrying an unspoken threat. 

ryomen sukuna, however, clearly hadn’t got the memo.

or, well, he had, but instead just chose to roll his eyes and mutter something about “stupid rules” before poking the vase, “just to see how sturdy it was”. 

spoiler alert: it wasn’t.  

which led you to the sight currently in front of you: sukuna crouched in the living room, two of his arms holding up the jagged remains of the once-antique while the other two tried to… glue?...tape? what even was that in his hand?  

“sukkun, is that…gum?” you asked incredulously, watching him smear yet another suspiciously soggy wad across the porcelain. 

he froze immediately. four crimson eyes swivelled to look up at you, wide like a puppy’s—well, like a puppy who’d just eaten the couch cushions. 

“it’s…structural,” he finally grumbled in response, as if this was a completely logical explanation. but you could see through his facade—the slight twitch of his eyes and the way his neck stiffened—that he was starting to grow frustrated. a smirk crept its way onto your face as you began to speak. 

“aww, you messed up real bad, didn’t ya?”  

“no.” 

you raised an eyebrow.  

“…maybe.”  

“suuukkuuunnnn,” you probed, smile growing even wider.

“fine, i messed up!” his lower set of arms snapped in exasperation, sending a shard of the vase skidding across the floor. 

you sighed dramatically, pinching the bridge of your nose in mock concern. “yeah you did. do you even know what you’re doing now?”

“i’m figuring it out!” he barked. “stop hovering! i’ve got this.”  

to prove his point, he grabbed a piece of duct tape and slapped it across the largest crack. then another. and another. by the time he was done, the vase looked like it had gone ten rounds in a back alley and lost. brutally. 

you sighed deeply for what felt like the millionth time, but despite the absolute disaster before you, something about sukuna—this terrifying, all-powerful curse—desperately trying to fix his mess with fuckass gum and duct tape made you chuckle. “move over,” you said, shuffling in closer to inspect the task at hand.  

“what are you—hey!” he yelped as you snatched the vase from his hands. “wait, you’re going to ruin all my hard work!”  

“relaaaaax. i’ve watched, like, three vase repair tutorials.” you tossed away the duct tape and grabbed a tube of superglue off his table instead (man, where did he get this frankenstein ahh toolkit?) and squeezed a generous glob onto one of the pieces.  

“that’s going to take too long—”

“boy, shh. let me work.” 

and you did, intricately piecing the vase together, grinning with the confidence you gained at every matched shard. soon enough, you began to pick up the pace, showing off to sukuna as he grunted in response.

but ah, pride was the first of the seven deadly sins for a reason.

“hey! be careful—” sukuna began, but it was too late.  

“...uh-oh.”  

“what do you mean, ‘uh-oh’?!”  

“it’s fine!” you said, waving your hand wildly. “i’ve got it under control.”  

“no, you don’t! you just glued yourself to the shard!” sukuna snapped, hands reaching to wrestle the vase back from you. 

“no, you let it go, i got this!” you protested, pulling the vase back as if your life depended on it. but he was too quick, his fingers already tightening around the other side. henceforth, a tug-of-war broke out, both of you yanking the vase back and forth like little kids. 

and in all this chaos the vase predictably fell to the floor yet again, breaking into at least triple the amount of pieces it had been in before.  

“...oops.”  

“oops?!” sukuna was death-staring you so hard you didn't even have to look up to know. “that’s all you have to say?!”

“okay, okay, new plan!” you chuckled nervously. “we just, uh—hide the evidence?”  

“oh, sure. genius idea. let’s bury it in the backyard. nobody will notice the literal king of curses covered in dirt.”  

you shot him a look. “got a better idea, king?” 

his jaw clenched. “yeah, actually. just give me the glue—”  

“wait don’t pull, it’s still stuck to my—ow!”  

and at that very moment, the door swung wide open. megumi stepped in, eyes immediately narrowing as they scanned the room. “why does it smell like mint and glue in here…oh.” 

you and sukuna were frozen, a perfect portrait of disaster: the vase shattered into a million jagged pieces, somehow even more shards stuck to your hand now, sukuna clutching the superglue as if it might explode at any moment. megumi’s gaze shot up to the two of you, a rare blind rage—something close to fire—igniting in his eyes.

but before he could even speak, you and sukuna both jabbed fingers at each other and shouted in perfect unison:  

“it wasn’t me!”  

© ink-perfect; est. 2024.

[weemssapphic]

Lipstick Stains - Pt. 26

previous chapter | series page

Larissa Weems x fem!reader

words: ~ 4.7k | ao3 link in title

A/N: after a little over a year and a half, we've reached the end of this fic - never did I ever think that that smutty one shot would turn into 26 chapters and over 90k words. thank you, deeply, for everyone who has stuck around til the very end, even when it sometimes took me ages to update. thank you to everyone who commented, sent me asks, inspired me to keep writing. I felt this was the most authentic way to end the fic - I hope you like it! and let me know if you want to see more of these two 🥰

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You could sense Larissa tensing up beside you at the sound of the voice, her eyes widening as they fixated on the doorway behind you. Turning in confusion, your eyes landed on a woman clad all in black, with long dark hair and a sultry air about her. Though you’d never seen this woman before in your life, between her sense of style and Larissa’s reaction it wasn’t hard to deduce that you were now face-to-face with Morticia Addams. Your grip on Larissa’s hand tightened, your knuckles turning white. 

Morticia began to glide towards the bed with unparalleled elegance, stopping only when she seemed to finally register your presence by Larissa’s side. Her gaze drifted down to your intertwined hands, lingering there for what seemed to be half an eternity. Her expression went from confusion to interest and, finally, as she met your own (definitely hostile) gaze, shifted to understanding. 

“Wednesday told me you’d been seeing someone.” Morticia’s eyes were still on you, but her words were clearly directed at Larissa. “I assume this is her?”

“Y/N,” you said rather coldly, introducing yourself before Larissa could respond.

“It’s a pleasure,” Morticia replied, painted lips curling up into a smile that was as seductive as it appeared to be sincere. 

“I wish I could say the same,” you growled under your breath. Morticia clearly heard you, but her smile never faltered. 

“Darling…” Larissa whispered hoarsely, her voice cracking.

Morticia laughed, the sound melodic. “She’s feisty, I like her.” 

You scowled, wrinkling your nose.

“What are you doing here?” Larissa’s expression showed confusion and annoyance in equal measure, and she was clearly trying her best to speak powerfully and clearly, though her voice faltered on the last syllable. 

“Can’t I check on my best friend after she nearly dies?”

Larissa’s own grip on your hand tightened, and you squeezed back in a show of reassurance and solidarity. “We haven’t been best friends in decades.”

The smile dropped right off Morticia’s face and she crossed her arms, an uncomfortable silence shrouding the room. “I know,” she whispered finally. “And I know that’s mostly my fault. But when Wednesday told me what happened, I had to come see you.”

“Well, you’ve seen her,” you hissed. Morticia smiled a little sadly - she deserved it, you thought. You would never forget the way Larissa had spoken of the way Morticia had treated her, as though Larissa had meant nothing to her - as though Larissa wasn’t good enough for her. The memory alone made your blood boil, and you were certain your anger and contempt at Morticia were visible on your face.

“I’ve always cared about you, Larissa…” The way Larissa’s name rolled off Morticia’s tongue left a bitter taste in your mouth, and you bit your tongue in a desperate attempt not to snap at the dark-haired woman.

“You have a funny way of showing it,” Larissa croaked out.

“That may be true. But I do care all the same. I’m glad you’re recovering.”

You watched Larissa’s face carefully for her reaction - her emotions were at war with one another and she was, for once, too exhausted to try to mask it. She closed her eyes, leaning back against her pillows with a frown on her face, deep lines forming between her eyebrows.

“I appreciate you checking in on me,” Larissa said finally, sounding more resigned than anything as she attempted to remain diplomatic. She opened her eyes and pinned Morticia with a tired gaze. “I hope you’ll excuse me, I’d like to rest a bit more before I’m discharged tomorrow.”

It was an elegant way of kicking Morticia out, and the raven-haired woman seemed to have gotten the hint. She gave a curt nod and smiled graciously. “I’m sure our paths will cross again at Nevermore.”

Once she reached the doorway, Morticia turned back to face the two of you, looking at Larissa with a sort of soft fondness that you wouldn’t have expected from her. “She’ll take good care of you, this one.” Her gaze briefly flicked in your direction, not deterred by the frown on your face. Then she disappeared, closing the door gently behind her.

You turned back to Larissa to find her already watching you, her gaze soft and affectionate, her lips turned up into a smile that bordered on love-drunk - her expression so different than it had been with Morticia just moments ago. She laughed at the way you glowered at the door, her laugh turning into a slight cough.

“Don’t be jealous, darling…” she hummed shakily as her cough subsided.

“I’m not,” you said adamantly, though apparently not quite convincingly enough, for Larissa’s smile grew even wider. 

“There’s not a single alternate universe where Morticia and I are right for each other, where I’m not irrevocably in love with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you pressed your forehead to Larissa’s. “I love you,” you whispered. “I’m not jealous, I just hate the way that Morticia makes you feel. I want you to be happy…”

Larissa cupped both of your cheeks and tilted your head, until your lips were a hair’s breadth away from her own and her eyes had to dart back and forth to be able to meet yours. “I am happy,” she said adamantly. “You make me feel special.”

“You are special, Larissa.”

Larissa’s lips brushed against your own, the kiss soft and tender. You had little privacy in the hospital room, but still you could feel every ounce of love Larissa had for you in the way that she kissed you, and you smiled against her lips.

~~~

“Darling?” Larissa asked somewhat hesitantly that evening, as you’d just come back into the room from going to the restroom. She wrung her hands in her lap and her mouth was turned into an apologetic frown, and you cocked your head to the side as you perched yourself at her bedside.

“Yeah? What’s wrong?”

“I’ve just realized I don’t have my car here. Would you be able to drive me back to Nevermore when I’m discharged in the morning?”

Your brows knit together in confusion - you’d already assumed that’s what you’d be doing. “Of course. I asked Cass to drop my car off here tonight, I left it at Nevermore.”

Larissa seemed taken by surprise at the matter-of-factness in your tone. Her lips curled into a tiny smile, though her brow was still furrowed. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Larissa…” You bit the inside of your cheek as you considered your words carefully. “Have you thought about how you’re going to get by when you’re back at Nevermore? I mean, you might need help or something for a few weeks, you know, getting around and things…”

Larissa stayed silent for a moment, clearly contemplating. “I should be fine.”

You frowned at her stubbornness. “Okay… let me word that differently… I know you can take care of yourself, but I would feel better if you let me help you. If you want me to, that is…”

“I don’t want to burden you, darling,” Larissa said softly, running a hand through your hair - the intimate gesture felt so nice, and you leaned into her touch. “You have other things going on, you should focus on your studies.” Her smile was warm and affectionate but her gaze was a little sad, and you took her hand in yours and placed a kiss to her knuckles.

“You’re not a burden, Larissa. I want to help you recover, that’s what I’m here for. The semester is almost over anyway, aside from exams I wouldn’t really have to drive to Burlington much until after the holidays.”

You could practically see the cogs turning in Larissa’s brain, her brow furrowed as her eyes darted between your own - no doubt looking for some miniscule hint of insincerity or hesitance in your own gaze, which she certainly wouldn’t find. “Would you… be alright with staying at Nevermore for a little while, then?”

Larissa sounded almost shy, and you grinned and adopted a playful tone. “Larissa Weems, are you asking me to move in with you?”

Larissa’s cheeks grew red and she wrinkled her nose at your teasing. “Only if you’d like to…” she said after a moment, her tone soft and gentle. “You know there’s enough room for both of us.”

A feeling of absolute giddiness bubbled up inside of you - the circumstances might’ve been less than ideal but, regardless, the idea of living with Larissa was enough to make you swoon. Waking up every morning to her beautiful face on the pillow beside you, burrowing into her arms each night - your definition of heaven on earth.

“You know I’m not going to say no to that.” Your grin was so wide that it smoothed out the crease between Larissa’s brows, and she pulled her hand from between yours to cup the back of your neck and tug you in for a kiss.

~~~

Both you and Larissa were awake early the morning she was discharged, both of you too excited and too nervous to sleep. You pottered about the hospital room, packing your belongings up and gathering the flowers and cards to bring out to the car, while Larissa ate her breakfast, complaining about the food between each bite.

“I could cook something? We have to pass by my place on the way back to Nevermore anyway, I’ll just raid the fridge.”

Larissa snorted. “I’m sure your friends will appreciate that.” 

“They’ll get over it,” you teased with a grin and a shrug. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to carry our stuff to the car.”

You filled your arms with as much as you could carry and brought everything out to your car, piling it in the trunk. It took you a while to navigate the halls of the hospital and when you finally returned to Larissa’s room, she looked frustrated and a bit down, playing with a bobby pin between her fingers, one singular curl pinned up against the back of her head.

“You okay?” you asked, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth as you approached her bedside.

“It hasn’t taken me this long to do my hair in over 30 years… holding my arms up is too tiring…”

“Can’t you shift?” You feared the answer, figuring if she could, she would - Larissa shook her head sadly.

“Too much effort to maintain.”

“Oh… what if I helped you?”

Larissa seemed a bit surprised at your suggestion, but her frown was quickly replaced with a soft smile and she scooted forward a bit so that you could crawl into her bed behind her and help her with her hair. She would separate her hair into sections and start to roll them up, stopping and letting you finish and pin them in place when her arms started to feel too heavy. After a moment’s rest, she would start on the next section, until each strand of hair was pinned up against her head. It took twice as long as it usually would have, and it looked more than amateurish, but it was better than nothing.

“How does it look from the back?” Larissa asked a little anxiously, and you laughed as you took a photo for her and handed her your phone.

“It could use some work, I’m sorry…”

Larissa chuckled, twisting around to cup your cheek and press her lips to yours. “It could be worse,” she murmured affectionately. 

“You just have to get to your office and then you can take it down again,” you said with a laugh, silently wishing you were better at this kind of thing and vowing to learn for Larissa.

“Thank you…” You could tell by the light in Larissa’s eyes and the blush on her cheeks how much your help meant to her, and you grinned as you pulled her in for a slightly deeper kiss.

Larissa insisted on wearing a bit of makeup, not wanting to be caught in the halls of Nevermore without her signature red lip - you traced her lipstick along her lip, your stomach filling with butterflies at the intimacy of the action. You helped her dress, letting her lean on you and doing up the zip on the back of her dress, then waited patiently for her to sign some paperwork.

After what felt like hours, Larissa was finally discharged and the two of you were in your car, on your way to stop by your apartment. In spite of everything that had happened, you felt a lightness that you hadn’t felt since that night at Nevermore. Larissa was sitting next to you, not in a hospital bed but in your car. Her hair was up and her lips were painted and she wore a dress, not a hospital gown, and she moved her lips to the lyrics of the song playing on the radio, and you seemed to realize all at once that she would be okay. 

~~~

Cass must’ve been waiting for you, because she was at your car window the second you pulled into your usual parking spot in front of your apartment. You rolled down the window and she crossed her arms and rested her forearms on the car, popping her head inside. 

“There’s no way you decided to tell us you were moving out over text?” she exclaimed, but her lips were pulled into a wide grin, making it clear she wasn’t upset. Still, you blushed and glanced at Larissa, who suppressed a smile and looked down at her own lap.

“I’m sorry,” you said with a nervous chuckle, and Cass rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be, it’s not like we didn’t see it coming.”

Now even Larissa’s cheeks were slowly turning pink, and you shooed Cass away so that you could open the door and slip out of the car. Larissa made to open her own door but you insisted she stay in the car - you’d only be a minute anyway, grabbing the most important things - you could always stop by later in the week for more of your belongings.

You made a beeline straight for your room, grabbing the most essential items - some clothes, your laptop, some stuff for uni, your toiletries. With some extra room in your bag, you tossed in a few trinkets, your favorite books, some more art supplies, then stopped by the kitchen to raid the groceries your roommates had no doubt recently bought. 

“You can’t stop by the store on your way through Jericho?” 

Pausing in your rummaging through the fridge, you glanced sheepishly over your shoulder at Robin, who leaned in the doorway with a faint smirk on her face. It was clear your friends were happier to see you back to your old self than they were annoyed at the suddenness of your plans.

“I promise I’ll send you guys money for this week’s groceries?” you tried, and Robin laughed. 

“Yeah, sure.” She paused, the smile slowly slipping off her face. “We’re gonna miss you, ya know?”

And wasn’t that strange to hear. After over two years of living together, it would certainly be weird to no longer call Robin, Cass, and Christin your roommates. You swallowed against the lump that had suddenly appeared in your throat, feeling oddly sentimental amid your excitement to live with Larissa.

“Who knows, I mean I might move back once Larissa’s recovered…” 

Robin laughed, letting out a snort and raising an eyebrow, her usual easy grin lighting up her features. “You really think so?”

“Well…” You could feel your own lips spread into a smile. “No, probably not.”

Pushing herself off the doorframe, Robin crossed the room and pulled you into a brief but tight hug. “Don’t forget about movie night on Sunday. Just because you don’t live here anymore, doesn’t mean you’re getting out of it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of missing it,” you chuckled, squeezing her tightly.

When you made it back out to your car with all your bags, Cass still had her head poked through the car window and was talking animatedly to Larissa. You shooed your best friend away from the car, then gave her a brief hug, promising to invite her over soon - she waited in the parking lot as you pulled out onto the street, her waving form shrinking in the rearview mirror until you rounded a corner and left her behind.

As you drove down the winding road through the dense forest separating Burlington from Jericho and, beyond that, from Nevermore, it slowly began to sink in that you had Larissa back. Finally, after weeks of anxiety, overthinking, worrying - finally - you were sitting side by side, driving down familiar roads, safe in the knowledge that everything was going to be alright.

“Cassandra was quite shocked that I recovered so quickly,” Larissa mused, her lips quirked into a half-smile as she stole a glance at you. “Actually, how did she put it? ‘I almost didn’t think you’d make it.’”

You cringed at your former roommate’s bluntness. “Ouch… sorry about her, I know she didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

“I know… you haven’t told her that I’m a shapeshifter, have you?”

“No.” You shook your head. You expected Larissa to continue speaking, but a silence enveloped the car instead. Glancing over at the shapeshifter, she was looking out the window, appearing deep in thought. “I mean I don’t think she’d mind… I just didn’t think you’d want anyone to know unless you told them,” you added, the silence making you a bit nervous.

“No… you’re right…”

“You know, it’s actually pretty cool, if you think about it,” you started, and Larissa glanced curiously in your direction again. “Being a shapeshifter kind of saved you - I mean how many other people’s organs can just shift to regenerate that quickly? If you weren’t a shapeshifter, we might not be sitting here right now.”

Larissa let out an audible breath through her nose. “I suppose that’s true…” Out of the corner of your eye you could see her turn in her seat, leaning the side of her head against the headrest so that she could face you. The smile on her lips grew a bit. “I suppose being a shapeshifter has its upsides, doesn’t it?”

“I can think of a few more upsides,” you quipped with a smirk, purposely lowering your voice an octave, and turning to look at Larissa just in time to see her cheeks flush a deep, gorgeous pink.

~~~

Arriving at Nevermore, you and Larissa were hounded by students as you tried to carry your belongings to her quarters. Your saving grace ended up being a protective Enid and a reluctant Wednesday, who told off their fellow students and made them give Larissa space - enough for the two of you to reach her office and lock yourselves inside.

“They’d be lost without you here,” you remarked casually as you dragged a duffle bag of your things towards the door to Larissa’s quarters - with your back turned, you missed the way Larissa paused and shifted away a blush, before hurrying after you.

The walk from the car to her quarters was enough to thoroughly exhaust Larissa. Though she was a shapeshifter and was likely to regenerate and recover quicker, she’d still lost a lot of muscle tone in the coma, and so (much to her chagrin) you had her settle on the bed while you hung your clothes up in the closet.

“Hey, Riss? Where can I put this?” you asked as you pulled a handful of paints out of your bag.

Larissa looked around the room - with the hospital stay and the short notice, of course she hadn’t yet been able to consider where you would actually put any of your belongings, and she tilted her head in thought. “There should be some space in the bottom drawer,” she said, pointing to a dresser against the wall. “We can clear up a better space later.”

You crawled over to the dresser from where you were sitting, opening the drawer. It was mostly empty aside from some extra linens, which Larissa instructed you to place in the closet, and a large, heavy photo album. You took hold of the leatherbound album and glanced imploringly at Larissa - she gestured with her hand, inviting you to pick it up. 

Opening the front cover, it dawned on you that this was a family album - right on the front page, there was a black and white photograph of a woman in a hospital bed, holding a newborn baby. “Is this you?”

Larissa smiled. “Yes. Come here.” She patted the space on the bed beside her and you settled next to her with the album open on your lap. Larissa wrapped her arm around your shoulders and kissed your temple, before turning the page to another baby photo - in this one, both mother and father were present, baby wrapped in a quilted blanket and snuggled tight against father’s chest as they stood in the entryway of what appeared to be a large house.

“My parents,” Larissa supplied, though you didn’t need the confirmation - the man was tall, with Larissa’s shoulders, Larissa’s nose; the woman’s light hair and soft features had clearly been passed straight onto her daughter.

You flipped through page after page, photo after photo, of a young Larissa and her family and friends. Larissa at 2 on some rocky beach, in the arms of her grandmother, of whom both she and her mother were the spitting image. Larissa at 5 in a leotard and tights, sitting on the floor of a ballet studio and grinning up at the camera, with one front tooth missing. Larissa at 8 in her Sunday best, standing in front of a church, her father’s hand on her shoulder and her mother standing just off to the side. Larissa at 9 on horseback. Larissa at 11 with her arm around a friend’s shoulder. Larissa at 13 in front of the gates of Nevermore. A few shots of Larissa’s parents, of her grandmother, of an uncle on her father’s side. Of Larissa at Nevermore with other students, or with family on school breaks.

The more photos the two of you flipped through, the more Larissa seemed to lose herself in thought. Finally, her mood unnerved you enough for you to utter a quiet, “we don’t have to do this, you know. If it’s upsetting you.”

Larissa shook her head, a soft smile on her face, though the crease between her brows was deep and pronounced. “I’m alright, darling… I’d just forgotten this was here, that’s all.”

You knew that wasn’t all but, not wanting to pry, you kept your mouth shut. Instead, you leaned your head against Larissa’s shoulder and pushed the photo album off your lap, closing your eyes and letting Larissa process in silence - a silence that stretched so long that her next words startled you.

“I think you’d like my father.”

You raised your head in confusion, remembering what Larissa had told you about her parents. “Would I?”

That comment made Larissa chuckle. “Yes, I think you would. I think he’d like you, too.”

“Do you still talk to him?”

“Not in a few years… the last time my parents called, I had a girlfriend over. My mother heard her speak in the background and it caused an argument. My father reached out the next day but I remembered that I’m grown up and don’t have to tolerate that sort of behavior anymore… I changed my phone number that same day.”

Not knowing what to say and knowing you were treading on unknown terrain, you nodded along, watching Larissa’s expression carefully as it shifted between remorse, annoyance, wistfulness, and humor. Larissa carried on after another moment’s silence.

“Maybe it’s time I called him...” The shapeshifter’s expression was resolute, and she shifted her gaze from her lap to your face, a soft smile playing on her lips when she saw your eyes widen at her conclusion. “I think he’d be pleased to know I’ve found you… and it would anger my dear mother greatly.” Larissa’s eyes danced with mirth and it made you smile.

“There’s nothing I love more than pissing off homophobes,” you teased, drawing a laugh from deep within Larissa’s chest and making her pull you even closer to press her lips to your temple.

“That can wait, darling… First, I’d like you all to myself for a few days…”

~~~

As afternoon faded to evening, you moved from the bedroom to the kitchen, enjoying the blissful haze of each other’s presence as you prepared dinner. With the long hospital stay behind you and the heavy conversation about Larissa’s family long forgotten, you laughed and bantered as you had in the weeks prior to the incident - there was no Morticia to bring you down, no Wednesday to distract you, no monster to keep you on your toes, not even roommates to interrupt you. Even work was on hold before Larissa could meet with the school board to discuss her return to work. It was just you and Larissa, in the quarters that you now shared, partaking in the simple, domestic act of cooking together - which meant that you were dutifully watching over the salmon in the pan to make sure it cooked evenly, while Larissa sat at the table with her legs crossed, nursing a glass of red wine and smiling fondly at you.

It reminded you so much of the first time that you cooked for Larissa, just after the Rave’N, when you’d desperately wanted to make up for that disastrous evening. How happy you were back then to simply cook for Larissa - and now, you were getting the chance again.

After dinner, you insisted Larissa join you in the living room to continue the evening listening to music. You lowered the tonearm onto the record, then turned to find Larissa watching you with a faint blush dusting her cheeks. The opening notes to “Unforgettable” by Nat King Cole began to play, a song you’d come to associate with your girlfriend. You stepped towards the sofa and stopped in front of Larissa, placing your hands on her shoulders and lowering yourself slowly to straddle her lap. Her hands immediately found your waist, pulling you down and holding you in place, fingers flexing against you, savoring the feeling of holding you.

“Sweet girl,” Larissa cooed with a soft, affectionate smile, running her hands from your hips to the tops of your thighs, then back again, seeming to marvel at being able to feel you beneath her palms again. You closed your eyes, resting your forehead against Larissa’s and humming the melody of the song.

“Darling?” Larissa asked softly, her warm breath tickling your face, and you pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, silently urging her to ask whatever she wanted to ask you. “You said something about spending Christmas at the beach?”

You were taken aback by her question, your brow furrowing as you racked your brain to figure out what she was talking about.

“In the hospital,” she clarified quickly, and suddenly you remembered having spoken to her about going away for Christmas while she was in the coma. You smiled, pleased that she had heard and remembered that, and nodded. “Is that something you were serious about?”

Your smile widened. “Yeah, dead serious.”

“Well, perhaps we should look into flights then…” A smirk was slowly creeping onto Larissa’s face, and her hands slid from your waist to the swell of your ass, tugging you just an inch closer so that your front was completely flush with hers. You felt your grin would split your face in two and you eagerly bobbed your head ‘yes’.

The prospect of spending the holidays with Larissa seemed almost too good to be true. Just over a week ago, you weren’t entirely sure she’d make it to Christmas at all, and now you were sitting on her lap, with her warm body fitted snugly against your own, making plans for the future. Happiness bloomed within you and you cupped Larissa’s cheeks, your eyes dancing between her own. Your lips mouthed the lyrics of the song playing, and her own lips curled into the most adoring of smiles in response.

That's why darling, it's incredible That someone so unforgettable Thinks that I am unforgettable too

x

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[the-palelady]

hi sirinn 💕

it’s been a rough week. was wondering’ if i could request some soft simon? maybe helping his so through a tough time?

love you bunches, hope you’re taking care of yourself!

i feel like this week has been rough for a lot of people. i hope you're resting, staying hydrated, and just taking care of yourself dear. i believe in you and so does simon of course ♡

you seemed to always hold a level head. it was rare for simon to see you falter, if at all. there was always a smile spread wide across your face, the apples of your cheeks pink, a sparkle in your eyes. your laughs would echo throughout your shared home whether it be from something simon had said, or something that you saw on the telly.

but today was not one of those days.

there was no sparkle in those eyes of yours, replaced with a tiredness that left dark bags under your eyes. you were slow moving when waking that morning, not putting much effort into your hair, and grabbing the first thing you found in your closet. your outfit was mismatched with khaki pants and a weird yellow blouse that simon had never seen you wear outside of the house.

your lips sat in a thin line, unmoving as you silently floated about your home like a phantom. there was no noise even as you packed your lunch for the day; not a peep as you slipped your shoes on and stepped out of the house.

and the second you left, simon got to work.

he knew you too well to know that you were just "fine", a word he had expected you to say if he had even dared approach you about the topic. he saw it in the way you slid along the house, slower than a snail as you got ready for work. he saw it in the dull look in your eyes, far too tired to even look up at him and whisper a simple "good morning".

it was late when you returned home. a later night than normal.

stepping inside of your home, you slipped off your shoes, placing them by the front door with a sigh, peeling away your armor piece by piece as you walked towards the living room.

you were met with the sight of a vase of flowers sitting front and center on the coffee table. white lilies to be exact. the smell of detergent hit your nostrils, and you noticed how clean the couch cushions looked from where you stood. the pillows were fluffed and placed in their respected corners.

the wood floors shined from being swept and mopped, reflecting the soft glow of the overhead light. the tv played one of your favorite shows that you always turned on when you wanted some background noise or needed comfort. the bookshelves beside the entertainment center had clearly been dusted, yours and simon's books organized in alphabetical order. just how you liked them.

the subtle scent of garlic hit your senses after a moment, the smell and a voice breaking you from your thoughts.

"welcome home, love."

your widened eyes darted up to meet simon's pools of amber. the corner of his lips were upturned in a slight smile, one meant only for you.

"hungry?"

your mouth opened and closed as you tried to speak, but nothing came out.

truthfully, you were shocked. simon did do chores around the house. he was fairly organized, clean, a simple man who didn't own too much. he always kept his space tidy. but sometimes things got out of hand, and lately it had been hard for you to keep up with the mess. your workload had been tripled. you had personal issues going on in your life that were difficult to discuss, even to simon.

over the course of a few weeks, you felt like you had been backed into a corner. alone and afraid. it seemed like the world had caved in around you, dragging you into a dark abyss that you felt stuck in.

yet despite that darkness there was a light that shined through, and he stood right in front of you, flour dusting his pale cheeks and an apron much too small for him wrapped around his waist.

your lips quivered. your eyes watered so quickly you couldn't hold back the tears that broke through the dam you had built over time.

but before the tears could break through, simon was at your side, wrapping you in the warmth of his body.

you were stubborn. you were independent, believing you could handle anything that came at you alone. however, right now you had to admit to yourself that you did need a shoulder to lean on. even for just a moment. so you leaned into simon's sturdy chest, letting your tears fall freely after all the time you had kept them bottled up.

"shh, love. don't worry. i'm 'ere."

he wiped at your tears. his warm hands glided along the crown of your head, flattening out the strands of hair that had grown messy throughout the day. you were sure you looked a fright, but simon seemed to care less.

"'m sorry," you hiccupped, tears staining his t-shirt.

"the hell ya sorry for, angel?"

"i-i-i shouldn't be crying o-o-over something so st—"

"'nough of that, yeah?" his gruff voice cut you off, but there was no maliciousness behind it. he loosened his grip on you, looking down into your teary eyes with an expression you had never seen from him.

"sometimes we 'ave bad days. everyone. myself included. we can't act strong all the time. s'alright ta need a shoulder ta lean on. ya don't need ta handle this alone. ya always there for everyone. always takin' the punches for everyone else. now let someone else take those punches, hm?

you felt your bottom lip wobble again, and when you didn't say anything simon hummed, his head tilting closer towards you.

"s'alright to cry. doesn't make ya weak. only proves that ya human. so let out those tears, dove. i'll hold ya until there's not a single drop left."

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

7:10 AM | Timestamp

Pairing: Dad!Jung Wooyoung x Mum!Reader Synopsis: Wooyoung's favourite girls surprise him for his birthday. Requested by: No one Warnings: I love writing girl!dad Wooyoung so much. Pregnancy. Word Count: 875

A/N: this ended up being longer than a timestamp so enjoy. This took longer to post because my laptop was playing up.

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"What's all this?" Y/N’s husband’s sleepy voice comes from behind her as she puts on the final touches of setting the table for breakfast. 

Turning around, she sees Wooyoung gazing at her with wide, curious eyes, their six-year-old daughter beaming with excitement in his arms. Y/N gives her daughter a playful frown. The little girl had been eager to wake her father for his birthday surprise but she can’t fault her for it. Hae-young had no idea about the plan until Y/N had woken her up this morning, asking if she wanted to help surprise Daddy. There was no way Y/N would have spilled the beans to Hae-young before today. The little girl definitely inherited Wooyoung's yapping tendencies, making her terrible at keeping secrets. If she knew about what Y/N was planning earlier, the surprise would have been ruined.  

"What do we say to Appa?" Y/N prompts Hae-young.  

"Happy Birthday, Appa!" she exclaims joyfully, throwing her arms up in excitement, nearly making Wooyoung lose his hold on her. 

Wooyoung's sleepy grin grows as he finally registers what's happening, his eyes moving from the beautifully decorated table with flowers, balloons, seaweed soup, a couple of gift bags, and a small homemade cake to the excited face of his daughter. "Did you do all this for me?" 

"Eomma did, but I helped!" she proudly declares. 

Y/N watches as Hae-young beams with pride. The sight of their daughter’s enthusiasm fills her with warmth, and she can’t help but smile back at them both. Wooyoung, still half-asleep but now fully engaged, his eyes sparkling with affection, praises his little girl for a job well done before pressing a kiss to her cheek and leaning forward to press a kiss on Y/N's check also. 

Hae-young's laughter rings through the room like music, and Y/N feels her heart swell at the sight of her family. 

"Come on, Appa! You have to open my gift first!" Hae-young tells him, wriggling her way out of her dad's hold before taking his hand, tugging him towards the table. 

As soon as Wooyoung settles into his seat, Hae-young climbs onto his lap, reaching across the table for the larger black gift bag filled with all the things she picked out for him. 

"What did you get for me?" he asks taking the bag, opening it and reaches inside. The first thing he pulls out a black toy stuffed cat, this one different to his Aniteez sitting in her room. This one has big, sparkling green eyes and a tiny pink bow around its neck. Wooyoung chuckles, holding it up for Hae-young to see. "A black cat? You know your Appa very well." 

Hae-young giggles, clearly delighted with her choice of stuffed animal. "There's more, Appa."  

"Is there?" he replies, reaching back into the bag and pulling out three smaller gifts. One is a new bottle of black nail polish that Hae-young insisted on getting after seeing Wooyoung's nails painted for the latest comeback. Another is a box featuring his favorite cologne, and the last looks like a jewellery box. He opens it to reveal a small, intricately designed keychain with a photo of her inside it. Wooyoung smiles recognizing the image. It was of Hae-young, beaming with joy, her hair tousled by the wind, standing on her grandparent’s front doorstep. 

"Wow, Hae-young, I love it so much, I’m going to put it on my keys before I leave for work, so I can show all your uncles!" he exclaims, his voice filled with genuine admiration. “they’re going to be so jealous!” 

“Do you think so?” she asks hopeful. 

“I know so,” he assures her. “Now, do you know what eomma got me?” 

She takes a moment to think about it but shakes her head, no.  

"Why don’t you go eat while I open eomma's gift, okay?" he suggests, shifting in his seat. She obediently moves to sit in the chair next to him.  

Y/N picks up the small black gift bag and hands it to him. "It’s not much, but I hope you like it," she says, her voice tinged with nervousness. He looks at her with a hint of concern, takes the bag, and opens it. As he pulls out a box larger than the one containing the keychain, his eyes widen in surprise. Looking at her, a mix of excitement and hope fills his gaze.  

"Is this for real?" he asks, glancing between the sonogram photo and the positive pregnancy test, then back at her. 

"Yes," Y/N replies, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. 

 In a burst of excitement, Wooyoung quickly stands from his chair, almost knocking it backwards, and wraps her in his arms, pressing his lips to hers. "I love you so much," he says in between kisses. "Best birthday ever," he adds when he pulls away enough to wipe her tears that had fallen, not realizing he has tears in his own eyes. 

"Appa? Eomma? Is something wrong?" they hear Hae-young ask, her innocent curiosity breaking through the moment. 

Wooyoung quickly wipes away the tears that had begun to form in his eyes, kneeling down to Hae-young's level. He glances at his wife before looking back at her. "Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart. Appa's just having the best birthday he's ever had." 

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