#that lasts maybe ten minutes in total.

[mortysmith]

Fuck you season five episode nine genuinely some of the worst shit they clobbered together

[t4tbedehopmar]

hm. hey guys what if i did an essay abt revel in rivalry

[byoldervine]

Types Of Writer’s Block (And How To Fix Them)

1. High inspiration, low motivation. You have so many ideas to write, but you just don’t have the motivation to actually get them down, and even if you can make yourself start writing it you’ll often find yourself getting distracted or disengaged in favour of imagining everything playing out

Try just bullet pointing the ideas you have instead of writing them properly, especially if you won’t remember it afterwards if you don’t. At least you’ll have the ideas ready to use when you have the motivation later on

2. Low inspiration, high motivation. You’re all prepared, you’re so pumped to write, you open your document aaaaand… three hours later, that cursor is still blinking at the top of a blank page

RIP pantsers but this is where plotting wins out; refer back to your plans and figure out where to go from here. You can also use your bullet points from the last point if this is applicable

3. No inspiration, no motivation. You don’t have any ideas, you don’t feel like writing, all in all everything is just sucky when you think about it

Make a deal with yourself; usually when I’m feeling this way I can tell myself “Okay, just write anyway for ten minutes and after that, if you really want to stop, you can stop” and then once my ten minutes is up I’ve often found my flow. Just remember that, if you still don’t want to keep writing after your ten minutes is up, don’t keep writing anyway and break your deal - it’ll be harder to make deals with yourself in future if your brain knows you don’t honour them

4. Can’t bridge the gap. When you’re stuck on this one sentence/paragraph that you just don’t know how to progress through. Until you figure it out, productivity has slowed to a halt

Mark it up, bullet point what you want to happen here, then move on. A lot of people don’t know how to keep writing after skipping a part because they don’t know exactly what happened to lead up to this moment - but you have a general idea just like you do for everything else you’re writing, and that’s enough. Just keep it generic and know you can go back to edit later, at the same time as when you’re filling in the blank. It’ll give editing you a clear purpose, if nothing else

5. Perfectionism and self-doubt. You don’t think your writing is perfect first time, so you struggle to accept that it’s anything better than a total failure. Whether or not you’re aware of the fact that this is an unrealistic standard makes no difference

Perfection is stagnant. If you write the perfect story, which would require you to turn a good story into something objective rather than subjective, then after that you’d never write again, because nothing will ever meet that standard again. That or you would only ever write the same kind of stories over and over, never growing or developing as a writer. If you’re looking back on your writing and saying “This is so bad, I hate it”, that’s generally a good thing; it means you’ve grown and improved. Maybe your current writing isn’t bad, if just matched your skill level at the time, and since then you’re able to maintain a higher standard since you’ve learned more about your craft as time went on

[kashverse]

Hey! Not 100% sure if your requests are open, but can I get an SMAU of you doing a double take at a random hot guy the boys and you walk past on the street? Crack would be so funny lmaoo! Thanks, love ur work!😆🤭

read till the end to see choso in cosplay (not clickbait)

it was supposed to be a simple grocery run. a peaceful, uneventful, married couple activity. you and nanami were at the organic section—him carefully selecting the perfect tomatoes, you texting him from two feet away about getting more oat milk. normal. civil. domestic.

then it happened.

a man—tall, broad, effortlessly stylish—walked past you with a bulging bag of groceries. your eyes followed him. your head whipped so fast you swore you heard your neck crack. and beside you, nanami stopped mid-reach for an avocado, eyes slowly narrowing. “really?” he muttered, voice dangerously calm. you blinked at him, confused. “what?”

“nothing.” his jaw twitched. nanami kento, mature and self-assured, was obviously not sulking.

but you saw the way his grip on the avocado tightened. saw the micro twitch in his brow. your dear husband thought you were checking out grocery bag man. except you were not. oh, no. this was far worse. you turned to nanami, eyes wide, voice trembling with despair.

“he took the last loaf.”

nanami’s expression barely shifted. “what?”

“the last loaf, kento. the ethically sourced, imported-from-a-french-village, aged-like-fine-wine, vegan-friendly bread you waited weeks for—he has it.”

nanami’s world shattered. his entire soul left his body.

the betrayal, the injustice, the absolute audacity of that man, casually walking out with his bread like he didn’t just ruin two people’s week. you grabbed his arm before he could start forward. “babe, no.”

his fingers twitched, torn between rationality and primal rage. “he doesn’t deserve it,” he whispered, haunted. you spent the rest of the grocery run in silence. nanami didn’t even flinch when the cashier told him the total. he was mourning.

ah, evening walks. a staple of married life. you and geto, hands intertwined, nodding politely at neighbors like you were the wholesome, friendly couple everyone thought you were.  then you saw him. a man striding down the street, his pants fluttering with each step. the most perfect pair of bell-bottoms you had ever seen.

you grabbed geto’s arm, halting mid-walk. your jaw went slack.

“sugu—”

his expression darkened. his fingers tensed around yours.

“so that’s your type?”

you blinked, confused. “what?”

“oh, nothing.” he smiled, but it wasn’t a real smile. it was a ‘hmm, my love is a traitor’ smile.

you turned back to bell-bottom man.

“he’s wearing the exact pair you’ve been looking for.”

geto froze. the tension evaporated. he squinted. studied. analyzed.

“…cotton blend,” he murmured.

“definitely imported,” you added. you both stood there. staring. geto’s eyebrows twitched.

“i need to know where he got them.”

“we could follow him.”

“we absolutely could.”

and so, two grown adults—former sorcerers, parents, functioning members of society—spent the next ten minutes covertly (not covertly) stalking a man for the sole purpose of inquiring about his pants.

it was a good day. you and toji had just finished at the butcher, a prime cut of steak nestled in your bag, and toji was already humming about grilling it up with butter. then you saw the officer.

your head whipped around so fast toji felt it. his shoulders tensed. his jaw clenched. a cop? a cop? that’s what you were into? he could deal with gym bros, maybe even pretty boys, but an officer?

…he was gonna have to commit a crime.

toji was seething. fuming. trying so hard not to snarl about how he could handle you better than some uniformed pretty boy. then you leaned into him, tugging his sleeve.

“look at his gun.”

toji blinked. “huh?”

“that’s a customized SIG. high-end, lightweight, reinforced barrel—”

oh.

oh.

toji let out the deepest sigh of his life. his entire soul exhaled. you weren’t ogling some officer’s ass. you were checking out his gun.

for the first time ever, toji felt defeated by an inanimate object.

there were three things gojo satoru could not tolerate:

being ignored

being ignored in public

being ignored in public while you were looking at another man

so when he caught you staring—staring—at some guy while he, the love of your life, stood next to you in all his six-eyed, beautiful glory, he reacted in the only way he knew how. loudly.

“are you actually serious right now?” gojo gasped, clutching his chest. “ogling another man? in front of me? your one true love?”

you didn’t even look at him. you were still staring at sunglasses man, an impressed hum under your breath. gojo clutched your sleeve. “babe, look at me. me."

“he’s wearing chopard.”

the air changed.

gojo stopped breathing. his hand went limp. his pupils shrank. his jaw—previously running at a hundred miles per hour—snapped shut.

“ch-chopard?” his voice cracked. you nodded, grave.

now both of you were wailing.

“we could’ve been him,” gojo cried. “we could’ve been walking around dripping in wealth!”

“he looks so effortless.”

“his life is together.”

you both mourned the lack of chopard in your lives, heads bowed in devastation, like you had just witnessed your futures slipping through your fingers. that night, gojo went home and bought three pairs online.

sukuna had seen it. the way your eyes lingered. the way your gaze flickered over some gym bro’s barely covered pecs like you had just discovered the meaning of life. he crossed his arms, seething. “seriously?” you, completely unaware of your impending doom, glanced at him. “huh?”

“you checked him out.”

you blinked. “no, i didn’t.”

“yes, you did.”

“no, i didn’t.”

“yes, you did.”

“read his shirt.”

sukuna’s eye twitched. but fine. he’d play your little game. he begrudgingly looked over, prepared to see some cringe gym brand logo, only to be met with the words:

“I ❤️ MY PARTNER.”

in bold. right across the pecs.

sukuna froze. the world went silent. for once in his entire existence, he felt true, undeniable embarrassment.

“…oh.”

you smacked the back of his head.

the next day, sukuna walked into his gym wearing that exact shirt, except his was customized.

“I ❤️ MY PARTNER MORE THAN YOU LOVE YOURS.”

choso was panicking. he had seen you do it. the double take. the slight pause in your step. the way your eyes lingered on another man. his hands clenched into fists. his heart dropped into his stomach.

his brain? already drafting up worst-case scenarios. his soul? leaving his body. his spirit? crushed.

“please don’t leave me,” he whispered, eyes pleading. you blinked. “what?”

“i saw you looking at him.”

you glanced at the man in question. he was carrying a big shopping bag filled with sanrio plushies.

“…babe.”

choso swallowed. “just tell me now so i can emotionally prepare—”

“babe, i was looking at the plushies.”

choso went silent. the blood drained from his face.

he stared at the bag, then at you.

back at the bag, then at you.

then back at the bag.

“oh,” he whispered. he didn’t sleep that night. he spent hours on his phone.

on valentine’s day you opened the door, expecting something sweet—flowers, chocolates, maybe a heartfelt love letter. instead, you were met with choso.

in a inflatable cinnamoroll costume.

his entire body was swallowed by the plush suit. his face? peeking out of cinnamoroll’s giant, smiling head.

“…choso?”

“do you like it?” he asked, voice muffled through the fabric. you did not know whether to laugh or cry. he shuffled closer, arms outstretched.

“i’m your sanrio plush now.”

[lilacgaby]

morning patrols were something katsuki hated with a passion. as his break finally rolled around after a day as dead as ever, he slumped onto a random bench.

his peace lasted approximately five minutes until a group of fans came around, phones 'discreetly’ out and pointing towards him, though the flashlight gave away that they were recording. as the one scrambled to turn it off, another spoke up.

“dynamight? no way! i thought you'd be like– going crazy after seeing the rankings that dropped today.”

a record scratched in his head, his head tilted slightly as his eyebrows raised. “i don't think my patrolling is the problem.”

“yeah, it's probably your temper or something!” another one said, finger raised in the air. he didn't have time to be offended, as they then shoved a phone in his face, showing his ranking.

fifteen. not bad for how many people he'd cursed out recently. all he could do was scoff. “'s not horrible.”

“yeah! but she's totally beating you!”

his eyebrows scrunched inwards, his expression incredulous. “..she?”

“your wife! she's in the top ten!”

his eyes widened again, though this time, it was accompanied by a smirk on his lips. one that only grew alongside his pupils at the sight of you in your hero costume, a golden number eight right next to you.

“i guess she is.”

“you're not like.. upset?” they asked, not expecting at all this reaction from the guy who yelled just as much, if not more, at the people that he would actively save.

“nah, she deserves it.” a beat paused, and he looked up thoughtfully. until his fist slammed down onto the palm of his hand. “actually no, my wife deserves better. she's a damn good hero.”

he spaced out slightly, the words they spoke to him going through one ear and out the other as he though about the few missions he'd taken with you.

your mannerisms, the way your personality would bleed into your interactions with others. you had an undoubted professionalism about you. hiding the twitch of your eye with a smile, using your quirk masterfully even in your early career. your face, your body-

he closed his eyes, only after signing the shirts of those fans that had already left, and leaned against the uncomfortable recycled plastic of the bench.

you really did deserve it, and more. he'd have to tell you that..

well, he tried to. but he was beaten by his own words, seeing as the video those fans took of him praising you was trending pretty much everywhere.

as you laid on his chest and scrolled on your phone, a smile on your face as you showed him the screen.

“look, you went up a ranking. maybe you should talk about me more often, huh?”

he couldn't help but laugh. “be careful what you wish for. i could talk about you for hours.”

so now, you actually become an avoided topic for reporters. not unless they want the press conference to last an extra hour just on you.

tags: @k0z3me @darhinadadragon @maddietries @exoticrasin @lavendarstarz @hisonlyobsession @i-the-fluffo @cookielovesbook-akie @frosted-flakes @irenne-stans @lulumi1u @bakunis @twirlyphim @drawingforshitsandgiggles @babylambdietcoke @deimosjay

[kurokawaia]

ATTITUDE!! 彡 Bakugou, Shoto, Dabi, Hawks

| MDNI - 18+ | WARNINGS :: bakugou x fem!reader, hawks x fem!reader, dabi x fem!reader, x fem!reader, shoto x fem!reader, second pov, suggestive content, nsfw themes, implied smut/nsfw, no actual naughty acts, pet names used: babe, baby, sweetheart, dear, my love + more? MINI ONESHOTS. total wc :: 1.5k

⋆·˚ ༘ *REQUEST :: Could you maybe write a headcannon where reader says can you please shut the fuck up to them ? It can be more nsfw suggestive like. Like dabi finds it kinda hot and katsuki is kinda pissed but more in a amusing way. Could you do it pls for hawks,dabi,katsuki and maybe shoto? - @carokitten

DABI

Yeah good luck with you saying that actually making an impact because, surprise surprise, it is not going to work, if anything that just turns him on. "Don’t pretend you don’t like it when I—" You didn't even know what Dabi was rambling about while you were trying to concentrate on your task.

"Can you please shut the fuck up?" you snap, the words just slipped out before you could register even saying them. Immediately after you bit your bottom lip, mentally cursing yourself because you know your mans a freak, it probably gets him going.

Dabi stops abruptly after hearing your outburst and rests his hand on his palm, his elbow balanced on the table right beside you. A smirk rises on his lips as he nudges your shoulder. "Damn, babe. That's kinda hot," he chuckles before slyly slinging his arm around your shoulder, his hand moving your chin towards his face as you were looking away. With a swift movement, you are know dangerously close to his face, only a mere inch away, the pad of his thumb playing with your bottom lip teasingly, watching your face turn red. "Say it again," he teases, moving closer until his lips will graze your own, until your heart is pounding so loud you can't process any thoughts, licking his lips like he’s about to devour you whole.

You roll your eyes. "I swear to god, Dabi—"

He leans over you, almost causing you to fall of the chair, Dabi's lips press against yours and a haste movement of his tongue slipping past before you could even register until he pulls away. Swear all you want, babe, I’ll make you beg me to keep talking, to help you through it..." he murmurs slowly and your cheeks flare up knowing he was referring to something other that yapping your ear of.

HAWKS

Hawks has been teasing you for the past ten minutes, throwing in suggestive comments every chance he gets. He’s clearly enjoying the way your cheeks heat up and the way you stiffen momentarily whoch just made his experience so much better. Flustered, {name}, flustered, {name}, flustered, {name}, is the only thing singing in his head right now. "Y’know," he muses, his chest pressing against your back as you finished wiping the counter, causing you to be flush against him and the cool marble. "I could just keep talking if it means getting a reaction outta you. Kinda fun watchin’ you get all flustered like that—"

"Can you please shut the fuck up?" you cut in as nice as you could. Hawks freezes because he has never aroused such a reaction in you such as that before and it made him let out a laugh from behind you, moving his arms to cage you in, so you won't move. No, no, no, no. You aren't going to let him get to you. "Ohh, feisty," he grins and you let out a shaky breath feeling his lips graze the crook of your neck. He's getting to you. "Didn’t know you had that in you."

"I mean it, Kei'," you mumble, unable to comprehend between the sensations of his touch and how his words made your lower abdomen do flips. "What if I don’t?" he murmurs and you could feel him pressing in closer to you, you aren't going to last if this keeps up, his voice dipping lower. "What if I just keep talking, keep whispering in your ear, keep making you—"

"Kei, stop right now," you say, cutting him off but this only riles him up further, and did you really want him to stop? No. No you did not. One of his arms move so that now, after his hand slowly traces up from your hips to your chin, tilting your head back into his shoulder, having clear access to your neck to place kisses on. "Well, sweetheart, you just made this a whole lot more fun for me." Oh, you just made this a whole lot more fun, sweetheart."

BAKUGOU

Bakugou is ranting about something—probably a fight that happened on patrol, probably how he’s the best—and you’ve been nodding along, but he just. Won’t. Stop. And, Oh my days, it is giving you a headache. "So then that extra tried to land a hit, and I fuckin’ dodged it—like obviously, dumbass should’ve known better—"

"Can you please shut the fuck up?" you sigh, rubbing your temples, shoving your face into the pillow your head was laying on. For a moment, he looks like he’s about to explode—literally. "Ohh, you think you’re real funny, don’t ya?" He smirks and you don't reply, the headache in your temple getting worse.

Suddenly you feel a big, heavy mass fall onto you causing a winded groan to leave your lips, muffled by the pillow on your face. "You don't get to say that to me and just sink into the pillows, baby," he taunts, snatching the pillow off your face, a surprised escaping your mouth. Blush coats your face as he leans his forehead against your own, lips about to press to yours, your breathing stills while your heart begins to poud hard in your chest. "Go on. Say it again. See what happens."

Maybe you should snap back at him more often...

SHOTO

Shoto has been talking in his usual calm, tone, explaining something in excessive detail. At first, you were listening, but now he’s been going on for several minutes, completely unaware that you’ve stopped paying attention. "I read that different types of ice melt at slightly varying speeds depending on density," he continues, watching the ice cubes swirl in his drink, referring to the ice in the cup, comparing it to his quirk. "It’s not significant, but it is interesting to consider in—"

"Can you please shut the fuck up?" you say, your cheeks meeting your palms. Shoto pauses mid-thought, blinking at you. He's buffering, trying to process your words. "…Did you just tell me to shut the fuck up, dear?" You sigh, resting your chin in your palm. "Yes, my love. I did." For a moment, he just stares at you, as if contemplating something. Then, so effortlessly it makes your stomach flip, he leans in slightly, his gaze steady.

"That was rude," he states. You open your mouth to reply, but his fingers brush your wrist absentmindedly, and you suddenly feel very aware of how close he is and lord have mercy, you're about to fold. "You don’t usually talk like that," he continues, "I think I like it."

What?

He was leaning in to place a kiss to your lips, and you were about to fall onto the futon in reciprocation until he pulls away, going back to yapping about his ice water. You groan. "Oh my god, Sho'."

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

honey's a/note:: i do know about dabi's past i just don't want to spoil anyone who isn't up to that bit yet in the manga/show! i got spoiled on for his reveal and i will not be the one to spoil it for anyone else! so i will try my best!

[auroralwriting]

his little finger

spencer reid x fem!hothead!reader

part two here

spencer has you wrapped around his finger; you'd do anything he said without question. your team can't quite understand it. little do they know you and spencer have an unsaid.. thing.

warnings: reader has a hot temper? is that a warning? | words: 1k short but sweet!

You were known to have a confident personality. You never let anyone shake you, that's why the team loved you so much. You were the sole, beating heart of Aaron Hotchner's team; you never let them give up. Not only, but you were kind of a badass. You knew how to profile amazingly, and you could hold your own if an unsub got a little too rough.

Something else you were known for? A hot temper.

Okay, maybe it could go a little bad sometimes, but you truly meant well. Like that time you accidentally made a teenage boy cry. To be fair, he was a potential unsub. He actually was the unsub, so not all was a total failure.

Today was different for you. The coffee shop you frequented before work was closed due to issues with the electrical systems. That put a chip in your day. How was one to thrive without coffee? Next, you forgot your badge at home, making you late for work since you had to retrieve it to even get into the building. That put a dent in your day.

Derek was known to be a funny guy. Not the kind of funny guy you'd actually laugh at, but the kind who kind of pissed you off sometimes. Yeah, that kind. While he meant well at heart, it just royally pissed you off. You couldn't help that!

You leaned your elbows on the table, listening to the coffee pour into your cup. "Hello my little fox," Penelope greeted, her face frowning when she saw the look on yours. "What's wrong?"

"Bad day so far," You muttered. "Everything's just going wrong."

"It's only seven," Derek said as he walked in, smile on his face. "Come on, sugar. Go on and sit down at your desk. I know how you like your coffee." You thanked Derek quickly as you went to your desk. It was right next to Spencer.

Oh, Spencer. The boy who fell hard for you, who made you fall for him. Neither of you knew that, though, your crushes remaining secret still. "Y/n," Spencer frowned, "what's wrong?"

"It's alright, Spence," You forced a small, pathetic smile. "Just a bad morning."

Spencer gave you a half smile, "Positive attitudes actually give you a higher likelihood of having a better day by ten to thirty percent," Spencer rambled, "and that actually is the same for social connections, being a twenty to forty percent. You're on the right track."

You loved Spencer's rambles. They were adorable. "Thanks, Spence." You smiled.

A few minutes later, Morgan came to your desk with your coffee in hand. "For you, sugar." He grinned like the Cheshire Cat. You quickly took a generous sip.

It left your lips quicker than it entered. You spit it out into the trash can next to your dest, face turning sour at the taste. It was so bitter, so salty. "What the hell, Morgan?!" You cried out, "What is this?"

"Salt, sugar." He teased.

Your face turned hot, "How old are you, six?" His face slowly fell as you became angrier, "Genuinely, how old are you? Because last I checked, children don't have jobs."

"Hey," Derek tried to calm you down. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to actually upset you."

"Oh, of course you didn't!" You replied with sarcasm dripping from your lips. "You just don't get when people don't want you to make them feel worse!"

Derek's face fell into a frown. You didn't mean to hurt his feelings, but you couldn't stop your words. "Y/n," Spencer said firmly, "Sit down, now."

Before you could even think, you followed his command. The whole event caught Penelope, Emily, Rossi, and JJ's attention. JJ was quick to rush over, grabbing your coffee. "I'll get you the right one, it's okay." She comforted as Emily quickly lead Derek away. Rossi and Garcia decided to mind their own business, smart.

You groaned, head in your hands. Spencer was quick to kneel by you, taking your hands into his own. "Y/n," He said softly, "Take a deep breath. I know, I know." You followed his instructions, inhaling and holding it like he demonstrated, softly letting it out after. "Good job, sweetheart, do it again for me, okay?"

After a few more times, your face cooled off. You closed your eyes, sighing. "I didn't mean to hurt his feelings."

"I know, he knows, too." Spencer assured. "He knows he was out of line. You reacted the same way anyone would. It's alright."

Spencer raised his hand to your face, softly brushing your cheek with his thumb. JJ walked over, unsure if she was ruining.. something?

"Hey, I got you your coffee," She hesitantly spoke. You looked up, reaching out quickly.

"Thanks," You mumbled, taking a cautious sip. When you realized the taste was right, you took a bigger sip, sighing at the warmth flooding down your throat.

Spencer gave you a small smile, "See? It's okay now."

You nodded with a smile, thanking him softly. He went back to his desk, re-opening his report. You did the same, clicking your pen open.

"Okay, now what the hell was that?" Derek asked, the previous team members crowding around Rossi's desk.

"I felt like I was walking in on them," JJ mumbled awkwardly. "The tension was so strong I thought it was gonna slice me clean in half."

Emily smiled, "I bet they're in love or something, only love can make a person react like that. She would've bitten anyone else's head off." Everyone mumbled in agreement.

"I bet two weeks," Rossi said after a moment.

"Nah, knowing Reid, it's gotta be more like three." Derek shook his head.

Emily laughed, "I bet a week and a half. Y/n's too badass to not admit it first."

"I don't think they ever will until we do for them." Penelope sighed, knowing how stubborn both individuals were.

"I say one week, solid." JJ nodded. "I felt that tension."

Hotch's voice came out of nowhere, "Four days."

Everyone turned around, shocked. "Hotch, you sure about that?" Derek asked, a slight tease in his voice. "You know them."

"I do," He nodded, "Four days. You'll see I'm right."

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hello! How does a beast cookies x reader sound? Also the reader has a calming effect on cookies and is basically the groups therapy cookie. Like what if-

Shadow milk after episode 8: DO YOU KNOW WHY IM LIKE THIS?!?

Reader:Wanna talk about it?

SMC: haha..hahahHAHAHA-

*ten minutes later*

SMC leaning on our shoulder: And that was after Mystic started going off the deep end-

Reader calmly listening: mmhm

Interesting 👀👍

I'd like to imagine they're a Legendary who's been around for as long as the Beasts have, travelling the world to give therapy and healing to those who need it. So they're def more powerful than the average cookie

......

As a Legendary Cookie, it was your job to help give all denizens of Earthbread healing--mentally and emotionally, that is.

Your calming abilities enable virtually any cookie to feel relaxed in your company. Even those who are totally closed-off and were baked with the hardiest dough will eventually confide in you about whatever's on their minds.

And you give them advice, always knowing what to say, or simply listen and let them express their emotions.

You've been around for as long as the Five Beasts have, so you've seen a lot in your travels...including the many days and nights they spent terrorizing the world after they twisted their virtues into vices, trying to ease cookies' fears.

The Witches deemed them monsters worthy of being locked up in the Silver Tree...yet you realized they have never once considered why they fell from grace.

Having spent so much time helping the normal everyday folk, you felt some guilt in not checking in on the Beasts to make sure they were okay.

They were adored and revered figures..but even they might've needed somebody to talk to every once in a while.

Maybe they wouldn't have fallen down that dark path if you paid more attention to the signs....

But after they break out of the Silver Tree and face the Ancient Heroes who've "stolen" their soul jam, they hide away until they can figure out how to restore their powers and take their revenge.

That's where you come in, having visited Gingerbrave's kingdom and hearing about the Ancients' encounters with them.

You decided to go on a quest to Beast Yeast, hoping to find them and simply talk, which obviously wouldn't be easy had it not been for your powers.

They have some resistance to it, but one by one...their walls come down and you start to understand them better.

Shadow Milk

Of course, the last one to fall from grace had to be the first one you come across.

It's not long after his retreat from his Spire, still not back at his full strength, wanting to get away from Candy Apple and Black Sapphire Cookie for a while.

They finally saw him be defeated and..humiliated by Pure Vanilla Cookie, yet they're willing to stay and follow his every word?

Either way, he wanted to be alone--but unfortunately for him, that doesn't last long as you seize your opportunity to talk to him.

"Shadow Milk Cookie. The Fount of Knowledge-"

"Pah! Dunno who that other guy is. Only Shadow Milk Cookie is....here..?" He spins around, his eyes comically wide as he instantly recognizes your face. "You....you're-"

"Not dead? I've been around for as long as you, my friend." You chuckle. "I don't crumble easily."

"...it's amazing you haven't. Thought you would'a cracked under the weight of everyone's problems by now. But you're still trying to play the hero, huh?" He sneers. "Just like.....him. Riddle me this, [y/n] cookie...do you feel any guilt?"

"...I do."

"HAH! Well you...wait, you do?" He blinks. "Do you even know what I'm talking about?"

"Yes."

"..you're terrible at following this script. You're supposed to be confused and scared-"

"We're not on a stage, Shadow Milk Cookie. I'm not fooled as easily." You cut him off, firmly yet gently. "This is reality. And the reality is...you've been hurt so profoundly. Watching so many cookies embrace deceit instead of your gospels of truth must have been...difficult. You felt betrayed by them."

"........"

"Ever since..that day..I've felt guilty for not reaching out to you or the others sooner. I probably wasn't clear about my doors being open for you, too. I've been waiting for a chance to talk to you again. To help you feel heard, even though this was long, long overdue."

"Wow...and I thought Nilly had the biggest savior complex." He scoffs, trying to resist your magic's advances on his psyche. "Nice try, but you're not gonna get inside MY head, too. Nope. Nuh-uh. I'm not one of your fragile-minded cookie who unloads their entire sob story in one measly conversation!"

"It's not fragile to-"

"Besides..we haven't spoken in eons, so you don't even know HALF of what I've been through!! Not within the Silver Tree! NOT with Pure Vanilla Cookie! Not even before I turned to deceit!!"

Despite his anger, you remain unperturbed. "Exactly my point. So..why don't you help me understand? Let's talk about it."

"....like....right now?"

"Yeah? Unless you have an important date tonight."

"....hahahaha...AHAHAHAHA. Didn't you hear me, stupid cookie?! Obviously not, so allow me to rephrase it.......THERE'S NO WAY IN HELL THAT I'M EVER GOING TO-!!"

Fast forward to sometime later, when Black Sapphire Cookie finally finds his master...leaning on your shoulder while basically trauma dumping. The deceitful Beast was speaking from his mind, unfiltered, to a Legendary Cookie he's never met before.

"-and that was after Mystic Flour Cookie started going off the deep end. But could anyone blame her? No. Those damn cookies got greedy and began asking for the impossible."

"Mhm." You simply nod. "And after seeing her like that...what was going through your mind?"

"...like we were all just...losing it. So I guess hopeless? Scared that we were getting out of hand? I dunno. All I wanted was to be their teacher, to show them the truth....and look at me now!! I warned Pure Vanilla Cookie he'd fall down the same path if he continued the way he was headed...that traitorous prick.."

"He did tell me you rejected his friendship. But..would you consider revisiting that?" You hummed.

"I...no. I mean..I....I-I don't know.." He seems confused with himself. "I told the guy I hated him! What doesn't he get? He could have finished me off! Why does he still try after all I did to him?!"

"Because he sees the good in everyone, even you. I don't fully understand the soul jam connection, but...it seems like he's aware of your true feelings. Your loneliness after all that time spent in the tree. And you keep trying to deny them, afraid to draw back the curtain and express what you really feel."

"But when you've been a ruler of deceit since forever..why would I ever do that?! I don't need anyone! I....I especially don't need you or that stupid goody two shoes soul jam thief! But he....he just...why doesn't he just quit already?!" His voice cracks at the end. "H-He knows I'm a lost cause.."

Even though you can't see his face, the eyes on his hair are weeping, and that prompts you to put your arm around him. "It's easy for you to lie to others, but lying to yourself is way harder."

Despite not saying anything back, he doesn't reject the comfort.

In fact he unknowingly leaned against you more.

Black Sapphire can't believe what he's seeing--almost certain it's an illusion, but no.

This was the master of deceit confiding in someone else. Someone more familiar.

Despite feeling slightly jealous, he decides to leave you two be, distracting Candy Apple Cookie so she doesn't barge in and ruin things.

Burning Spice Cookie

"Ah, Burning Spice Cookie. Herald of Change, time hasn't been kind to-"

"You DARE utter that title?!! It is dead to me..just like you will be in a few moments!!" The Great Destroyer looms over you with his axe at the ready, scowling as you crossed paths with him in the ruins of his Spice Temple.

It was considerably difficult to even speak to him alone, especially with the last remnants of the Wild Spice warriors and Nutmeg Tiger Cookie trying their damnest to fight off your calming abilities...but not even their hardy dough can block it forever.

They let you through to see their master at his lowest point, even though he was still on a high from battling the recently awakened Golden Cheese Cookie.

"That's too bad. I was hoping you'd remember me. I was there when you once held that title with pride" You huff. "You welcomed me into your kingdom with open arms, allowing me to speak to the Wild Spices who had troubles on their minds, and the warriors who came home scarred by the things they've seen."

"....ah...you do seem familiar." He muses. "That's right. You're [Y/n] Cookie. The Legendary warrior of words. I bet you've never lifted a weapon in your life."

"My tongue is the only weapon I need, Burning Spice Cookie." You counter with equal sass.

Least to say...you intrigue him. You didn't cower, and even after all this time and knowing the things he's done, you sought him out anyways.

All just to....convince him to share his feelings?

He had a lot to say, but didn't even know where to begin.

He wondered where you were when kingdoms crumbled around him.

He wondered where you were when he kept watching those he loved die while he continued on living.

He wondered where you were when he decided that the only cure to his pain was destruction.

"Well, it's useless here. You could never understand what I-"

"So help me understand. That's why I do what I do. To better understand all Cookies I meet." You frowned slightly. "You were so convinced that you had to be strong for your people. To act like the passage of time hadn't dimmed your light. I understand why you never visited me. And for that, I apologize. I should've put more effort into-"

"Don't apologize. There's nothing you could have said or done to change the way I felt back then." He growled. "What would have been the point?"

"Maybe not, but talking about what and how you're feeling is better than keeping it all inside. You have your generals, sure..but you seldom speak with them. Not wanting to seem weak or soft-doughed in their eyes."

"When they only ever see you as a god, why would...." Suddenly, he's aware of the vulnerability he was showing, and his whole demeanor flips on its head. "GRRRAHH!!" He slams his axe down, nearly splitting the earth between you. "All I feel is pissed off that you're trying to get inside my head! Who told you where I was, mind reader?!!"

"Oh..just a little golden birdie." You calmly reply. "I heard you two had a glorious final battle."

"...ah yes. In spite of my loss, it was...the most entertaining battle I've had in a long time." He grins, recounting that fight.

"Really? Do tell."

Before you know it, he's back to talking again--about the battle, what happened before that, and the rest is history.

Your calming powers have been hard at work, but you've finally gotten him to open up a little more, and somehow he feels...lighter?

It's weird feeling. Weird, but new.

At that time, Nutmeg Tiger returns to her senses and sees you talking to him, furious that she let her guard down and that you were speaking to her lord without permission--

Only for you to calmly stand up and walk away, while she's shouting for you to come back and explain your actions.

"Hexing a Wild Spice is one thing, but turning your back on one will be your LAST mistake-!"

"Enough, General. They will not trouble us anymore."

"...they won't? But my lord, they put a spell on us-!"

"I said enough." He snaps. "I've known [Y/n] Cookie since before you were baked. Has their spell impeded your duties?"

"No, but-"

"Then return to your post."

"....as you wish, Great One." She eventually leaves, and he continues to ponder over your talk with him.

Mystic Flour Cookie

Tracking her down in Beast Yeast was a rather simple task.

All you had to do was look where the white fog has gathered. Luckily, your abilities grant you immunity to the apathy that ordinary cookies would easily be overwhelmed by.

When Mystic Flour laid waste to the world with pale ailment storms, doctors, nurses, and healers dealt with the physical symptoms of patients--while you assisted with the mental.

They may not be crumbling and have flour-white dough anymore, but apathetic thoughts linger in their minds long after treatment. Passions are lost and replaced with nihilism, and your duty was to bring them out of those dark places and remind them of what they loved and how it's all worth it and meaningful in the end.

Luckily, you were able to guide them back on the right path again, and suddenly their eyes regained their spark; their dough's color was returned, and you'd send them off to resume their normal life.

After the Dark Cacao Kingdom was 100% liberated from the flour storm, you ventured to Beast Yeast to find her, eventually meeting Cloud Haetae Cookie, who had been revived.

They didn't seem bothered by the fact their own master killed them, taking you personally to see her and giving you steamed rolls as they talked about her battle with Dark Cacao Cookie.

"She almost convinced him to accept futility. She was so, so close..but then that fool had to go and summon these two dragons to help him-"

"Who are you speaking to, Cloud Haetae Cookie?"

Before you could respond, Mystic Flour takes one look at your face and immediately knows who you are.

"[Y/n] Cookie. You're the reason why my clouds of apathy have lifted.."

"Well..having a bunch of nameless, faceless cookies moping about doesn't exactly make the world go round, my dear." You jest, although you fall silent as she just stares through you. "I know your heart carries a most heavy burden. The burden of not being able to satisfy everyone..and being a victim of-"

"You have not once set foot in my Ivory Pagoda to talk. And now, after all these years..." Given her pause...you knew her emotions were trying to bubble to the surface. Like yeast rising.

"I understand. I've heard it from the others already. This...comes much too late." You bow your head. "I remember seeing those lines, and I didn't wish to be perceived as another beggar. I'm sure you already knew my wish."

"They always expected you to solve their problems." She continued. "But it never feels like enough, does it? Don't you grow weary of their endless demands? Their pleas for you to "fix" everything wrong with them? You can only help them so much before they bleed you dry and give you nothing, [Y/n] Cookie. Not even a "thank you". Trust me...I have been there." Her face darkens. "We are not so different."

"Perhaps not. We've always looked out for the best interest of cookies...at our own expense." You agreed. "But I know a lot of them have appreciated my help. I'm sorry they never gave you that same respect, Mystic Flour Cookie."

"I do not dwell on it, for it is futile. It's a shame that you would never come to accept that same futility."

"I don't see a reason to start now," you chuckle, before you talked to her more about your recent work and the cookies you've helped, including Shadow Milk and Burning Spice.

It's clear that you reminded her of her old self a lot--before all the selfish cookies came along and attributed to her pain and corruption and imprisonment.

She thought she could talk you out of that path, certain you'll realize what true futility is like she did...

But you remain steadfast in your duty to help all cookies you meet. Even her.

[evermoreness]

moonlight and mending pt. 3 | remus lupin

pairing: remus lupin x reader

summary: remus is letting himself be taken care of, only if it's you the one taking care of him.

obs: this is the third part of a series. here's part one and part four.

masterlist

The morning sunlight was filtering softly through the high windows of the hospital wing, casting a warm golden hue over everything. It had been a couple hours since you first arrived, since you had carefully patched Remus up and watched over him as he drifted into sleep.

Now, it was time for you to leave.

You glanced at the clock. Classes would be starting soon, and though you would have gladly stayed with him longer, you knew you had to go.

Still, you wanted to check on him one last time.

Remus was sprawled out in the hospital bed, his breaths even and deep. His face, which had been tense with pain just hours before, was now relaxed. The fever had finally broken. He wasn’t shivering anymore, wasn’t wincing in his sleep every time he moved.

You let out a quiet breath of relief.

He was okay.

With a soft smile, you leaned down and gently ran your fingers through his hair, smoothing out the messy strands that had been damp with sweat hours ago.

"Much better," you murmured.

He didn’t stir. He was completely lost to sleep, exhausted beyond belief.

You hesitated for a moment, then, before you could second-guess yourself, you pressed the lightest of kisses to his cheek.

"Rest well, Remus," you whispered against his skin.

And then, with one last fond glance at him, you turned and left for class.

You stopped by your dorm, quickly changing into your uniform. You skipped breakfast since you had less than ten minutes to get into your Charms class.

You had barely made it halfway down the corridor when a familiar group of boys practically ambushed you.

"There she is!" Sirius Black announced dramatically, spreading his arms as if you were some kind of long-lost hero.

"Finally!" James Potter added, crossing his arms. "We’ve been waiting for you!"

Peter Pettigrew, standing slightly behind them, waved awkwardly. "Uh… morning!"

You raised an amused eyebrow. "Should I be worried?"

"That depends," James said, looking at you seriously. "How’s Remus?"

Sirius leaned in, eyes scanning your face like he could read the answer before you even said it. "Is he alright? Did he wake up yet? Did Pomfrey give you the scary 'No Marauders Allowed' speech again?"

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. "Remus is okay, I promise. He’s still sleeping, but his fever is gone, and he’s not looking half-dead anymore."

The tension in the air immediately eased. James let out a relieved sigh, running a hand through his already-messy hair. Sirius dramatically clutched his chest. "Oh, thank Merlin—I was prepared to cause a scene!"

Peter smiled, looking genuinely relieved. "That’s good… he was in bad shape last night."

Your smile softened. "Yeah. But he’s strong."

James grinned. "He is. But we still want to see him."

You gave them a knowing look. "You do remember that you lot are banned from the hospital wing, right?"

Sirius scoffed. "Banned is a strong word."

James nodded. "I prefer… restricted."

"Madam Pomfrey literally threatened to hex us out last time," Peter reminded them.

Sirius huffed. "Well, maybe she should consider that we love Remus and just want to check on him!"

You laughed, shaking your head. "I don’t make the rules, boys. And Pomfrey was already giving me looks for staying there all morning."

Sirius gave you an exaggerated gasp. "You stayed all morning?"

James waggled his eyebrows. "Oh, Moony’s gonna love that when he wakes up."

You felt warmth creep up your cheeks. "I was just taking care of him! It’s my job, remember?"

Sirius smirked. "Yeah, yeah, of course. Totally professional."

"Still," James added, his gaze unusually soft, "it means a lot. He—Remus doesn’t let people take care of him easily. You must be special."

You shrugged, suddenly feeling a little flustered. "It’s what I do."

James nudged your shoulder playfully. "Did you at least tell him how wonderful and heroic we are while he was half-conscious?"

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, absolutely. The first thing I did was sing your praises."

Sirius gasped dramatically. "You mock us!"

Peter giggled, while James just grinned. "Alright, fair enough."

You nodded. "Well, I can assure you Rem is okay. Still exhausted, though."

"Not that we don’t completely trust Madam Pomfrey," James started, rubbing the back of his neck, "but we also know she likes to keep us from seeing him after—"

"After he gets sick," Sirius finished quickly, cutting James off.

You raised an eyebrow at that.

Sick. Right.

That was the excuse they were going with.

You had long accepted that whatever happened to Remus on those nights was something none of them wanted to talk about. He had given you some vague excuse about a "chronic illness," and the Marauders never elaborated.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, the bell rang loudly in the distance, signaling the start of the first class.

You glanced at the clock down the hall. "Well, I have class to get to, and so do you."

Sirius groaned. "Ugh, don’t remind me."

James sighed. "Fine, fine. But you’ll let us know when Moony wakes up, yeah?"

You smiled. "Of course."

"Good," James said. "We’d love to see our dear friend—"

"—even though Madam Pomfrey doesn’t love us," Sirius added with a wink.

Peter nodded. "Just tell him we asked about him, okay?"

You nodded. "I will. I promise."

And with that, you waved them off and hurried to your first class—your heart just a little lighter knowing how loved Remus truly was.

And by lunchtime, your mind was still circling back to him.

No matter how hard you tried to focus on your classes, your quill twirling mindlessly between your fingers, your thoughts always drifted back to the way you had left him that morning—still asleep, his breathing even, looking far too pale for your liking.

And, more than anything, you couldn't shake the unease in you chest.

Because this was the second time.

And the second time was no coincidence.

You sat in the Great Hall, your plate barely touched, thoughts still tangled in worry when the Marauders slid into their usual seats near you.

"Oi, looking a bit lost in thought there, love," Sirius quipped, nudging you with his shoulder as he plopped down beside you.

You blinked, snapping out of your daze. "Just thinking."

"Thinking about a certain sickly, scarred, and ridiculously stubborn friend of ours?" James asked knowingly, raising an eyebrow as he tore into a piece of bread.

You huffed. "Maybe."

Sirius smirked. "Knew it."

You turned to face them fully, your arms crossing over your chest. "Speaking of which… what exactly happened to him?"

The boys stilled for half a second. Not enough for anyone else to notice, but you did.

James, of course, was the first to recover. "Ah, well, you know Remus. Always finding himself in a bit of trouble."

You narrowed your eyes. "Remus doesn’t get in trouble."

"Sure he does!" Sirius cut in smoothly. "He, uh, wandered too close to the Whomping Willow, didn’t he, James?"

"Yep! Whomping Willow. Terrible thing. Nearly ate him." James nodded, voice far too casual.

You gave them a deadpan stare. "The Whomping Willow?"

"Yep," Sirius confirmed.

Peter, sitting across from you, fidgeted slightly. "Not the first time either," he mumbled under his breath.

Your ears perked. "What?"

James and Sirius immediately kicked him under the table.

Peter let out a small squeak and shot them a guilty look before shoving a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth as if that would help.

Your eyes narrowed further. "Not the first time?" You repeated, gaze now locked onto James and Sirius.

"Ah—what Peter meant to say," James said quickly, "is that, you know, Remus does tend to have bad luck. Falls down stairs all the time."

You scoffed. "Falls down stairs?"

"Oh, all the time," Sirius added, nodding rapidly. "Absolute menace to himself, that one."

"And yet, I’ve never seen him trip over anything in my life." You raised an eyebrow.

"He's very good at hiding it," James shot back.

You folded your arms. "And this always happens in the early morning?"

The three of them stiffened.

Peter suddenly found his soup very interesting.

James was pretending to be fascinated by a piece of lettuce.

Sirius, to his credit, managed to keep his smirk, though you could see the flicker of hesitation in his eyes. "Well, you see, mornings are dangerous. Whole castle is a death trap, really."

You let out a frustrated sigh. "Do you lot think I’m stupid?"

James, Sirius, and Peter all quickly shook their heads.

"Then why are you feeding me the most ridiculous excuses I’ve ever heard?"

James coughed. "Because they’re not excuses."

"They are," you shot back. "Remus never gets in trouble, he doesn’t just fall down the stairs or pick fights with the Whomping Willow, and this is the second time I’ve seen him like that." You leaned forward, voice softer now, but still insistent. "You’re hiding something. I know you are."

The three of them exchanged glances.

And for a moment, you thought—just maybe—they might crack.

But then Sirius leaned back, throwing an arm lazily over the back of the bench. "Listen, love, I get it. You care about him."

Your expression softened just a fraction.

"But," he continued, tone firmer now, "Remus is very good at taking care of himself. If there was something really wrong, don’t you think he’d tell you?"

You frowned. "I don’t know."

Sirius’ smirk twitched slightly. "Exactly."

You hesitated.

Because that was true, wasn’t it? If Remus wanted to tell you, wouldn’t he have done so by now?

After a long moment, you exhaled slowly, rubbing your temples.

"Fine," you muttered. "I won’t push."

James looked relieved. "That’s all we ask."

Sirius grinned. "Good girl."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue.

Still…

You weren't stupid.

They were hiding something.

And if they wouldn’t tell you, you would just have to figure it out yourself.

The second you had a free moment after lunch, you ran to the hospital wing.

It wasn’t that you didn’t believe the Marauders when they said Remus would be fine, but—well, actually, no, you didn’t believe them. Because how could you? They were clearly hiding something. And besides, you had left Remus in the early hours of the morning looking absolutely wrecked. Even if magic worked wonders, you needed to see for yourself that he was okay.

You burst through the doors of the hospital wing, slightly out of breath, your heart pounding in your ears.

And there he was.

Sitting up in bed, very much awake, staring horrified at a steaming bowl of something thick and greyish that Madam Pomfrey had placed in front of him. His hair was damp and he already had another set of clothes on. Which meant Madam Pomfrey made him take a shower in the hospital wing just moments before you got there.

You bit your lip to stifle a laugh.

Remus immediately perked up when he saw you. His tired amber eyes brightened just a bit, and his shoulders, which had been tense, visibly relaxed.

"You're back," he said, voice still a little hoarse but significantly better than before.

"Of course I am," you said with a small smile, walking over to his bedside. "You didn’t think I’d leave you to suffer alone, did you?"

Remus glanced pointedly at the bowl. "Clearly, you should have."

You did laugh this time. "That bad?"

He lowered his voice into a dramatic whisper. "Worse."

You peered into the bowl. "Oh."

"Oh?" Remus echoed. "That’s all you have to say? Not even mentioning how Madam Pomfrey wants to poison me?"

You raised an eyebrow. "It’s food, Remus."

He scowled. "That’s debatable."

Madam Pomfrey bustled over before you could respond. "Ah, good, you’re here," she said to you. "Make sure he eats all of it, will you?"

Remus gaped at you. "That’s cruel and unusual punishment."

Madam Pomfrey ignored him. "He needs the strength."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," you said obediently, though you were trying very hard not to grin.

The moment Madam Pomfrey turned her back, Remus pouted at you. Actually pouted.

"You like this, don’t you?" he accused.

You smirked. "A little."

"I thought you were supposed to be the nice one," he muttered.

"I am nice," you said sweetly. "Which is why I’m making sure you eat."

Remus groaned. "But this looks deadly..."

"You’re not going to die, Remus."

"I might," he argued.

"You won’t," you assured him. "Now, come on, open up."

He stared at you. "Are you actually going to feed me?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Would that make it better or worse?"

Remus sighed heavily, picked up the spoon, and dipped it into the soup-like substance. "I just want you to know that I’m doing this only because you’re here," he said before taking a reluctant bite.

You beamed. "Good."

Remus scrunched his face. "Merlin’s beard," he muttered, forcing himself to swallow. "That’s horrific."

You giggled. "But you’re eating it, which means it’s working."

"Debatable," he grumbled.

You sat down beside him, crossing your legs. "How are you feeling, though? Really."

Remus glanced at you.

You looked genuinely concerned, your brows slightly furrowed, your lips pressed together in worry.

And Merlin, if he didn’t already adore you before, he certainly did now.

He cleared his throat. "Better than this morning, thanks to you."

You huffed. "I knew you weren’t fine when I left."

Remus shook his head. "No, I mean it. You—you helped a lot." He hesitated. "You always do."

You softened. "Well, I like helping you."

That threw him off guard. "You do?"

"Of course." You smiled. "I like seeing you get better. I like knowing you’re okay. And besides, I think you make an excellent patient."

Remus let out a short laugh. "Liar."

"Alright, maybe you’re a bit difficult," you admitted playfully. "But still. You’re still my favorite one."

Remus paused.

Something in his chest warmed at that.

He swallowed thickly and tried not to let it show. Instead, he rolled his eyes, lifting his spoon again. "Flattery won’t make this taste better, you know."

"Just eat, Rem."

He smirked. "Yes, captain"

And as he took another begrudging bite, he thought—not for the first time—that you were the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Despite his very vocal complaints, Remus had somehow managed to eat every last bite of the meal Madam Pomfrey had given him. He looked a little put out about it, but you couldn't help feeling proud of him.

"There," you said, setting his empty bowl aside. "See? That wasn't so bad."

Remus gave her a deadpan look. "I suffered, and you enjoyed it."

You giggled. "I did not enjoy your suffering, Rem."

"Could've fooled me," he muttered, but there was a small, fond smile tugging at his lips.

You sighed and checked the time. Your heart sank a little. "I have to go."

Immediately, Remus’ expression shifted.

It was subtle—he didn't frown exactly, but the warmth in his eyes dimmed just a little, and his shoulders tensed.

"You do?" he asked, like he was hoping you would say you were joking.

"I do," you said regretfully. "I have more classes."

Remus exhaled through his nose, looking down at his hands in his lap. "Right. Of course."

He was quiet for a moment. He wasn't the type to ask for things—not affection, not attention—but the way he hesitated, the way his fingers idly picked at the blanket on his lap, the way he didn’t immediately say goodbye… It was the closest thing to asking you to stay that you had ever seen from him.

You softened.

"I’ll be back," you promised. "As soon as my last class ends, I’m coming straight here."

Remus glanced up at you, his eyes searching yours. "You will?"

You smiled. "I will."

His shoulders relaxed slightly. "...Alright."

"And," you added, "if you’re feeling better by then, I’ll personally escort you out of here. And—" you leaned in conspiratorially, "—I’ll even help you escape from Madam Pomfrey if she tries to keep you longer."

That earned her a quiet chuckle. "You’re going to help me break out?"

"Only if you're well enough," you teased. "Otherwise, I'll just keep forcing you to eat terrible food."

Remus smirked. "That's cruel."

"Mm," you hummed, standing up. "And effective."

He huffed a laugh but didn’t argue.

You swung your bag over your shoulder, getting ready to leave, when you suddenly paused. A thought popped into your mind, and you quickly rummaged through your bag.

Remus watched curiously as you searched. "What are you doing?"

"Ah-ha!" You exclaimed, pulling out a book.

Remus blinked. "You carry books around in your bag?"

"Of course I do," you said, handing it to him. "You never know when you'll have a free moment to read."

Remus took the book carefully, eyeing the cover. His eyebrows lifted in surprise. "I’ve been meaning to read this."

"I knew you’d like it," you said proudly.

"You knew?"

"Of course," you said easily. "I pay attention, you know."

Remus looked at you then—really looked at you.

You paid attention to him. You noticed what he liked, what he didn’t, what he needed before he even realized it himself. You saw him.

And Merlin, if that didn’t make his heart ache in the best way possible.

He cleared his throat, trying to keep his emotions in check. "...Thank you."

You smiled. "You're welcome."

He hesitated, then glanced at you through his lashes. "I'll, um... I'll be waiting, then."

"For me to come back?" You asked, amused.

Remus flushed slightly but nodded. "Yeah."

You grinned. "Then I’ll make sure to be back as soon as possible."

With that, you gave him one last glance—one last reassuring smile—before finally turning toward the door.

As you left, Remus stared down at the book in his hands, running his fingers along the worn edges.

He thought he couldn’t like you any more than he already did.

He was wrong.

Coming back to you.

The moment your last class ended, you all but sprinted toward the hospital wing, and you weren't alone.

"You know," Sirius drawled lazily as he strolled beside you, hands tucked into his pockets, "some might say you're a little too invested in our dear Moony’s well-being."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "And some might say you’re jealous because I actually care about your friend."

James gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "Sirius, she’s onto us."

Peter snickered. "What will we do?"

Sirius huffed. "I do care about Moony, thank you very much. I just prefer to express my concern in a cooler way."

"By getting banned from the hospital wing?" You teased.

"Exactly," Sirius said, as if it were obvious.

They all laughed, and James nudged you with his elbow. "But seriously, you're always looking after him. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like him."

You arched a brow. "Maybe I just like helping people, James."

"Mm-hmm," Sirius hummed. "And maybe you just like Remus specifically."

You didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, you quickened your pace, eager to reach the hospital wing. The boys exchanged knowing smirks but let you go.

By the time they arrived, James, Sirius, and Peter stopped at the door.

"This is as far as we go," James sighed dramatically, leaning against the doorframe. "Oh, how cruel the world is, to keep us from our dear friend."

"You literally got banned for setting off dungbombs in here," you reminded him.

"Technicalities," Sirius said, waving a hand dismissively. "Go on, go rescue Moony."

"Tell him we say hi!" Peter added.

You rolled your eyes fondly and stepped inside.

Remus looked much better than he had that morning.

When she walked in, he was already sitting up, leaning back against his pillows, flipping through the book you had given him.

The moment he saw you, he visibly brightened, a small smile on his lips. "You’re back."

She smiled. "Of course I am. I keep my promises."

He looked relieved, and the sight of it made your heart clench. Had he actually thought you wouldn’t come back?

You made your way over, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "How are you feeling?"

Remus closed the book and stretched slightly. "Better. Not great, but better."

Your eyes drifted over him, your hand touching his forehead slightly, then tucking away a strand of his hair, the faint exhaustion still lingering in his expression. "You look better," you said softly. "Fewer shivers, better color. No fever."

He chuckled. "Been inspecting me again, have you?"

"Of course," you teased. "I take my job very seriously."

He smirked but didn’t argue.

You clapped your hands together. "Alright, Rem. Time to get you out of here."

Remus blinked. "Really?"

"Really." You grinned. "I did promise, didn’t I?"

His shoulders sagged in visible relief. "Thank Merlin."

You laughed. "Hold on, don’t celebrate yet. You still have to get dressed."

Remus groaned. "Right."

You turned to grab his neatly folded uniform from the bedside table and placed it in his lap.

He hesitated. "...You’re not going to—?"

"Help you?" You teased, smirking. "Do you want me to?"

Remus’ face flushed, and he immediately shook his head. "I can manage, thanks."

You laughed, turning around to give him some privacy.

From the hallway, you could hear Sirius whispering way too loudly.

"Do you think she’s helping him put his pants on?"

"Shut up, Sirius," James hissed, though he was clearly holding back laughter.

"Maybe we should help him," Peter added, snickering.

Remus let out a deep sigh from behind you. "I hate them."

You giggled. "They love you, really."

"Unfortunately."

When he was finally dressed, you turned back around, only to see him struggling to get his tie right.

"Here, let me," you said, stepping closer.

Remus swallowed hard as you reached up, your fingers brushing against the fabric of his collar. You expertly fixed his tie, smoothing it out when you were done.

"There," you murmured, looking up at him. "Perfect."

Remus held your gaze, and for a moment, he didn’t move.

"Thanks," he finally said, his voice a little hoarse.

You nodded, stepping back. "Ready?"

Remus took a deep breath. "As I'll ever be."

With that, you led him toward the door, where the Marauders immediately started cheering dramatically.

"Our hero returns!" Sirius declared, throwing his arms up.

James smirked. "It’s a miracle. We thought we’d lost you forever."

Peter wiped away an imaginary tear. "Such a tragedy averted."

Remus rolled his eyes, but you could see the fondness in his expression.

"Alright, alright," you said, shaking your head. "Let’s get out of here before Madam Pomfrey changes her mind."

And with that, they left the hospital wing together—Remus, finally free, and you, right by his side.

And as they walked down the hall, talking, laughing, teasing each other, Remus couldn’t stop thinking:

He was so glad to have her in his life.

They finally got into the Great Hall, it was already filled with the warm hum of conversation and the clatter of plates when they arrived. Long tables stretched across the vast room, glowing under the floating candles above. The moment they stepped inside, the Marauders beelined for their usual seats at the Gryffindor table, dragging you along with them.

Remus, still a little sore but determined to act like he was fine, slid into his seat beside you.

"Alright," Sirius declared as he dropped onto the bench across from you, grabbing a goblet. "Let me catch you up, Moony, on everything you missed during your tragic and untimely absence—"

"Tragic and untimely?" Remus repeated, a small smile on his lips.

"Absolutely," James confirmed, stealing a roll from Peter’s plate.

"You were literally gone for a day," you pointed out, amused.

"And yet, it felt like a lifetime," Sirius said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "But fear not! We survived. Barely."

Remus snorted. "Go on, then. Enlighten me."

Sirius smirked. "Well, first of all, we had the privilege of sitting through Binns' lecture on the Goblin Rebellions—"

"Again," James added with a groan. "He said the exact same thing he’s said every single year since first year."

"Word for word," Peter said, shaking his head.

Sirius leaned forward. "You owe me, Moony. I had to keep James awake for you."

James gave a sheepish grin. "I may have… dozed off a bit."

"A bit?" Sirius scoffed. "You face-planted into your desk."

You giggled, and James pointed at you. "See? She gets it. Binns is unbearable."

"He really is," you admitted.

Remus smirked. "I actually don’t mind him."

Sirius sighed dramatically. "Of course you don’t. You’re an old man trapped in a seventeen-year-old's body."

Remus raised an eyebrow. "Says the one who goes to bed at eight whenever it’s raining outside."

"That’s different," Sirius insisted. "Rain naps are sacred."

You chuckled, shaking your head.

The conversation naturally shifted from missed lessons to something else entirely—something much more relevant to their seventh year.

"Anyway," James said, stretching out. "The real excitement is this new stupid rule that we all have to help in the area we plan to work in after Hogwarts. Absolute nightmare."

"Not for me," Remus said. "I already do my job as a Prefect. And Defense Against the Dark Arts is hardly something to complain about."

"Of course you’d be in Defense," Sirius said. "Classic."

You turned to Remus, intrigued. "You want to be a Defense professor?"

Remus hesitated. "Maybe. If, you know… things work out."

You tilted your head, noticing the slight shift in his voice, but before she could question it, James jumped in.

"As for me," James said proudly, "I’m working in Quidditch Training."

Sirius groaned. "As if he needed an excuse to spend more time on a broom."

"Oi," James shot back, grinning. "I like Quidditch. And McGonagall practically forced me into it. Said I needed ‘structure’ or whatever."

Peter looked nervous. "I got put in Herbology Assistance, but I don’t know if I’m cut out for it."

"You’ll be fine," Remus assured him. "You’re better at Herbology than you think."

Sirius took a long sip of his pumpkin juice. "I, personally, refuse to be tied down by such nonsense."

You raised an eyebrow. "So… you’re doing nothing?"

"Absolutely nothing," Sirius confirmed proudly. "No one needs me anywhere."

Remus sighed. "Why am I not surprised?"

Sirius shrugged. "I don’t need to help out anywhere. I already know what I’m doing after Hogwarts."

James snickered. "Ah, yes. A life of crime."

You giggled. "Is that really your plan?"

Sirius smirked. "Nah. But I do plan to be wildly successful at something. No clue what yet, but I refuse to do anything boring."

"You could always be my assistant," James joked. "I'll be a professional Quidditch player, and you can be my personal hype man."

Sirius gasped. "Brilliant. I’ll stand on the sidelines with a banner that says, ‘GO, PRONGS, GO!’"

James grinned. "Now that’s friendship."

They all laughed, and for a while, you just sat there, listening to them bicker and joke, enjoying the energy they always carried.

But Remus noticed something.

You were listening, only listening. You hadn't really talked about your day.

And that didn’t sit right with him.

He nudged you gently with his knee under the table. "You’ve been quiet," he murmured.

You blinked, surprised. "Have I?"

Remus tilted his head. "Yes." His voice was softer now, more thoughtful. "How was your day?"

And just like that, your heart fluttered.

It was such a simple question, but the way he said it—the way he meant it—made your chest tighten.

He cared.

You hesitated for only a moment before smiling. "Tiring," you admitted. "Long. But... not bad."

He studied you, like he was making sure you were telling the truth. "Classes alright?"

Your eyes met, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade.

You nodded. "Yeah. Potions was awful, as usual. Slughorn paired me with a Slytherin who exploded our cauldron."

Remus chuckled. "Again?"

You groaned. "Again."

He smirked. "You attract chaos."

"You're one to talk, Mister Hospital Regular," you shot back playfully.

He laughed—an actual, genuine laugh.

And Merlin, you loved that sound.

"Alright, lovebirds," Sirius cut in, smirking. "Wrap it up before I vomit into my pudding."

You and Remus immediately turned red, and James and Peter howled with laughter.

Remus groaned. "I hate you all."

Sirius just winked. "No, you love us."

James grinned, ruffling Remus’ hair. "Feeling better now, Moony?"

Remus sighed, glancing at you for just a second before looking back at James.

"Yeah," he murmured. "I think I am."

You kept talking about your day as Remus listened attentively, with a smile on his lips.

James and Sirius were still joking around, Peter was still stuffing his face, and the Great Hall was still buzzing with life—but for a second, it felt like it was just the two of you.

While paying attention to you, Remus was actually eating for the first time since the full moon. And that was a rare sight. Usually, after a transformation, his appetite would take a while to come back, but here he was, finishing a plate of roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and even some vegetables.

You watched, satisfied. "Eating isn't so bad, is it?"

Remus huffed. "I was going to eat anyway, you know."

Sirius scoffed. "No, you weren’t. You hate eating after full moons."

Remus shot him a look, but before he could argue, James leaned forward, smirking. "But now, suddenly, you’re finishing your whole plate? Hmm, wonder what could have possibly changed."

Sirius gasped dramatically, slamming a hand against the table. "Oh, I know! Could it be our lovely, caring, sweet friend here, who gently forced him to eat earlier?"

Peter grinned. "Definitely that."

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. "Oh, please. As if making him eat is some impossible miracle."

"It is," Sirius said seriously. "You have no idea how many times we’ve begged him to eat after full moons."

James nodded. "We practically have to force-feed him."

"Not true," Remus muttered, stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork.

"It is very true," Peter insisted.

"And yet," Sirius said, tilting his head dramatically. "One bat of her eyelashes, and suddenly, Moony is devouring his dinner."

Remus sighed, setting down his fork. "You lot are insufferable."

James smirked. "But we’re right, aren’t we?"

Remus didn’t answer, which only made them laugh more.

You, on the other hand, was still watching Remus, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I am proud of you for eating properly, though."

Remus glanced at you, something soft flickering in his expression. "Thanks."

James clutched his chest dramatically. "Merlin, did you hear that? That was the softest ‘thanks’ I’ve ever heard!"

Sirius gasped. "He's gone, Prongs. Completely gone."

"Absolutely pathetic," James agreed.

You turned to them, raising an eyebrow. "Are you two really the ones to talk?"

James and Sirius exchanged a look.

"Good point," Peter mumbled.

"Hey!" Sirius frowned. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

You smirked. "Just that you both turn into a pile of mush for the right person."

James turned red. "That’s—that’s—not—"

Sirius grinned. "Oh, she’s got you there, mate."

James cleared his throat. "Moving on!" He turned to Remus. "Since you’re all healed up, you’re joining us tomorrow, right?"

Remus sighed. "Depends on what ‘joining you’ actually means."

Sirius smirked. "We may have a small plan involving Filch’s office, dungbombs, and a very detailed map—"

"No," Remus said immediately.

"Moony," James groaned. "Come on."

Remus shook his head. "I just got out of the hospital wing. I am not risking detention because you two are bored."

Peter turned to her. "You should come too!"

You laughed. "Do I look like someone who would help with dungbombs?"

Sirius grinned. "No. But you do look like someone who could distract Filch while we do it."

You scoffed. "Absolutely not. I have actual responsibilities."

Remus smirked. "See? Someone reasonable."

James sighed dramatically. "You two are so boring."

Sirius leaned in, smirking at Remus. "And yet, Moony, you love being around her. Don’t think we haven’t noticed."

Remus choked on his pumpkin juice. "I—"

You raised an eyebrow at Sirius, amused. "And what exactly have you noticed?"

Sirius grinned, glancing between them. "Oh, just that our dear Moony seems much happier lately. Coincidentally, right around the time he started spending all his time in the hospital wing with you."

Remus sighed. "Merlin’s sake."

James nudged him. "Just admit it, mate. You like having her around."

Remus rolled his eyes, but he didn’t deny it.

You smirked. "And I like having him around. What of it?"

The Marauders gasped.

Sirius placed a hand on his chest. "Moony, she likes having you around. Did you hear that?"

James grinned. "What a revelation!"

Peter nodded sagely. "Truly groundbreaking."

Remus groaned. "Merlin, help me."

You laughed, nudging him gently. "Come on, Rem, admit it. You like me too."

Remus hesitated, but then he sighed, shaking his head with a small, soft smile. "...Fine. Maybe a little."

The Marauders howled with laughter.

James pounded the table. "We got him!"

Sirius leaned back, smirking. "That’s it, boys. Moony’s done for."

Peter grinned. "Absolutely pathetic."

You just smiled at Remus, amused. "That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

Remus sighed. "I regret everything."

Sirius clapped him on the back. "Too late, Moony. We all heard it."

Remus just groaned again, but despite the teasing, despite the laughter, despite everything—he still stole a glance at you, his expression softer than he probably meant for it to be.

And you noticed.

And maybe—just maybe—you liked it.

Just the two of us.

After dinner, the sounds of laughter and hurried footsteps filled the corridors as students scattered, eager to enjoy what little free time they had before curfew. James was already scheming to sneak into the girls’ dorm to see Lily, while Sirius and Peter had run off in the opposite direction, cackling about some new prank they planned to pull on Snape.

You, however, stayed behind with your own Marauder.

Remus walked beside you through the dimly lit hallways, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his pants, his pace slow and unhurried. The castle felt calmer now, quieter, and you both seemed to enjoy the peacefulness that settled between you.

It was always like this with him. Comfortable. Warm.

Remus liked listening to you talk, liked the way your voice filled the silence without demanding anything from him. You told him about your day, every little detail, even giving him a quick summary of all your classes. And though he wasn’t much of a talker himself, he liked that you never seemed to mind. You just talked to him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He wasn’t used to this—having someone care so much, someone who paid attention to him in ways that weren’t just surface-level.

His hands fidgeted slightly in his pockets. He wasn’t sure why.

“And then,” you continued, walking a little closer to him, “Professor McGonagall gave us an extra assignment—oh, and you won’t believe this, but I managed to turn my book into a cactus instead of a flower.”

Remus chuckled softly, glancing at you. “A cactus?”

“Yeah,” you said, laughing. “I have no idea how it happened. Maybe I have some subconscious aggression I need to work through.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” he teased, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small smirk.

You nudged him playfully with your shoulder, and he barely had time to react before your hand brushed against his. It was brief, accidental, but you didn’t pull away. Neither did he.

It just... happened.

Neither of you acknowledged it, but as your fingers slowly curled around his, your hands now intertwined, there was an unspoken agreement between you. Neither of you would let go.

Remus’ heart was hammering in his chest, but he did his best to keep his expression neutral. If he said something—if he even so much as looked down at your hands—he was afraid you’d let go. And he didn’t want that.

Not even a little.

“Thanks,” Remus said suddenly, his voice quieter, more thoughtful.

“For what?” You tilted your head slightly, glancing up at him.

“For... always taking care of me,” he admitted, his thumb brushing absently over the back of your hand. “Especially after... you know, when I’m not feeling great.”

“Of course,” you said softly. “I’ll always take care of you, Remus.”

His breath hitched slightly, and the blush that crept up his neck was almost immediate.

You grinned. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not,” he muttered, but the deepening color on his face betrayed him.

“You are,” you teased, squeezing his hand slightly. “It’s adorable.”

His face went completely red. “You— I— I am not adorable.”

“You so are,” you said, grinning as you looked up at him. “It’s actually kind of unfair. You’re all tall and broody, and then you go and get all flustered, and suddenly you’re just the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Remus groaned, tilting his head back slightly. “Merlin, help me.”

He huffed, shaking his head, but there was no real frustration behind it. In fact, he kind of liked it—the way you teased him, the way you looked at him like he was something special, like he was worth your attention.

You giggled, and Remus swore he felt his heart stutter.

The two of you reached a window where the moonlight streamed through, casting a soft glow across your faces. It was only a sliver of a moon tonight, nothing like the full moon that always left him battered and exhausted.

You turned to face him fully now, your hands still clasped together between you. “You know, I like this,” you said softly.

Remus swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “Like what?”

“This.” You gestured vaguely between the two of you. “Spending time with you. Just... being with you.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond to that without making a complete fool of himself. He could feel his ears burning, and he was certain that if James or Sirius were here, they’d be relentless with their teasing.

But they weren’t here.

It was just you and him.

And he liked that.

“I, uh—” He cleared his throat, attempting to compose himself. “I like it too.”

You smiled, tilting your head slightly. “You’re nervous.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

“I—” He sighed, closing his eyes for a brief second before opening them again. “Okay, maybe a little.”

You let out a soft laugh, your thumb brushing over the back of his hand absentmindedly. “It’s okay. I’ll try not to make fun of you... too much.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks, i guess.”

There was a beat of silence, but it wasn’t awkward. It was peaceful, like the two of you could just exist in each other’s presence without the need for words.

Remus knew he should say something else, maybe tease you back or change the subject before his feelings betrayed him any further. But before he could even think of what to say, you shifted closer, leaning your head against his shoulder.

His entire body tensed for half a second before forcing himself to relax. He wasn’t used to this kind of affection, wasn’t used to the gentle intimacy of it all.

But with you?

With you, he wanted to get used to it.

His free hand hesitated before slowly resting on top of yours, his fingers barely grazing your skin.

You hummed in contentment. “See? Not so bad, right?”

Remus let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “No,” he admitted. “Not bad at all.”

—— 🌙 ——

A message from the author:

Hello, lovelies. I hope you loved reading this part as much as i loved writing it.

Thank you for all your love in this series, your comments always make my day! 🤍

The next part will be totally fluff, promise! No wounded and sick Moony. Our boy needs a little bit of love.

Here's to all the people that asked me to tag them (or were just waiting for the next part): @iloveremmy @jjamjamie @breakawayfromeveryday @oursweetmoony @whimsical-mistakes @froggiedragon @sophie-0012 @deathmybride @mischievousmoony

If you want to be tagged in the next ones, just let me know! 🤍

See you guys soon!

[yuyusbabygirl]

Hii, well idk if u are taking any request rn but I wanted to ask u if u could write some smut drabble of jongho or something like that 'cause I haven't seen a lot of works about him and it's depressing.

If not, thanks for reading this anyways. 🫶🏼✨

All Along, It's Been You (18+)

pairing: Jongho x fem!reader

genre: smut, fluff

word count: 5k

content warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI 18+, teasing, best friends to lovers, oral (fem receiving), protected sex (yay), clueless Yeosang

summary: A collection of Jongho touching you and teasing you until you both break

A/N: I had this idea for a while and I finally got around to writing it!

When you had first met Jongho everyone had told you that he wasn’t a big fan of skinship and affection. While you yourself were quite an affectionate person, you had accepted it without protest. Who were you to judge someone for their preferences? So the first time he initiated physical touch, you were thrown off and admittedly a bit frozen. 

You had just arrived at Yeosang’s place for a movie night with him, San and his girlfriend Hana, and Jongho. Yeosang accepted your hug, something you always cherished. You and him had been best friends since kindergarten, one of the only friendships from your childhood that had made it to your twenties. Your friendship had survived silly little teenage crushes, graduation and now you were both in your last year of college. It was during the first year of college that Yeosang had met Jongho. Both of them had taken an introduction to economics, a total failure for both. Their acquaintance had lasted the course however and soon both of them were inseparable. Yeosang had very quickly introduced you two, wanting his two best friends to be friends too. For two years the three of you had been attached at the hip. Figuratively, not literally. Both of them weren’t the biggest fans of skinship, Yeosang had warmed up to it only after 20 years of friendship.

You were just walking into his living room when suddenly, Jongho wrapped one arm around your waist. You felt the warmth of his hand through your shirt, his hard chest pressing against your shoulder. The hug probably lasted for only a second but to you it felt like time had stopped. When he pulled away he slid his hand over your waist down to your hip before removing it completely. He was already walking back to the couch while you still stood in the hallway, your heart trying to calm down. He hadn’t even touched your skin directly but everywhere he touched he had left a fire burning and you weren’t quite sure how to put it out. 

You managed to compose yourself and sat down on the couch next to Hana. If she noticed your flustered state, she didn’t comment on it which you were grateful for. You weren’t even sure how to explain it or if it was even such a big deal. You and Jongho were friends, right? It’s not like he touched you in a sexual way. Then why were your panties wet?

The rest of the evening passed without incident. He had not touched you any more and acted just like Jongho you knew. You were beginning to think you had imagined the beginning of the evening. Until it was time to say goodbye. After movie two, you were tired and decided to head home. When you stood up from the couch to say your goodbyes, Jongho stood as well. 

“I’ll walk you home. I’m beat too,” he announced. You were a bit confused, his apartment was in the complete opposite direction. 

“Are you sure? It’s not far, I can just walk alone,” you questioned. 

“It’s dark out, you’re not walking alone,” he said with a final tone. You nodded and said your goodbyes to the others who didn’t seem to notice anything off. Maybe it was just in your head and Jongho was acting the same as ever. Maybe you were just touch starved.

The walk to your apartment was silent in a comfortable way. You never felt the need to fill the silence with Jongho, you never felt awkward with him. After ten minutes, you arrived at your apartment. You turned to him and were about to do your usual wave goodbye to him when he did it again. He took a step forward and wrapped one arm around your waist, his face close to your ear. 

“Good night, Y/N,” he murmured, his breath tickling your ear. This hug lasted just as long as the first one, it couldn’t have been more than a second. You were sure your cheeks were burning red when he pulled away. You managed to stutter out a good night when he turned and walked in the direction of his place. 

The next time he touched you was when you, Yeosang and Jongho met for coffee near your lecture hall. You had just finished an exam you had been studying for for two weeks in which you holed yourself up in your apartment. They wanted to treat you to something and get you out of your apartment again, knowing you had a tendency to become a hermit during exam season. Coffee was the most you allowed them to treat you to, much to their annoyance. You sat down in a booth after getting your ridiculously sweet coffee with two extra pumps of chocolate. Jongho slid in beside you, not abnormal, but this time he spread his legs so that his thigh touched yours. You pulled your leg away, thinking he may just need more space. You nearly choked on your coffee when his leg simply followed yours. You looked over at him but he wasn’t even looking at you, he simply talked to Yeosang about some soccer thing you never really understood. 

Calm down, it’s just his thigh. 

You tried to keep your leg from twitching and mentally kicked yourself for forgetting how to act normal because of a simple touch. While the two of them talked, you looked down to where your legs touched. You noticed how big his thigh was. You weren’t small by any means, your thighs always filled out any pants you put on. Yet somehow, next to Jongho and his muscular thigh, you felt small. Taking a sip of your coffee, you looked out of the window to distract yourself from that line of thought. It wouldn’t do you any good to think of how strong his thighs were and how he would look on top of you, his thighs flexing as he thrust into you- no, fuck. Stop it.

When it was time for you all to leave is when your mind really went blank. Yeosang stood up and you waited for Jongho to stand up so you could all leave. But before he slid out of the booth, he reached down and put his hand on your thigh. He gave it a gentle squeeze and slid his hand down to your knee before getting up. It was the wrong day to wear a skirt because this time, you felt his touch on your skin. To anyone else, it would have seemed like an innocent touch between friends. After all, he just used your thigh to support himself as he was standing up. But Jongho didn’t do that. He never did. You had never seen him touch anyone like that and he had never done it with you. Your legs felt wobbly as you stood up and you swore you saw a smirk on Jongho’s face. But it was gone before you could read his expression. Yeosang being Yeosang didn’t notice anything. 

It had been a week since then and you had convinced yourself you were overreacting. It was just a few touches and all of them were innocent. Until they weren’t. Jongho was waiting for you outside of the library, both of you supposed to meet San for a study session. You quickly hurried up the steps to where he was standing. you couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked in his hoodie with his bag slung over his shoulder. You shook those thoughts away, not wanting to be obvious. You didn’t see San yet and stopped next to Jongho.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” you panted, having run from your apartment after miscalculating the time it took to dry your hair. 

“No worries, San isn’t even here yet,” he replied and before you could react, he swiped his thumb over your upper lip. Your lips parted and a soft gasp escaped you.

“You had some coffee there,” he said nonchalantly and licked his thumb clean. You swore your heart would never beat normal again. 

What the fuck was happening?

Just as you were about to do something stupid like squeak, San arrived and the three of you walked into the library. And Jongho? He had the audacity to snicker. You weren’t making this up. 

This pattern continued for the next two weeks to the point where you were jumpy around him. Everytime he was close or moved his hand, you tensed up, expecting a touch but never sure where or how. You could tell that he noticed it but he never mentioned it. Instead he used it to his advantage, never touching you when you were bracing for it. He kept you in suspense and always waited for a moment where you let your guard down. You had stopped wearing skirts in fear of your arousal running down your leg every time he touched your skin. You began to pay more attention to his hands. His well kept nails, the veins running down from his hand to his forearm, the knowledge that these hands are strong enough to break apples, a party trick he loved to show off. You began to imagine his hands touching you in different scenarios. Would he hold your wrists down? Would he grip your thighs and spread you open? Would he let you suck his fingers while he fucked you? Every time you had these thoughts, you mentally scolded yourself. He was your friend. Maybe he had just warmed up to physical contact after two years of friendship. 

The touches varied between innocent and less innocent. Most of the time it's a hug or a hand on your thigh. But sometimes he finds an excuse to swipe his thumb over your lips, whisper something in your ear. Once you swore you felt his hand brush over your ass while he shuffled past you in Yeosang's cramped kitchen. And then there was the time his lips brushed against your neck after he had whispered a joke to you. It had taken all your self control not to moan. The whole thing had gotten so bad that you had to invest in a new toy which was now in regular use. Needless to say, Jongho's name slipped out quite frequently when you came. 

It all came to a climax one night when he was over at your place to finish watching a new show you two had started together. You had waited all week to be able to watch the season finale with him. As you walked out of the kitchen with a bowl of snacks in your hand, you looked at Jongho sitting on your couch. He was wearing one of your favourite looks on him, grey sweatpants (your gaze may have dropped to his crotch once or twice) and the shirt that he had to buy at the carnival after dropping Yeosang's and his ice cream onto his own shirt. The shirt reminded you of the night you first realised your feelings for him were more than just platonic.

You sat down next to him on the couch and handed him the bowl. 

“Let's see if they fuck up a perfectly good season,” you commented and pressed play.

“Probably, it seems to be the running curse with every show we've watched together so far,” he snickered.

“You're right. I blame you entirely,” you quipped back and leaned back into the couch, pulling your legs up. He gasped in mock offense.

“Excuse me? What did I do?” he questioned. You let out a laugh at his offended expression.

“Maybe your cynicism is somehow reaching the writers,” you mused playfully. He set the bowl down on your coffee table to be able to properly face you.

“Oh yeah?And how exactly would that work?” he raised his eyebrows at you. 

“I don't know, maybe you astrally projected in your sleep and influenced them with your bad vibes,” you shrugged. A squeak escaped you as you felt his fingers poke your side.

“Oh no, you don't get to squirm away after being a brat,” he laughed and followed you as you tried to flinch away to the other side of the couch. Suddenly, his fingers attacked your sides mercilessly. 

“Ah! No, Jongho! Stop it, that tickles,” you giggled and flailed helplessly on the couch.

“Aw come on, maybe my cynic vibes will make you stop laughing,” he teased and kept tickling your sides. You tried to escape his attack and fell back into the couch. Instead of stopping, he simply leaned over you, one leg beside you on the couch while the other one found its way between yours. You ketpt giggling at his continued assault and tried to push at his shoulders but your strength was useless against the wall of muscle that was Jongho. 

“Say you're sorry,” he demanded, his fingers still tickling your sides.

“Fine! Please, Jongho. I'm sorry!” you gasped out, a few tears escaping from your laughing. His fingers ceased their assault on you, his body draped over yours on the couch. 

“See, that wasn't so hard, was it?” he smirked down at you. Your breathing finally slowed and you looked up at him. Now that you weren't being tickled anymore, you realised the position you two were in. He raised his hand to brush a stray tear from your cheek. Your breath hitched at the contact. His chest was pressing into yours as he hovered over you, his thighs pressing into you. Even after weeks of him touching you at any given opportunity, this was the most physical contact you two have had and you didn't know how to handle it. You desperately wanted to clench your thighs to relieve some pressure but that was impossible with his leg between yours. His arms were braced on either side of your head and you had to restrain yourself from looking to the side to stare at his biceps. 

The scent of his cologne and the warmth of his body made you slightly dizzy. His thigh in between yours shifted slightly and the feel of his muscles tensing against you had you shifting your hips, unconsciously searching for more contact. You saw the corner of his mouth twitch up into a smirk. You suddenly didn't know what to do with your hands, though they were itching to grip his shirt and pull him down to you. 

“You're red. Is it from my tickling or are you suddenly shy?” he teased you. 

“I- I'm just warm,” you squeaked out. He raised one eyebrow and smirked down at you.

“Yeah? Is it hot in here?” Jongho put his hand on your flaming cheek. “Hm, you're right, you're practically burning.”

Your lips parted on instinct as he touched you and his eyes zeroed in on them. His hands felt soft and warm against your skin and your stomach felt like it didn't just have butterflies in it but a whole damn zoo.

“You know… I have spent two years holding myself back. Two years of wanting to touch you but holding back because we're supposed to be friends,” his voice was rough, the tension between you growing. “I knew when Yeosang introduced us that I wanted you. But you were dating that douchebag Minho back then. So I held back. I wanted to make my move when you finally broke up with that asshole but by then we had become best friends and, fuck, I didn't want to ruin anything,” he took a stuttering breath, his eyes searching yours for a reaction.

“Minho wasn't that bad,” you whispered, not able to form a proper response. Jongho let out a scoff.

“He spent most of his time putting you down. Never mind his love for stupid vests,” he grumbled. “But that's not the fucking point and you know it.”

“I-” you tried to reply but he wasn't finished yet. 

“The point is that you and I are more than just friends. We've been dancing around each other for a while now. I know how you tried to avoid giving me physical affection because you know I'm not the biggest fan of it. But you know what? I want to touch you. I want you to touch me. I have never felt the need to do that with anyone. Just you,” Jongho rasped out, his thumb stroking over your cheek. His eyes dropped to your lips again and a strangled groan escaped him.

“Fuck it… we can talk later,” he whispered and in a second his lips were on yours, soft and determined. Your arms went around his shoulders as you kissed him back with the same unbridled passion. His hand went from your cheek to your hair, gently gripping it to tilt your head back. His mouth swallowed all the little sounds that escaped you, his body pressing into yours. One of your hands tangled in his hair as his tongue ran across your lower lip, begging for entrance. Your mouth opened with a soft gasp and he immediately slipped his tongue into your mouth. As soon as your tongues met his hips bucked into yours and a strangled moans slipped out of you. Jongho pulled away with a gasp.

“Fuck, baby. We can stop right here if you want to. I want you in any way you're willing to give,” he whispered against your lips, his hand tightening in your hair.

“No, don't wanna stop. Want this, want you,” you whined, looking up at him with pleading eyes. This is what you had been fantasizing about for weeks. And reality was far better than any fantasy you had. His body was muscled and warm on top of you. 

With a low groan he reached down to the hem of your shirt and pulled it off of your body, revealing your sports bra that zips up at the front. You truly weren't prepared for this but you didn't care. 

“God, you're so beautiful,” he moaned as his hand slid over your stomach up to your ribs, leaving a trail of goosebumps. Your fingers pulled at the front of his shirt and he chuckled at your impatience. He reached behind his neck and pulled his shirt off. Your mouth went dry at the sight. You had known Jongho was buff but you weren't prepared for what was hiding under his shirt. He had a broad chest matching his broad shoulders but he wasn't overly ripped. His abs were defined but accompanied by a slight chub that you really wanted to sink your teeth into. 

He leaned back down and began to nibble at the skin of your neck, the soft sighs coming out of your mouth encouraging him to start sucking on your pulse point. One of your hands found its way to the waistband of his sweatpants, your fingers sliding underneath and your nails scratching along his skin. He pulled back from your neck and sat up while his hands played with the zipper of your sports bra.

“Can I, baby?” he questioned, his voice low with barely constrained need. You nodded, licking your lips in anticipation. He smiled and started pulling down your zipper. He let out a loan groan as your breasts spilled out of your sports bra, his hands immediately cupping them, his thumbs flicking over your hard nipples. Your chest arched up into his touch as your head fell back. His head dipped down and he took one of your nipples into his mouth, his teeth softly closing around it. He chuckled at the gasp you let out. 

“This couch is way too cramped,” he grunted and suddenly grabbed the back of your thighs. He hoisted you up into his arms and walked to your bedroom. He sat down on the edge of your bed and kept you in his lap. As soon as he sat down, you could feel his erection through his sweatpants. Your hips moved instinctively against the sizable bulge and his hands immediately grabbed your hips. 

“Shit, baby…” he moaned and his head tipped back. You took advantage and started planting soft kisses along the side of his neck up to his ear. Your teeth closed around his earlobe and you lightly tugged at it before swiping your tongue over it. You pulled back but he grabbed your nape and pulled you into another kiss. Your hips kept grinding down against him while his tongue swirled around yours. One of his hands dropped to your thigh, his fingers digging into your skin and you hoped you would have bruises to remind you of this tomorrow. 

His hand tightened around your nape and in a sudden movement, he had flipped you over so your back was on the mattress with him hovering above you. He pecked your lips and stood straight. You propped yourself up on your elbows and watched as he dropped his sweatpants. Your mouth fell open. You were right earlier, he wasn't wearing boxers. Drool pooled in your mouth at the sight of his thick cock. Before you could reach out and wrap your hand around it to feel the weight of it, Jongho grabbed your ankles and dragged you towards him, making you fall back against the bed. He chuckled at your shocked expression and hooked his fingers into your shorts to pull them down. He tossed them aside and your panties were quick to follow. 

He dropped to his knees in front of your bed and threw both of your legs over his shoulders. You didn't have time to prepare before you felt his tongue slide over your wet folds. Your fingers found their way to his hair as you moaned out his name. You looked down and found his dark eyes looking up at you from between your legs while his mouth closed around your clit, sucking hard. Your back flew off the mattress at the sensation and one of his hands pushed you back down with a firm push on your stomach. 

Two of his fingers circled your entrance before pushing inside. You were so wet that you barely felt the stretch. He moved his fingers, trying different angles and watching your face closely. When you let out a choked whimper he knew he had found your g-spot and began to target it with measured strokes of his fingers. 

“Jongho, please,” you whined, tugging at his hair. He released your clit with a pop.

“Please what, baby?” he smirked up at you, his fingers never ceasing their movement. 

“I want you,” you pleaded him.

“You have me, baby. You need to be more specific,” he flicked his tongue over your clit and grinned at your twitch. 

“I- I want you inside me, Jongho,” you gasped out.

“I already have my fingers inside you,” he couldn't help but tease you more. He wanted you to say what you want, needed to hear that you wanted this as much as he did.

“Your- Your cock.. I want you to fuck me, please,” you moaned as his fingers curled inside you. 

“There we go. That wasn't so hard, was it?” he pressed one last kiss to your clit and pulled his fingers from your cunt, sucking them clean. He stood up and crawled over you, his lips found yours again and you couldn't help but moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue. Jongho pulled back and softly brushed a strand of your hair from your forehead. 

“Do you have a condom? I didn't come here planning this, I swear,” he breathed against your lips. You swallowed and nodded.

“Nightstand,” you pointed to the drawer in your nightstand. He reached over and pulled a condom from it. Jongho stood between your legs and ripped the foil with his teeth. He was about to roll the condom onto his cock but you stopped him.

“Let me,” you bit your lip and took the condom from him. Sitting up, you couldn't help but lean forward and swipe your tongue over the tip of his cock, tasting the precum that had collected. You looked up at him and enjoyed the low groan that came from him. Your own need became too much and you quickly rolled the condom onto his hard dick. He pushed you back by your shoulders and followed you. Your legs wrapped themselves around his waist as he grabbed his length and teased your entrance with the tip of his cock. You braced your hands on his biceps and looked up at him with begging eyes. 

“In case it wasn't clear, I want to date you,” he said and with that he started to push his cock into you. Your head fell back and you couldn't help but moan. His cock was girthier than anything you've had before but you welcomed the stretch. As soon as he was finally all the way inside you, you started to wriggle your hips to get him to move. He hissed and gripped your hip with one hand to keep you still.

“Fuck, baby. Give me a moment,” he grunted. His eyebrows pulled together and you watched as he bit his lip. The sight of him on top of you, his sweaty hair pushed back to reveal his forehead and the feel of him hot and hard inside you is all you've wanted for the past weeks and if you're completely honest with yourself, you had wanted this for two years. He looked down at you with a shuddering breath. His hand tightened on your hip, his other hand finding yours and he intertwined his fingers with yours. He licked along your neck and rolled his hips back before driving them forward in a slow but forceful thrust. You let out a soft moan and your fingers tightened around his. You pulled him closer with your legs around his waist. He bit your shoulder and started to pick up the pace. You felt his cock drag along your walls and your nails dragged down his back. 

“Oh fuck, you feel so good. Sound so pretty when you moan for me,” he whispered into your ear and the feel of his breath against your ear had you clenching around him. The muscles of his torso tensed on top of you and you felt the muscles on his back under your fingers as he moved his body against yours. Every grunt, every whisper had you whimpering against his skin and you could feel the tell-tale tightening in your lower stomach.

“Jongho…” you murmured against his shoulder, your lips kissing his skin.

“Yes, baby?” he asked, his hips keeping a steady pace. You couldn't answer, only able to moan as you felt his cock drag over your g-spot. He seemed to understand what you wanted anyway and dipped one of his hands between your bodies, his pointer finger finding your clit and started to apply pressure. 

Oh fuck,” you gasped out and he looked at your face, not wanting to miss a single second of you falling apart at his touch. Your legs started to shake and your hips bucked upwards as you tried to hold on a bit longer. But he was having none of it. He kept the rhythm of his hips and the pressure on your clit and after a few more thrusts your jaw went slack. You looked into his eyes, you own glazing over as you reached your climax. Jongho followed with his own climax after a few more thrusts, spilling into the condom before collapsing onto your chest but making sure not to crush you with his weight. He softly kissed your cheekas you both tried to slow your breathing.

“Are you good?” he asked, his eyes finding yours.

“More than good,” you reassured him, your voice a bit hoarse. He chuckled and rolled you over so you're straddling him.

“Good cause that was just the start. i have two years to make up for,” he grinned up at you and you let out a giggle.

Over the next two weeks, you and Jongho had spent most of your time going on dates or in bed. Hana had immediately figured it out, mainly because of the hickey on your neck and the way Jongho’s eyes had followed you whenever you were in a group setting. San had found out when he saw you two kissing in the kitchen during one of your movie nights. The only one who hadn't seemed to catch on was Yeosang. And you and Jongho weren't subtle. You felt no need to hide your relationship after you both had the talk after about three rounds, one of which was in the shower. Jongho's muscles with water dripping over them? How was a girl supposed to resist?

It wasn't until week three that Yeosang seemed to realise what was happening. You three were in Jongho's apartment for a game night when Jongho had leaned over and pecked your lips after you had successfully killed off Yeosang's character in Mortal Combat.

“What are you doing?” Yeosang asked incredulously.

“Kicking your ass,” you retorted.

“No, I mean why was he kissing you? You guys can't do that,” he seemed genuinely shocked.

“And why not?” Jongho questioned.

“Well, that's incest!” Yeosang exclaimed. You let out a laugh.

“We're not siblings, what do you mean?” you laughed and leaned back against Jongho.

“Well, we're basically family,” he mumbled.

“Yeo, me and her have been dating for three weeks now,” Jongho declared and threw some popcorn into his mouth. Yeosang's mouth gaped open.

“And I'm the last to find out?” he exclaimed. You nudged his shoulder with your elbow.

“Dude, we didn't hide it. You can just be oblivious. But I can assure you, it's definitely not incest,” you said, still chuckling at his confused expression. Jongho smiled and leaned down to kiss you again. You saw Yeosang cringe.

“I'm gonna have to get used to that. It's like watching your brother and sister kiss,” he mumbled but you could tell he wasn't really mad or put out. You chuckled and reached over to ruffle his hair.

[takes1]

Hello!! (I don't know exactly how to do this)

Could you write something for Tendo Satori being a simp for short skirts with thigh-high stockings?

Thank you so much

tendou is obsessed with your thigh-highs

hi!! you did it right haha. could not stop thinking about this one. great request!! glad to be able to write it so quickly :0

warnings. nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / tendou is a thigh guy / thigh high fetish / almost fingering / makin out / reserved!reader / yapper!tendou / endstate situationship / intense PDA / college au / TA!tendou / 2.3k words / potential for part two idk

links. masterlist. more haikyuu here. my ao3. my imagines requests open

Tendou clocked your little outfit the second you walked into his study group's reserved room.

As the TA for this course, he tried to keep himself far away from you, just to clear his mind before trying to help. The library was now 40 minutes away from closing, and the handful of students that showed up were nearly all gone.

Helping the last poor soul with practice questions was not quite enough- he found himself praying you would stay another ten minutes for him to try and flirt, just a little.

He wanted to ask what was the deal with such an eye-catching get-up, but he wasn't sure what the best approach was. So, like usual, he just went with whatever felt right.

"Hey!" He was loud, friendly, and accidentally succeeded in startling you from behind.

You turned in your chosen beanbag to give him an unsure look. You didn't say hello back.

There was something different about this guy. You had your guesses at to what exactly ailed him, but they would remain background noise for the time being. Phone clutched to your chest, you collected yourself again in the aftermath of such a fright.

"Did I scare ya?"

He didn't wait for you to respond through your tiny chuckle. He was on a roll, and needed to open this up.

"Whaaat? No homework?" Tendo pushed his weight forward, limp over your beanbag, right beside you, "Don't tell me you're already done?"

Tendou was absurdly quick. Conversations, usually more confined to a specific, academic topic, usually left you spiraling from his fast and unfocused mind. Most of the time, you felt like a passenger in your own talks, but he was waiting for you now.

You hadn't realized how much time had passed, engrossed in a post on your phone for minutes, now. Everybody was almost gone.

"Um- yeah, I am."

There was so much going on behind the squint he gave you. It made you feel all hot and cold at the same time.

He muttered, looking around the rest of the room, "Smart and pretty, cool- that's cool."

Your mouth hung open a little, a blush creeping over your face, but he was onto the next thing. As if he didn't just call you pretty.

"So-ooo do you usually dress up outside of class?"

It was never one question. In this case it led to lots of elaboration, back-to-back.

"Because I totally did not get the memo, if we were supposed to wear something nice. I mean, bro over there is wearing a piano shirt, suit jacket and jeans. I'm-," He paused a moment to snicker at him, "-A little confused. So--,"

His eyes nearly gave him away. They faltered, slipping down to the sliver of skin showing at the top of your thigh-highs, just before the hem of your skirt ended.

"Do you- usually wear this?"

In a natural response, your eyes were following his, and you automatically pulled down on your skirt to cover yourself.

Your voice was quieter, slower, than his by many measures, "I wouldn't call this 'dressing up,' but, um, it is my style."

He had to mask his frustration -the Hellish screaming from inside- with a bigger, sillier thing.

"You got somewhere to be after this?"

Again, more questions. You couldn't help but laugh at the way he asked them so quick, flighty, like he was maybe asking you about course material.

"Like, a date, or something? Going to- I dunno- see your boyfriend? Something like that?"

Now you understood. He was no-doubt flirting. You set your phone on the floor, an inquisitive smile at your lips.

"I don't have a boyfriend," You looked him up and down slowly, watching how he adjusted, plenty aware of it, "Why do you need to know so bad?"

For the first time ever, he was searching for what to say. You grinned.

"Y'know," You shifted, twisted, to look at him straight on, "If you kissed me, I might kiss you back."

Your teeth clinked together in his haste. It was silly, an endearing accident, that made you smile against him.

His lips were soft, and warm, but he kissed you like you were made of chocolate. Something sweet, something to be devoured. There was no room to doubt his intentions because he was so passionate from the start.

A big, strong hand laced through your roots and guided you to get a better kiss from this angle.

It had been a while since your last fling. Tendou could fill the empty space in your heart, between your legs, for enough time to forget how lonely you were. Longevity wasn't something you were after. He was into you and that would do.

"Mm-h," You parted to tell him to come sit next to you, instead.

Tendou wiped the string of spit from his mouth, flushed, but never backed down. His confidence, especially in the face of being such a weirdo, was a turn-on.

"Ya think this is big enough for me~? Let's seeee,"

You watched, amused, at how he slinked into the space next to you and completely filled it up.

"You're... pretty tall," You confessed, shaky. Your hand shot out to touch him, invested in his size, all of a sudden. Hesitation, at the last second, kept you from following through.

"Mhmmm, you know it. 6'2, if you're curious."

Encouraging, he completed your desire to feel him by placing your hand on his shoulder. He did all the hard work so easily.

You were human. You had your preconceived biases. You thought weird, nerdy guys were supposed to be frail and skinny.

Tendou's shoulder was instead strong, and filled out. His shirt was a thin blend of polyester and cotton that was strained at the bicep and not so much at the waist. His legs stretched out much further than yours. All these titillating realizations kept cascading in big waves of shock. It kept you in a state of stillness that directly contrasted his excited wiggling around to get comfortable.

"You okayy?" He laughed, his proximity a safe, but new change. His words buzzed against your cheek between kisses, "You really like tall guys, or somethin'?"

He did usually wear hoodies, in your cold classroom. The way he slouched in it made him look closer to 5'9". It was warm in here so he had set it on the back of a chair a while ago.

You kissed him, falling against his warm chest in an attempt to shut him up.

Though he loved being chatty, he knew when it was a good time to let other things get the point across.

"Mmh-,"

He returned your passion tenfold. Forearm behind your upper back, a hand wrapped all around the back of your neck, he crushed you back down under him.

God, he was good with his tongue.

It didn't take very long to realize you both wanted each other, bad.

You liked what you were finding out about him, the further he went with you- he knew he liked you from the start of the semester, and now got to express his gratefulness for the chance.

"You should wear these more," His dirty, breathy voice matched the rough way he pulled your thigh-highs down.

Tendou was completely lost in the way your thighs squeezed together, how your stockings were just a little too small, your skirt arguably too short for your ass. No wonder you chose a seat like this, far away from the other students.

What he wanted was for you to sit on his face. But even he knew that idea was too much, so he settled for squeezing at your flesh, adjusting to be more over you.

You gave a closed-mouth moan of surprise at the feeling of a stiff cock under his jeans, rubbing on your leg.

The way he had you all spread and squished again for him, a little tight on space, very last-minute and surprised, was exactly how he wanted you. He grinned. Thanks to his features, that made him look intimidating.

"I've got a- a thing, for these," He explained, clearing the air a little, "Now that I think about it, if you wore this to class, I probably wouldn't be able to focus."

Just the idea of keeping him distracted like that filled you with a hot, focused, urgency. You pulled him in, legs parted, for a raunchier kiss.

He groaned against your mouth, biting your lip, and pressed an eager palm against your pussy.

"Ahh-mm-!" Your whine was getting cut short by another carnivorous suck to your lip.

He got you so wet, so malleable, so quickly.

"Fuck," His hips were grinding on your thigh, apparently enough stimulation for him- it made you feel proud, that you could get him feeling so good without much work.

His digits slid under your soaked panties. You gasped against his mouth, fingers filling with the neck of his t-shirt.

"Mmm, fuck that feels so-o good," His confession devolved into more of a growl.

His fingers were using all the wet there to better slide against your clit, a filthy, smooth sensation that kept you writhing.

"Ohh--oh my go-d," You mewled, eyes scrunched shut at how much you needed it. He swallowed up your sounds with hasty, hard kisses.

His groin kept pressed, rolling, against the back of your thigh.

It felt hot, and big from what you could tell, but you were still left to speculate what he was hiding under those jeans.

Never in a million years would you have guessed that he possessed knowledge on how to touch a woman. In any sense, not just explicitly. He was everyone's favorite, goofy TA. Not some womanizer.

Your fingers raked through his messy hair, taking in the feeling of his tongue against yours, all while trying to keep your noise down.

When he began to part, you didn't fight it, because you needed to breathe. But he stopped moving his fingers, and it left you shaky, needy. You rolled your hips and pressed your leg harder onto his hard-on.

"We sh-ould- we should stop," Tendou sighed, clearing his throat.

He was glancing around the empty study room, head on a swivel. He didn't look particularly upset, nor like he had actually heard something. You sure didn't. What the hell was his problem?

You were grabbing at him, groaning, "What?"

Another little kiss to your forehead, and the hottest, most rabid look any guy had ever given you before made you pause.

"I just- uh, I just have--," He was distracted again, squinting around, "A bad... feeling."

"I made you feel bad?" You sounded more whiny, than anything. You would have thought it embarrassing, but your cunt was throbbing with the need for more, and that took priority.

He chuckled, prying his own fingers from between your legs with marked displeasure.

"Noo, no, you make me feel like I wanna tear our clothes off." He thought for a second, sucking the wet from his index and middle finger, "Then run naked into the woods and never come back. Live like our ancestors. Have like, 16 kids."

There was no time to unpack that.

Just as you had fixed your stockings back, and he rolled off of the beanbag to stand -shifting his cock to a less obvious position in his jeans-, the door opened fast with no knock.

"Heyyy!"

Your wide eyes went straight to Tendou, but he didn't look at you. How did he know?

"Hey!" He greeted piano-shirt guy with typical ease.

The unwelcome guest, somebody you vaguely recognized from your class, explained themselves, glancing about the room, "I left my phone here! Have you guys seen it?"

Your voice cracked to say 'No,' and you vowed to remain silent for the remainder of your fake search for this idiot's phone.

Tendou found it in one of the swivel chairs. Part of you couldn't help but feel like he had some magical powers. Once the guy left, you were left mourning all that perfect proximity, all the dizzying desire you had built so quickly.

"Sooo angry," He cooed.

As he invited you for a hug, it was clear that he found your frustration the most adorable thing in the world.

You tolerated it because he held you. More specifically, he held you and palmed your ass from under your skirt. Your arms were stretched, linked behind his shoulders, as you stole more of his perfect kisses. You pushed him to sit on the table so you could stand between his parted legs.

He kept laughing, giggling at least, and messing your kisses up.

"Mh- what? What is it?"

Tendou snickered, "Didn't know you were such a little freak--,"

"Freak?"

"Ohh-kay, okay, not freak- umm," He giggled at the offense you took, cupping your face in his oversized hands, "Sorry. I really like you. I wanna do this more."

You hadn't caught on quite yet, so you leaned in to kiss him again, but only got his cheek. He grinned at your disappointment.

"Nooot here, though."

He was still squinting around, "I dunno, I still don't feel right."

After such a strong demonstration of predictive ability, you couldn't not trust his warning. You glanced around, too.

"Some other time?"

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@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

my masterlist. more haikyuu. (new) my imagines.

[enhani-ki]

PART-TIMERS!NI-KI X READER PART II ʚɞ

warning: smut, nsfw, cursing, etc.

read part one here!

the store was quiet the next day, you tried so hard to focus on your task but for some reason, you're annoyed and not carefully aligning the packages.

then a minute later, you're smiling so hard, biting your lips thinking about the little text conversation between you and ni-ki.

ni-ki crouched beside you, organizing the lower shelves where you just threw different items in one row. his right brow raised. "what's up with you again?"

you looked at him, startled. "what do you mean?"

"i don't know like, what's this?" he said. pointing at the shelf while looking directly at you.

you felt your cheeks warm in embarrassment. "sorry, i just remembered something." you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

ni-ki raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk was tugging at his lips, he knows why you're distracted. "uh-huh."

you both continued restocking and ni-ki broke the silence again. "so… about last night."

your hands froze mid-motion, your breath hitching. "yeah..."

he tilted his head, studying you closely.

"about that... i'm confused" you stammered, your voice going quiet as you continued talking, pouring your heart out but he's not even paying attention. "...and you know, i don't even get what you're saying."

ni-ki glanced over his shoulder, carefully double-checking the surroundings. ensuring no one else was nearby.

"you don't?" he asked.

he locked eyes with you for too long. you didn't even have to say anything. ni-ki leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a sudden kiss.

it was quick, his arms brushing lightly against yours as he leaned closer. your mind went blank after feeling the warmth of his lips.

and when ni-ki pulled back, his eyes remained on you. "what about now?" he asked with a serious look in his face.

you couldn't help but smile shyly, your heart fluttering as butterflies swirled in your stomach.

ni-ki grinned, leaning in to give you another soft kiss. "still confused?"

you slapped his arms gently. "maybe one more." he whispered, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. totally liking the flushed expression you gave as he pressed another quick peck to your lips, then another, and another.

each kisses are light and playful, like he was trying to draw out your reactions.

you were giggling and all giddy, covering your face with your hands so he can stop.

he pulled your hands away from your face gently. "i like it when you smile like that."

your heart skipped a beat as he leaned in one last time, this kiss softer than the rest, his lips stayed just long enough to make you catch your breath after he pulled back.

and before you could gather your thoughts, one of your coworkers peeked in. "hey, you guys, a customer needs help up front."

ni-ki stood up, looking at you for a moment before turning to leave. "i'll handle it." he said with a small smile as he patted your head gently.

later, you tried to make yourself busy but your hands were trembling slightly, smiling like an idiot whenever you remember what happened earlier.

you glanced at the clock above the register, only ten minutes left until the shift ended. you watched ni-ki as he started to tidy up his area, preparing to leave.

you stood up, realizing it's now or never. "ni-ki?" you asked. "do you... do you want to come over? you know, after work?"

he paused, his eyebrows lifting slightly in surprise before a slow smile spread across his face. "you're inviting me over?"

you nodded. "yeah… i mean, if you want to. no pressure or anything."

he leaned back on his heels, his smile turning into a smirk. "you're cute when you're nervous."

you glared at him.

he chuckled. standing up while brushing off his pants. "alright, i'll come over."

"cool." you said softly, trying to play it off even though your stomach were already doing flips.

your heart raced every time ni-ki walks by. you tried not to make it obvious how much you were thinking about him and the fact that he agreed to come over.

and when the clock finally hit the end of your shift, you grabbed your things and waited outside the store. the cool evening air felt refreshing against your warm cheeks as you glanced around, your nerves starting to creep in.

"you ready?" ni-ki's voice came from behind you.

you turned to see him. his hair was slightly messy and the soft streetlights cast a golden glow on his face.

"yeah." you said, trying to sound calm. "let's go."

ni-ki walked close beside you and his arm occasionally brushing against yours, making you look and smile at him each time it happens.

"come on in." you said, stepping aside to let him enter.

ni-ki stepped inside, his eyes scanning your space. "this is nice."

"thanks." you replied, closing the door behind him. but you know damn well that if your place is nice, his' might be nicer. "want something to drink?" you offered, heading to the kitchen.

"sure." he said, following you closely. "i'll have whatever you're having."

you grabbed two glasses of juice, handing him one before sitting on the couch. ni-ki joined, settling in beside you. the space between you felt far too small, his knee brushing yours as he leaned back casually.

"so..." he started, tilting his head at you, "you were pretty distracted at work again today. want to tell me why?"

you sighed. he knew damn well why...

"hey, i wasn't that distracted."

he grinned. "right like throwing stuff onto shelves like you don't care is totally normal for you."

"okay, fine." you admitted, biting your lip. "i was."

ni-ki moved closer, his arm now resting along the back of the couch, his fingers brushing your shoulder. "was it because of me?"

you inhaled deeply. his stare made you feel hot. you fanned yourself. "maybe." you finally admitted, avoiding his eyes.

"maybe?" he repeated, his voice teasing and dripping with suggestion. "you're gonna have to do better than that."

you turned to him, your cheeks flushing. "fine, then. yes."

ni-ki smiled, his hand sliding along the back of the couch until his fingers grazed your neck. "good." he mouthed. "because i've been thinking about you too."

your eyes widened slightly at his confession. ni-ki leaned in, brushing his lips softly against yours.

then after he pulled back, his lips twitched into a smirk and the back of his fingers caressed your cheeks.

you felt confident. you didn't know why but you suddenly felt the urge to admit everything. now that he's here and everything, telling you he's been thinking about you too, you just might push forward.

"can i say something? but tell me right away if you're uncomfortable" you blurted out suddenly. "please?"

ni-ki tilted his head, his dark eyes fixed on you. unsure but he wants to hear it "okay... go ahead" he said, curious.

you hesitated, biting your lip, unsure if you should even say it. but you want him and holding back seems impossible now. "i'm thinking about you last night, right?" you admitted, your voice shaking slightly.

his brows raised, expression changing to a genuine intrigued look.

you shifted nervously, your cheeks burning as you forced yourself to continue. "i mean… i was really thinking about you. and i..." you looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "i touched myself."

your words hung in the air. for a moment, all you could hear was the sound of your own breathing.

ni-ki blinked, his expression blank at first. "you... what?" he asked. you heard his voice full of disbelief and confusion.

you squeezed your eyes shut. "i'm so sorry, sorry for doing something so weird." you apologized, clenching your hands in your lap. the silence stretched and you finally risked glancing at him. ni-ki's lips slightly parted

"that's…" ni-ki swallowed hard. his adam's apple bobbed as he struggled to find the right words.

ni-ki leaned in closer, his fingers brushing against your thighs. "do you think you could… do it again?" he asked, his voice soft but loaded with intent.

your eyes slightly widened, your body felt weird with heat at the implication. "w-what?" you stuttered.

ni-ki's face looked serious, "do it again." he repeated, placing a kiss to your cheeks while his hand softly gripping your thighs. "in front of me."

you're trying to process his words, ni-ki kept his expression neutral, maintaining his cool composure as he waited for you to make the next move.

your mind racing as his words sank in. the idea sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of nervousness and undeniable excitement coursing through you.

"i want to see you." he whispered, then kissed you softly on your neck.

you watched ni-ki crawl in front of you, carefully removing your jeans.

you felt your heart pounded so hard you thought it might burst. the way he was looking at you made it impossible to think straight. ni-ki's face, his lips, arms, and body... such a turn on.

he then sat beside you again. surge of heat building on his body and blood rushing to the member between his legs, hoping you wouldn't notice the sudden hardness straining against the fabric of his pants but he also hoped that you'd look down and notice the growing evidence of just how much he wanted you right there.

"ni-ki…" you moaned, unsure if it was a protest or an invitation.

he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "come on." he whispered, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin just beneath it. the faint kiss sent a shiver down your spine and your body reacted before your mind could catch up.

you tensed as his free hand gently took yours. slowly and deliberately, he guided it downwards. "show me." ni-ki said it with such confidence and desire, sending heat pooling low in your stomach.

your hand hovering as his stayed over yours, encouraging but not forcing.

you looked at ni-ki who's also looking down to watch you play with yourself. your hands moved from his neck up to his hair then you gently gripped it.

"kiss me," you whispered, looking at his eyes intensely.

ni-ki swallowed your soft moans as his hand massaged your breast making you gasp into his mouth. you could feel his hardened cock pressing on your thigh.

"that's it, keep touching yourself just like that." he encouraged, voice low and husky with desire. his thumb rubbed circles on your inner thigh, so close yet so far from where you needed him most.

you whimpered when your fingers made contact with your slick folds. your back arched as you stroked yourself slowly and ni-ki's eyes followed the movement, pupils blown with lust.

he groaned, giving your breast a firm squeeze. pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. ht then grabbed your free hand from his hair and put it inside his boxers so you could feel how hard you made his dick. he started groaning when you rubbed it.

you hips bucked, rubbing the sensitive clit in tight circles and each swipe sent sparks of pleasure up your spine. ni-ki's mouth latched onto your neck, sucking dark marks into your skin while his other hand released your breast to grip your hip, holding you in place as he humped your thigh.

"you're doing so good," he praised, voice strained. "cum for me."

your movements grew frantic, chasing your orgasm. ni-ki's hand slid into your panties to join yours, curling them just right as his thumb pressed firm circles on your clit. "i'm so close." you said, the added stimulation sent you hurtling over, two fingers easily gliding into your soaked entrance.

it was too much.

and with a cry, you came hard, convulsing around his fingers. ni-ki worked you through it not stopping his ministrations until you collapsed into the couch.

he removed his hand, bringing his coated fingers to his mouth. licking your essence off with a low groan.

you watched through hooded eyes, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

the sound of your heavy panting filled the room. mingling with ni-ki's.

the air's warm and thick with the aftermath of everything that just happened.

you lay tired in the sofa, your hair sticking to your forehead while ni-ki hugged you from behind, his chest rising and falling as he also tried to catch his breath.

a soft giggle escaped your lips, you quickly covered your mouth but the sound only made ni-ki move to glance over at you, a grin spreading across his face.

"what's so funny?" he asked, voice raising in curiosity.

"nothing..." you said, you smiled as you tried to suppress another laugh. "it's just… i don't know like, did that really happened?"

ni-ki chuckled, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you. his hair's a mess, sticking up in all directions, and a sheen of sweat glistened on his skin but he looked so handsome it made your heart race all over again.

"oh, it happened." he said, smirking. "you need me to prove it again?"

you smacked his arm lightly.

his grin widened as he flopped back onto the sofa, throwing an arm over his face dramatically. "damn, you're a lot of work, you know that?"

you rolled your eyes, turning on your side to face him.

ni-ki peeked at you from under his arm, his smile softening as his locked eyes with yours.

breaking the quiet, you reached out and poked his side, making him flinch. "yuck, you're sweaty." you teased, giggling again.

"like you're not." he shot back, grabbing your hand before you could poke him again. "wash your hand."

"what the fuck?" you cursed in disbelief.

the two of you bursts into laughter, ni-ki scooted closer, his fingers brushing against yours as he intertwined them.

he grinned, leaning in to kiss your lips before flopping back onto the sofa.

"we're showering together."

a/n: hello, please read part one HERE<3

マスターリストm.list

[familyvideostevie]

to close up all the rest

joel miller x reader | 3.2k

a patrol rattles you. joel keeps you grounded.

cw: typical tlou violence, intense emotions about being alive/death, love, something to live for. post-part i jackson au

a/n: just a little jackson au one-shot. this is a christmas present for darling @macfrog. thank you for existing, i love you. hope this is alright.

--

It's been a long time since someone died in front of you.

You don't even know her. Honestly, you should be glad the runner grabbed her, considering she just finished shooting at you. Your patrol partner, a kid called Joey who usually works the stables, shouts your name as you watch it sink its teeth into her neck over and over again.

She doesn't even scream.

"More are coming," he cries. "We have to go."

He's right. The woman's gunshot echoed in the valley and it's not yet cold enough for the herds to be slow, so you have a few minutes at most to get out of here. Probably less.

Groans on the wind. Definitely less.

You shake yourself out of the twisted thrall you've fallen into and look away. Heart in your throat, blood pounding in your ears, you quickly tie your bags to your horse and scan the street.

"Do you have your pack?" you ask Joey.

If she was screaming you'd shoot her. Put an end to it. But it might be a waste of a shot and then the runner would be on you in ten big steps. Fuck.

"Got it!"

You both mount skittish rides and take off down the cracked pavement. The patrol had an added ask of raiding some neighborhoods for linens that can be turned into bandages. You each have a big bag of old clothes, curtains, blankets, and the like strapped to the back of your saddles. The woman had appeared out of the tree line just as you finished the last house, demanding your stuff. There was protocol for this -- Joey would distract her while you went for the gun strapped to the back of your jeans.

But she was skittish, this woman. She fired at the pavement in front of you as soon as your hand twitched.

And then, well.

After a few miles of steady galloping you signal for Joey to slow. The forest is quiet as you turn onto the path down the hill that will lead you back to Jackson.

"I can't believe she shot at us," the kid says. "Stupid."

You sigh. "She was desperate," you say, remembering how wild her eyes looked. "And alone. If she had people with her she wouldn't have."

"You think?"

It's been some time but you did your days alone in this world. It's bloody, it's terrifying, it's punishing. You stop trusting anyone and eventually you stop trusting yourself. Wondering why you keep trying. Without community you lose sight of what matters. You lose sight of how you can not just survive this hell on earth, but live in it.

If she had wanted to do that, instead, maybe you could have told her it was possible.

"Yeah," you say. The walls of Jackson come into view and you think about what awaits you. A warm house, an even warmer embrace. Safety, security, home. "Having people makes all the difference."

Joey waves the green flag and the gates open for you. After returning your horse and checking to make sure the kid isn't too traumatized -- frankly, he seems totally unbothered -- you walk back to the house. The sun is starting to set, painting everything golden, but you can see the clouds rolling in. Might be that snow that everyone keeps anticipating. Most mornings you hear chatter about it. Small talk about the weather persists after the end of the world.

A few folks wave hello, ask after Ellie's new dog, say they hope you've got your firewood ready. Jackson is a thing out of dreams. Solid walls, even steadier people. Good rules, smart leaders. You feel lucky every day that they let you stay here. That you've made a home here.

That home is in sight when you turn on Rancher and what you spy on the porch makes you pick up your pace.

Joel.

He's rocking in the one chair out front, guitar slung across his lap like an afterthought as he strums with his eyes closed. It'll be too cold to sit out, soon, so he spends most evenings playing while he can still stand it.

A heaviness you didn't realize you were carrying lessens a little at the sight of him.

"Hey, stranger," you call as you walk up the steps.

His gaze falls on you, the hazel in his irises more evident in the fading light of the late afternoon. God, he looks beautiful. Like everything you've ever wanted.

"Howdy," he says. The guitar goes up against the house and he stands, meeting you at the top step. "How was patrol?"

You falter, smile frozen on your face. You should tell him, but you don't know what you'd say. A stranger died in front of you and it's put your stomach in knots? It's not that he'll laugh at you, or anything like that. You just need to chew on it a little longer. And right now you're steps away from the warm inside of your home and inches away from the man you love, so you decide to push it aside.

"The usual," you muse. Joel furrows his brow just a little and searches your gaze, but whatever he finds in your eyes causes him to let it go.

"Okay," he says, softly. He taps your chin with his knuckle and turns toward the front door, snagging his guitar on the way. "You hungry? Ellie brought by some soup."

"Did she make it?"

Your layers go on the hooks by the door, your boots next to his in the hall. He heads for the kitchen.

"Hell no," Joel says, deep voice echoing through your house. "Dina did."

"So it's edible?"

You pad on socked feet over creaking hardwood and find him over a pot on the stove, bowl in hand.

"Tried a bit and it didn't kill me," he says. "Waited for you to get home to eat, though."

"And Tommy says you were raised in a barn," you tease, kissing his cheek before he ladles the soup for you.

Joel grunts and you laugh. "Hot bowl," he says. "Careful."

For some reason, his gentle caution makes your chest hurt. You think about the woman from today, how she had no one telling her to be careful. How she made a mistake, or maybe a reckless choice. How she didn't even scream.

There are many very difficult days in this life and you dealt with them on your own for a long time. It's taken practice and mounds of patience from Joel and the other people in this town who love you, but you've learned that you can let other people help you through those days. But that doesn't mean it isn't hard.

You sit at the table across from Joel and try not to let your mood take over.

"You alright?" Joel asks, frown firmly in place. "Maybe Ellie did make the soup--"

"It's good, Joel," you say, smiling a little. If he asks you how you are one more time, you'll crack. And you're not ready yet. "Will you tell me about your day?"

He sighs, no doubt seeing through your second deflection, but allows it.

"Let's see," he starts, leaning back in his chair. "Tommy had me handlin' that bullshit with the kids who went huntin'."

Last week, three teenagers snuck out with the grand idea that they'd bag an elk or something just as big and bring it back for fame and glory or whatever kids think is worth life and death these days. It hadn't gone as badly as it could have, but it was pretty bad. They'd stolen a rifle from the patrol cache and only made it a few miles before one of them slipped down a bank and broke his ankle. Joel had been the one to lead the search party when someone realized they were missing.

He's got a soft spot for teenagers.

"It's good for them to learn," you remind him. He sucks on his teeth and rubs at his jaw. You slurp on some more soup and a thought at odds with your sour mood dances through your memory -- how good his beard felt on your skin last night. Jesus. He does something to you, this man.

"Should know better," he says, oblivious to the echo of your desire. "Havin' them clean all the guns is one thing but once that kid heals up I'm tellin' Tommy we oughta start a trainin' class or somethin'. Let them get outside the walls and hunt if they want. With supervision."

"Keep talking like that and Maria will make you join the council," you muse.

He snorts. "Yeah, I'm sure as shit not doin' that."

"You'd be good at it, Joel. People listen to you."

"I have a hard enough time gettin' my own kid to listen to me," he reminds you. "Hell, you, too."

It's less of a jab and more of an attempt to get you to cheer up, and it works. You laugh at him, delighted to vex him so. As if he does anything but melt for Ellie. And for you -- both of you know just how wrapped around you he is. He'll do anything for his family. You've seen proof of it.

"If only the council had a uniform," you sigh, exaggerating your disappointment. "You'd look so handsome in one."

"Watch it," he says, eyes sparkling.

You tap his foot under the table with yours. "Just being truthful," you tease, though it rings a little hollow given the fact that you're swerving talking about your own day.

Joel hums and leans back in his chair. "You gonna tell me what happened today?"

"What do you mean?"

Even as you chew on how to swerve him once again, you find yourself going back to the patrol. The way your senses sharpened when she stepped out of the trees, how you saw all the ways it could go wrong. Her twitchy hand, her wide eyes. The crack in her voice when she demanded your packs. The echo of the gunshot and your own heartbeat loud in your ears wondering if today was the day you wouldn't make it home. When the runner leapt out of nowhere and latched onto her. How easily your life could have ended that way, too.

"Hey, I'm talkin' to you," Joel says, not unkindly. "Where are you?"

You chew on your lower lip. This would be a lot easier if the words would just come to you, if you knew how to explain yourself.

"Joel--"

"Alright, that's it," he says. Joel gets up with a groan, stretching his arms high in the air, and heads for the front door.

"What?" you ask, confused, but you follow him into the hall. "Joel, where are you going?"

"We're goin' for a walk." He shrugs on his jacket and waves you over. "C'mon."

"But the dishes--"

"Will be here when we get back," he finishes. "Now, get your coat on. Hat, too. Reckon the snow is gonna start tonight."

You could fight him about it, say you're cold and tired and just want to sit on the couch. Tell him to stop badgering you, to let sleeping dogs lie.

But that's the thing about Joel -- you trust him. Outside the walls, inside your home. With your life and with your heart. You're safe in his hands. And you've been here before plenty of times. After nightmares from both of you, after hard days in town, after his fights with Ellie or Tommy or whatever it is. You walk and you talk it out. Fresh air helps, Joel often says. It's the father in him, the caretaker, the man who knows when to listen and when to push. He's taught you a lot about that.

So you shove your feet back into your boots and Joel tugs a knit hat over your ears. The sun finished setting while you were eating, Jackson now illuminated by the gas lamps and string lights hanging between the posts.

Normally you'd be content to just walk with Joel side by side, as is your usual routine. He's not a particularly public man when it comes to affection, though you never doubt that he's thinking of you. His eyes find yours in every room and he easily finds you in every crowd. By now, you've got your own language.

But, given that he's brought you out here to no doubt get you to be honest about your complicated feelings, he offers you his arm for support. You take it with a dry look that he matches.

Never one to let you off easily, this man. Not when he knows he can help, at least.

"You know what I'm gonna say," he grumbles.

It helps to talk.

It's basically a mantra in your house. Ellie says he didn't used to be like this. The total opposite, in fact. You know that it's her that brought him back to this version of himself -- he did it because she asked. And maybe you coming along helped, too. He might seem gruff and guarded to those who don't know him but it's all so he can protect who and what he loves.

And this is one of his ways -- not letting things go unsaid.

"I don't know where to start," you say. "I don't know how to explain it."

Joel rubs a hand over his jaw. "Try the beginning," he suggests. "It was patrol, right? Somethin' happened?"

You nod.

"We saw a woman," you start. You close your eyes and picture her, letting Joel lead you down the street. "She came out of the woods just as we finished the last house."

"Hostile?"

You look at Joel. His jaw is tense, as if you're not standing in front of him safe and sound. Always trying to fix hurts he had nothing to do with.

"She had a gun, yeah," you continue. "Demanded our stuff. We were ready to do the protocol but then she shot at us."

Joel stops in his tracks, pulling you with him. "She did what?"

"And missed, obviously," you remind him. "But it was a stupid mistake, since we weren't far from that town with the herd. She had to have seen traces of them and known they were there."

"Christ," he mutters. You tug on his arm and he starts walking again.

"And before we could do anything a runner tackled her to the ground."

Joel curses under his breath. "Unlucky."

It starts to snow. You look up at the white flakes falling from the dark sky as you figure out how to say what happened next.

"Go on," Joel says, softly. "This is the part that bothered you, I reckon."

"She didn't even scream, Joel," you whisper just loud enough for him to hear. "She just went down."

"Ah."

All of it comes to a boil and the words pour out of you.

"I mean, why did she shoot in the first place? She was jumpy, sure, but she was alone, too. She looked so tired, so desperate, and the way it lunged for her I know it didn't kill her on the first bite. No screaming, she just took it. She took it and gave up. I don't -- she must have had nothing, to give up like that. It's just so fucked up --"

Your voice breaks. Joel pulls you to a stop and unwinds your arms so he can put his hands on your shoulders.

"Ain't nothin' you can do about someone else's lot," he says. "She made her mistakes."

"I know," you retort, "but that could have been me."

"It ain't you."

"But it could have been, Joel!" You're not angry with him, but you're frustrated. "If things had worked out differently for me, it could have been. If I never found Jackson, if I was still out there. It could have been me."

He exhales sharply, reigning in his own desire to remind you that you're safe. That you're here, that you're with him. That he won't let anything bad happen to you.

"Lots of things could be different," he says, slowly. "Could spend days thinkin' 'bout that stuff. Years."

"I guess I'm just sad for her." The snow has gathered in Joel's hair and you reach for him to brush it away. He allows it, keeping his eyes on yours. "I think she wanted to die."

"It's a hard life on the road."

You sigh. "I know, Joel," you say. "I just -- it's been a long time since things have been that bad for me. And it was hard to be reminded, you know?"

His hands move from your shoulders to cup your face, thumbs your skin. "I know, sweetheart," he replies. "We've all been there. Hard not to think about givin' up at least once in this shit hole."

It gets a dry laugh out of you.

"But you ain't givin' up. You fight tooth and nail every single time 'cause you've got so much to get back to. And it'll get you home."

You lean into one of his palms, your lips brushing along the heel of his hand. "I know, Joel."

He's not done. "For a long time I was like that. Not carin' much how things went, so long as I got to get my hands dirty. But Ellie --" he swallows, the love he has for his girl getting in the way of his words " -- and you tie me to this damn place. Make me get up every day, make me remember how things can be good. And someday it'll be my turn --"

"Joel--"

"No, listen. Someday it'll be my turn, and I'll go knowin' I was the luckiest son of a bitch in the world to get what I got. Time."

You can't take it anymore. You pitch forward into his chest, arms wrapping around his waist. Now that he's said it, you realize why the whole thing bothered you so much. You don't want to die. You don't want to lose the life you have now. The home you have with this man, the way he loves you. The way you love him. It makes you feel human, it makes you feel alive.

And you feel damn bad for anyone who doesn't have something to live for.

Joel's hand presses into your spine. Maybe in a different life you'd be worried that he'd think you're silly for being so bothered about this, but he always takes you seriously. You both know how quickly you can lose something, how much it matters to make the time you have count.

"Thank you," you say into his jacket. He scoffs.

"C'mon, now." He gently pulls away from your embrace to look at you. He brushes snow from your shoulders and hat with careful fingers. "Let's go home."

Home. For so long you never thought you'd have one.

Joel must see the vulnerability in your eyes because he leans in to press his lips to yours gently. An anchoring touch, a reminder of how he feels.

"Getting frisky, Mr. Miller," you mutter when he pulls away. He snickers and you sneak another kiss as he pinches your hip through your coat.

"Home," he says again.

You couldn't agree more.

[moonstruckme]

Hello Mae! I hope you’re having a wonderful week so far. I have never requested before but I saw your requests were open and I felt inspired! (Forgive me if I do or say something wrong!) I saw that you write for stranger things but I’ve never seen a poly!steddie before! If it inspires you, I thought a little hurt/comfort with some angst could be fun with the boys. Maybe a miscommunication between them when they’re first figuring out the dynamic and one of the boys says something hurtful to writer by accident (we know those silly boys have no brain to mouth filter). Thank you for sharing your writing and working so hard for us, you’re so appreciated and loved! ❤️❤️

Thank you angel <33

poly!steddie x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

“God, it’s worse than I thought.” Eddie rolls onto his stomach on Steve’s bed, dragging the chord of your headphones with him. “How many of these do you have on here?” 

“It’s the whole album,” you say. You’re watching your boyfriends all tangled up on top of the covers, half tempted to join them but too shy to do it. The carpeting on Steve’s bedroom floor is soft enough anyway. 

“Eugh, your poor ears!” 

“You’re such a snob.” Steve gives Eddie’s ankles a halfhearted shove where they’ve fallen over his lap, but really you know he doesn’t mind the contact. 

“No, a snob would tell her to listen to fucking strings music or something,” says Eddie. “I just have taste.” 

“What’s wrong with U2?” you ask. 

Really, you knew better than to think you’d actually get any studying done with your boyfriends. You knew it since Steve invited you over, but that didn’t stop you from going, pep in your step and textbook like a prop in your bag. You were barely ten minutes in when Eddie had plucked your headphones up from your head, taking a listen. He declared your taste in music “laughable.” 

“What’s wrong with U2?” Eddie repeats incredulously. “Baby, where do I start? I didn’t know I had a pop princess on my hands here.” 

You recognize the teasing in his tone, but the jabs at your music selection still taste sour in your mouth. “Oh, because Metallica is so underground.” 

“See, that’s part of it. At least Metallica is real rock. U2 is just—like—I don’t even know what to call them. They say they’re a rock band, but listen to this shit!” He sits up and tries to put the headphones on Steve, who wards him off with a hand. “This is not rock.” 

“You’re a total snob,” Steve repeats, laughing when Eddie only fights harder. 

“No, seriously! This isn’t rock. Plus, have you ever seen Bono perform? It’s totally overdone.” 

“I went to one of their shows,” you say. “Last summer.” 

“Fuck.” Eddie blows out a breath as he gives up on trying to get your headphones on Steve. He collapses against your boyfriend’s side, grinning. “My condolences, then.” 

“I liked it.” 

“Awe. That’s probably because you haven’t been to a real concert yet, huh? Don’t worry, gorgeous, we’ll get you to a good one eventually. Your ears will be relieved.” 

“Yeah, okay.” You roll your eyes. Neither of your boyfriends seem to have notice how you’ve gone quiet, both too absorbed in each other as Eddie lands aggressive kisses on Steve’s cheek and Steve grins and pretends not to like it. For the first time since you started dating, you feel bitterly alone. 

Part of you thinks you might be overreacting. You don’t usually care what people think of your music tastes—they don’t usually fixate on them so intensely, but you generally tend to believe that art is subjective and everyone is entitled to their own preferences. The thing is, you know music is really important to Eddie. He’s made it his life. He plays in a band; half his shirts are band tees; there’s a guitar mounted on his wall that he talks to more sweetly than either you or Steve. So if he thinks your taste in music is garbage, what does that say about what he thinks of you?

“Hey.” Steve nudges you with a foot. You’ve been looking morose without meaning to, not realizing anyone was watching. “You know he’s just kidding, right?” 

“Oh, no,” Eddie says, still grinning, “I don’t kid about concerts. We’re fucking going.” 

You start putting your textbook away. “I think I’m going to finish studying at home.” 

“No, hey,” says Steve, frowning now. “Come on.” 

Eddie’s eyebrows rise as he catches on. “Wait, are you seriously mad?” 

“I’m not mad,” you lie. “I’m just going to go listen to my awful music back at my place, where I can actually study.” 

“Please, you knew what you were getting into, babe. We were never going to study.” Eddie’s trying to joke with you again, but his tone turns serious when you stand up to leave. “Hey, hold on. I’m just messing around. Stay.” 

You turn around, unsure what to say and not really wanting to look at either of them, either. 

“I didn’t know you liked U2 that much,” he says in a softer voice.

“It’s not that I—” You sigh, crossing your arms. “I’m not, like, obsessed with them. I just don’t get why you have to rag on what I like so much.” 

“I was just playing, baby. I’m sorry, I didn’t think you cared, just—c’mere.” 

Eddie wraps a hand around your elbow, tugging you onto the bed with him and Steve. Your arms uncross by the nature of the movement. He gets you between them, kissing the side of your head. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, words all mushed up. Not teasing anymore. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I did, didn’t I?” 

“No,” you say, partially because you don’t want to seem dramatic and partially because it really is difficult to blame someone who’s pressing their lips to your cheek like they plan to leech on and never let go. “Just, I at least pretend to like the things that you like.” 

“Pretend?” Eddie pulls away, looking wounded. 

“Try not to take it personally,” Steve tells you. His hand has found your neck, thumb rubbing at the tense muscles near your shoulders. “He really is a snob. He called me a philistine for listening to Tears for Fears.” 

“Well,” Eddie cuts in, “you are a philistine.” 

“But,” Steve goes on with a narrow-eyed look, “he doesn’t have to be such a dick about it.” 

“Right. Right, yeah, I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Eddie devotes himself to you again, hugging his arms around your waist. “Really. I was just messing with you, I thought we were joking around. We can listen to U2 if you want. We can even—if you want us to, we can go to a concert.” 

He sounds so pained as he says it that it coaxes a small smile out of you. Steve, seeing, squeezes your shoulder encouragingly. 

“I know you had to fight a gag reflex to say that,” you tell Eddie. 

He grimaces. “I may need a vomit bag when we go. But if it’s important to you…” 

“That’s okay.” 

The sigh Eddie lets out is gargantuan. He sinks against your side. “Thank you.” He kisses underneath your jaw. It tickles, but he only latches on tighter when you try to get away. “I knew you loved me. I’ll never make fun of you again.” 

“You can still make some fun of me,” you allow. 

Steve makes a dissenting noise. “Not in an asshole way, though.” 

“No, that’s it. I’m swearing off teasing for the rest of my life. The stakes are too high.” 

“Right, sure.” Steve reaches around you to tug on one of Eddie’s curl gently. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

[luveline]

could you please write something where maybe bombshell!reader hears one of the team members teasing about how she’s torturing spencer and she kinda backs off with the flirting and maybe it’s his turn to hold her hand and call her cute names because even though he always says he doesn’t mind, maybe he does and he just doesn’t want to tell her

tysm for requesting, 1k

Spencer's hair is brown silk in the sun. You bite your tongue to hold in a compliment rearing to come out, saccharine and completely true. Looking sweet, Spence. 

You love to compliment him and especially while Hotch is out of earshot. He and Derek play pairs against two agents from a different unit, their tennis racquets a shiny FBI navy. You start to speak and bite it back —a memory flashes, a shouting stop sign. 

You'd been teasing Spencer as he left the room, something about his indecisive hair. He's cut it shorter but left his curls without product, and you love it. 

Poor guy, Emily'd murmured, lips set against the rim of her coffee cup. 

What's the matter with him? you asked, perplexed. 

Nothing, just that he spins into a total meltdown every time you guys are within ten feet of each other. He must be exhausted.

She was joking and you know that, but something deep down worries she's right. It's not fair for you to keep winding him up… Especially when Spencer might be going along with you because he isn't sure how to say no. 

What if you're forcing yourself on him? 

You're sitting together on a small blanket in the grass with Anderson and a few of the other less competitive BAU agents. You bring your bottled iced tea to your forehead to cool down, condensation wetting your hot skin. The top of your head feels as though it has the full concentration of the sun beating against it. 

Spencer looks up at your movement. He's been reading a book for pleasure, or so he says, so he isn't going a mile a minute but he's still way faster than the average Joe. "Do you want to go find some shade?" he asks. 

"You look comfortable," you say, putting your iced tea aside.

Which is to say, I don't want you to come with me, it would disrupt you. Spencer nods and turns to the brown leather of his familiar satchel, popping the buckle open to dig around inside. 

"Do you think this would be okay?" he asks, bringing out his baseball cap. 

The fabric is starchy and the brim stiff as you accept it and wedge it over your head. You don't immediately cool, but your heart spins strange loops. "Thank you," you say. Thank you, handsome, gorgeous, baby, all beg to be said. 

Spencer stays looking at you for longer than normal. 

"Do I have something on my face?" you ask, swatting self consciously at your cheeks. 

"Nothing. You look really pretty," he says. 

"Thank you." Another loop. You point at his book, fingertip hitting a creamy page with a small thud. "Is this any good?" 

"I think you'd really like it, it feels like that last book I borrowed from you, and you loved that. They're very similar. I can lend it to you when I'm done." 

"Don't rush it for my sake."

Spencer gives you a private smile. "I won't. Just because you could watch a movie at two times speed doesn't mean you should." 

Your returning smile isn't half as nice. No shared lightness, no bright eyes. You're feeling awkward and unhappy —you really like Spencer. Like, you think you could be happy together for a long long time sort of like. He's charming and sweet and no one is ever as kind to him as he deserves, which is why you're trying to be kind now by putting distance between you.

You'll be brash forever. You can't change that, and Spencer doesn't need the stress of dealing with you, not on top of everything else. 

His smile fades as yours does. Quiet, without fuss, he scoots back on the picnic blanket, putting you knee to knee. The subtle muscle of his arm presses to yours and his hand wraps gently around your wrist as he dips his head down, his cheek touching briefly to your shoulder. 

"I know it's nice, but if the heat is getting to you we should go inside," he says, his fingers sliding across your palm to slot between your own. He squeezes your hand. "Heat stroke isn't obvious at first. Do you feel woozy?"

You stare at your twined fingers. He surprises you again, being this soft with you, and being uncharacteristically forward. Or maybe not uncharacteristic at all; Spencer won't let something like timidity stop him from comforting someone that needs it. 

"Spence," you murmur, closing your eyes, face angled down. 

"What?" 

"I'm sorry if I… If I've been messing you around. But I don't think this is a good idea." 

"What's not a good idea?" 

You can't make yourself say it. Instead, you rub the back of his hand, more for your own comfort than his, your tongue like a useless lump in your mouth. 

"You're sorry? Are you sure you're okay?" Spencer asks, no heed to the people sitting with you as he lets go of your hand to put his arm behind your shoulder like a shield. 

"I don't want to torture you," you say. 

Your friends love that word. You torture Spencer with your flirting and your easy affection. 

Spencer makes a face, eyes squinting and nose wrinkled. "They're just kidding when they say that. Emily, Morgan, they like making fun of me, it's like, sibling bonding or something. They don't say it because there's actually something to feel sorry about." He lowers his voice, bashful but sincere at once, "If you're torturing me, I guess I'm a masochist." 

You laugh without thinking, a breathless, girlish sound you'd regret if you had the wherewithal. "You're a masochist?" you ask. 

He takes the brim of your borrowed hat and pushes it up to unobstruct the view of your eyes. 

"If that's what it takes," he says. A hint of wryness creeps into his otherwise smooth tone. 

Despite his brave talk and his steady eye contact, his face has started to blush. A rosy hue kisses the tops of his cheeks and his nose, a dusting of pink splodges stark against his paleness. The curve of his lips seems extra tantalising now. He's very, very pretty. 

And he doesn't mind stepping in to take the reins when you're unsure of things. 

"We really should sit in the shade for a bit," he says. "Let's get drinks from the gazebo. Yeah?" 

You're halfway through a nod when he kisses your cheek too quickly for you to respond. You follow him to the gazebo without any more reluctance, weaselling your hand back into his, and attempt to pull another kiss from him.

[chlorinecake]

Are we getting anymore Riize smut anytime soon 😓🙏🏽

✶ Time It | 18+ RIIZE IMAGINES 💭

ㅤㅤ♡⃕ how long would each riize member last … ?!

contains: SMUT, implied overstim or multiple rounds, hand jobs and oral (m. receiving), precise timings, fem!reader

Shotaro ⏱︎ Given his stamina as a dancer, I’d say he normally lasts pretty long on his own, but with you, it’d be harder for him to hold back, asking you to slow down whenever he’s close just to drag it out with edging. He’d be a blushing mess, too, screwing his eyes shut as he lets out those little groans you love, struggling to keep his thighs still before finishing just under thirteen minutes …

Eunseok ⏱︎ He’s prone to hide his sounds whenever he’s inside of you, wanting to focus more on your pretty whimpers as he fucks into you, or the sound of your juices squelching together. Though, you can tell just by looking at his darkened eyes and listening to the way he pants while talking dirty to you that he’s in a total haze, giving you a little over ten minutes for round one …

Sungchan ⏱︎ I first wanna mention how fun this guy would be in the bedroom, showing you in his facial expressions how much he’s enjoying it, and maybe even laughing a little before groaning all loud and shamelessly. Still, I can imagine he’s built up an endurance with you over time, oozing from his tip before giving you his full load at around fifteen minutes …

Wonbin ⏱︎ So needy… I can see him rutting his hips into your hand as you fist him, or stroking your hair out of the way so he could see your pretty face taking him, only to roll his eyes back while breathing all heavy. He’d try his best to hold back and make things last longer, but once he gets fully lost in your touch, he’d be moaning your name in an easy eight minutes …

Seunghan ⏱︎ Alright so with him, I feel like he'd really wanna impress you, knowing from personal research that it takes more time for a woman to get there. He'd spit on your cunt for additional slick first, and experiment with his thrusting speeds to maximize both your pleasure. I’d say he’d give you a sweet ten to fifteen minutes if he’s taking his time ...

Sohee ⏱︎ My cute baby... I honestly get the vibe that he's a relatable mix of extremely horny yet inexperienced, hiding his face out of shyness, but also because if he keeps looking at the way your fingers are wrapped around him, he might finish in a heartbeat </3 ... Stick with a moderate pace, and he’d get off in six minutes or so… but expect him to want more pretty soon ...

Anton ⏱︎ Don’t be fooled by his innocent and bashful demeanor, ‘cause this guy will actually surprise you. You’d try to be nice by starting off slow, but he’d be a moaning mess underneath you in seconds, clinging to your hips while practically begging you to go faster. You two would have to work up to more than one round because he’s sensitive, but he’d last a good seven minutes …

✶ taglist: [@squoxle, @nikisdubblchococake, and @pixiewoni, ty for the intentional/unintentional writing advice], @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @wonbinisbabygurl

✶ still working on a masterlist so bare with me 🙏

✶ edit: 📍 the NEW RIIZE masterlist is here !! feel free to check it out if you’re interested in more works by me ^^