#I hope this doesn’t overstep any boundaries

[cvnntagious]

:: babydaddy!matt finally confronts brat!reader about her sudden distance, but it doesn’t quite go as expected

conversations like these were hard for matt, to say the least — he hated to feel like he was overstepping boundaries you'd so carefully set in any way, but he had to. everything was going so well between you two. for it to all suddenly slip between his ringed fingers like water? he couldn't just sit back and let you push him away like this.

with the silence in the living room, save for the cartoon mazzy had fallen asleep watching beside matt, he felt a familiar yearning in his chest. now had to be the time. he was done psyching himself out of words like he had the past week now.

standing from his spot, careful not to wake the sleeping toddler, matt practically tip-toed over to your bedroom. your head snapped up when you heard the three soft knocks on your door frame, assuming it was matt getting ready to tell you he was heading home for the night, like had become recent routine. matt then cleared his throat, shoving his hands in his pockets in a brief moment of silence. "you're gonna have to tell me what's wrong eventually, " he finally spoke up, heart pounding in his eardrums like they never had before.

"what?" was your immediate reply, playing dumb as your deadpan facial expression remained unwavering.

matt's eyebrows immediately furrowed, knowing you were just playing games with him now. he couldn't be too upset though, or else he'd never get to the bottom of all your weird behavior. "baby, is it something i did?" he questioned, completely disregarding your clueless act, "we can talk this through; we always do. you just have to tell me what's wrong."

the way you looked at him - like he were some sort of lunatic standing in front of you - he couldn't say it didn't hurt. always being 'mr. fix it' was getting exhausting, and for probably the first time since he met you, matt began to wonder if it was all really worth it. all the games you played, tugging at his heart strings and using your guys' child to manipulate him... there had to be something more out there, right? was driving him crazy fun for you?

a clear desperation wrote itself all over matt's face, his expression as he stood so timidly in your doorway making you want to crawl out of your skin. “matt…” you trailed off, shifting your seated position in your bed.

“what?” he replies, voice coming out in an almost whine-like manner. he felt this insatiable sense of dread wash over him, like he somehow knew what you were going to say before you even said it.

but when you remained silent, he just couldn’t take it anymore. “y- y’know what, forget i even said anything,” he finally breathed out, an empty feeling at the idea of giving up so easily — there was nothing else he could do, though. he knew how you were: if you didn’t want to talk, you simply weren’t going to. that’s what he told himself.

and he began to turn away, one hand clinging to your doorframe as if it were telling him he needed to stay. “matt, come sit.”

he stopped in his tracks, ears practically perking up at the sentence. his head instantly snapped in your direction, bright blue eyes widened in surprise when they caught you patting the empty space of your bed in front if you. he almost didn’t believe it, all the negative emotions that had once rushed through him in painful waves seeming to instantly subside as a glimmer of hope fluttered in his chest.

maybe that was stupid of him, but this was a real step for you two. a big one, he was sure of it. he wasted no time in taking a few steps across the room to reach you, carefully sitting in front of you. watching as matt bit the inside of his cheek in anticipation, a nervous habit he’s had all the time you’ve known him, you took a deep breath to prepare yourself.

matt was so ready. he needed to know what was wrong, eyes eagerly scanning your face at the idea of you finally opening up to him after all this time. “you know you’re a great dad, right?” you muttered, your words much different than what he’d expected.

that caught him off guard, a small twitch in his features telling you he was a bit confused. he wasn’t sure what mazzy had to do with any of this. you two were co-parenting just fine, always have been, whether you were on good terms or not. but he kept quiet, silently urging you to explain yourself.

“and you’re so loving–full of emotions that…” you paused, trying to think of the right words.

somehow, matt was catching on, no longer so pleased with the idea of you ‘opening up’ to him anymore. it was like you’d taken him on a roller coaster he didn’t sign up to ride, and he hated that. “…that i can’t handle.”

right, he knew that. matt knew you were never fond of his big emotions, always telling him he can be too much at times. and he understood. he never wanted to put whatever he was feeling onto you. he wasn’t, though; he knew he wasn’t. so what’s all this about?

it took a moment for matt to think up a response, sighing a bit before he cleared his throat. “i don’t get what that has to do with you acting all weird. i’ve only been trying to keep us together… as a family,” he opposes, shrugging a bit to seem less caught up about this than he actually was.

too quick for matt’s comfort, you nodded, a small hum following. “does that apply to the sex, too?”

almost taken aback, his mouth opened as if he were ready to say something, but nothing came out. “you suck at no strings attached, matthew. i know what you’re thinking every time you come around,” you added, each word like a barbed blade stabbing at an open wound. was this too cruel? no, it couldn’t be—you were only telling him the truth, and god, did he need to hear it. “you think that whenever we’re sleeping together, we’re on ‘good terms’, like it’s grounds for fixing everything and becoming one happy family where your daughter’s parents are happily in love.”

you had him there and he knew it, but for you to just sit and tell him all his efforts are for nothing so easily? he knew there had to be something more to it. you weren’t telling him something. “but when we’re not-”

“it doesn’t work that way. now go home, matt”

and don’t ever say matt was in denial because he’s not… at least, that’s what he told himself as he did the walk of shame from your apartment to his car, that nagging feeling of yearning he’d felt earlier somehow worse now.

w/c : 1.1k

a/n : there will be no part two

-love, your grandma cvnty ☆!

[evesetchings]

This is a thing I made for the space riders au by @onyxonline with my oc Dream Eater and another oc named Lizzy belonging to @novalizinpeace. I liked the idea of them interacting with a former member and trying to sway them back to the Prototype’s side. Lizzy’s crew should probably show up soon, wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to her.

[sttoru]

“ryo,” it rolls off your tongue. naturally—as if you’ve called him that thousands of times before. you don’t realise it until he stops his movements.

sukuna narrows his eyes. you turn your head and look up, oblivious to your slip-up. the sorcerer doesn’t utter a word and instead glares down at your short frame. he looks irritated, or more annoyed.

“oh,” you realise why only a few seconds later. you bow your head at him and try to explain yourself in a hurry. normally, you’d address him with respect like everyone else does. ‘my lord’, ‘lord sukuna’, or even ‘master’.

you nearly fall to your knees. you don’t know how or what sukuna’s going to do now that you’ve dropped the honorifics on accident and called him by a nickname. you hold your hands together, “my deepest apologi—“

“again,” sukuna demands in a rough voice. you freeze for a second before tilting your head back. you catch a glimpse of his expression; he’s amused, intrigued and perhaps still a bit annoyed. he repeats, “call me that again.”

sukuna isn’t annoyed by the fact that you’ve called him by a nickname for the first time. he’s annoyed, because your sweet voice makes him feel stuff he’s sworn to never feel for a regular human. that warm feeling in his chest. . . he hates it. yet he yearns for it. from you.

you hesitate for a second, unsure if the firm tone in sukuna’s voice was a bad sign or not. you decide to just comply and hope for the best, “. . . ryo.”

sukuna grits his teeth. you think he’s mad, but in reality, he’s trying to eliminate the feelings of love from within him. your voice calling him so affectionately—so intimately; it makes him feel that warmth in his chest.

no one’s dared to call him anything like that before. everyone’s formal with him. it’s a must. sukuna’s used to everyone acknowledging his superiority in the conversations he holds. it’s a given.

no one refers to him so casually. no one dares to.

you’re the first one to break that pattern. the first one to make sukuna’s cold heart tremble. if it were anyone else, they’d be his dinner by now. but it’s you so it’s. . . fine, he assumes. an exception.

silence falls in the hallway. luckily, not another soul is around to witness the king of curses struggling to contain his own ‘foolish’ emotions. sukuna clicks his tongue and sighs before continuing to walk ahead of you.

you scurry after him—keeping your head low. you don’t wish to upset sukuna any further. you feel like you overstepped a boundary just now. the silence continues for a couple seconds, both of you deep in thought.

sukuna’s the one to end the quiet atmosphere. his voice is as deep and cold as ever, though there’s no denying the subtle softness that creeps in whenever he talks with you.

he takes a deep breath and sighs. sukuna keeps walking and doesn’t spare you a glance, however his voice and words tell you enough;

“from now on, that’s the only way you’ll address me until i say otherwise, understood?”

[springtyme]

Hi Sage! I was so happy when I saw you are gonna write for criminal minds! Can I request some soft smut with Spencer? Maybe his and reader’s first time together, they have to share a bed on a case or something like that. I love your writing so much and I would love to see how you’d write Spence ❤️ thank you for sharing your writing!!

𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ♡

Thank you so much for the sweet words and the lovely request dear anon! ♡ I had such a good time writing this, and I can't wait to write more for Spencer!

Spencer Reid x afab!reader || Masterlist || Spencer playlist

summary: Having to share a room with one of your fellow BAU agents is not an uncommon occurrence, and that agent being Spencer is not new either. The two of you have roomed together on multiple occasions before, but all previous instances have been different from this one. In all those prior cases, you both had separate beds, but not this time.

word count: 7.3k

warning/tags: Smut! (18+, mdni!) Mutual pining. Friends/colleagues to lovers. Idiots in love. Slightly awkward. A hint of angst, but mostly just fluff. Nightmares. Wet dreams. Inexperienced (but not virgin) Spencer. Vaginal fingering. Unprotected p in v. Creampie. I haven’t had time to proofread so sorry if there’s any mistakes.

In many ways the room is about as ordinary as any small town hotel room can be. However, one aspect instantly catches your attention upon opening the door - the room only has one bed… 

As you step further into the room, you exchange a bewildered glance with Spencer, both unsure of how to proceed. It is a big bed, more than enough room for the both of you to be able to sleep comfortably next to each other, but despite how good of friends you and Spencer are, something about it feels weirdly intimate. 

Having to room with one of your fellow BAU agents on cases is not uncommon, and sharing a room with Spencer isn’t new either. The two of you have roomed together on multiple occasions before, but previous instances were distinct from this one. In all those prior times, you both had separate beds. 

“I, uhm… I can sleep on the floor,” Spencer suggests tentatively, breaking the silence that had filled the room. His voice is hesitant, almost as if he’s apprehensive about suggesting such a thing.

You look at him, noticing the slight blush on his cheeks as he avoids eye contact. It is clear that he doesn’t want to inconvenience you or make you feel uncomfortable by overstepping any boundaries.

But there is absolutely no way that you’re going to let Spencer sleep on the cold, hard floor, especially after a long day of chasing down an UnSub. “You’re not sleeping on the floor, Spence,” you protest, shaking your head gently. “There is more than enough room on the bed; we can put some pillows between us if that’ll make you more comfortable,” you suggest. You can see his apprehension, his discomfort at the idea of encroaching on your personal space. 

In a way it’s very sweet, you know Spencer well, and you know how little he would enjoy lying on the floor, yet he is willing to give up his own comfort for you.

But at the same time you can’t help but feel a little pang of… Of what exactly you’re not sure. Disappointment maybe, or even longing? And a little irrational fear that maybe he actually finds sleeping next to you so uncomfortable that he would prefer the floor.  

You have tried to suppress your feelings for Spencer for a long time, you have had a crush on him from the moment you first joined the BAU three years ago, but the more you got to know him, and the deeper your friendship deepend the deeper your feelings for him also grew. 

You know that you’re being irrational, but you can’t help but wonder if Spencer actually feels uncomfortable by the idea of sharing a bed with you or if it’s something else entirely. As you continue to stare at him, hoping for a clue, Spencer nervously fidgets with the strap of his bag which he still hasn’t put down. 

“Sure, pillows…” he finally speaks, his voice trailing off. You can tell he’s hesitant, it’s clear that the idea of sharing a bed with you is not something he had anticipated or prepared for.  

You take a step closer to Spencer, trying to ease the tension that has settled between you. “Spencer, it’s going to be okay. We’ve slept in the same room many times before, remember? This is just a little different, but I’ll promise to stay on my side of the bed,” you assure him, offering a small smile.

Spencer glances over at you, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before he takes a deep breath andnodding slowly as he finally sets his bag down and starts to remove his jacket. His movements are deliberate, almost mechanical, as if he’s trying to distract himself from the tension in the room. Lost in your thoughts, you find yourself stealing glances at him. You watch his every movement, wondering if there’s more to his unease than just sharing a bed. As he hangs his jacket neatly on the back of a chair, you can’t help but notice the way his fingers tremble ever so slightly. 

“Do you want the bathroom first?” you ask, trying to break the silence and bring some normalcy back into the situation. Spencer looks up at you, his eyes reflecting gratitude for the distraction.

“Uh, yeah, that sounds good,” he replies, his voice slightly shaky. He walks past you towards the bathroom, his steps quick and purposeful.

While he’s in the bathroom, you take a moment to collect your thoughts, as you start to take out your pajamas and toiletries from your bag before going over to the bed, placing a few pillows in a row in the middle of the mattress. The tension in the room is palpable, and you can’t help but wonder if there’s something more going on with Spencer. You’ve always had a strong connection with him, but lately, there have been moments when you’ve sensed a shift in his behavior towards you. It’s hard to put into words, but there’s a certain longing and vulnerability that seems to surface whenever you’re together.

As you ponder these thoughts, Spencer emerges from the bathroom. He’s changed into his pajamas, checkered flannel bottoms and a long sleeved cotton t-shirt, his hair damp from his shower. You can’t help but notice how adorable he looks. There is something so soft looking over him like this, almost domestic and your heart skips a beat.

“Your turn,” he says softly, gesturing towards the bathroom. You nod and make your way inside, trying to steady your own racing heart.

The warm water from the shower helps to calm your nerves, but your mind is still filled with questions. What if there’s a chance that Spencer feels the same way? What if this shared bed situation could bring you closer together?

You finish your shower and step out, wrapping a towel around yourself. As you reach for your pajamas, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You take a deep breath, reminding yourself to stay calm and not let your emotions get the best of you, yes you have developed feelings for Spencer but first and foremost he is your friend and, and you can’t start assuming things. He is allowed to find sharing a bed with you awkward. 

When you return to the room, Spencer is already tucked into one side of the bed, the one closest to the door, his back turned towards you, and you can’t help but notice that he is far closer to the edge of the mattress than he needs to be. The only light in the room now coming from the bedside lamp on the side of the bed that has been assigned to you by Spencer.

You quietly slip into your side, letting the heavy comforter cover your body as you lay down on your back, looking over at Spencer’s back for a short moment before looking back up into the ceiling.  

The proximity between you is both exhilarating and nerve-wracking, as you lie there, so close to each other yet so far away. You take a deep breath before you break the silence once again. “Ready to turn off the light?”

Spencer shifts slightly, his voice barely above a whisper as he responds, “Yeah, sure.” You reach over and switch off your lamp, plunging the room into darkness. The only source of light now is the faint glow of moonlight coming shining through the blinds.

As you lay there, your mind starts to wander, replaying all the moments you’ve shared with Spencer over the years. The late-night conversations, the shared laughter, the times he’s been there for you when you needed someone the most. Each memory fills you with a mixture of warmth and longing.  

“Good night, Spence,” you utter softly into the darkness,   

“Night,” he replies, his voice barely audible in the quiet space and the room falls silent once again. 

You let out the softest of sighs as you close your eyes, finally letting yourself feel how tired you really are, slowly letting yourself try to surrender to sleep. 

· · ·

It’s still dark in the room as you wake up, only an hour or two have passed since you fell asleep, and for just about half a second you get to wonder what had woken you so abruptly before the reason becomes clear to you. 

It is Spencer who woke you. In the dimly lit room, his agitated body twists and contorts restlessly next to you. You turn around so you’re facing him, propping yourself up on your elbow so you’re slightly hovering over him, the darkness of the room shadowing his face, but as your eyes get used to the dark you notice the beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, his eyebrows knitted and his breathing erratic and shallow.  

Unintelligible, fearful murmurs escape his lips, carrying traces of an impending terror. With a gentle touch, you place your hand on his shoulder, hoping to offer some comfort as you try to gently pull him out of his nightmare.

“Spencer,” you say softly. “Spencer, wake up.”

His eyes fly open, wide with fear, his gaze darting around for a second or two, before they lock with yours which seems to calm him down a little. -

“I’m sorry, I woke you,” he mutters, his rapid breathing slowly coming under control. 

“Spence, it’s okay, I get them too,” you remind him. “We all do.” 

“I-I know… this one was just so real…”  Spencer takes a moment, his brows knitted as if he’s contemplating whether to share the details or simply let the disturbing dream fade away. “You were there,” he finally says, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I couldn’t get to you in time, I-I kept running but I didn’t get any closer a-and…” but then he stops, like he can’t get himself to continue.  

You feel how your heart clenches at his words, he had a nightmare about you…

“Well, I’m right here, and I’m okay,” you reassure him, offering a soft smile before you place a gentle hand on his shoulder as if to emphasize your statement, hoping to offer some comfort.

He places his own hand on top of yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“You think you can go back to sleep?” you ask him as you finally remove your hand from his shoulder. 

“Yeah, I think so,” he says and the two of you both lay back down on the mattress, but a short silence falls over the room before Spencer speaks again. “Would it  be okay if we removed the pillows?” 

“Of course,” you whisper back, removing the pillows. There is still a decent gap between you, but the cushioned wall is now gone. You yearn to close the gap, wanting to reach out for him, to comfort him with an embrace, but you just stay on your side of the bed. This can be enough, you can live with just being his friend, despite how your heart yearns for more. 

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, now laying on his back instead of facing away from you like last time you said goodnight. 

“Goodnight,” you whisper back, “and, Spence?” you add.

“Yeah?”

“Remember you can always talk to me if you need it, I know how it feels.”

A beat of silence. “Yeah, I know, and thank you, it’s really nice to know that.”  

You let out a soft sigh as you finally close your eyes again. “Of course, that is what friends are for.”

“Yeah, friends…” he mumbles, so low you barely hear it. 

But you do hear it, and you ponder over it a little as you again begin to slowly drift off to sleep, and as you find yourself in the liminal space between wakefulness and slumber. Each breath you take seems to synchronize with Spencer’s soft breathing. In the darkness, your thoughts become even more encompassed by the draw you feel towards him, the yearning to hold him, to be held by him.

Suddenly, you feel a shift in the bed, and your heart skips a beat. Did Spencer just move closer to you? You open your eyes to find him curled up, facing your direction. His features softened, no longer affected by his nightmare, but now relaxed in sleep. It takes all of your willpower not to reach out and touch his tousled curls, to trace the contours of his face.

But you don’t. You don’t want to risk jeopardizing the friendship you share. As much as you yearn for more, you’re determined not to overstep any boundaries. 

With a heavy sigh, you turn away from Spencer, facing the wall instead. Your emotions are in disarray, swirling within you like a tempestuous storm. The closeness you currently have, even if it’s just a hair’s breadth away, feels agonizingly bittersweet.

As you drift closer to sleep, nestled in the comfort of the bed, you feel a sense of contentment and tranquility. Despite the uncertainty and longing, there is solace in the silent presence of Spencer beside you. And for now, that is enough.

· · · 

You are stirred from sleep once again later in the night. This time, it is a gradual, more peaceful transition into consciousness. A sense of warmth and snugness engulfing you, making you fill with a sense of complete safety and comfort, your eyes still closed and your mind still groggy from sleep. 

As you slowly emerge from your drowsy state, it takes a moment for you to identify the source of your comfort. As time passes, and you’re pulled enough out of your sleepy daze you start to become aware of the gentle movements against your body, and you start to perceive the muffled sounds emanating from beside you, and confusion is washing over you for a short moment before you remember where you are. Remembering that you’re in a hotel room in a small town in Nebraska, a hotel room which you’re sharing with Spencer, a hotel room that only has one bed…   

 Your eyes flutter open as Spencer’s arms squeeze you a little tighter, your back is pressed up against his chest and your legs are tangled under the warm covers. His steady breath gently fan the back of your neck, his lips ghosting over your skin, grazing just over your pulse point. 

And it is now, as you are being pressed tight up against him, that you feel it. How he gently is rocking against you. How the outline of his hard cock is pressing against the curve of your ass. You let out a faint gasp, as a warm shiver runs through you right down to your now throbbing cunt. 

Your heart skips a beat, overwhelmed by the intensity of this unexpected intimacy from Spencer. You are not completely sure what to do, what Spencer would prefer you to do in this situation. There is no way you’re gonna be able to wiggle out of his embrace without risking waking him. You should probably wake him, right? 

You can’t believe that this is really happening, that you really are in this position with Spencer right now. But you know that you can’t read too much into it, that people just get wet dreams sometimes, that this is just a physical reaction. He didn’t even want to share the bed with you in the first place, and you were the one who insisted on it. As much as you dread having to face him in this position, you really should wake him. 

You know Spencer, you know that he will feel embarrassed when you wake him, but it will be nowhere near as bad as the betrayal he will feel if he finds out that you didn’t stop this. 

Taking a deep breath, you start to gently nudge Spencer awake, careful not to startle him. “Spencer,” you say gently, slightly wiggling in his embrace as you try to face him. “Spencer, wake up.” 

As he stirs, his eyes flutter open, and he looks at you with a mixture of confusion and sleepiness, before a look of absolute horror overtakes his face, his eyes filling with panic. His embrace immediately loosens, and he quickly pulls away from you. The distance between your bodies, making you feel a sudden pang of emptiness as he bolts off the bed. 

“I- I’m so sorry,” he stutters, his voice frantic. “I don't know what came over me. This isn’t... I didn’t mean to…” His words trail off, and he looks utterly mortified.  

“Spence, it’s okay,” you try to reassure him, watching as he begins to pace back and forth in the small room, and start to gather his belongings, his eyes darting around the room anxiously, as if searching for an escape. “Spencer?” you try again, hoping to bring him back from the edge of his spiraling thoughts. You get out of the bed, your bare feet hitting the cold floorboards. 

But Spencer doesn’t seem to even hear you, he just grabs his bag and starts stuffing his belongings inside, his movements frantic and uncoordinated. “I-I’ll leave,” he begins, his voice strained with guilt and embarrassment. 

“Spencer, please,” you say softly, stepping around the bed to get to him. “You don’t have to leave.”

He is halfway through the bathroom door by now, his bag dropping from his shoulder. Tears are pooling in his eyes, his expression tortured. “I can’t stay,” he says, his voice quivering. “I made you uncomfortable...”

“Spence,” you try again, now standing only a few steps from him. 

“No… I made you uncomfortable, and I-I’m so sorry, I just- I mean- or no, I didn’t mean…” he begins to ramble before giving up and burying his face in his hands. 

Your heart aches at his words, at the pain in his eyes. You never wanted this to happen, never wanted to make him feel like this. “Spence, you could never make me uncomfortable” you say, trying to keep your voice as steady and comforting as you can, your heart thumping loudly in your chest. 

“You don’t have to say that,” he begins, but you cut him off before he can start spiraling even more than he already is. 

“I do, Spence, cause it’s true. You haven’t made me uncomfortable, okay?” you need him to believe you, you are colleagues and you’ll have to see each other everyday, but also, and more importantly, he is your friend and he means so much to you, you just can’t lose him. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I promise. Please, look at me.”

You take a step closer to Spencer, reaching out for him, gently placing your hand on his trembling shoulder. Sensing the depth of his distress, you speak softly, attempting to soothe him further, and he finally looks at you, his damp eyes filled with shame and embarrassment. 

“I... I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he stammers, his voice shaky. “I never wanted to make you uncomfortable or take advantage of you. I don’t even know why I…”

You interrupt him gently, placing a hand on his cheek to bring his attention back to you. “Spencer, listen to me. It’s alright.” 

He searches your eyes, seeking reassurance. A moment passes before he finally speaks. “Are you sure it’s alright?” vulnerability shining through his words.

“Yes, Spence… It’s alright,” you feel sad, because as selfish as it is, you do wish your words weren’t true, wish that it did mean something, but you have to ignore that for now. It’s not fair to be selfish right now, what you need is to comfort Spencer and reassure him that it’s okay. You have to ignore how good it felt to feel him against your body, having him grinding against you, having his lean arms around you…

“What happened... It was just a physical reaction and I don’t hold it against you. I know you didn’t mean for it to happen, and it’s not like you can control your dreams,” you offer him a small smile, one that you hope will convince him that you mean what you’re saying, but it feels bittersweet as you say your next words. “I know it didn’t mean anything.” 

Spencer’s shoulders visibly slump as he absorbs your words. He still looks deeply conflicted, but your reassurance seems to have calmed him down slightly. “That’s not true…” he murmurs, he sounds unsure, almost shy as he says it, yet there is a determination flickering in his hazel brown eyes. 

That’s not true..? You wonder if he is going to disagree with your statement about not being able to control dreams and launch into an extensive explanation of the technicalities of lucid dreaming, but what he says instead makes your heart flutter and fills you with a sense of hope. “It did mean something,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath catches in your throat at his words. The room feels charged with tension, the air thick with uncertainty. You take a step closer to him, your hand still resting gently on his cheek. “Spencer, what do you mean?” you ask, your voice soft and filled with curiosity. And a realization courses through your body, he didn’t just have a wet dream, he had a wet dream about you… 

He takes a deep breath, his eyes locked with yours. “You mean so much to me. My dreams, my nightmares, my…” he trails off, a pink blush spreading across his cheeks, my wet dreams, his blush is telling. “My waking thoughts, they always end up being about you.”  

You feel your heart swell, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling within you. Spencer’s words hang in the air, leaving you momentarily breathless. Unable to contain your own feelings any longer. You close the last distance between you, so close that you now can feel the heat radiating from his body, your hand sliding from his cheek to the back of his neck. Your touch is gentle, craving a connection, desperate to convey your own emotions. “Spencer,” you whisper, your voice filled with a tenderness you can no longer hide. “It’s the same for me.”  

Spencer’s eyes widen in surprise, his breath hitching in his throat. It takes a moment for his words to find their way back to him. “You...you feel the same way?” he says, almost breathlessly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of deception. “You’re not just saying this to make me feel better?”

You shake your head, your voice filled with sincerity. “No. I wouldn’t say this if I didn’t mean it.”

Relief floods his features, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. His pretty, pretty lips which look so soft and so damn kissable… “Oh…” is all he manages to say, his voice filled with soft gentle wonder. 

You can see how the weight is slowly lifting off of his shoulders, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of relief and happiness. He reaches out to take your free hand in his. He moves his other hand to your waist, at first not  fully committing to the touch, his fingers gently ghosting over your pajamas, but with a soft smile of encouragement from you he gently places his palm against you, and his touch sends a wave of warmth through your body. 

The room seems to shrink, the world outside becoming distant and irrelevant. At this moment, it’s like the two of you are the only two people left on this earth. Spencer’s lips part slightly, as if he wants to say something more, but the words remain trapped in his throat. Instead, he leans in, his breath mingling with yours, and then, his lips brush against yours in the softest, most tentative of kisses.

It’s a moment of pure vulnerability, and raw emotion. The kiss is a little hesitant at first yet filled with longing. The warmth of his lips against yours creates an electric current that surges through your entire body, igniting a fire within you. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him, as if he never wants to let you go. The possessiveness in his touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you find yourself losing all sense of restraint. 

In this moment, the world outside doesn’t matter. All that matters is the connection between you and Spencer, the warmth that courses through your veins with every touch and every kiss. You feel how heat is pooling in your stomach.

 Your fingers tangle in his hair, lightly tugging on the wavy strands, making him gently moan into the kiss as your other hand finds its way to his face, caressing his cheeks as if trying to convey all the feelings you have bottled up inside.

The kiss deepens, becoming more passionate and desperate, as if both of you have been longing for this moment for far too long. It’s a dance of tongues and teeth, a melding of souls, and you can’t help but lose yourself in the sensations. The taste of his lips, the feeling of his hands on your waist, the way he pulls you closer as if he wants to merge your bodies into one.

Desire courses through you, igniting a fire within that consumes every rational thought. You press yourself flush against him, unable to stop your body from slowly grinding against him as the need for more contact intensifies, making Spencer moan into the kiss, which only makes your own desire for him grow even stronger. Every touch, every movement sends a jolt of anticipation through your body, the friction between you building a deliciously tantalizing tension.

The need for more becomes unbearable, but your lungs start to burn and you finally break the heated kiss to get a breath of air. His lips hovering mere inches from yours, his breath warm and ragged. The room is filled with thick tension as you lock eyes, the intensity between you crackling with electricity. You take a moment to steady your own breath before asking him, a little shyly, what you want to know the most in this moment. “Wanna tell me about your dream?” 

Your words hang in the air, a challenge and an invitation, as you search his gaze for approval. He looks into your eyes, his own filled with a mix of desire and vulnerability. “How…”  He takes a deep, steadying breath, before continuing. “How about I show you instead?” 

You feel your heart skip a beat at his words, a rush of excitement and anticipation flooding through you. Without hesitation, you nod your head, your voice barely above a whisper as you respond, “I’d like that.”

You reach for his hand, guiding him towards the bed. As you lay down, he hovers above you, his eyes filled with a mixture of passion, desire, and a hint of vulnerability. The vulnerability only makes you want him more, to show him that the connection you both share is real, that it’s more than just a passing moment of lust.  

You place a hand at the back of his neck, drawing him down towards you, and his lips meet yours in another fervent kiss. The weight of his body pressing against you sends a thrill through your veins, a delicious ache building between your thighs. You bring your legs up, wrapping them around him, making him let out a low grunt. 

His mouth leaves your lips to instead trail down along your jawline, down your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses in their wake. His movements start out slightly clumsy, but he is very quick to adapt and adjust, finding a rhythm that suits both of you. You tilt your head back, giving him better access, surrendering yourself to the pleasure that ripples through your body with each touch of his lips. His hands move up the sides of your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“Fuck, Spence,” you whine. Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging gently, urging him on. His lips find their way to your collarbone, and he nips at the sensitive flesh, causing a gasp to escape your lips. The sensation sends a jolt straight to your core, and you can feel yourself growing wetter and wetter with desire for him.

His fingers dip beneath the hem of your shirt, skimming along the curve of your waist, his touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. You arch your back, silently begging for more, and he obliges, his hands slipping further up until they find your breasts, his thumbs rubbing softly over your hardened nipples. A low moan escapes your mouth, and his lips find yours once again, swallowing the sound and pouring his own desire into the kiss before pulling away to speak. “We… we weren’t wearing this much clothes… In my dream.” 

As the words tumble from his lips, you feel a surge of anticipation flood through you. The desire to match his dream, to fulfill his fantasies, takes hold of you. With a breathless chuckle, followed by an encouraging smile you nod and begin to undo the buttons of your pajama shirt, slowly revealing your bare skin to his hungry gaze. His eyes darken with desire as he watches the fabric slip off your shoulders and expose your breasts fully to him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice filled with awe and reverence. 

Spencer’s hands tremble slightly as he reaches out, gently cupping your breasts, his touch sending shivers down your spine. His eyes never leave yours as he experiments with different pressures and strokes, learning the map of your body through touch. Each caress sets you ablaze, igniting a fire within you that only he can satisfy.

“I...I never imagined this could be real,” Spencer admits, his voice laced with awe and reverence. “To have you like this, to be able to touch you, it’s beyond anything I ever dreamed of.”

His words melt into the air, caressing your senses as you guide his hands down your body, your breath hitching with each movement. The heat between your legs intensifies, the ache growing unbearable as his fingers brush against your heated, still covered core.

“Then let’s get rid of the rest of our clothes,” you whisper, your voice filled with anticipation and desire. With shaking hands, you help Spencer undress, removing his shirt and pants after he has shed you of your own pants. 

The air is thick with tension, as the only things that are now covering the two of you being your own panties and Spencer’s gray boxer briefs. You swallow, the sight of him making a hot shiver run through your body, right down to your throbbing cunt, making you squeeze your thighs together. The imposing size of the bulge in his underwear only adds to the anticipation that swirls inside you. The dark spot of precum on the gray cotton, making you drool and without a second thought, you slide your hand down to where his arousal strains against the garment, palming him gently through the fabric, a low groan escapes his lips, the sound music to your ears. 

“Shouldn’t we get these off too?” Your voice takes on a sultry tone as you gently squeeze him through his underwear. 

Another groan, this one a little more whiny, falls from his lips, as he nods eagerly.       

You let out a gasp as he follows your suggestion, and slides off this last item of clothing. His hard cock springs free, hitting his stomach. He is big, thick and throbbing with a bead of precum at the tip that you would love to lick off of him. You have never seen a more mouthwatering cock in your life, and if it wasn’t because you were so damn desperate to have him inside of you, you would get on your knees and choke on him in this instant. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a really pretty cock, Spence?”  

“N-no…” 

“Well, you do,” you assure him. Spencer’s cheeks flush by your bold compliment as you reach out for him. “Now come here, pretty boy,” you say, pulling him down on you again and he doesn’t hesitate, capturing your lips once again, but not before telling you how beautiful you are.

“Can’t concentrate sometimes, you’re so beautiful, it’s distracting,” he murmurs between kisses. “And you’re always so sweet to me, to everyone, and so fucking sexy,” he whispers against your lips. The warmth of his breath sends a shiver down your spine, intensifying the electricity between you.

You smile into the kiss, feeling an overwhelming surge of affection for Spencer. His words touch a deep, insecure part of your heart that you rarely expose to anyone. It’s moments like these when you realize just how lucky you are to have him in your life, and how deeply you want him to play an even bigger role than he already does.

Breaking away from the kiss, you gaze into Spencer’s expressive eyes, his pupils blown wide with lust and affection. “I could say all that about you too, you know” you confess, sincerity lacing your voice as you bring your hand up to push a stray curl away from his face. “You can be very distracting too, Dr. Reid,” you whisper, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you gently rut your clothed pussy up against his erection as you address him by his title. 

A desperate grunt escapes his lips as he feels the friction between your bodies. He leans his forehead against yours, his voice husky with anticipation. “God, you have no idea how badly I want you,” he breathes, his voice thick with desire. You can feel his body trembling against yours, the need radiating off of him in waves. 

“Me too, Spence,” you pant, you are now grinding against him in a slow, sloppy rhythm, “need to have you inside of me so bad.” you confess. “Do you have a condom?”

Spencer’s eyes widen slightly at your question, a mix of desire and concern flickering across his face. “No… I didn’t think... I-I mean, it’s not something I… I didn’t expect...this,” Spencer stammers, his cheeks turning pink. “I didn’t think we would…”

“It’s okay, Spencer,” you say, your voice filled with understanding, gently cupping his face in your hands, you take a little pause before continuing, “I’m on birth control, and I’m clean... so if you want…” you trail off, wanting him to be the one to make the decision   

Spencer takes a moment to process your words, his expression shifting from surprise to relief. He exhales a shaky breath, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. “I-I’ve never done this without a condom…” he confesses, blushing even more, “not that I’ve done this a whole lot…” he says, his voice filled with vulnerability.

You have been unsure about how experienced Spencer is but his honesty and vulnerability only make you appreciate him more. You stroke his cheek gently, comforting him with your touch. You are just about to tell him that it is okay, and that you don’t have to do anything he is not ready for and that you can stop if he isn’t feeling like doing this anymore, but Spencer speaks before you have a chance to say any of this.

“But I want to do it all with you,” he says, his voice filled with determination and longing. “I trust you.”

His words send a surge of warmth through your body, a reassurance that he is fully committed to this moment and to exploring the depths of your connection. You lean in, capturing his lips in a deep, passionate kiss, conveying both your love and desire for him.

Now that you finally know how it feels to kiss him after having pondered over it for so long you just can’t stop, his lips too intoxicating, too addictive. “I trust you too, Spence,”you murmur against his lips, your voice laden with affection and honesty as you spread your legs, inviting him to take the next step.

Spencer’s eyes flicker with a mix of desire and admiration as he brings his hands down to skim over the thin, and by now soaked, fabric of your panties, you arch your back, silently begging for more.

A hungry expression dances over his features before he slides the fabric aside, his touch sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your veins. His fingers trail through the wetness already pooling between your legs, spreading out your arousal as he circles your clit. A shudder runs through you, your back arching off the mattress as pleasure courses through your veins. He continues to tease you, his touch feather-light yet impossibly intense.  

“You’re so wet,” he says intrigued, and you find his fascination utterly endearing. 

“Well, it’s all for you, Spence,” you moan in response as Spencer’s fingers glide over your slick folds, his touch becoming more purposeful and assertive. The anticipation builds inside you, a mixture of desire and nervous excitement. You watch Spencer’s face for any signs of hesitation or uncertainty, but all you find is a hunger that matches your own as he slides a finger inside of you. Your breath hitches as he curls his finger, hitting a spot deep inside that sends a wave of pleasure crashing through your body. You grip the sheets, your nails digging into the fabric as Spencer adds another finger, stretching you and filling you up. 

The room fills with your moans and gasps, the sound of your pleasure mixing with the wet sounds of his fingers working you. You can feel your walls tightening around him, a signal that you’re close to the edge. Sensing your impending release, Spencer leans down, his lips finding yours in a searing kiss as he continues to thrust his fingers inside you. The combination of his touch and his kiss sends you spiraling over the edge, waves of ecstasy washing over you. 

You cling to Spencer, your body trembling with pleasure as he guides you through your orgasm, his fingers never faltering in their movements. As your climax subsides, he withdraws his fingers slowly, his gaze locked with yours. You’re both panting, trying to catch your breath as the intensity of the moment washes over you. 

“That was...amazing,” he whispers, his voice filled with awe. You smile, feeling a surge of pride and contentment wash over you.

“You’re amazing,” you reply, your voice filled with love. 

“I want to be inside you so badly,” Spencer confesses, his voice filled with desire and urgency. His eyes bore into yours, pleading for your permission. You can see the vulnerability and longing in his gaze, making your heart swell with affection for him.

With a nod, you give him your consent, silently urging him to take the next step. and he gets up on his knees. His erection stands tall, glistening with anticipation. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he slowly positions himself between your legs, his hands trembling slightly as he supports his weight above you, his  gaze never leaving yours.

As he slowly enters you, a rush of pleasure courses through your body. Inch by inch, he fills you, stretching you in the most delicious way. A low moan escapes your lips, the sensation overwhelming yet incredibly satisfying. Spencer’s eyes never leave yours, his expression transitioning from concentration to blissful surrender.

Once he’s fully inside you, he pauses, allowing you both to savor the feeling of being intimately connected. You run your hands over his back, sending shivers down his spine as you guide him to start moving. With each thrust, waves of pleasure crash through you, igniting a fire that burns brightly between you.

“Spencer,” you whisper breathlessly, your voice filled with need, “you feel amazing.”

He whimpers in response, his rhythm picking up as both your bodies move in perfect synchronization. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room, a raw display of the passion simmering between you.

The room is filled with the sounds of your bodies colliding, the bed creaking in rhythm with your passionate movements. Spencer’s thrusts become deeper and more assertive, his movements guided by pure instinct and the desire to please you. He holds nothing back, giving himself to you completely.

“You’re so tight,” he groans, his voice filled with a mixture of pleasure and disbelief. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

You dig your nails into his back, urging him on. “Don’t hold back, Spencer,” you gasp, your voice laced with urgency. “Give it to me, all of it.”

Your hands roam his body, tracing the contours of his lean muscles, urging him on with every touch. His lips find yours in a desperate kiss, each one filled with a mixture of love, desire, and a hunger for more. The intensity of your connection drives you both toward the edge, pushing you closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy. 

His thrusts become harder, deeper, and you cry out, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through your body. Pleasure builds within you, radiating outwards in waves, threatening to consume you entirely.

“I’m close, Spence,” you manage to utter, your voice strained. “I’m so close.”

He increases his pace, his movements becoming erratic as he chases his own release. You can feel the tension coil within him, the way he desperately clings onto the edge, on the verge of falling. And then, as if in perfect unison, the dam breaks. The pleasure crashes over you both, engulfing you in a tidal wave of ecstasy. You can’t help but let out a series of desperate whines and moans as you feel the warmth of his release filling you up as he pumps you full of him, coating your walls with his cum. You cling to each other, riding out the waves of your orgasms, the walls of your pussy convulsing around his cock, your bodies trembling with the intensity of it all.

Spencer collapses onto you, his weight pressing you further into the mattress. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close, basking in the afterglow of your shared intimacy. As your breaths finally steady, he lifts his head and gazes into your eyes, a tender smile playing on his lips.

“That was... beyond words,” he murmurs, his voice filled with awe and reverence. “I’ve never felt this connected to someone before.”

You stroke his cheek lovingly, your own smile mirroring his. “Me neither, Spence.”

He leans down, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss, pouring all his adoration and gratitude into it. 

And as you both lie tangled in each other’s arms, basking in the warmth and intimacy you have just experienced, a feeling of contentment washes over you. It is a feeling you have longed for, a feeling of being truly seen and accepted by another person, and you know that for a long time that longing has been for Spencer and only Spencer. 

“I am so grateful for you, Spence,” you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity. 

Spencer’s eyes softened, his gaze locking with yours. “Thank you for being patient with me. Before meeting you I honestly never thought I could feel so comfortable and safe with anyone.”

Tears well up in your eyes. The depth of emotion in his words touches you deeply. You lean in to capture his lips in a tender kiss, a kiss filled with love and gratitude.

Spencer shifts, gently pulling out of you and sliding to your side. He scoops you into his arms, holding you close to his chest. The rise and fall of his breath against your skin is soothing, creating a sense of comfort and security on a level that you have never felt before.

You curl up against him, your head resting on his shoulder. “I’m so happy there only was one bed,” you whisper, the words spilling from your heart without hesitation. Spencer presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Me too,” he reply, his voice filled with emotion.

Thank you for reading! If you feel like it, please leave a comment or reblog to let me know what you thought ♡

[yurinaa-world]

Hello!! can I request Blade, Aventurine, Jiaoqiu and Sunday (it can be Boothill if you don't write sunday) from hsr with a fem so who loves physical touch like hugs, kisses, cuddling etc but is too afraid to ask from the character because she doesn't wasn't to overstep her boundaries? Sorry if this is too specific, I'm going on through this and I just want a bit of comfort lmao, also feel free to simplify the ask if it's too much! remember to take breaks and drink water :D

"𝒴𝑜𝓊'𝓇𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓊𝓃𝒸𝑜𝓂𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒, 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊?"

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Blade, Aventurine, Jiaoqiu, Sunday, & Boothill x Femalel reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a reader who loves physical touch but is to shy to ask because you don't overstep their boundaries.

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: fluff, & Spelling mistakes, added boothill as well because this would suit him so well,

💫𝒩𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈: GUYS, I ALWAYS EAT YOUR IDEAS UP (I went over board but I'm proud of how it came out) Hope you like it!!

💫𝐵𝓁𝒶𝒹𝑒 "𝑀𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓃 𝐻𝓊𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈"

This guy is a complete dunce when comes to you. He’ll realize what you what want when it’s spelt letter by letter right in front of his face. like Kafka smacking him in the face to treat you right and go n’ give you some love like a proper lover would to his lady.

But now, he doesn’t get at all, why you’re acting like this, just devoiding of any type of affection. Taking back your touch before apposgising about it. Why? But never answer since you like to move away so quickly that he can’t get a chance. (it’s a sad sight for everyone to see.)

He’s rough with it, Don’t get too scared if he smashes his hand on the side of your head—hitting the wall instead—the sight was akin to a bully taking lunch money from the nerd. His words come out rough—like usual really but more angry this time but it’s nothing you can make sense of at first.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Blade was always odd but you were the odd one for being in love with him, so madly in love to the point you always liked to hang out with him even though it was more like a one-sided conversation but the fact that he cared by the fact he cared to listen to your every word (anytime he sees something similar to something you were talking about he gets it for you).

Not an affectionate man when it comes to talking or any romantic gestures, but the love is there, so does it matter? Because of the bare affection in this relationship, you thought it would make you uncomfortable if you asked for more. Yet right now you’re not exactly sure how it ended up like this. 

You honestly feel bad for the brick wall behind, cracked, and dented in, all by his hand. He’s glaring so fiercely as if you insulted and spat on his face or worse. What is this even about? You aren't even sure but you feel sweat drip down from the back of your neck. Are you getting threatened by your lover no less?

“You’re…”

“...I’m what?” You can’t help but tilt your whole head at him. Just what? His hand leaves the wall, moving it to the back of your hand, sharply shoving your face in his face. You’re left in shock, what is he doing, exactly?

“What are you doing?” pulling your face back before he grabs your waist with his other hand and forcefully brings your body against him. This time he’s the one titling his head at you as if you were confused for no reason. “Since you can’t say it, I’ll do it for you.” 

Huh…now you might have an idea of who told him that, curse them all, seriously. “I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He doesn’t care about that, sweet to everyone else you care so about him, but if want affection from him then that's what he's going to do.

Don't blame him too much if he pulls you in to kiss his rough lips—the complete opposite of yours—you feel like going to suffocate from the lack of air he’s letting you have when you pull away for a couple of seconds. Affection at its finest.

💫𝒜𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑒 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝑒𝓃𝒾𝑜𝓇 𝑀𝒶𝓃𝒶𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝐼𝒫𝒞 𝒮𝓉���𝒶𝓉𝑒𝑔𝒾𝒸 𝐼𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒟𝑒𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉"

He’s like a walking magnet when it comes to affection & especially when it comes to giving it to you.

He can see your sulking, honestly, it’s written all over your face, taking glances at him before looking back down to think a little more—it’s obvious a gambler like him should always know what his opponent is thinking (you also count). Not trying to be cruel but it’s quite cute seeing you like that.

He just chops it up to the idea of you being too shy! It’s so cute honestly. Only to be left sort of speechless when you ask if he wants you to hug, he didn’t expect that question at all, and for some reason, it makes the hug even better.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“You seem quite deep in thought,” A sly grin was plastered on his lips. The little sulker you are. Just standing there deep in thought, breaking your thoughts to glance at him, it’s just a repeating cycle. Only when he finally calls out to you, is when you finally break out from the cycle.

“Why so nervous? Hmm, hiding something?” leaning closer to your face just to see that pretty face all red by such a simple action. You’re not sure of what he might say, you just wanted more of his affection, yet you don’t want to go overboard with it, just like him uncomfortable. 

Your face does say everything you're thinking, every single thought. Looking him in the eyes, it’s obvious he’s gonna get an answer from you, and you just ask away since the worst he could say is no. “Well, I wanted to ask, if you’re comfortable, I could hug you.”

The feeling of nervousness begins pooling in your stomach, getting worse when your face goes blank, processing your words.

“If I'm comfortable?” 

“Just in case you didn’t like it and didn’t want it.”

For the first time, this is anyone’s ever asked him if he was comfortable with wanting something, it’s stupid that anyone would even care that much. It all just clicks together, you were worried that he would be uncomfortable when you asked for more. Can you blame him when he laughs a little—he’s probably just lost his mind.

“Come here and give your lover a nice hug.”

It feels so nice to be in your embrace, it’s nothing like any other, his hand can’t help but to go up and gently pat the top of your pretty head. He wants more, the genuine feeling of a hug like this.

💫𝒥𝒾𝒶𝑜𝓆𝒾𝓊 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒳𝒾𝒶𝓃𝓏𝒽𝑜𝓊 𝒴𝒶𝑜𝓆𝒾𝓃𝑔"

That man knows everything, he’s a counsellor for goodness sake, and he reads people like books, you aren’t any different but one thing is that you’re so adorable whenever your face says what you’re thinking, it just makes him want to pinch and pull your cheeks as if you’re puffer fish.

He can see the way retracting your hand away from him or pretending to get something else as if you were a child getting caught putting your hand in the cookie jar. He sees the ways your eyes light when he gives you affection like a head pat but you never seem to ask for more when it’s so obviously written on your face.

After a long tiresome day, still finding a way to tease you a little. He’s open up and looks in such a loving gaze as you tell that you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable because you want more from him, you didn’t want to be greedy. How can he not spoil you, he wants to give you the entire world if it makes you happier.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Too tired to even eat?” 

Lifting your head off the table accompanied by a tired groan leaving your throat, looking at Jiaoqiu, his chin resting on his hand. How exhausted you were that you weren’t even in the mood to eat anything, evidenced by you before, pushing the bowl—filled food—to the side so you could rest on the table.

“You couldn’t even imagine.”

“You should take yourself more, or you might just turn into skin and bones, I'll end up being your nurse,” He chided, taking his other free hand to push the bowl back in front of you. “At least one bite” He tries to persuade you when that unappetizing expression appears when looking at the bowl.

Even when you do take the spoon at least try eating a little bit of it so it doesn’t go to waste. Only for him to pat you on the head as if you were a little kid, yet unknowingly the sulking could be seen on your face. “If you want more you could just ask.” 

“I don’t need any more food.”

“I mean: patting your head, it written all over your face that you want more,” you hear the teasing in his tone, especially when his eyes open to reveal its pretty gold colour, “Now are you going to tell me what the problem is?”

“I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable for asking for more.” 

Funny how people always ask for more so comfortably yet here you are sulking and struggling over the need for and wanting his attention, how could you even be greedy when you’re holding back so much? His hand just lands back on your head, gently patting your head.

“Just how cute can you be?”

💫𝒮𝓊𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓎 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒪𝒶𝓀 𝐹𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓎"

He's a part of the overthinker club, overprotective of you and wanting to keep you safe, when he feels the one-sidedness of your relationship, he’s stuck at a stump, odd right? He’s thought of every possibility of everything until perfection.

He's always been busy. so romantic relationships are easy to read and understand from the outside but now he’s in one with you, he tries to be as delicate and perfect as he can along with equal footing with each other, in short, what does he do? Are you disinterested in the current way things are going? Never returning his affection or love, one thing that you quiet or don’t enjoy but no it’s not that at all.

You see the relief in his eyes when it comes to light what you were keeping quiet, which somehow makes him fall for you even more by the fact you just care so much about his well-being, makes his heart warm at the fact you worried about what he’s feeling. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Do you feel unfilled in our relationship?”

As night took over the sky, took away any light except the from the moon that was shining down, giving most people the signal to go to bed and rest for the night. 

For you and Sunday it was no different, getting ready for the night after a long day, yet it seemed to only you who was actually, Sunday on the other hand watching you, arms crossed while against the door frame.

When those odd words left his mouth—along with the most serious and emotional expression you’ve ever seen on his face—even you were left in slight shock, this completely out of nowhere.

 “Of course I am. Maybe you’re tired after such a long day of work.” you smile at him, going past him to go to bed, in the hope that possibly, he’ll take off his clothes and rest with you.

In swift motion, his arms wrap around your waist, bringing your back against his chest, his face in neck. You could feel his warm cheek against your neck, feeling the soft feather of his wings against the back of your head, you could feel your breath stop. 

“Does my touch repulse you?” 

“Sunday, what are you talking?” The same thing again, seriously what’s happened to him to be acting like this? His arms hold you tighter. 

“You never wish to reciprocate my feelings…have I done something wrong?” 

You were left speechless at those words, that wasn’t true in the slightest, you wanted so badly to hug, take all of his affections that he gave you, and have more, but not sure if he would like it. If you went overboard someone from the outside could see, it wouldn’t end so well in the public’s eyes. Just so many possibilities 

“It’s nothing like that. I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable by it, so I didn’t ask.”

You feel his head bury itself deeper in your neck. By that answer he can’t sigh in relief, sweet and caring as always, you had him so worried, he doesn’t blame you for caring about so much.

💫𝐵𝑜𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓁𝓁 "𝑀𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒢𝒶𝓁𝒶𝓍𝓎 𝑅𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓈"

tad bit angsty, but fluff

He’ll do anything for your affection, being with you is like feeling the sun. You legitimately make him feel alive even though his body is a scrap of his former self and who he used to be. He is scared he might ruin what he has with you, it’s just too much for him to lose you. (since you’re the only one that isn’t freaked out or scared of him)

It might just be him trying not to make you uncomfortable with his affection when he realizes you aren’t visibly saying that you like it or if you want more of his affection (undying love). He’s stumped, he's overthinking if he did something that made you despise him or something. Did he say something stupid again?

You can just see him physically down as well, it's pretty obvious. (sitting on the stairs with his hat off). While you go to check on him, he is just a little emotional until you just confused about what he’s going on about. You can see his face contort as you tell him the reason for him, he’s in shock, no relief. Everything at once.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

He doesn’t know what to do in a moment like this, his mind feels just…hazy. Or confused about the next step. You don’t like him, do you? You never want more from him, nor any hints at all. He must have done something, just something! It must’ve been when he went overboard.

He can lose you over this, not like this. 

“Boothill, are you alright?” 

You can't believe the sight of him like this, sitting on the stairs, hat off, hair messier than usual, his face soaked up with sadness and deep thought horrid that even you know he’s out of it. “I’m sorry if I hurt ya, I probably bein’ stupid again.” he just started pouring out, like an overfilled bucket in the harsh rain. He looked as if he was going to cry.

“Boothill what are you talking about?” cutting him off from rant to see where this idea even came from. You're not even mad at him in the slightest, “You don’t ask wanting more affection from me, then you don’t try to reciprocate it because yer’ mad at me for doing something!” 

“That’s not the reason, I just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable by asking more from you.” 

“Say wha? Me?” You just see his eyes widen like they were going to pop right out of his sockets, you just see his face contort into various as he tries to comprehend your words, he just jumps up like a rocket, staring at your nervous face. 

“Come on I'm like hunk a metal for a man, n’ you don’t wanna make ME uncomfortable? I’ll kill for one of yer’ kisses! Or anything!” 

His hand lands on your shoulders, looking at you with the most love-burning gaze you have ever seen from him, he was serious about this, about you. He presses his forehead against yours, tightening his hands on your shoulders. “Can I kiss ya silly then? Since you don't mind.”  

The second you said yes, he leaned in to kiss you on the lips, a bit rough, but he didn’t want to pull away, not more than a second.

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[lesbian-for-arthur-morgan]

Request : first time holding hands

I’d love to see their reactions 😭

First Time Holding Hands

Short Headcanons || Gender Neutral Language!

Genre: Fluff Featuring: Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Dutch Van Der Linde, Javier Escuella, Charles Smith, Sean MacGuire, and Sadie Adler Warnings: None

AN: A shorter post today! Thank you so much for requesting these were so fun to write I literally love doing cute little moments with these characters ~ I hope I answered the way you meant !! lol I feel like I got a little off track in some ---> Requests are open! Check out guidelines if you have any questions :)

<><><><>

Arthur Morgan:

This man is a nervous wreck around you. Especially when you first start showing feelings for each other.

It took a million years for him to even admit that he was a little sweet on you, he is definitely not initiating anything past that point.

He can barely believe that you like him back.

The first time you grab his hand is not during anything special.

You’re sitting in the front of a wagon with him while on the way into town. The sun is casting a golden sheen across the earth, the air is warm but not hot, and the birds are swooping and playing in the sky overhead.

Without much thought you reach down to where he’s resting his arm on his thigh and envelope his hand with your own.

He tenses up at the contact, scared to make any sudden moves in case he might scare you away.

He doesn’t look at you directly, instead just glancing at you from the side of his eye. He wonders if you meant to do that or if you just did it by accident.

How your hand would end up on his on his thigh he doesn’t know.

When your thumb starts stroking the skin around his knuckle, tough and calloused from a few too many brawls, he starts to melt and relax a little bit.

He flips his hand around, which makes you pull away slightly, and fits his fingers in between yours. That way he’s holding your hand back and it’s a mutual.

There’s a blush on his cheeks and a grin on his lips. Not a word is spoken, but Arthur relishes the comfortable silence as he tries to think of what on earth he could have done to deserve something so perfect - to deserve you.

John Marston:

John is not a touchy-feely kind of guy. Not at first anyways. He doesn’t get what you see in him. He doesn’t understand why of all the men in the world - Hell, all the men in camp - you chose to waste your time with him.

He’s angsty like that.

He knows of your feelings for him and he gave a strong inclination that he might like you back but never confessed anything really. He figured you understood him enough to know.

You did, but he’s hard to read sometimes.

The first time you hold hands, he actually initiates it. You try not to overstep any boundaries with him, so he always has to make the first moves.

While playing a few practice rounds of poker (John is trying to teach you to play/play better), jokes are being thrown back and forth and rocks are being used as chips for show.

When John’s focus is pulled to the cards in his hands, you take the opportunity to try and grab a few rocks from his pile to add to your own as a little joke.

John catches you and places his large hand on top of your own making you freeze. A smug grin is plastered on his face and he doesn’t even look at you before placing his cards down, showing off a winning hand.

“Read ‘em and weep, Darlin’,” He laughs but never removes his hand from yours.

A small blush rises to your cheeks and his gaze falls to your combined hands. He curls his fingers under your own so that he’s fully holding your hand in his.

You try to catch his eye, but he’s so focused on his large, scarred hand covering your softer skin. It eats at him a little; a guilty feeling settles into his chest.

You place your other hand on his cheek and press on it lightly to direct his head to look at you. You smile one of your so-sweet smiles that makes his stomach ache a little with admiration, and he grins.

The two of you sit there for a while and continue trying to play poker each with one hand.

Dutch Van Der Linde:

Dutch has always been really hands-on with you. (Wink Wink)

He’s flamboyant, a show-off, cocky, and passionate. He loves to show you off and show off to everyone that you are his.

The first time he holds your hand, it’s to explicitly show that you are his and he is yours.

Most times after that, when Dutch holds your hand it means that the two of you are connected, not two people but one. Not just a couple but a unit.

He’s dramatic that way.

The very first time he holds your hand is during an argument with Hosea. A few things about camp affairs come up, plans are being thrown around, and Hosea makes a comment suggesting that you don’t need to be there for their conversation.

Dutch glares at the older man and reaches down to grasp your hand in his.

“But Daddy I love him!” Vibes I’m not going to lie.

He stands a little taller now that he’s touching you, it makes him feel stronger and more sure of what he’s saying. He puffs out his chest and looks down his nose at Hosea.

Hosea rolls his eyes a little and puts his hands up in surrender, telling Dutch that he can do what he wants.

When Hosea leaves, Dutch uses your entwined hands to pull you towards his side a little bit and hold you in an embrace.

He calls you his partner in crime, his other half, and a million other sultry things he can think of that causes a heat to rise in your chest.

He doesn’t let you go for the rest of the night after that, choosing to show off to the rest of the gang members that you two belong together and will always be.

Javier Escuella:

Javier values romance in a relationship.

Maybe nothing incredibly grand - but sweet notes, acts of service, small gifts here and there - he likes to show you how much he loves you through actions more than anything else.

All that and more is shown later on in your relationship. At first, though, Javier is more protective than romantic when it comes to you. It keeps him from showing his emotions at times, and makes him oblivious to your feelings other times.

He just doesn’t know what’s too much because he feels a lot of things, but he wonders if showing all that too soon will scare you away. His feelings are so intense that he gets scared away from you sometimes.

The first time he holds your hand is when you knick yourself while trying to do tricks with one of his knives.

You envy the way he’s able to just do the flips and graceful switches with the blades, and even how he can effortlessly play that five-finger-fillet game.

So, naturally, you try to replicate a trick you’ve seen him do a million times and it ends with a little gash on the heel of your palm.

It’s barely bleeding and looks more like a scrape, but as you hiss in pain Javier has forgotten his chore as he rushes to see what you’ve done to yourself.

He tsks at you and gently wraps his fingers around your wrist to get a better look at the wound.

You’ve forgotten the scrape at this point as his touch is sending jolts of adrenaline through your arm and his face is so close to yours you could count his eyelashes if you wanted to.

He doesn’t notice, too busy looking to see if you’ve mortally wounded yourself. When he’s satisfied that you won’t die, he looks up at your face (Which is dark with a blush and you’re trying to avert your gaze from him, but you just can’t).

He doesn’t understand what’s gotten into you until he sees your joined hands and a knowing grin cracks into his face.

“I’ll kiss it, make it better,” He murmurs and presses a slow, tender kiss to the palm of your hand while gazing up into your eyes the entire time.

He knows what he’s doing.

Charles Smith:

I genuinely feel like Charles is the most well rounded of the group when it comes to his emotions and how he conveys what he’s feeling to you.

Communication king for sure.

The first time Charles holds your hand it’s like he’s always done it.

It’s so natural to him that there really is no concrete first time that changed the meaning of your relationship or created some big deal.

Charles isn’t really someone who likes to show off and isn’t into public displays of affection. Brief hugs and hand holding are the only things he can bring himself to do with you if there are other people present.

He likes to hold your hand a lot despite that. Kissing, groping, or anything even a little heated is a big no for him (in private it is another story), so he likes to have your hands intertwined more often than not.

At first he would come up to you and hold his hand out, palm up, with a quirked brow as if asking you to place your hand in his. You oblige, of course, and he would follow you around camp or vice versa.

Now, Charles doesn’t even bother asking before he comes up to you and just grabs your hand whenever he sees you.

There’s no question about it, the two of you are always connected.

If he can see you he is by your side holding on to you.

It’s not possessive (unlike Dutch cough cough), but it’s more for his own comfort. He likes being near you and he likes that you seem to enjoy being near him.

Charles finds his twin flame in you, his other half. Much more than a soulmate, but his person.

Sean MacGuire:

Sean never really knows where the two of you stand in terms of a relationship.

He flirts with you over and over and over again. You laugh and blush occasionally, but end up telling him to shut up and wandering off.

He knows that he can come off as a sarcastic ass, but he didn’t realize that it’s so intense that you can’t even tell that he’s genuinely trying to get you to notice him as more than a friend/fellow gang member.

The thing is, it is hard for you to tell. Sean isn’t known for being the most serious guy in the world and you’ll be damned if you let him make fun of you by flirting with you and making you swoon or something.

The first time you hold hands with Sean is also consequently the first time you see Sean’s feelings for you are genuine, not some trick.

You turn away from Sean after he’s thrown yet another flirty remark at you, but before you even have the chance to mutter “Shut up, MacGuire” He’s shot out and wrapped his fingers around your own in a strong grip. It doesn’t hurt, but you can’t just pull away and tell him to stop messing around.

You turn back and look down at your conjoined hands.

“Please,” He begs and pulls you an inch closer. “Listen to me.”

You can hardly focus on anything but the warmth of his hand in yours and the way it makes your heart swell and tingle.

He explains his feelings for you, every last one of them. Some were a little more explicit and detailed than you expected, but you appreciated the straight forward honesty.

Let’s just say after that conversation the two of you hold hands and more pretty often in the future.

Sadie Adler:

Sadie and you hold hands all the time. She literally cannot tell how you feel about her.

Is this a friendship? Is it more? She has no idea because you’re so comfortable with her that the line between friends and partners is so blurred Sadie isn’t even sure if there was a line to begin with.

One night, you and Sadie are lying outside the tent that you share stargazing. Sadie is telling you what she knows about the stars and you chime in every now and then with your own little details. She loves the excitement in your voice when you remember the story to a constellation or find one that you hadn’t notice last time.

Your bodies are close, but your hands are closer. Lying in the grass, Sadie can feel the heat from your fingers and hers twitch and beg to touch yours.

She’s nervous, though, to take the relationship further. She doesn’t know if she’s ready to admit what she wants.

While she’s debating if it’s worth it, your pinky finger stretches and curls around her own. She audibly gasps at the action and her head whips over to see if you realize what you’re doing.

You’re already gazing at her with soft eyes and a small smile. It makes her bones turn to jelly at the sight and she tries to speak, but the only thing that escapes her mouth are sharp exhales as her words get tangled in her throat.

She tightens her pinky finger around yours, and you understand the meaning behind it.

It was all still confusing, but Sadie knew one thing: Friends don’t look at each other like that.

<><><><>

I love Sadie so much y'all don't even know

Hope you enjoyed!!

[obbystars]

Drop some random sebastian headcanon u have in mind fics related or not if u ever had one pls drop itudulfyldyostoakakak😇😇

(ALRIGHTY LET’S SEE IF I’VE STILL GOT IT IN ME TO MAKE A HEADCANON POST)

CONTENT WARNING: cannibalism in post-experimentation section

Notes: Sebastian Solace x GN!Reader / General Relationship Headcanons + some general Sebastian headcanons / kid you not pulling this up i realized i did not have any headcanons for sebastian thought out so i spent a good while thinking LSJDJSNX / i hope you guys know this is written by someone who has not dated before (has no idea what they’re doing) / wishing this could’ve been longer

Credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

To be honest, when it comes to entering a relationship with Sebastian, I can never see it happening when you meet during the events of the game. Like, obviously he only sees all of expendables as research collectors (and possibly food) and that’s pretty much it. He does not give two shits about us.

If you knew him before he got arrested, or even knew him while he was a prisoner under Urbanshade (specifically another prisoner), then yes I can see it happening. Of course, if you knew him beforehand and became an expendable for whatever reason after, then yes I can also see it. It’s because you knew who he was before he became what he is now, y’know?

Anywayy…

He’s a teasing type of partner. Often making sarcastic comments whenever he sees the opportunity to, pushing some of your buttons just for the fun of it, all that stuff. He can tone it down if you ask though, or if he sees it’s actually bothering you.

Sebastian does like cuddling but he is almost never the one to initiate it. It’s not that he’s uncomfortable (well he kinda is sometimes), he’s also not sure if you’re comfortable with it unless you voice it to him. Will that change anything? Not really, you’ll still need to initiate most of the time.

It’s probably obvious now that I see a relationship with Sebastian will require quite a bit of communication, but there’s nothing wrong with that. As long as you can respect his boundaries whenever he voices it, there won’t be any problems. Be sure to voice yours too, he doesn’t want to overstep any of yours either.

He’s a listener. Ramble about the most random stuff to him and he’d unintentionally take in the information. Sometimes you just going on and on about stuff makes it easier to work on his homework even if what you’re rambling about is related to your own work. If random factoids aren’t exactly what he’s looking for, playing music also helps. You can take turns playing music. He rambles too but not all the time. Usually it’s something relating to his engineering class.

Sebastian can cook up something really good whenever he feels like it. It’s not super fancy but he can recreate some of his mom’s recipes. When it’s not that, it’s just a simple peanut butter and jelly sandwich or something microwaved. It really depends on the mood he’s in. If you cook, try making something he hasn’t had, like a dish from your country. He’s always willing to try.

Quality time type of partner. You don’t really need to be doing anything, he’s happy just being in the same room as you.

You two are watching YouTube videos on his laptop in bed late at night until you both fall asleep. One of you sometimes wakes up to put the laptop away, while other times it was almost kicked off the bed. Thankfully it hasn’t happened yet.

Game date nights. Whether it’s PvP or Co-op, you’re both playing. Local or online, doesn’t matter. As long as it’s multiplayer. Sebastian does strikes me as a rogue-like, souls, shooter type of gamer though. He probably picked up Sims at some point and got way too into making houses rather than actually making Sims. Sometimes he playa horror but it scares the shit out of him most of the time.

He sometimes plays his guitar for you, even asking if you have any requests. If you ask nicely enough, he’d help you learn how to play if you don’t already. If you actually end up getting your own, he’d be so down to play with you.

Meeting with his family is pretty much a must (his mom wants to meet you). His big sister embarrasses him by telling you just how much he “gushes” about you. In reality, he talks about you to them whenever they ask and if you two are going out just so they know and to not call or text him or anything until then. Still, his family likes you and that’s all he wants.

Post-Experimentation

Remember how I said Sebastian isn’t exactly uncomfortable with touch? Yeah, now he is. He has a bubble around him and he does not like it when someone gets too close whether it was intentional or not. His reaction to it can vary from shoving them away to a more violent reaction that may lead to a serious injury or even death.

Upon finding a corpse and being so terribly hungry, he had to try and force himself to eat it. The idea of eating another person made him want to spit it all out, to regurgitate all of it out. Flesh, bones, intestines, lungs, liver, heart… “Keep it in your stomach. You won’t find much food after this.” Eventually, he was able to stomach it. Eventually, it became natural.

If you’ve known him before all of this and he meets up with you while the lockdown is still happening, yeah he has questions cause what the hell. He wants to keep you safe, but if you stay around too long, Urbanshade might get suspicious that they lost an expendable’s signal. It’s already bad enough that they want him dead, and the scrambler can be a dead giveaway if their operatives suddenly can’t contact HQ. Just don’t die while you’re out there, please. It’d also be best if they don’t find out about your much deeper connection with him, so there’s another reason why it’d be difficult to stay in touch with each other in the facility.

He’d try to get in touch with Painter just to let him know about you. Lead the Good People away, shoot down a wall dweller that you haven’t noticed yet, all that stuff. He can’t do much about the bull shark, squiddles, and the anglers but he can try to do something about Pandemonium. Unlike the anglers, it’s not a cloud of smoke and is really just rotting flesh.

Physical touch with him in this case is still complicated. He’s very uncomfortable with it and it may take a while for him to warm up to your touch again. He’s not gonna hit you or anything, god no. If you were anyone else, one he doesn’t know, absolutely. He’ll try to express that. The topic itself is sensitive and he never likes bringing it up.

Assuming Mr. Lopee has taken an interest in you and allows you to keep coming back after every death, Sebastian is more willing to help you. Will he give you a discount though? No, especially not if there are other expendables with you. (he will slip in a battery or two though) It’s also a little less worry for him since death isn’t the end for you, but he wonders just how long it’ll take for Urbanshade to realize one of their prisoners is capable of coming back to life. You’re not supposed to have access to the Ferryman Tokens. The expendable protocol was specifically made so that Urbanshade didn’t have to use so much of them.

If you happen to come across something rare or something he usually sells at a high price, he’d appreciate it if you allowed him to take it off your hands and sell it to one of the other EXR-Ps. More intel from them means a higher chance of escaping (hopefully). You two will likely be stuck here for a while as long as no one else takes the crystal before then.

yeah uh

that’s all i got 🧍

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

hello! i just saw your post about Tokyo debunker ! 🫶 and I wanted to request something :

can you do haku, romeo, sho and Rui with an easily flustered reader ?

thank you ! hope it’s not a bother 🙌

Hi Anon! Thank you for your request! I hope you like the headcanons!

Fandom: Tokyo Debunker

Characters: Haku Kusanagi, Romeo Lucci, Sho Haizono, Rui Mizuki x gn! Reader (separate)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How do the characters react when you get super easily flustered?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ooh, Haku’s going to have so much fun with you. He’s a naturally flirty person and that’s only going to increase when he finds out how easy you are to fluster.

Whether it’s a compliment or a teasing comment, he just loves being able to openly express his feelings and seeing you flustered is an added bonus.

I feel like Haku would never take it too far though. If you ever express discomfort, he’ll stop straight away and apologise for his actions.

He’ll also check in with you a few days later just to make sure he hasn’t made you truly uncomfortable. He does care about you after all.

Romeo swears he’s not even trying. It must just be his natural good looks and suave attitude.

He thinks you’re kind of cute when you get flustered. Not as cute as him of course but certainly cuter than anyone else.

He likes seeing you get like that but probably won’t go out fo his way to fluster you. He’s got a lot of things to do and as much as he’d love to, he doesn’t have time.

On the other hand, if anyone else makes you flustered, he’s going to make time to chew them out. He’s the only one who can make you flustered, got that?

I think Sho would be middle of the road with this. Sure, he likes seeing you flustered, but I don’t think he would go overboard to fluster you.

I think he’d do things a lot more subtly than the others. Whether it’s making your favourite food or complimenting your outfit, he likes making you flustered through little actions.

I feel like Sho can be pretty easily flustered as well so if you retaliate in any way, you’ll both end up flustered messes.

Sho’s also not someone who would ever take things too far. Since he’s a lot more lowkey, he’s at less risk of overstepping boundaries than the others.

Rui’s a lot like Haku in the sense that he’s very flirty and likes seeing you flustered. I think he might be a bit more over the top with his comments.

I think he would actually be quite surprised to see how easily you get flustered by his words and actions.

But as soon as he realises how much he likes seeing you flustered, Rui’s going to somehow up the ante. He’s already flirting non stop but you’ll never get a break now.

Of course, if it gets too much, Rui will notice and back down. He’s pretty observant and he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable and drive you away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[skzxlevanter]

stray kids reaction with a shy and quiet s/o

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

warnings: petnames, besides that overall fluff, a bit possessive and suggestive if you squint, but not really

found this in my drafts so i decided to complete this cute little drabble :) I’m sorry that there’s not a lot of content coming rn, but i’m still preparing for two remaining finals so i just don’t have the mental capacity and time,,hope you guys understand :/

besides that, enjoy the drabble and feel free to check out other things from my blog :D

bang chan:

oh well he would be so flustered when you get flustered and the two of you would just be a flushing mess most of the time

he really tries everything to not make you uncomfortable, also ordering for you at places and he would be more than patient with you, not wanting to overwhelm you in any way, also being a 100% protective of you

but at the same time he’d try to make things with you that make you come of your shell a bit, things that you usually wouldn’t do, but still not overstepping any boundaries, always letting you know that he‘s here for you

and like i said, he kinda likes it when you get all shy and blushy, sometimes making you blush on purpose and teasing you endlessly for it <3

lee minho

even tho he’d seem quite confident at first, i honestly think that he could be a little set back by the fact that you barely showed affection, but when he figures out that you’re just shy he takes it to his full advance

he does not miss a chance to flutter you when he can by giving you intense glares, or locking you between the wall and him in traditional k-drama style just to see your reaction, but never going overboard because hurting you or making you uncomfortable would actually break his heart

still, he loves it so much when you start to blush and ramble all kind of things when you’re stunned, breaking out into his signature bunny-like smile once he can‘t hold back anymore

and like chan, he would be super patient with you, giving you the space you need until your comfortable around him, not minding at all

seo changbin:

i can see him throwing around endless jokes just to see you getting all shy

he’ll also flex his muscles right in front of you just to see your signature blush

but besides that, even tho he doesn’t really want to admit this, the fact that you’re shy makes him kinda shy too so it might be a bit awkward at first

but the more you open up to each other, the more comfortable you get around each other and the more confident the two of you get

will definitely gently hold your hand anytime ( if you’re okay with it) and loves the time he spends with you nevertheless

hwang hyunjin

he probably wouldn’t quite know how to handle it at first, leading to a lot of awkward laughs

but over time, he’ll grow used to it and takes his time to get to know you as good as he can, letting you get comfortable around him, inviting you to various activities with him like drawing, galleries, random walks, etc…

that is when he’ll start to give you lots of heartfelt compliments, showing how much he appreciates you and helping you to get more confident in your own skin

overall he’ll be so gentle and loving at all times, aware to not hurt your feelings, but still trying to help you grow in the best way possible

han jisung

at first so.many.awkward.silences.

han is still an introvert at heart, so at first he’d don’t know what to do, a lot of doubts about himself rising up, buy when he realizes that it is just how you are, he’ll step up and warm up rather quickly

he’ll start talking non-stop over things he likes, asking you lots of questions while he’s at it to include you too

tries to make you laugh all the time, secretly loves how cute you look when you’re shy and get that little blush on your cheeks

but be ready to fight over who has to order or call people because that is something you’d both despise

lee felix

he’d be so gentle with you. seriously. he would act like you’re about to break any second

he’d immediately notice when you’re uncomfortable, not shying away from speaking up for you when you are and is just constantly making sure you’re okay

“everything alright, love?” // “anything on your mind, you look like something is off?” // “should i speak to them for you?”

in conclusion he will not let anyone make you uncomfortable, including himself, so he always watches your reactions and makes sure to never overstep your boundaries ever <3

kim seungmin

he can be such a menace,, exactly knowing how to push your buttons and thoroughly enjoying when you get all shy and will never stop teasing you

he also loves to take your shyness to his advantage, knowing you love to bury your flushed face in his neck and cuddle into him in embarrassment, so he basically can get affection without actually having to ask for it ;)

but like the others,, he’ll never hurt you, he knows when to stop and won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with

being at public places will also contain a lot of teasing, especially when it comes to ordering something, but in the end he’ll order for you and get you everything you want because he’s a sucker for you

yang jeongin

probably starts to giggle every time you visibly get shy over something, causing him to blush a bit himself

with him there always be a very fine line between him teasing and pushing you a bit out of your comfort zone and him getting shy too,,,but that actually makes it more easy for you to get comfortable, seeing that he can get all blushy and all over the place too

the relationship would therefore be pretty balanced, the two of you respecting each other’s boundaries but also growing together too, maybe even setting small challenges to achieve from time to time to get a bit more confident

but in the end, dates would mostly end up in quiet places or just at home, where the two of you are all in private and comfortable without a soul (be aware of incidents with the other boys tho) interrupting you

masterlist

[sacrednova]

Still Missus Riley | Simon "Ghost" Riley.

Simon as a fem!reader's ex-husband:

Simon still remembers every little thing about her. He brings her favorite tea or coffee every week, showing up with groceries she might need, still knowing her schedule and preferences by heart. “Habit,” he’d say gruffly if she questioned him. But he doesn’t want to let go of that rhythm. It's his way of grounding himself, still feeling connected.

Despite the divorce, Simon continues to refer to her as Mrs. Riley—even if it’s to himself. To him, the vows they made still hold weight, and he doesn’t consider the divorce anything but a bad dream. He’s never missed a chance to let her know, “Still my wife,” if someone else tries to flirt with her. If she argues, he might mutter, “Divorce papers don’t change what’s in here,” tapping his chest.

Simon still feels deeply protective. If he senses someone hurting or disrespecting her—even if it’s someone she’s dating—he’ll make his presence known. He shows up to fix things around her apartment or steps in when he thinks someone is taking advantage of her. She might call it overbearing, but to him, it’s just his duty. And he doesn’t plan on giving it up.

When she’s feeling down, Simon has a way of just knowing. He still gives her space but drops by with dinner or a blanket on bad days. If she questions why, he shrugs and says, “Husband’s job, innit?” He’ll act as if it’s only natural, dismissing her protests like he can’t even hear them.

Seeing her with someone else stirs something dark in him. He acts cool and nonchalant on the surface, but she’ll catch the way he lingers around longer, watching her interactions. He might even drop a passive-aggressive comment like, “Hope he treats you right,” when he leaves, letting her know he’s still deeply invested, still hers.

Little pieces of her life still linger in his space. Maybe it’s her favorite mug, a scarf she forgot, or even the blanket he keeps around for when she’s cold. He doesn’t give them back, and she might notice they’re always ready for her whenever she drops by. It’s as if he’s building a small shrine to the life they shared, unable to let go of these reminders.

Occasionally, Simon slips, calling her “love” or “darling” like he used to. When she gives him a pointed look, he might grunt, brush it off, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. Even if they’re “separated,” he’s emotionally anchored to her, and every time he has to pull away, it’s like leaving a part of himself behind. For Simon, she’ll always be Mrs. Riley—divorce or not.

He hates that he still loves her. Simon knows they’re divorced; he knows that he should respect her space, but he can’t help himself. He never stopped caring, never stopped thinking of her as his wife. Even if he’s quiet and reserved, the way his eyes soften when he sees her, the way he touches her shoulder for just a second too long, all give him away. He never voices it, but she knows, and he knows she knows.

Any man that even looks at her for more than two seconds gets that unblinking, icy stare. Simon isn’t subtle about it either. He’s not above scaring off guys who get a little too close for his liking, muttering to himself, “They don’t know you like I do. Don’t know what they’re asking for.” He even goes as far as tracking the ones she does talk to, and while he’s careful to not intrude, he’s fully prepared to step in if anyone oversteps the invisible boundaries he’s set around her.

[phoenixeclipse-lmkau]

How would the warlords react if the reader wasn't interested in any sexual activities? Only light kisses, hugs, cuddles

They would get over it. Basically they would be disappointed but they aren’t going to overstep THAT big of boundaries. They tend to go to extremes at times but they won’t force contact like that. They’ll get what they get and they will be happy with it.

This doesn’t mean they won’t try to get Reader to drink water from the mother-child river (It’s not the mother-mother river like I first thought… oops) anyways they will still attempt to get you to have their child. IF they know that you want children. If you don’t want children then they’ll adopt, they won’t force anything like that.

While these two would try to baby trap you they would only do so if they believe/know you would love the child. They don’t want you to carry a child you don’t want or make you carry it. They will hope that you care for cubs that they may ‘adopt.’ They don’t really see many as THEIR cubs and see them more as students.

The first cub they see as truly theirs is MK.

…How did I go off about cubs? Eh, I’m keeping it in this ask.

>>>

“You don’t like sex?” Wukong asked, his voice filled with confusion at your words, clearly not understanding why.

“No, I just- I don’t like a lot of sexual stuff. I don’t mind the light kisses and cuddles… I just feel really uncomfortable going further than that you know?” You responded softly, looking down embarrassed.

Macaque sat next to you pulling you into a hug, “That’s alright darling. We’ll take what you let us but not more than that.”

Wukong was pouting off to the side before giving a soft smile. He knew that he wouldn’t force himself on you either. He may want to have sex but he didn’t need it, besides he supposed that could be something that he kept for himself and Macaque. If you didn’t want it then it could just be their thing.

So he took what you would let him. Which in this case was cuddles. He jumped onto you and Macaque causing you to squeal. Your let out a squeal from shock as he cuddled to you with a joyful sound. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling he was so happy right now even after what you said.

You were just happy that he wasn’t angry about it all.

[cowboygenesis]

2: a sweet brew | din djarin x reader

part 2 of the "brown eyes" series: masterlist and spotify playlist.

pairing: din djarin x reader

chapter warnings: none.

word count: 6.4k

series summary: din settles on the distant planet of lazure prime while seeking a safe-haven for his son. unbeknownst to him, the choice leads him to unforeseen threats—and a deeper connection he never thought possible.

notes: welcome to part 2! i've been having so much fun with this fic, and i hope that you stay with me for this ride... thank you so much for the love on part 1! edit: chapter 1 and 2 have been revised. enjoy!

The walk home is comfortably silent.

Your boots tap rhythmically against the stone pathway when you exit town. Momentarily, you cringe as the sound seems noisier than you'd like in the calm of the afternoon; especially when compared to the near-silent steps of the man trailing inches behind you.

He trots a few paces back, his presence palpable yet inconspicuous, and though you’re painfully curious, you don’t once muster the confidence to glance over your shoulder.

And now, you can picture him surveying the area, ever-vigilant within the safety of his armor as you lead the way in nothing but commoner clothes. When you make the mental comparison, you’re urged to turn to him and say: ‘You can relax, it’s safe here. When we arrive, I’ll cook you a hearty meal, and you’ll feel at home for a while’ — but you know it’s out of line, so instead, your eyebrows furrow.

It’s not an appropriate trail of thought to have about a stranger, yet you recognize it’s been years since you got to care for someone the way you’re afforded to now. Picturing it feels more foreign than reality suggests, and so you bite down on your lip to shake the memories away. Another time, you think.

The soft hum of the floating orb is the only thing to break your inner monologue. For that, you thank it silently. You managed to take a single good glance at it when you were handing him his purchase back at the market, and you’ve been wondering about the contents ever since.

You catch its sleek, metal exterior from the corner of your eye with a slim line running horizontally along its length, and yet again think it has to be some kind of storage unit. On the contrary, you haven’t seen him open it once, even now as five paper parcels crowd his arms.

Briefly, you imagine it to be a weapon. Maybe multiple. You wouldn't put those options beyond a bounty hunter, especially one of his stoic, careful mein.

Weapons. The kind that can hurt or kill you if placed in the right— or wrong— hands.

With that, you realize it’s a tricky game you’re playing, perhaps even dangerous— yet you’re unafraid. It’s a small town you live in and if the man were truly out to get you, word would spread fast. In fact, it’s not a scenario you’ve been bothered by at any point of your leisurely, albeit unusual, walk. You exhale sharply.

"That… floating orb you carry," you begin, but your head doesn’t turn to him. You’d need a load more confidence for that, something you can’t be afforded just yet. "What’s inside?”

The question hangs in the air, and for a brief moment, you regret asking whatsoever. Perhaps you had overstepped a boundary or poked your uncouth nose into some seriously perilous business, but before you can retract your words, his response comes.

"Something precious," he says, and the modulated voice offers no further detail to your searching mind.

You nod, yet the wonder threatens you to push on it further and ask more, ask more, ask— you don’t let it. Instead, you breathe in gradually to soothe the savage beast that is your curiosity.

You offer a small, earnest smile, hoping that even though he’s unable to see it, he might just hear it in the way you speak to him. "Must be important to carry it everywhere."

“It is,” he counters without a beat, and that’s the end of it; no further explanation, no jokes, nothing. With just two words he has deemed the conversation over, and you heed it.

You sneak a quick glance at the orb floating beside him, and the answer echoes in your mind—something precious. But what could a man like him consider precious, anyway?

But you know better than to ask. Over the course of your life, you’ve learned that some mysteries are meant to stay unsolved, and some questions are better left unanswered.

Finally, your house comes into view in the distance, just beyond a thicket: the quaint little cottage you know and adore, standing between two apple trees and greeting you silently with its familiar picket fence. Your pace quickens gradually, legs eager to reach the friendly comforts of home.

The quiet presence behind you feels heavier now, a fact you notice with the man’s footsteps becoming sparse as you approach.

You push open the gate and pause at the threshold, turning to him for the first time since leaving town. His visor turns to you, briefly reflecting the golden sunlight that seeps into your eyes. You squint and quickly glance away, blinking the sunlight from your vision. His helmet remains fixed on you, unreadable as ever, and the silence stretches just a little longer than feels comfortable to you.

“Here we are,” you finally say, your voice soft as you gesture toward the cottage behind you. The words feel a little weak, but you mean them— it’s not much, but it’s yours.

You stand at the brink of the curb, waiting for any sign of what he might be pondering. Instead, he merely steps closer, the buzz of the metal orb following him.

He halts just before the gate, his visor tilting slightly toward the house before coming back to you. For a heartbeat, you think you see something shift in his stance, some subtle change in his posture, but it’s gone as quickly as it appears.

Your heart skips a quiet beat and you inhale deeply.

Are you… are you feeling insecure? It’s not the first time you’re having guests over, yet something about this specific encounter makes you double-check your whole presence. In the heat of the moment, you choke it up to a fear of the unknown, and leave it at that.

“Come on in, then,” you continue, pushing open the fence gate. It creaks softly, reminding you that its goal has always been a bit more decorative than practical.

At some point during a hot summer’s day, you decided to adorn the wood with an assortment of painted flowers. The job was hasty and improvised, yet the final product looked good enough to snag you a few compliments from your neighbors. Of course, you doubt your new buddy even notices.

He hesitates, and you realize he’s probably waiting for you to enter first. You want to chuckle— it’s not like you’re exactly a threat to him in your current state, but he’s definitely not one to risk such a thing one way or another.

You give him a tight-lipped smile, nod, then step in. As usual, you hear his quiet footsteps trailing behind you, down the stone path and up the porch stairs. The wind chimes rustle with the wind, and you notice it’s picked up since the morning. It’d be good to get some rain today, you think, you’ve missed the way the air smells then.

“I hope you don’t mind the mess, I wasn’t expecting… guests,” you explain with a polite chuckle, tugging on the door handle and letting it swing open with your weight.

You drop the customs this time around and walk in first, breathing in the familiar scent of caf leftover from your breakfast. As you’re about to offer him some, you remember that a meal is probably in order first and foremost. Besides, considering how long you’ve had the box in your pantry, it’s probably better he avoids drinking it at all.

You give him a short glance, then point to the living room area. It’s quaint, with a soft couch, large loveseat, and a coffee table— naturally, on it sits your small audio system, transmitting a rowdy, laughter-filled conversation between two talk hosts.

“Do you know how to use a HoloWave? It’s not that fancy of a model, but the signal is good enough to reach most of the Outer Rim,” you shrug, untying your cloak and hanging it by the doorway. “Feel free to switch the channel to something you like; my Huttese is pretty rusty, anyway.”

He looks at you, and you offer him a soft smile in return before pivoting towards your stove. If you’ve learned anything about your guest, is that he’s a man of very, very few words. You trust him to occupy himself while you do your thing in the kitchen.

You roll up your sleeves and rinse your hands in the sink. The cool water feels refreshing, and you opt to splash some on your face.

In the background, you hear the sudden flicker of the Holo signal. It buzzes, breaks, and you suddenly realise the man must’ve taken you upon your offer.

You hear him skim through the channels, letting most run a few seconds before moving ahead.

A small, satisfied smile creeps onto your lips, and you take a few pots and pans from the cupboards. He hasn’t requested anything specific for the meal, and… as a matter of fact, he hasn’t requested anything at all. The lunch offer ultimately came from you, and the stranger was nice enough to go along with it.

You sigh, then open your cooler. Inside, you spot an open jar of your preserves, some paper-wrapped meat, vegetables, and a large variety of homemade sauces lining the shelves. You’ve always enjoyed cooking, but your meals tend to be simple and homely, which you deem unworthy of a brand-new guest.

You start unloading the contents of your cooler onto the counter when a steady stream of conversation from the HoloWave catches your attention. Two men chat in Basic, discussing something that momentarily piques your curiosity.

“Nevarro?” you repeat aloud, echoing the talk-show hosts’ words. You keep your back to the man behind you, who now seems engrossed in the broadcast. “That’s light-years away.”

You try to recall the rudimentary information you have on the desolate planet. It’s a hell-hole, for one. Two, it doesn’t take too kindly to regular folk. Finally, the Empire dabbles in a ton of secrecy and has long ago claimed it as its special ops base.

He remains silent as the conversation on the HoloWave continues, mentioning recent disruptions on the planet caused by a bounty hunter linked to some infamous syndicate. The details are murky and mostly alien, making you assume the channel might be covering something more specialized or regional. You wonder if your guest was seeking out this channel on purpose.

Could he be connected to this, somehow? No, no. You shake the thought away and deem it unfound paranoia. After all, there was no reason for people of his kind to visit planets like Lazure— safe-havens for peaceful folk like you to live out their lives in harmony.

Unless he had an active hit.

You never knew much about bounty-hunting guilds, as they were more a figment of folklore where you grew up. Regardless, you didn’t need a formal education on this topic to understand that people in his profession made it a point to keep quiet and subtle while on the job. But, you knew nothing of him— matter of factly, you weren’t even certain he was a bounty hunter in the first place.

“What’s your name?” you speak out, eyes widening at how stern your voice sounds after your inner musings.

You turn around, hands on the counter as you press your spine against the edge. The man looks at you with a curious tilt of his helmet and seems to study you for a moment before making any haste decisions.

You give him time— to study you, to think, to answer at his own pace. The air between you is lax, and although he’s silent, you wait patiently for a chance to listen.

“Din,” he finally sounds out, and hearing his modulated voice after such a long period of your own monologuing makes electricity shoot down your back. Is it a real name, or a clever alias to shield his real identity from a stranger? You decide to indulge the fantasy that he trusts you for now.

Din. You want to test the name on your lips, know how it sounds with your accent, your lilt, yet you abstain for now. Once he’s gone, you’ll have all the time in the world to muse over it.

You give him a curt nod before slowly turning back to your cutting board. Once you do, your lips widen into a pleased smile. Din.

Then, you give him your name. It’s quiet when it leaves your lips, yet you’re certain it reaches him even through the thrum of the talk show. Just like you, he doesn’t question it or ask for more; yet you imagine he mutters it under his breath from within the privacy of his helmet. The image, albeit fabricated, makes you warm.

You go back to focusing on your task, unwrapping the meat from its delicate parcel and chopping it at a leisurely but practiced pace. As you work, you let the talk show hosts’ voices serve as a quiet backdrop to your jumbled thoughts. Most of the terminology drifts past you as you tune in, but you listen regardless.

Once you’ve finished preparing the ingredients, you hear the channel flicker again, its signal briefly interrupted before fading back into a soft, nostalgic melody.

The instrumental starts with a quiet guitar solo that slowly transitions into a fiery soul piece. The hearty voice of your favourite singer erupts from the Holo, and the lyrics spring to your mind like a mantra. As the robust tune fills the room, you’re instantly swept up in its acquaintance.

As your fingers move deftly across the skillet, you begin to hum along with it, stirring the vegetables as they soften and caramelize.

The chorus begins, and for a moment you shift somewhere far away. The recollection is hazy at first, but soon, you remember it vividly.

Then, it all comes pouring down on you without a warning: your body stiffens as a memory dug deep in your brain begins to claw its way out of the crevices.

You see your old quarters.

Your ex-bunkmate is there, her familiar figure draped in nothing but a fluffy towel, damp strands of hair clinging to her neck as she sits cross-legged at your shared desk.

The air smells of fresh soap. Her brow is furrowed in concentration, chewing absentmindedly on the eraser end of a pencil as she puzzles over a half-finished crossword. Starlight filters through the narrow viewport, casting her in a soft, silvery glow, and in the background, that same tune plays quietly through your old HoloWave. It’s a different model, yet the music is unmistakably and painfully paralleled.

She hums, her voice breathy compared to your honeyed one now, matching the melody as it drifts through the cramped room. It’s ordinary—peaceful, even—but now, as you stand idly over your stove, it feels heavier than ever.

For a fleeting moment, you can almost hear her voice again. If you concentrate enough you know you’ll recall the way her lips would quirk up when she solved a puzzle, and the way she’d look at you afterward with a satisfied grin that made the rest of the universe disappear— if only for a second.

Your chest tightens, and the hum dies in your throat.

You’re about to excuse yourself to your bedroom when a voice sounds out from behind you.

“Hey,”

When you spin around with wide eyes, you see Din sitting at your two-seat dining table, visor pointed at you, and his body surprisingly relaxed.

“Hey,” you greet back with a nervous smile, hands shaking as they return to stirring the pan absent-mindedly. Despite your body going through a sort of shock, you feel your mind slowly withdrawing from the dark as he seems to look at you. You thank the Maker for his timing.

“How far is it to the capital from here?” he questions, voice pleasantly husky as his gloved palm smooths the surface of the table mindlessly.

You drop the chopped produce into the hot skillet with a satisfying hiss and puff your cheeks in thought. The moisture hits the surface and crackles, the sizzle filling your ears alongside the melody from the Holo. It’s a different one now, a mellow orchestral you’re unfamiliar with.

“Mon Kilim is a three-day walk from Terrine,” you explain, tilting your head to look at him once in a while. “We’re a bit unfortunate to be cut-off from the main roads, though, so you’d have to make a trek through the forest. There’s a river that takes you there if you follow it down-stream, but because the treeline is so thick, it gets real dark at night.”

As the vegetables begin to soften, you open a jar of your preserves. The lid pops off with a soft click, releasing the rich, fruity fragrance into the air. You spoon a generous portion into the skillet, the thick jam coating the ingredients and melding into the sizzling mixture. The scent is mouthwatering—sweet, savory, and just the right amount of spice.

You catch Din’s helmet tilt downwards as he seems to ponder your words. You sigh sympathetically.

“…But our head merchant, Poiko, has an old speeder at his disposal,” you elaborate, and watch Din’s visor meet you again. “He makes a trip to Mon Kilim once every moon cycle, so if you’re patient and good enough at bribery, you might be able to catch a ride with him.”

“When will he travel again?”

“Well… he’s away as we speak. Left this morning. I think he’s planning to stay overnight this time, too, so you’re out of luck. Sorry, Din.”

He stays silent for a beat. For a moment you worry you might have said something wrong.

“So it’ll be another month until he travels again?” Din asks, and you hum in acknowledgment.

You take a deep breath, savoring the rich scents. Quietly, you wonder if the stranger, still in his helmet, can smell the decadence you’re cooking up for him. Could he smell the flowers in your garden when you stood on the porch? The worn corduroy of your couch?

“And before you ask, I doubt he’ll let you borrow it. I’ve heard it cost him a small fortune, so he’s understandably a little protective,” you chuckle softly, “Plus, it’s an old Imperial model. The fuel is expensive and the spare parts are virtually unattainable, so most mechanics refuse to take care of the thing.”

You hear Din begin his retort when suddenly, you feel a tug at your skirt. You dismiss it as your imagination playing tricks on you at first, but almost on cue, the pull comes again.

You look down, and your eyes widen.

There, on your wooden parquet floor, sits a creature—light green with large, black eyes and comically big ears. It blinks up at you, cooing softly as its three-fingered hands tug at the hem of your skirt.

For a moment, it seems like both you and Din are rendered speechless at the sight. You drop the wooden spatula into the pan and instinctively crouch down to take a closer look at the strange critter.

“Hey, there,” you grin, extending a finger towards it. It looks like a youngling, but not one you’re familiar with. For a moment, you deduct it must be one of the neighborhood children, one you’ve perhaps omitted.

The child coos at you again, moving one of his grabby hands to your extended digit. His skin is velvet-like to the touch.

“Kid—” Din hisses, seemingly awoken from his shock. You catch him in your peripheral, shooting up from his chair and crouching down next to you. …Kid?

His gloved hands work quickly, grabbing the creature and placing it in his arms. Somehow, you don’t feel alarmed. The man’s hold is benevolent from what you can tell, cradling the little one’s body with an apt softness you wouldn’t expect from someone like him.

“Is he…” you begin, suddenly noting the proximity between you and the armored man. The green creature squirms in his hold, looking up at him with what you can only describe as mischief. “Is he yours?”

Din’s visor levels with you, and you can’t help but squint. You’ve never been closer, and somehow you hope to catch a glimpse of whatever is underneath that Maker-forsaken helmet.

There’s a moment where everything around you goes silent. Something in the air around you becomes apparent, and you can’t quite place it, but it hums underneath the surface, electric and taut.

“Yes,” he replies quietly, “he’s mine.”

You can’t help but connect the dots. Big eyes, green skin… is that what Din looks like underneath all that metal? Where would his ears even go in that helmet?

A chuckle rips from your throat at the image, and you aimlessly try to mask it with your palm over your lips.

His helmet tilts in question, and you shake your head dismissively.

“I’m sorry, I just thought of something,” you explain through your giggling fit, inhaling deeply to recall your calm mein. “He’s adorable. Snuck up on me without any noise, but I guess he learned from the best, so it’s no surprise.”

Din ponders your comment for a moment, looking down at his child. The little one is glancing at the counter now, reaching his hands towards what you assume he wants— the dinner you’ve been preparing. You mentally browse your cupboards, thinking whether you still have those child-friendly plastic utensils your friend left over years back.

You glance over at the little baby again, giving him a warm smile. So kriffin’ cute. “What’s his name?”

As usual, Din fills the air between you with silence before he speaks. You imagine that every time he does that, it’s because of caution. You know what it’s like, yet it still fascinates you.

“Grogu,” the man finally speaks, placing the kid on the floor again. He looks at his father in question. “He was orphaned before I took him in.”

Ah, an adoptive son. Your theory was wrong, after all.

“Grogu,” you repeat with a smile, and the child turns to you with a squeak. You can’t help but laugh at the reaction, and that seems to urge him to waddle towards you.

His movements are confident, yet the sack wrapping his body seems to restrict his movements enough to make it a hassle. Your hands reach out, and you’re ready to crouch down and embrace him when Din’s hands wrap around him again, pulling him back into his arms much to Grogu’s dismay.

Your grin drops to a lingering smile as you watch Din stand up, his kid tucked firmly under his elbow. “Alright, that’s enough.”

You follow suit, standing up with a soft sigh before returning to the stove. You bring the meat-filled chopping board to the pan and tilt it, letting the juicy pieces fall into the vegetable medley.

As you stir again, you catch Din walking towards the mysterious orb he had left in the living room. From afar, you watch him tap something on his gauntlet, the metal whooshing open seconds later. He mutters something to Grogu, placing the boy in— what you now know to be— a cradle.

“Is he ever a handful?” you tease with a warm chuckle as Din returns to the dining table. He sits back in the same chair, letting Grogu hover beside him in the now-open cradle. You watch the child gaze curiously around the room, his wide eyes drinking in every detail.

"Sometimes," he admits, voice low and quiet.

"You seem to handle him well," you say, glancing over your shoulder. Grogu has his eyes locked on you now, and when he catches your gaze, his little hands reach toward you again, a gurgling coo escaping his mouth.

You smile. If it wasn’t for Din watching over you, you’d probably be acting on your surge of cuteness-aggression at this very moment.

Din shifts slightly, his posture stiff. "He’s… special," he says finally. "Unpredictable."

You raise an eyebrow, sensing his apprehension to answer. But again, you don’t press.

"Oh, yeah?" you murmur, eyes softening as you look at Grogu. He’s settled down now, content to sit in his cradle, his big, soulful eyes still trained on you. You can’t imagine him to be a troublemaker, but again, you’ve never taken care of children of your own. Life simply had different plans for you, and you never thought yourself a family gal, anyway.

You turn your attention back to the meal, and when you taste-test a chunk of cooked meat, you finally deem the feast ready to serve.

"All done. I’m sorry it’s a little plain, I didn’t have much to work with, unfortunately," You stir the pot again, "It’s a quick twist on Karkan ribene, if you’re familiar. This was a hit with my friends back when I—" You stop yourself, realizing you’re teetering on private memories. "Back in the day," you finish with a small, tight smile. You’re a little disappointed, letting something so private come close to slipping out.

No curiousity bubbles up from his lips, and you appreciate it silently. He’s giving you the same respect you give him.

Din nods, and you start preparing the table. You set down three glasses and two sets of cutlery— one plastic, bright blue, and adorned with yellow stars— a fact you hope Grogu is old enough to appreciate.

“How old is he?” you suddenly question, withdrawing a half-full pitcher of sweet brew from your fridge. Finally, you place two bowls down, omitting your own. The breakfast has been keeping your belly full.

He tilts his helmet to you. “I don’t know. A friend of mine speculates he could be around fifty.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Fifty?” You repeat, filling each glass with the golden-brown drink. “Fascinating.”

Din nods at your comment as you raise the pan from your stove. With the spatula, you fill each bowl to the brim and murmur in satisfaction when you realize you’ll even have some leftovers for yourself.

You watch as Grogu attempts the first bite, his small hand knocking the spoon against the bowl with a soft clink.

“Is he older than you?” you question with a hint of mischief, putting the pan back on the stove and taking a seat in the chair opposite from Din. Your hands wrap around the textured glass, and you take a sip.

He tilts his head slightly, the movement almost hesitant— but your smile stays steady, warm, and inviting, and after a brief pause, he finally speaks.

“Slightly,” he admits, his voice carrying a note of amusement you hadn’t expected.

You blink, letting the information settle in, and your curiosity emerges anew.

“Really?” you say, leaning forward just a little, unable to hide the intrigue in your voice. You feel comfortable enough to toy with the idea of teasing him but finally decide against it.

Instead, you let a soft chuckle slip. “Well, he’s doing pretty well for a fifty-year-old,” you joke, glancing over at Grogu as he slurps happily at his bowl of stew.

The kid looks up at you, eyes blinking. His chubby hands fumble with the spoon, barely managing to get a bite into his mouth, but you find his spirit more than makes up for his lack of coordination.

“You think so?” Din questions, and you struggle to peg the question as serious or otherwise. Still, you let yourself chuckle again.

“Of course,” you nod, eyeing the little creature, “Quite a lifespan he must have. He’s��� he’s a baby, right?”

I mean, it’d be awkward to find out he’s actually a grown man after you had given him that cute, star-speckled set of cutlery.

“He’s still a child, yes,” the man nods, joining you in watching over Grogu as he eats. “His species can live up to a millenium.”

Your jaw drops. Millenium? Surely, you’ve misheard.

“Millenium? Like, a-thousand-years-millenium?” you question, looking to Din with a shocked grin.

You hear a muffled sound coming from his helmet. Now that you think about it, it does obscure his communication just a tad. You don’t mind.

“Yes, one thousand years,” he affirms, tilting his head when Grogu coos at a piece of meat. “His species is rare, so there’s little else I know about his life cycle.”

You nod, taking a sip of your sweet tea. It’s pretty incredible, you’ve met plenty of alien species in your life, yet none of them quite as mysterious as little Grogu.

“Must be a big responsibility, taking care of such a rare baby,” you joke half-heartedly, looking over to Din with a grin. He’s still looking at his child, fist rapping at the edge of the table.

He shifts in his seat, and though he remains still, you sense something stir behind the visor.

“He’s worth it,” he says, breaking the silence with his resolute tone. It sends a jolt down your spine.

You meet his gaze—or at least, the blank stare of his helmet—and something unspoken passes between you. There’s more to this, you know it, but such is the case in every story. Even your own.

For a moment, you let the air between you settle. The cool breeze sends your thin curtains flying, the scent of your meal lingering warmly in the space between you.

After a few more bites, you break the quiet again, this time with a gentler tone. “How long has it been since you took him in?”

Din nods, though you imagine there’s much more he could say if he wanted to. “A while,” he affirms.

You nod, and the weight of his words tells you he probably lost count of the days. If anything, you wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t count the days at all, as you couldn’t really imagine him crossing squares off a calendar, or worse, writing down important dates for him and his son. 21st, Grogu’s birthday. 3rd, secure bounty. Your lips curve at the fantasy.

Din’s visor turns toward you, and you wonder, for just a moment, what expression might be hidden beneath. Maybe there’s a trace of a smile on his face, one that mirrors yours.

“He seems happy,” you hum earnestly.

You feel a breeze stir behind your window, picking up speed and swirling the trees nearby.

“I try,” Din says simply, and the words, yet again, hang in the air as you both watch Grogu slurp down the last of his stew.

The quiet moment lingers, and you glance over at Din’s own untouched portion. The bowl is still steaming gently, so you look back up at him with a quirked eyebrow. “Are you not hungry?”

He shifts in his chair slightly, glancing down at the hefty portion. For a split second, you hope it’s to his liking.

“I… can’t,” Din replies quietly, his voice tinged with apprehension.

Your curious eyes connect with his visor, and he takes a moment to collect himself before granting you an explanation— one he doesn’t owe you at all, you realize.

“My religion demands I keep my face hidden from any living, breathing thing,” he trails, taking a brief glance at his child. The boy plays with his utensils, clicking and clacking them together and glancing up at his dad as if looking for a hint of approval. “…Except him.”

“I understand,” you nod, giving him a reassuring smile. You’ve never heard of such a doctrine in your life, yet the universe holds many secrets, religions, and philosophies. It’d be unwise of you to denounce something you don’t understand in its full capacity.

“I appreciate the meal, but I can’t eat with you.”

“Din,” you finally speak his name out loud, and it feels so natural rolling off your tongue. His helmet seems to fix on yours again, more attentive than ever. You repeat your question, this time with a gentle insistence. ”Aren’t you hungry?”

He sighs through the modulator, a sharp, metallic wheeze. “I’ll eat on the ship.”

But the answer doesn’t satisfy you.

Without another word, you rise from your chair. The old wood creaks softly beneath you as you grab your half-finished glass of sweet brew and look at him with a warm smile. You need not look at his face to know he’s puzzled.

“I’ll wait in the garden. You can close the windows, shut the blinds… even lock the door, if you like,” you trail, approaching the doorway and sliding into your woven slippers. “And if you’re comfortable, take your helmet off. Eat your fill, have a drink— take a break, if only for a little while.”

There’s a moment of comfortable silence that befalls you after your suggestion drops. His gaze is still on you, watching, scanning, considering.

And finally, when you catch his nod, you smile.

Your eyes gleam when they catch Grogu’s, his hands extending towards you in… curiosity? Farewell?

From a distance, you glimpse his little face splotched in bits of sauce.

“Bye, baby!” you chuckle, raising a hand to wave at the child. Your gaze moves to Din, and the smile on your face softens. “Take your time. I’ll be out front.”

He nods again, watching as you open the front door with a gentle creak. Your stares linger on each other, and you’re almost compelled to stay… nope. Nothing good ever came from overeagerness.

With one last look at the pair, you step into the outside world. The air hits your face, reddening your cheeks and mussing your hair.

You take a deep breath, letting the floral fragrance settle around you as you walk down the porch steps. Turning right towards the apple tree, you spot the wooden swinging bench beneath its canopy.

A patterned, purple blanket covers its length, and you grab it unceremoniously with your free hand. With a sigh you settle onto the bench, feeling it rock gently with your weight.

You drape the blanket over your shoulders and shimmy around. The warmth of the fabric is a satisfying embrace, and you take a few sips of your cool, sweet brew to even out your body’s temperature.

Your eyes wander over the garden, taking in the verdant greenery. To your delight, the coreberries you planted last season are pushing through the soil, tiny, unripe fruits just beginning to show. The fruit is tart on its own, but perhaps sweetens through maceration— it’s something you have never tried, but make sure to take a mental note for later.

Inside, you hear the subtle rustle of Din closing the blinds, and you smile when you realize he leaves the window open; perhaps it’s just to let in the fresh, afternoon air, yet your mind likes to conjure another reality, one that makes your heart and body warm.

You sip your brew again, savoring its sweetness. The garden lights begin to cast a gentle, ambient glow as twilight slowly approaches. The soft rustling of the wind chimes mingles with the distant hum of insects, creating a soothing soundtrack that harmonizes with your mood.

You lean back on the bench, gazing up at the sky as it shifts from golden to hues of pink and purple— an ordinary end to a most peculiar day.

The glass in your hand is empty now, condensation beading along its rim. You’re just starting to lose yourself to the soft sounds of the evening when the door to your house creaks open again.

From the corner of your eye, you catch the soft hum of the hovering metal sphere as it emerges. Grogu, nestled safely inside, peeks out at the world with half-lidded eyes, his tiny hands resting on the edges of the crib as though the meal had lulled him into a food-induced stupor.

Moments later, Din steps through the doorway, his armored form unmistakable. You tilt your head slightly, the bench swinging gently as a small, contented smile tugs at your lips.

Din spots you immediately, and surely enough, his helmet is right where it belongs; perched comfortably on his shoulders. Briefly, you feel a pang of dismay at the fact.

“We’re leaving,” he declares, walking down the porch steps and approaching you. He keeps a distance, but even from your position, you can tell his posture seems lax compared to when he first stepped into your home.

“Okay,” you reply, your voice steady though your heart tightens a little at the words.

There’s a beat of silence as Din nods. His visor remains fixed on you, lingering for longer than usual, and you realize your eyes are locked on it as well. Embarrassed, you clear your throat, glancing away briefly to collect yourself. The last thing you want is for this moment to end so soon.

“I’ll make sure to prepare this little guy’s favorite next time around,” you chuckle lightly, your gaze drifting to Grogu, his eyes drooping.

“I don’t think he’s got a favorite,” Din says, his voice carrying an unusual softness. If you didn’t know any better, you might think he was at ease. “He’s like a womp rat—eats anything that moves.”

You gasp in mock horror, looking at Grogu with raised eyebrows. “A womp rat? The audacity!”

And then, you hear it. Laughter.

It’s brief, and could probably be written off as a trick of the mind, but you swear by your intuition. Soft, rolling laughter, rich and dark like caf, but oh, so sweet.

“Thanks for the meal,” he nods, breaking you out of your haze. You look up at him hurriedly, yelping when the glass in your hand almost slips away.

You’re stupefied. The sound rings throughout your hazed mind, the soft baritone making you exhale sharply— a reaction you’re terrified to overanalyze.

He offers one final nod, and despite your heart’s silent prayer, this time he doesn’t linger.

His steps are purposeful as he turns toward the picket fence, long shadow stretching across the yard as the brightest hours of day ebb into the evening. The familiar creak of the gate reaches your ears as he leaves, the sound echoing through the now-quiet pocket of the planet.

As the soft breeze beckons a melody of the wind chimes, you exhale.

The last thing you catch before he disappears behind the thicket is the wide-open, curious gaze of the little green child staring right into your very soul.

—

Dusk slips over the sky, painting it in fading hues of gold and violet, and with a quiet sigh, you finally muster the energy to return inside.

As you step out of your slippers, your eyes fall on the dining table, dimly illuminated by the soft glow of the fading day. Two bowls rest upon it—one messier than the other, but both empty.

The quiet of the night surrounds you as you sit at the table alone, and with every bite you take of your own meal, a gentle smile finds its way onto your lips.

For tonight, this is enough.

[darkmoonchild]

Daddy Vessel

A/N: I just had the want and need to write a cute little Vessel post. This is just how I feel he would be if his s/o had a daughter from a previous relationship. Because this man seemed like the gentlest of giants❤️ (when he isn’t being an utter gremlin towards everyone else).

TW: None at all. Just a lot of fluff going on.

(Also, basically, there really isn’t a need to write the pairings for this, but it’s a Vessel x fem!Reader one. And reader’s daughter is named Emma.)

—————————————————————

“Are you sure he’ll like it, mama?”

You looked down at your daughter to see that she was not looking at you, but at the handmade card her art teacher had them make for their fathers today at school, a deep frown on her usually cheerful face. Father’s Day was this weekend and you had never seen a more perplexed eight-year-than Emma. And she had been that way since you had picked her up from school.

Emma was your daughter from a previous relationship. Her father was never really much of a father, so when the relationship ended you felt relieved. Only you felt bad for your daughter because she would never have that father-daughter experience like you had hoped, seeing as she was three when you and your ex-boyfriend had split up. Or so you thought she would never experience it. When your daughter was four you met a man named Vessel, and it was automatic love at first sight. Vessel fell in love fast with Emma, and Emma to Vessel.

Vessel knew of Emma’s father after many of stories you had told him over the years. And yet, even if he was a sad excuse of a man that refused to be part of such a wonderful child’s life, there was a part of him that did not want to overstep any boundaries. Parenthood was a foreign thing to him and he never thought he would experience it, but it changed once the two of you became part of his world—his life.

Emma had never once called Vessel “daddy” or “dad” in the four years you two had been together, and she settled on “Vessie.” Being she was the only one allowed to call him that. Vessel never pushed for her to call him anything she was not comfortable with or wanted. She viewed him as a father figure and that was enough for him.

You smiled and crouched down so you were eye level with Emma. She looked up at you with her blue eyes. You cupped her cheeks gently in your hands and bent her head down some, and placing a kiss to her forehead. Emm took a step back some so she could look at you again. Your hands still holding her cheeks.

“He’s going to love it, baby,” you reassured her as you let her cheeks go. You still smiled at her. “He loves anything you make him.”

“But…what if he doesn’t love this one this time?” Emma looked at the card on her hands again. “What…what if it makes him leave like my actual daddy did?”

“Emma, look at me.” She slowly looks at you again. And it pained you to see the worry and fear on your daughter’s face. You reached out and tucked a loose strain of black hair behind her ear. “Vessel will never leave you like that, okay? Mama can promise you that. And whatever you wrote in that card, he is going to love it like any other thing you’ve ever made him. Maybe he’ll even love this more than the four leaf clover drawing you made him for when he goes on the road.”

Emma giggled at that. “I don’t think so. He got it tattooed on him, mama, remember?”

How could you forget?

Emma had randomly drawn—more like colored—a picture of a four leaf clover one weekend. She was about five or six at the time and had been coloring and drawing that whole morning. And she had randomly crawled up into Vessel’s lap as the two of you sat cuddled up on the couch, and held the picture up to him with a wide smile on her chubby cheeked face. Vessel took it and settled Emma to rest comfortably against his chest and he looked at it, a smile on his face as well.

“What is this, my sweet girl?” He asked her. Of course, Vessel knew it was a four leaf clover but how he enjoyed allowing Emma to become excited explaining things. “You colored me a picture, did you?”

Emma nodded her head. “I did, Vessie!” She smiled bigger of that was even possible. She pointed a little finger at the picture. “It’s a four leaf clover. It gives you good luck!”

Vessel hummed in amusement. “Does it now, Bug?”

Emma giggled, “Yes! And it’ll give you good luck when you go do shows.”

“Well, thank you, Emma.” Vessel kissed the top of her head and Emma snuggled more into him. He looked at the picture some more. “I’m going to take this with me everywhere I go.”

And did that man mean that literally. Because that same day he had left for a few hours to the studio to run a few things over with II, III and IV. And when he came back that might, Emma had gone to bed by then, he showed you where he had gotten the clover tattooed on his bicep. He said even if no one else but a few knew it was there he was fine with it, because he knew it was there and it meant everything to him.

Vessel had also gotten it on his upper bicep because the jacket he wore on stage would cover it, and he would not have to cover it with the black paint he dawned himself in for each performance.

“Oh, right,” You smiled, “I forgot. Silly me.”

Emma giggled once more before you raised to full height again. You took her free hand in yours again and the two of you walked to the door of your flat. It was Vessel’s before you two had gotten together, but after a few months of dating, and several mentions and negotiations, he had you and Emma moved in.

You opened the door and allowed Emma to go in first, you closed the door as you entered. You both removed your shoes at the door and placed them on the tiny bench. The sound of pots and pans could be heard from the kitchen and you smiled. You had told Vessel you would handle dinner tonight and not to worry about it, you did not mind, only for him to firmly state he would since you had to run a few errands after work before picking Emma up.

When Vessel was home, you tried to allow him to relax much as you could. And you also tried to spend as much time with him as you could. But Vessel always had a mind of his own. Anything he thought he could help out with, no matter how tired he was, or how much his body craved just to melt into the couch, he was up doing it. Whether it was helping clean, laundry, helping Emma with her homework, helping you relax in the many various ways he knew how (wink, wink, wink) and like now, where you had told him not to worry, he is in the kitchen cooking.

Now, you would never complain about his help, you adored that he bent over backwards for you and Emma, the same as you did for the both of them, but sometimes you really wish he would just allow himself to relax.

“We’re home, baby,” You announced as you and Emma walked into the kitchen. Vessel stood by the stove and you allowed your eyes to scan over him. He was shirtless and wearing a pair of sweatpants, which hung a little low on his hips, barefoot and there was a hand towel thrown over his left shoulder. You let Emma’s hand go so you could fold your arms over your chest. “I thought I told you not to worry about dinner?”

“And I told you that I would handle it,” Vessel replied as he turned to look at you. He placed the hand towel on the counter before walking over to you and your daughter. He placed his large hands on your hips and pulled you to him gently, you unfolded your arms and wrapped them around his neck. Vessel brushed his nose against yours before giving you a sweet kid on your lips. The two of you kept the kiss going, sweet and slow, almost forgetting where you two were, until a small blegh from Emma broke you two apart. Vessel chuckled before turning his attention towards the small girl. He smiled, “Hey, my sweet Bug, how was school?”

“It was fine,” Emma answered him. She reached her hand that held her handmade card behind her back, and put her other one behind her back as well. She had hoped Vessel had seen it before she did it. You noticed but didn’t say anything. Emma would show him at her own time.

“Learn anything new?” Vessel asked as he ruffled Emma’s hair, causing a laugh and a protest from the small girl.

Emma shrugged. “I learned I still don’t like math and we learned how volcanoes are made and how they work.”

“Well isn’t that something!” Vessel leaned down and kissed the top of Emma’s head before turning to walk back to the stove. “You two go get settled and I’ll finish dinner.”

You and Emma both went ahead and did your normally nightly routine. Before you two bathed, you helped Emma with what homework she did bring home. You were silently happy it was not a lot. After that, Emma showered and then you showered. And by the time you had finished with your shower, Vessel was done with dinner.

All three of you sat together at the kitchen table, eating like the tiny family you were. All revealing what your days were like and some of the highlights of it. For you, a coworker had surprised everyone with coffee and scones this morning, for Emma, her and her best friend Malachi had managed to climb all the way to the top of the slide at recess(it was a triumph for the two eight year olds but you had to talk with her teacher about that) and finally for Vessel, the highlight of his day came from making III eat crow while playing against him. Something about III had been gloating he for a while how he beats all of them in this one game, and Vessel took up the challenge and beat him in under a few minutes. You rolled your eyes but laughed and shook your head. You knew your boyfriend well enough at this point that he would not pass up any opportunity to rub it in III’s face.

After dinner, you and Vessel cleaned up the kitchen and both tackled the dishes. Emma had offered to help, but Vessel told her it was okay, and the small girl had went to her room. Once the kitchen was cleaned, you and Vessel had retired to the living room and both sat snuggled up on the couch, a movie playing on the television as you two relaxed together for the night.

The both of you heard Emma’s door to her bedroom opened, followed by slow shuffling feet. Soon the small figure of your daughter came into view.

“What’s up, Bug?” Vessel asked her. “Everything okay?”

Emma nodded her head and said nothing. She held out the handmade card towards him and Vessel took it from her gently. Emma sighed before speaking, “We made Father’s Day cards in art today.”

Vessel looked at the card in his hands before looking over at you. You smiled softly and nodded your head. Vessel smiled back and then turned to look at Emma. “Come here, Bug.”

Emma had stated many times she was too big to sit in his lap anymore, claiming she was a big kid now and big kids don’t sit in their parents laps. But, on certain days, like when she was sick or something was bothering her she took that statement back and sat in either your lap or Vessel’s, needing that familiar comfort.

A warm smile spread across your face as you watched Emma crawl into Vessel’s lap and watched as she snuggled against him. And Vessel, on instinct, settling her so she could sit and lay against him comfortably.

Vessel looked at the card in his hands, seeing how Emma used her hands to draw handprints on the sky blue construction paper. And in a glittery font, her small handwriting wrote: “Happy Father’s Day!”

“Mrs. Cunningham helped me find a little saying,” Emma informed Vessel as he started opening the card. Inside, Emma had drawn her hands on both sides of the folded paper. And written on one side in her handwriting was the saying, and a smile spread on Vessel’s face reading it. The card read:

My Vessel’s Hands

My Vessel’s hand are strong

And they’re big and they’re tough.

But when I need help

They’re gentle enough.

My Vessel’s hands can teach me

To work and give.

And by their example

I’ll learn how to live.

Right now my hands are small

And learning good from bad.

Some day I hope my hands

Will be just like my Vessel’s hands!

And underneath it all, a red and pink heart was there, and inside of it was something that made Vessel’s heart swell and his eyes tear up. In Emma’s handwriting read:

I love you, Daddy Vessel!

“Do you like it?” Emma asked after a few minutes. She was playing with her fingers and you could tell she was nervous. Vessel could tell as well.

Vessel placed the card on the lamp table beside the couch, and wrapped his arms around Emma, hugging her tightly to him. You watched as he took his thumb and pointer finger and he rubbed his eyes with them, wiping away the evidence of the tears that threatened to spill out. He kissed the top of her head before lifting her head up and kissing her forehead.

"I love it," Vessel told her softly. "I love it so much, my sweet girl."

Emma smiled big before wrapping her tiny arms around Vessel's neck. Vessel in turn hugged her tightly to him. And you smiled, resting one of her cheeks into your hand as you watched the two loves of your life. It made your eyes water with happy tears and made your heart swell with so much love.

The three of you sat on the couch together watching the movie, Emma still snuggled into Vessel's chest as you were snuggled into his side. And after a while, both Emma and Vessel had dozed off to sleep. His head was tilted back as his arms still held Emma protectively, and Emma was still snuggled into his chest. You smiled at them and carefully got up from the couch, wrapping them both in the throw blanket you were just wrapped up in the best you could. You placed soft kisses to both Emma and Vessel's cheeks before making your ways to the stairs, heading to yours and Vessel's shared bedroom.

You were not going to wake them, you knew at some point Vessel would and he would lay Emma down in her own room before making his way to bed with you, but for now you were going to let them be. Emma snuggled up to Vessel and Vessel holding her to him.

The image of the father-daughter relationship you thought would never happen for your daughter, playing out in front of you as you watched your daughter and boyfriend slumber. You shook your head with a smile.

"Goodnight, my loves," You spoke softly before turning the living room light off, only leaving the television as the light source, as you made your way up the stairs for the night, leaving Emma and her Daddy Vessel to their peaceful state.

------------------------------------------------

So, this was not my best, but I really just wanted to write something cute. And I haven't really written stuff in a while. This was just to get the itch off. But, um, yeah. Bye bye now!

[ioniansunsets]

can i request a fic for when reader falls asleep on kayn? it can be friends to lovers if you want <3

✖ Sleeping on Kayn's Chest ✖

✖ Word Count: 599 Words

✖ Tags: Budding RS | Shadow Order Reader

✖ A/N: I miss writing runeterra kayn so I WROTE RUNETERRA. hit me with another ask if you want a heartsteel ver of this uwu (or any other skinline tbh ugh i love you kaynie)

----

It was late after training. He didn’t know how it ended up like this but with some complaints about being not only exhausted but covered in bruises, he found you collapsing in his arms as he stumbled back to lean against the wall behind him. A soft oof escaping him as he caught you. Slowly sliding down to sit on the floor and properly support your weight, he casts his gaze downwards to stare at you.

“ W-What the hell are you doing?”

He whispers out to you flustered as his arms instinctively wrapped around you to hold you close. Eyebrows furrowed as your arms are lazily thrown around him.

“ Hey. Hello? Are you-”

Kayn promptly shuts up as he notices your closed eyes and how you were now dead asleep in his arms. A rhythmic up and down breathing of your chest as you slept soundly lying against him on the dusty floor of the training hall. Oh no.

The long haired man felt his heart race. The loud drumming in his ears that he knows is from the adrenaline of you holding him like this. Suddenly, very, very aware of just how intimately close the two of you were like this. I mean, it was nothing new, he’s held your arms in a grapple before, straddled you as you two sparred, hells, he’s even felt your arms around him when you flipped him over mid fight once. Feeling you, holding you, those things were but small second long treats saved for when he sparred you. Not…not for whole minutes…not this.

Gods he hope his racing heart doesn’t wake you up. The beating so loud and hard he swears he can see his chest move up and down with each thump. It was late in the evening after lunch. No one should be coming by the training hall at this time. He can afford to hold you for a little bit…right? He was…allowed to keep you close like this? Allowed to…have you comfortable in his embrace…

Kayn bites his lip as he thought about it, hoping he wasn’t overstepping any boundaries with you as you two held each other. The blush on his face getting redder and warmer as you slowly sink into his hug. Your head moving so slightly to snuggle up against him. He feels it now alright... The undeniable, overwhelming amount of love he has for you. He curses to himself, knowing that romance isn’t something he can really pursue in this line of work but when you look so soft and vulnerable in his arms. When you feel safe enough around him to fall asleep although you were covered in cuts and bruises… He sucks in another soft breath to try and calm himself.

“ The things you do to me…”

Kayn whispers softly as a hand tentatively reaches up to comb through your hair. A soft look of affection on his face that no one has ever seen from him before. As his heart slowly calms down, a new soft of peace and serenity fills him. Seeing you sleeping so soundly. He looks around, making sure the two of you truly were alone before he whispers again even softer as his gaze carefully lands back on you.

“ I… I really love you so much. I hope you can tell.”

As a genuinely appreciative smile graces his lips as he admits his little secret to your sleeping form. Closing his eyes too, Kayn takes a nap with you lying against him. Whatever you have to say about this is later’s problem.

[asvterias]

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟩: 𝖲𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗐 𝖸𝗈𝗎, 𝖵𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖬𝗎𝖼𝗁

the cast // series masterlist

chap. 1 || chap. 2 || chap. 3 || chap. 4 || chap. 5 || chap. 6 || chap. 7 || chap. 8 || chap. 9

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Detailed Making Out Scene, Slight Intimate Wandering Hands, Slight Innocent Hand Touching, Clarisse is kinda a bitch to reader, Our Fav Couple First Fight 😔, Words can really REALLY hurt 😢 Bashing of Deceased Parents, Mentions of Dead Parents, Coping with Grief and Losses, Calling out on mindless behaviors, Both Reader and Clarisse are in the wrong in some way, A LOT Angst At The End

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Clarisse La Rue ✘ Daughter of Poseidon!Reader, Adrianna Smith ✘ Daughter of Poseidon!Reader, Younger Brother!Percy Jackson ✘ Older Sister!Reader, (Platonic) Annabeth Chase ✘ Daughter of Poseidon!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Truths are finally revealed and harsh words are exchanged between the two demigods. Soon enough, what will be the exact reason for their argument?

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.4k+

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @starless-nightz @starvviss @lov3rgiiirl @random-girls-loves @coolgirl458 @kjisbae17 @s0r0ws @a-fucking-sappho @lvc-lv @watchesstuff

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Please don’t be a silent reader and interact within the chapter! If you wanna be tagged in this book, comment below and say ‘future tag’! Uh oh 😕, Reader’s and Clarisse’s first fight, not going great for the future couple so far, let’s hope they’ll make up soon.

🐚 ✘ 🗡️

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟩

𝖲𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝖮𝗇𝖾: 𝖤𝗉𝗂𝗌𝗈𝖽𝖾 𝖳𝗐𝗈

“Unless you never had a first kiss.” You feign clueless, hiding back a smirk. “Oh my god, that’s so hilarious.” You laugh, wiping a single tear from your eye. Her fingers remain around your upper thighs, barely moving, too scared to overstep any boundaries you might have personally established.

“Shut up.” She seethes, gripping the clothed flesh around your thighs tightly. The La Rue girl ignored the fuzzy feeling in her chest, causing tiny goosebumps as your fingers lightly brushed against her bare skin.

“Oh yeah, Ms. Confident, why don’t you prove it then?” You challenged her, closing the gap between your faces. Just like that, the heat rushes back to Clarisse’s face, leaving her a stammering fool for you to witness and tease again.

A small whimper left her mouth, and although she tried to play it off, it was too late as you already heard it.

Why couldn’t she control herself around you? What made you so special that her heart was fluttering like never before? Is it bad if she doesn’t want this abnormal feeling to stop? This feeling is new and thrilling for her, and she wants you to continue whatever you do.

“Don’t tell me that you’re getting shy all of a sudden.” You tease her, a smirk adorning your lips.

All of a sudden she quickly regains her senses, shoving you to the ground as you scramble to make it back on your feet, and your confidence shimmers down immensely.

“What’s the matter, pretty girl?” She stalks closer to you as a predator does to its prey. The Ares girl chuckles, watching you back away.

You stumbled backward until your back hit against a rough surface, one of the many trees surrounding the camp.

“I’m not going to lie but seeing you stumble away makes me want to just pounce on you.”

“What are you, a damn cougar?”

“I could if you want me to be.” The demigod replied nonchalantly.

Keeping your eyes locked onto Clarisse’s, you noticed that her eyes were shifty and she was agile with her movements, keeping up with your pace. Soon enough, she stormed up closer and you flinched, turning your head sideways, avoiding it, missing the way, her face dropped at the sight of you scared of her.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, pretty girl.” She gently reassures, performing the triangle trick on you, “Wouldn’t want to scar you in any way, you’re too gorgeous for that.”

You seemed to miss the action of her eyes lingering on your face, especially your lips.

“Then, what do you want?” You questioned her.

Clarisse was being weird, one minute she was dedicated to kicking your ass, courtesy of your brother, and the next minute, she was being flirty with you.

Which one is it? Is she mad at you or flirting with you? Does she want to have a hot angry makeout session with you or not? Regardless of what her final decision is, she needs to confess it so you won’t be all desperate in anticipation.

To be honest, you were loving the attention, partially skeptical of the recipient but regardless, her flirty remarks made you swoon. You stared at the girl, waiting for an answer but her face remained neutral, restricting any sort of hint.

Her face hardened, still a glimpse of sincerity, tone indicating boldness. Clarisse wanted you to break first, “I want you.” The small smile crept upon her lips as she analyzed your body language.

Did you hear that correctly? Clarisse La Rue wanted you?! Don’t fall for it, Y/N– oh fuck it, you already did, eh, who’s it gonna hurt? Besides you got her exactly where you wanted, distracted and with all of her attention directed at you.

Suddenly butterflies in your stomach appear as you flutter your eyelashes at her. Your balance falters and your body heated up as your shocked gaze meets her fierce gaze. You gulped, avoiding her stare as you awkwardly rocked onto your feet.

Were you dreaming? You certainly have to be dreaming.

There was no way Clarisse wanted you, figuratively or literally, simply refusing to believe that possibility. This whole thing is weird. Clarisse is being extremely weird. Why would she want you anyway? You just met her, and she’s attracted to you already? There was something wrong, and you were determined to figure it out before it was too late, ending up with you hurt in the process.

“From the moment we met, I felt something for you, and I just didn’t know what it was. That was until Aphrodite’s daughter told me…”

You’re the first to call bullshit but decided to play along, wanting to see the outcome.

This piqued your curiosity even further, “What’d she tell you?”

“I don’t know, I refused to accept it.”

She has no absolute reason to lie to you.

“What do you–“ You were simultaneously confused and flustered, sufficing that you were so dangerously indecisive for your following words, “Well, you can’t have me.”

“Hmmm…..” She peers, closing the gap, your noses are now touching as you feel the warmth overtake your cheeks. You swore you saw her lips curl up into a knowing smirk as it disappeared just as it appeared. “And why’s that?” She inquired with an eyebrow raised, the jealousy bubbling beneath her veins, “You have a little boyfriend back home? Sorry to break it to you, doll, but you’re not returning back to the real world, not unless you were chosen for a quest.”

“Whatever.” You scoff, lightly shoving her and she cautiously stepped a few feet back. “My love life isn’t any of your business. You don’t see me asking you about your love life, now do you?”

She cockily smirks, tilting her head which makes your knees weak, “I wouldn’t mind it.”

All she heard was a wicked laugh erupt from you.

By your reaction, Clarisse’s frustration and annoyance replaced her confidence. “What’s so fucking funny?” Her eyebrows bunch up together in irritation, squinting her eyes at her.

“You…” Your laugh dies down, “When I arrived at this camp, I didn’t expect the big bad bully to be this flustered over me.”

“Get over yourself, water girl.” She groans, crossing her arms as she shakes her head in disbelief. “I don’t get flustered by anyone, especially over some random girl who just arrived at this camp in the span of two days.”

Yeah like, because she’s been extremely convincing so far. How truly delusional is she? Not that you’re one to judge, coming from another delusional girl. Come on, you’re self-aware, not hypocritical, and have some dignity.

You clicked your tongue, totally unconvinced by her, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, La Rue.”

If she was gonna lie to you, it wasn’t your problem anyway. She wasn’t your responsibility, she wasn’t your girlfriend…not yet anyway.

“A good sparring session helps me.” She managed to inform you of that.

“Oh, I can tell,”

“Wanna do a 1 on 1 sometime?”

“With you?”

“No shit Sherlock,” She bites back a smile, “Would you rather spar with somebody else?”

“No, no, no, if it’s with you I’m great,”

“Don’t expect me to go easy on you either, Matthews.”

“Why not?”

“C’mon, you singlehandedly took down a Minotaur, that was pretty badass if I do say so myself. You must have some skills in fighting, right?”

“I don’t!”

“You don’t?”

“Yes, I don’t,”

“So how’d you beat and mercilessly killed a freaking Minotaur?”

“With a sword and shit ton of adrenaline…perhaps a bit of vengeance too.”

“Yeah, okay, I guess that makes sense,”

“Done with the questions?”

“For now, Matthews,”

“Great,”

She rolls her eyes, getting back onto the current topic, “So do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Don’t act dumb right now, Matthews.” The curly-haired girl snapped, a scowl resting upon her lips.

“I’m not acting dumb, you didn’t give me enough context for me to understand.”

“Do you actually have a boyfriend back home?”

“Why are you so curious? I thought you don’t get flustered by anyone, especially me. What’s with the sudden switch up?”

“Okay,” She ignored your questions, knowing you wanted a reaction, “How about a girlfriend?”

“Still not any of your business.” You retorted back. Clarisse scoffed, folding her arms and glaring at you. Figuring out she was getting madder at the minute and it only urged you to further push her to the edge.

Are you wrong to think every emotion Clarisse expresses is kinda attractive, certainly excluding her sadness? Probably not, but you kept that to yourself.

“Would you stop being such a smartass, and just answer the question?”

Hmmm…no! Where’s the fun in that? Lead her on, stray away from the topic, and just do whatever to keep Clarisse on her toes. It’s definitely more entertaining than fighting with her.

“Enough about me, let’s talk about you.”

Clarisse became shell-shocked, “What!” She stared at you in disbelief, “This isn’t about me, this is about you. I wanna talk about you.”

“So you admit you care for me?” You grin slowly at her.

“Those words never left my lips.” The Ares girl was quick to defend herself, “Y’know what just forget it, it’s obvious you’re single.”

She began to saunter off, annoyed by your tactics, and proceeded with the camp game. You were quick to follow behind, still wanting to converse with the hot-tempered girl.

You didn’t expect Clarisse to be an amusing conversationalist, but she was, further entertaining your attention, and increasing your chances of winning Capture The Flag.

“C’mon ask me again, I promise I’ll be completely honest.”

A faint smile tugs at Clarisse’s lips and she stops any further movement, turning around to face you once again.

“Now let’s start our conversation again.”

“Of course,”

“Are you or are you not in a relationship?”

You shake your head at her question, this time being honest like you promised.

“I prefer words over gestures, pretty girl.”

“No,” You grumble, folding your arms, “I'm not dating anyone.”

“That’s more like it.” She hummed appreciatively.

“Is that all you have to sa–“

She grabbed the front of your shirt, balling it into her fist, any ounce of hesitancy soon hindering. With a swift tug, she crashed her lips onto yours, kissing you with the utmost passion you have ever experienced.

Too stunned to react, you reciprocated the kiss as your eyes fluttered closed, melting into it. The kiss became more ferocious as her hands moved downwards, pulling you by the waist closer.

Clarisse might be a cold, ruthless girl but her lips, and her kisses tell a different story. How could someone be so cold but her lips be so soft and alluring?

Your hands caress her face, gently rubbing on her smooth skin and her hands wrap around your waist as the kiss deepens. As her hands linger on your jeans, trailing slowly directly onto your hips, and settles her hands there, gently squeezing it.

“Is this okay?” She whispers breathlessly against your lips, disconnecting the kiss. Her eyes were hooded and her lips were already swollen as she stared at you.

“It’s fine…” You nodded.

“Good,” Was all she breathed out, maintaining her grip on your hips and her eyes locked onto yours. Her lips were magnetic, immediately finding her way back onto yours again, reconnecting the passionate makeout.

Squeezing the clothed-covered piece of flesh frequently, Clarisse’s calloused hands enjoyed the fabric as you inhaled and shuffled during the kiss. You both breathed in slowly, not slowing down the kiss but keeping it consistent.

Soon enough, the kiss started to become more intimate, hands wandering across the other with light touches grazing over the exposed skin. It was too much to handle, too hot to handle for either of you, but that was a stupid thought disappearing at the back of your mind as the makeout intensified, too engrossed with the warmth provided. Your lips pressed firmly against her lips, molding perfectly together, but the intense passion didn’t stop the makeout, it was the lack of air that was desperately needed.

Clarisse bites down on your lower lip, hard enough to draw blood, causing a small whimper to escape your mouth. The Ares girl grinned at the reaction, kneading her lips with yours, pressing harsher to produce more blood.

Pulling away from the kiss, you stared at her, “Promise me that you won’t bully my brother anymore.”

For a moment, it looked like Clarisse was desperate to feel your lips again, that hunger and pleading look in her eyes. It made your heart swoon and almost gave in to her needs, but you knew better. You weren’t gonna make it easy for her, she’d have to earn it.

“Yeah, whatever.” Clarisse easily agrees, shocking you to the core. For a girl who was defined as fiercely stubborn, her compliance caught you off guard.

“You’d actually listen to me?” You inquired.

“Yeah, as long as you promise to keep on kissing me.” She indulged, eyes still hooded and lips swollen.

“Pinky promise me.”

“What?”

“Pinky promise me that you won’t hurt my brother anymore.” You urged her to interlock her pinky finger with yours.

“Are you serious?”

“Deadass,” You blinked, wiggling your free pinky finger in her face, “Now pinky promise!” You whined at her reluctance.

The Ares girl sighs in amusement, a genuine smile overtaking her features as she interlocks her pinky with yours, sealing the simple promise she can try to maintain.

“Yay!” You grinned happily, keeping your fingers locked a little longer than usual before dropping her pinky from your grip.

“Is that all?” Clarisse quirked an eyebrow.

“Hmmm…for now, but of course!”

“You’re a piece of work, Matthews.” She chuckles.

“For your sake, that’d better be a compliment,”

“It definitely is, pretty girl. Now, can we resume our makeout?”

“That can be arranged.” You smirked at her, pulling her in for another kiss but froze at the sudden scream of someone.

“Just so you know this game is called Capture the Flag and not capture each other’s tongues. My eyes are officially scarred because of that.” Adrianna piques, surprising the two of you.

You stared over at your best friend, giddiness overtaking your features, “Oh hey, Adri, this is…” You gestured to the girl in front of you, “Clarisse…”

“We’ve met before.” Adrianna rolls her eyes. “Can’t say I have the energy to befriend a hot-tempered girl such as Clarisse.”

Clarisse distanced herself away from you as she turned to face Adrianna.

“Adrianna.” Clarisse disdains.

“Can you stop making out with my best friend? We have a game to continue.”

“What does it look like we were doing, blondie?” Clarisse snarks, irritated by the girl’s intrusion.

“Something my blessed eyes weren’t supposed to set sight upon,”

Clarisse scoffs, taking her spear out of your hand gently and storming off, to finish the game.

“Can’t believe that you’re so easily distracted,” Adrianna frowns, crossing her arms with a disapproving look, “That kiss might have meant something to you, but it’d probably meant something totally strategically with Clarisse. For all we know, she might have used you as a decoy for her plan.”

“Well, I am a very pretty decoy, thanks for the compliment,”

“That you are, but try not to get too carried away at the moment, especially with Clarisse.”

“Why’s that?”

“Haven’t you heard, Ares kids don’t do love at all, just because their dad had a fling for Aphrodite, they see no use for love and I don’t want you to get hurt,”

“Trust me, I can handle myself.” You reassure your best friend.

“I believe that, but I still worry for you,”

“What do you have against Clarisse?”

“It’s nothing, personal Y/N, our dads have bad blood between them, which is supposedly genetic. According to other Ares and Hephaestus children, they manage to get along well, just not me and Clarisse.”

“That’s just a bunch of bullshit.” You commented.

“My intuition tells me that she’s not done messing with you,”

Shit. Shit. Shit. Y/N, why are you such a dumbass? Of course, Clarisse didn’t actually like you, she just used you to her advantage and had some fun with it too. That’s it, you’re never falling for her traps ever again– no matter how alluring her lips are– snap out of it Y/N! She tricked you and she’s currently going after your brother to plummet him into an early grave!

Huh, that makes more sense.

“Oh no!” Your eyes widened in realization for your brother’s safety, “Percy, she’s going after Percy! We have to get to him before she does!”

Adrianna winces at your panicking state, “It might be too late for him, Clarisse is known to be pretty vengeful,”

“Not helping, Adri! I’m not being down one less brother! Already down two mothers, not losing any more family anytime soon! Let’s go!” You grabbed her wrist, tugging her along with you as you sprinted in the same direction Clarisse did.

Why does life just happen the way you hate?! Why couldn’t things work in your favor for once? And she promised you. Who breaks pinky promises?

──── ⭑ ☆ ⭑ ────

Finally stumbling onto the scene, spotting an array of trees and an outlook of the lake. You spotted two girls lying on the ground, hopelessly defeated, as the aftermath of Percy’s and Clarisse’s fight settled down.

Witnessing Clarisse’s enraged face, looking down at her spear, crouching down on the ground. You gulped as she slowly came to the realization of her now broken spear. Her hands shakily held onto the bottom half of her spear as you anxiously waited for her next actions.

You heard a deafening scream break through the silence of the woods, escaping from Clarisse’s mouth.

Shit, that’s certainly not good!

The Ares girl quickly arose to her feet and stalked menacingly towards the blonde boy, ignoring his flinch. She gripped Percy’s breastplate and pulled him closer to her, glaring down at the boy in hatred.

“Clarisse!” You shouted, running up to the two.

She glanced at you, her eyes softening slightly and her terrifying grip on Percy loosened at your presence. Instantly, she switched back on her mean facade, bringing him closer to her, and scaring him even further.

Despite being a cold girl who fought for everything, you saw her for who she truly was…a sad girl, clinging to the validation from her father, who often despised that. You couldn’t really blame her either. Parents have a big reflection on their children’s lives, mostly shaping out to be a mirror-like version of them.

No wonder, she’s a glorified daughter of Ares himself.

She liked the fear that she held over other people. She liked being in control, knowing everything; including people’s fears so she could manipulate them to her advantage. It kept her balanced and calm from being a constant raging ruckus of a demigod teenager.

Walking up to them, standing between them and you looked at Clarisse. “Let him go,” You calmly commanded, your tone firm and assertive.

She huffed, contemplating whether to listen or not.

“I don’t like repeating myself at all. Let go of my brother and deal with me instead,”

Percy breathed out a sigh of relief, feeling her grip on him loosened and was no longer met with her flushed angered gaze.

“Thank your sister for saving your ass.” She shoves Percy away from her, causing him to fall to the ground. Adrianna helped him up off the ground, distancing him from the infuriated girl, waiting for your control of the situation.

Clarisse avoided your gaze, rendered speechless to say anything as you stared at the girl.

All of a sudden, campers came running and screaming in victory, gaining the four demigods’ attention. With Luke leading the victorious team, the red flag clasped in his hand and sticking the item in the dirt, reclaiming their win.

You grabbed the top half of her spear from Percy’s hand and hesitantly rested it in Clarisse’s palm. Gently you closed her hand, letting the broken weapon linger there as you held onto her hand, a form of reassurance.

You didn’t know what you were reassuring her about but you felt the need to be the one to reassure her. Not anyone else, just you, and just you alone. Pretty sure, Clarisse wouldn’t allow anyone else but you attempt to comfort her anyway.

You felt her shudder slightly under your movements, her breathing shaky as her mean facade broke down.

“I’m so sorry, Clarisse…”

Just like that, her mean facade instantly countered again, like a mask.

“Yeah, whatever, sorry isn’t going to fix my spear, now is it, Matthews?!” She shoved your comforting hand off of hers.

Oh, so she was pissed, pissed, pissed. This might also be extremely difficult to subside her raging fuel of fire for your brother at the moment.

“You’re right, it’s not,”

“I know I am,”

“But you can’t just blame my brother for all of this!” Stop while you’re ahead, Y/N. You’ll only make it worse for yourself and others. As a matter of fact, fuck it, can’t get any worse than it is. “You are at fault for some of this too!”

There we go, it’s all out in the open now, and there’s no way going back! God, you didn’t hope it’d come back to bite you in the ass.

“Blame him?! I’m not blaming him if it’s the truth. This is all his fault!” She protested, glimpsing at the young blonde boy, standing a few feet behind you.

Ohhhh, so she wants to play the blame game around here?! Checkmate, then, you got something for her ass, alright.

“For starters, you bullied my brother and attempted to shove his head in a toilet,” You stepped closer, pushing her back, jabbing her chest with your fingers as you continued to go off. “Let’s not forget that you planned an unsuspecting and unfair fight against him with your sisters! I admire the determination to defend yourself after embarrassment but still…! You can’t pin all the blame on Percy, take responsibility for your own fucking actions, Clarisse! Did you really think you were going to walk away unharmed?!” You exclaimed, “You’re many things, dangerously hot being one of them, but you’re not stupid, we both know that.”

She got up close, her nose flaring in anger, smacking your hand away from her chest, “Fuck you, Matthews! Just because we interacted twice doesn’t mean I like you, I barely tolerated you.”

They had to be lies. Yes, they certainly were lies. But were they actually just lies or was Clarisse just holding back the truth from you?

You didn’t know why you felt your heart clench in sadness at her statement or why your stomach churned in uneasiness.

“Then why’d you kiss me like that?”

God, you hoped that didn’t sound pathetic or embarrassing.

She blankly stared at you, “Oh, please, you think that kiss meant something to me then you must be extremely delusional. For me, it was strictly strategic for my team to win.”

Although she was acting entirely different during your makeout sessions, purely dominating it, and now it’s official that it was all decoy, probably pretending to enjoy that too.

You didn’t know what to believe anymore. Whether she liked you or pretended to like you for her benefit. Either way, you know one thing. You weren’t going to fall for her tricks anymore, no matter how convincing they were.

“And yet you still lost, what did you truly win? Cause I can guarantee, it wasn’t Capture The Flag that you won!”

“Come off it, Matthews, it’s not like you didn’t have a plan of your own and we both got what we wanted out of it. So stop taking everything to heart and move on. I don’t like you and probably never will.”

“Fuck you too, La Rue! It’s not my fault you won’t admit you’re also wrong in this situation.” You yelled, fury overwhelming your mind, “Besides, it’s not like I claimed that I had a crush on you, so you need to get the fuck off your high horse and stop blocking or pushing down your emotions because it’s only gonna hurt yourself in the long run. I’d hate for you to feel it when it’s too late. Still, I hope when you feel it, you should feel it, hard, like your whole world is collapsing and there’s nobody to support you.”

She swung her spear head lunging at you, missing barely by your quick instinct to dodge the incoming hit. Still, she managed to scrape across your lower arm, wincing slightly at the forming gash.

“Why didn’t you dodge my spear?!” She furiously asked, glancing at the injury she caused. “Why did you just stand there? Did you want to get hurt?”

“Because I didn’t expect you to use your spear against me?!”

“Whatever,” She rolled her eyes, venturing forward, observing your bleeding wound, “Is it bad? How deep is it? Go get it checked out at the infirmary.”

You pushed her away from you, “What’s wrong with your emotions? This is exactly what I’m talking about! One minute, you’re furious with me then you’re so concerned about a stupid gash that you caused?! Get your emotions in check, La Rue!”

“Shut up,” She murmurs, avoiding eye contact, “Feelings are very confusing.”

“Trust me, I know,”

“Stay off my ass for one second, can you?!”

“No, I don’t think I will! Did you really hurt me just because I’m being honest with you?! Real classic, La Rue, always ready to fight and avoid confrontations. Is it a genetic thing, a trait you inherited from your father?”

“You don’t know anything about my father!” She snarled.

Looks like you hit a fatal nerve within her, and instantly regretted it, swallowing down your guilt, “Fuck, Clarisse, I didn’t mean that–“

“But you did mean that! At least, my father has the decency to claim me! You’re just a lousy nobody with a lying little brother, so stop bitching to your friends about being a demigod and get used to it! It’s your life now and it’s Percy’s life now. What just happened with Percy, was only a preview, to show you for the real world because those monsters are ruthless and bloodthirsty. If you aren’t careful, you’ll die out there, just like your moms did, all weak and alone, all because they were humans.”

She scoffed, brushing past your shoulders harshly and storming off, probably back to her cabin for some privacy.

How did she know about your moms’ deaths? You didn’t tell her, and she doesn’t seem to be the observant type.

Percy saunters over to you. “Are you okay?” You held back tears, staring at your younger brother.

“Of course, I’m okay, but are you okay?” You clicked your tongue at his question. For once, you couldn’t give him an honest reply.

“I’m always okay, why would you ask that?” You shrugged off, struggling to keep the tears from falling.

“What happened in the woods with Clarisse?” Percy pressed on, “Did you give up your first kiss to Clarisse?”

“It doesn’t matter anyway!” You snapped, “She doesn’t matter!”

Well…that was a fucking lie!

Yet, in the back of your mind, you hated how she still did matter to you, even though she completely disrespected your moms’ deaths. God, you hated feelings but loathed your feelings regarding a certain La Rue girl. Why couldn’t your dating life just be simple for once? Why did it have to come crashing down before it even started?

Why did you say what you said? Why did Clarisse respond the way she did? Everything was so confusing and annoying to you at the moment, overwhelming you with a whirlwind of emotions.

Forget about Clarisse La Rue, you can always find someone else. She’s not the only girl in the world. But that’s the problem….you don’t want any other girl. Why is liking Clarisse La Rue so goddamn hard?! Whatever, it’s clear she doesn’t like you, so accept the rejection and move forward, that’s all you can do at this point.

“Not bad, heroes.” A familiar voice rang out.

“Bad timing, Annabeth.” You rubbed your temples as Adrianna gave you a comforting hand.

Annabeth appears from her invisibility cloak, lifting the cap above her head, and stalking closer.

Percy breathes out, “Were you here the whole time?”

She looked bored, coming closer, “Yes?”

“You were here the whole time and you didn’t help me? Before Y/N came to my rescue, you couldn’t help me?!”

“Yes.” She replied monotonously.

“Why?”

“Listen…Percy…” She seems sorrowful for a second but it quickly diminishes. “I’m sorry, both of you.” She was apologetic, yet determined to follow through with her plan.

Eyebrows furrowed together in confusion when Annabeth pushed you two by the chest with the uttermost amount of strength, sending you back into the lake.

The two siblings landed in the lake with a loud splash, immediately getting soaked.

“What is wrong with you?!” That gained everyone’s attention.

“Are you crazy, Annabeth? This is not how you apologize to people you just abandoned! A decent dessert would be nice for an apology treat, not a freaking soak in the lake!” You exclaimed, appalled for words, “We have got to work on your apologies later on!”

Drenched and weighed down by your clothes, you weakly stood up as Percy followed in pursuit. You turned to your brother in shock, rendered speechless as you watched the phenomenon unfold.

“What’s happening to your cut?” You questioned, gesturing to the disappearing cut from his left cheek.

He touched his cut cheek, seemingly disappearing as it did on his arms.

“More like what’s happening to that deep gash on your arm,”

You looked down at the gash on your arm that Clarisse gave you, watching it fade away in nothing like the wound never existed.

“I don’t understand.” You whispered, glancing at Annabeth.

The young girl stared at the two siblings, more like something above your head. Tilting your head upward, you gasped in astonishment at the glowing turquoise trident, lingering above you and Percy’s heads.

“Your dad’s calling.” She smirks.

“You two have been claimed by Poseidon, Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Y/N Matthews, and Percy Jackson, children of Poseidon,”

Huh, guess you were right about being forbidden children, kinda regretting saying that now. Damn it, you hate it when you prove yourself right!

“Oh, fuck me.” You groaned. If single-handedly killing a Minotaur didn’t give you enough attention, then being a forbidden child of Poseidon would definitely bring all unwanted attention, especially from bloodthirsty monsters.

Why couldn’t you be normal? Why couldn’t your life just be normal and boring? Why did your dad have to be a powerful god? Why did your mom meet your dad and willingly sleep with him? More importantly, why were you born a half-blood forbidden kid?

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[rabbitbonesandsheabutter]

i loveee the way you write dale, the concert scenario wont leave my head <3 hes like a stray you once fed and now you deal with a puppy whos not only hungry but lovesick ... id love any and all hcs you have about the start of our relationship with him :D !

I don’t think he leaves the house much so you’d most likely have to meet by some chance encounter. You smile at him and it actually reaches your eyes and oh! he needs you. Obsessively coming back to the spot you met hoping to see you again, if it’s your work he makes sure to come at the same time. If you don’t find him off putting, I think he’d be quite funny. That little face he made with the “although it was only me that laughed, not she”? I know that man is so unintentionally funny and he revels in being able to make you laugh, even if it’s at him. He can fucking yap too, especially when it’s about things that interest him. Satanism, his idols, his music, his dolls, you. If you actually engage and have a conversation with him he’d only talk more, I doubt anyone has done that in a very long time.

As much as he tries to present as charming (his own weird brand of it, but still), he’s kind of shocked that you’re hanging around this long, even if it’s only been a few weeks. You could have a much more normal life without him, with someone who isn’t living in a random woman’s basement. But those are things I think he’s only just about aware he feels, so he’d likely never bring it up. Selfishness would stop him from sharing his insecurities too - he doesn’t want you to think about a better life if it means he’s not in it. It would manifest very quickly in him trying to bribe you into staying/coming back with endless attention, buying you gifts, writing you songs and making you cum over and over. Carving out a space for you in his life and his belongings pretty much immediately, he has no boundaries for you to overstep. You can use all his things and you can be around him all day, everyday. He wants you to spend all your time with him.

He’d be really affectionate straight away too, that man does not give a fuck about what’s appropriate at what stage. I do think if you don’t want to have sex straight away he’d be willing to wait (but not too long, and he’s definitely getting hard most of the times you go to see him) because he’s all about proving himself to you. But the rest he wants now. You’ve only known him two weeks but he doesn’t care, he wants to cuddle. You can push him off you but that won’t stop him begging. He’s so touch starved and he feels no shame at all about being needy.

He is very obviously obsessed with you right from your first interaction.