#I hope this doesn’t overstep any boundaries

[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?”

[gemini-sensei]

hello! your writing is really amazing!! can i please request robby keene with a sweet hyperfem gf that’s a cheerleader or a ballet dancer? maybe how his friends + dad would react to him being with someone pretty opposite him that doesn’t even do karate. thank you sm and once again your writing is awesome 💕

I love this, it's so cute! Thank you so much 🥰

Robby Keene x Cheerleader!Reader

This is a little hijinks and silly fun, so I hope that's okay.

"What do you mean you can't come to training on Saturday? It's mandatory."

Robby stares at his father incredulously. Not for the fact that he's already told him this fact a handful of times, but for the reason that he's pulling shit out of his ass. He's ultimately unimpressed.

"It wasn't mandatory until you just said that," Robby tells him, rolling his eyes. He takes his drink from the fridge, where he'd been stopped, and walks by his oblivious father. "And I've told you this a hundred times now. This isn't new."

"Where do you have to be on Saturday that you can't come to training, huh?" Johnny asks, following after him.

They walk the short distance to the table, where Robby is trying to study for his GED. His father makes that infuriating difficult, however, he'd rather be struggling through that than answer his question. Though it's been long enough that he's been hiding this secret from his father and friends. It's bound to come out eventually, so why not now?

"My girlfriend has a thing," he tells him, intentionally leaving out what the 'thing' is. "I told her I'd go."

"Wait. Since when do you have a girlfriend?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Because my son has a girlfriend." Johnny smiles proudly as if this is some big accomplishment. "Is she hot?"

"I'm not feeding into this," Robby tells him, finding that question weird coming from his dad. He's not surprised by it, but that doesn't make it any less weird. "And that's not the point."

"Right, right," Johnny says, sitting back. He pops open a beer despite it only being four o'clock. "Well, just tell her you can't go. If you tell her something else came up, you won't have to go and she won't get upset at you."

"No," Robby sighs, shaking his head. "I told her I'd go and I want to go."

"Well, what is it?"

"Competition."

"What, like a pagent or something?"

"What? No. Just leave it alone."

Robby gathers up his things and takes them to his room, deciding it'd be best to leave the conversation there. Besides, he'd like to study in peace.

○○○

"Where's Robby?"

Johnny gives Daniel a look, his lips pressed thin. "He's not coming. He's going to something his girlfriend is competing in."

"Whoa, wait a minute," Hawk says, inserting himself into the conversation shamelessly. His voice as well as his next question draws in everyone else's attention. "Since when does Robby have a girlfriend?"

"Wait, you guys didn't know about this?" Johnny asks, eyeing Hawk and Miguel as they look back at him curiously. They shake their heads and his frown deepens. "Well, shit."

"So Robby is missing training for his girlfriend?" Demetri asks for clarification, though no one there doubts that he'd do the same if asked.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"And it's because of some sort of competition?" Miguel further inquires.

"That's what he said."

"Aw!" Sam let out with a smile. "That's so romantic. He wants to support her."

"Well, now I'm curious about this mystery girlfriend," Hawk grunts, smirking as he looks at his friends. "I wonder what kind of competition she's in and how much fun he's having there."

"Hold on a second," Daniel says, stopping the teens before they can get too ahead of themselves. "Hawk, whatever you're thinking, it's a no. Whatever reason Robby has for not telling anyone about this girl must be a good one. There's no need to overstep boundaries."

"Fuck boundaries, man. I wanna know who this girl is if she's so special to hide from everyone," Johnny huffs. Daniel glares at him and he glares back, then turns to Hawk and Demetri, the resident cool nerd and huge nerd. "Is there a way for you guys to find out where he's at right now without him knowing?"

"Well, we could check his snapmap and see his location," Demetri says, pulling out his phone.

Hawk watches Johnny's face turn confused and he can't hide his smirk.

"What the hell is a snapmap? Is that some sort of soundboard app or something?"

Everyone looks at him, then each other before Daniel lets out an exasperated sigh. This was not how any of them planned their day, but he seemed to be the only one complaining.

○○○

When they arrive at Robby's location, according to Snapchat of all things, they find themselves at some kind of arena. Johnny leads the pack of nosy teenagers inside but quickly finds himself lost as her tries to navigate the event signs that are posted around the place. Hawk takes the lead, deciding the best course of action is to follow the noise.

Daniel follows begrudging behind his nosy daughter, promising himself to keep them all out of trouble. He sounds like a parrot, repeating himself about how this is a bad idea and how Robby will never trust any of them again if they continue on. "Curiosity killed the cat, ya know."

It isn't long before a woman stops them. She wears a sticker on her shirt that says "Volunteer," but the stern look about her screams wannabe event planner or security, or some horrid mashup of both. "Excuse me, only family and school associates are allowed here."

Ever fast on his feet, Hawk said, "No worries. We're with one of the schools."

"And what school is that?"

Sam spies a board with a list of schools on it, happy to see a convenient option on the list. "West Valley."

The woman's attitude quickly changes. "Oh, are you with the yearbook? Your teacher said you'd be coming, but we never heard anything back from him."

"Yep, that's us," Hawk says, pulling on a photo-ready smile.

"Well, let me get you checked in," the woman says, walking them over to a table.

To keep up their little act, Hawk and Sam babble on about having "finally found the right place" and "getting their stuff out of the car soon." Everyone else stays quiet for the most.

The woman grabs a sheet of stickers and writes on them with a black marker, then passes them out to everyone. When she gets to Johnny and Daniel, she says, "You must be chaperones."

Daniel opens his mouth to say something, but Johnny cuts him off with a quick, "Sure we are." It gets them each a "parent" sticker slapped onto their shirts and they're permitted to keep going.

As they walk, Demetri scoffs. "I can't believe that worked."

They find the entrance to the arena and walk inside, hearing some sort of chant echoing off the walls. As they come out from between the seats, they finally see exactly what kind of competition Robby promised to attend.

A group of cheerleaders took center stage as they went through a routine on the mats. They wear bright smiles as they lift their pompoms into the airs and their pleated skirts swished around their legs. Off to the side, other teams sit as they watch with smiles of their own or talk among themselves, waiting for their turn to go up and show the crowd their moves. Upbeat music plays as the performing group does their thing, keeping the crowd in good spirits.

"Oh my god," Tory laughs. She grins wide, never imagining in her wildest of dreams that Robby Keene would ever date a cheerleader.

Miguel nods along slowly, still a little taken aback by the scene. "This wasn't what I was expecting."

Johnny smiles proudly. "Hell yeah. My son's dating a cheerleader."

"Your son's pissed off," a voice says from behind the group.

They all turn to find Robby standing with a small bucket of popcorn in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. True to his words, he wears a less-than-impressed look on his face. If looks could kill, they'd all be dead where they stand.

Johnny steps forward. "Look, Robby, you can't really be mad at us-"

"The hell I can," Robby cuts him on.

"I told you so," Daniel chimes in.

Sam slaps his arm. "Don't even go there. You came here with us."

"Enough," Robby cut in, gritting his teeth. "I can't believe you guys crashed my girlfriend's competition all because I didn't want to tell you-" he points at Johnny, "about her yet. And shit like this is the reason why, on top of the fact that you make everything that is in the slightest bit feminine into some kind of win to men."

"I don't do that," Johnny says nonchalantly.

"Yes, you do," Robby, and everyone else, responds.

He gives them all a look, but then turns back to Robby. He opens his mouth to speak, but Demetri cuts him off.

"The second you found out it's a cheerleading competition, you counted it as a personal win," he says.

"Shut up," Johnny huffs.

Suddenly, the music stops and the announcer comes on over the loudspeaker. "What a great performance! Give them a round of applause. We'll take a ten-minute break, so refresh your drinks and get ready for the great team from North Hills!"

People start to get up and move around, causing things to get a little chaotic and crowded. Robby takes the opportunity, with a major eye roll, to slip away. He walks back to his seat or rather stomps back once he steps onto the bleachers.

His eyes scan the arena but it doesn't take long for him to find the group of cheerleaders he's looking for. Not too far away, North Hills stands, going through some last-minute stretches before their performance. Among them, his girlfriend is drinking from her water bottle. Her hair is done perfectly, there isn't a single crease in her uniform, and she looks absolutely beautiful. Her uniform shows off all of her curves whilst keeping things modest, giving Robby an eyeful of her shapely legs.

As she caps her water off, their eyes meet and she smiles really big. She throws up her hand in a cute wave and he smiles back, momentarily forgetting his anger. He waves back and she blows him a kiss. Only for her, he pretends to catch it and press it to his lips, which makes her giggle.

On the lower levels of the bleachers, farther away from Robby but not too far that they can't see him, his father, friends, and Sensei watch. They're still equal parts curious as much as they are feeling guilty - at least most. Unapologetically, Hawk smirks as he watches the little interaction between the no-longer-secret-lovers.

"That's Robby's girlfriend?" Demetri asks, pointing out Reader among the group of North Hills cheerleaders.

Tory smirks. "She's cute."

Hawk chides, "More than cute."

"I just can't believe Robby would hide the fact that he has a girlfriend," Johnny huffs. He shakes his head, still in a state of semi-disbelief as he watches the group, studying the girl who looks to be his son's complete opposite. "A cheerleader at that."

"Gee, Johnny, I wonder why he'd do such a thing," Daniel deadpans.

Johnny goes to respond hotly, but the announcer comes on to bring everyone's attention back onto the competition. Soon, the North Hills team is coming onto the mats and getting into formation. They take their deep breaths, smiling big and pretty for everyone. Then the music started and they began their routine.

○○○

After all of the teams performed and the winner was announced, the room became chaos, but Robby could care less about the people around him. He makes his way down the bleachers to reach Reader, who is celebrating with her team by jumping with joy and talking over each other. They hold a big, shiny trophy as they squeal and congratulate themselves for working so hard to win.

She sees him as he's walking over and she lets out a giddy squeal of his name. She rushes to him and he catches her in a hug, holding her tight as she squeezes him.

"We won! We won!" she cheers happily.

He smiles and kisses her cheek. "I knew you would."

She pulls back, smiling at him. Her eyes shine as she looks at him. "Really?"

"Of course," he tells her. He has always believed in her. This is what she's passionate about, so how could she not win? "I got these for you."

He holds out the flowers for her and she takes them with so much care and admiration. "Aww, thank you! I love them!"

She throws her arms around him again, this time around his neck, and kisses him. He happily kisses back, holding her waist. He pulls her close, against him so that they can deepen the kiss and really share the moment. It's her day and nothing beats a hot kiss from your boyfriend after all the hard work paying off.

However, a whistle interrupts them followed by loud clapping. "Hell yeah!" someone yells and Robby pulls away annoyed.

He looks over to find his father and the others watching him. He glares at his dad, letting him know that he is not at all amused or happy with his presence there. In fact, the anger bubbles back up and his jaw clenches as he stares down his friends.

"I still can't believe you're here," he grumbles, cutting each of them a look.

Demetri and Miguel at least look a little guilty and remorseful, whilst Daniel practically chastises Johnny for encouraging all of this behavior and invasion of privacy. Tory looks amused as all Hell while Hawk takes the moment to shamelessly check out some of Reader's friends.

Sam smiles kindly. "Well, all of our meddling aside, I think it's sweet you skipped practice to be here."

Robby wants to roll his eyes, but Reader grabs onto his jacket and catches his attention. He looks at her and almost melts.

"You missed your practice for me?" she asked cutely.

He hums and gives a little shrug like it isn't a big deal. "I told you I'd be here."

"Aww," she lets out, smiling wide. She plants a big kiss on his cheek, leaving a little lipstick mark there.

He blushes as his friends watch, but he can't bring himself to care too much with her in his arms. She makes it impossible to be a grump when she's around, easily the best part of his days.

[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 𝓉���𝑒 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 𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒𝑔𝒾𝒸 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 ��𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓎"

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.

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

Hey, did you enjoy this? If you like my writing, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi page! This will allow me to make some money off my writing, something I enjoy doing.

ko-fi.com/justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms

Important Note: Please only donate if you are financially able to. If you are currently in a position where you can't donate, a like, comment or reblog will mean just as much.

[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.

[poppy-metal]

it’s your birthday and you weren’t expecting your husband to do anything for you. he usually forgets and then buys you an expensive present weeks later, out of guilt, but tonight, he promised to take you out for dinner. after getting your makeup done professionally and dressing to the nines in a tight black dress and sleek black louboutins you head to the restaurant he told you to meet him at. after waiting for hours, you decide to go home where you find him pumping into a gorgeous woman, who you later on find out, is his secretary. you silently head to your walk in closet, pack your bags, and head to your range rover in the garage. with tears streaming down your cheeks, you call patrick after settling in a suite at a nearby five star hotel. wall street patrick immediately cancels his dinner meeting with a major potential client and speeds down the highway.

after arriving at the hotel, he finds your bare faced with your glasses on, wearing a silk nightgown and some fuzzy slippers. for a moment he’s taken aback. you always look so high maintenance and put together but to him this is the most beautiful you have ever looked – puffy eyes, pouty lips, wet lashes and all. you look up at him and beg him to hold you. he rushes to the couch you are seated on and lets you cry on his armani suit. he doesn’t care that you’re getting tears and snot on it. seeing you so comfortable and vulnerable around him makes his dick painfully hard. all he cares about is being there for you and probably ordering a hit on your soon to be ex husband tbh.

after you fall asleep on his chest he gently carries you to the bedroom, kissing your temple before tucking you in to sleep. you awaken from your short nap and ask him to sleep with you, it’s been so long since someone slept next to you, and he almost cums in his pants, the thought of you asking him to sleep with you consumes his mind, but after taking off his suit and washing up, he lays in bed with his undershirt and his boxers. he apologizes for not having any clothes with him because he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable or scare you off but you jokingly reply “usually i sleep naked…you’re fine”. being in his boxers, it gets harder for him to hide his thick bulge.

it’s 2am in the morning and patrick startles awake. you’re talking in your sleep and he’s worried. you’re having a nightmare…or so he thinks. you’re whimpering and moaning and he thinks it’s so hot. poor baby hasn’t been fucked right in so long, the only action she gets is in her dreams. he giggles a little until he hears you moan his name. to him, it sounds like a choir of angels singing the most divine melody to ever exist. he ends up rushing to the bathroom and spitting into his hand to take care of his problem.

you wake up to shlick shlick sounds and groaning in the bathroom. could patrick be touching himself? he forgot to close the door all the way and you could peep into the bathroom through the crack. you probably shouldn’t, it would make you a bad friend, but ever since the first day you saw him, a part of you has wanted to sit on his cock and fuck yourself through an orgasm. you slowly walk towards the door and see him in the shower, sniffing the used panties you left in the bathroom while furiously stroking his giant veiny cock. it looks so scary with its angry red tip but your mouth starts watering. you rush back to bed feeling guilty for overstepping boundaries and for wanting to gag on your friend’s dick while rubbing your clit. patrick on the other hand, being a calculating master manipulator left the door open to make sure you would hear him and see him, hoping that he would have the same effect on you, that you have on him.

- alien anon

so I need to touch myself .

[strwberri-milk]

Oh how about a reader and Ayato like each other but reader hesitates to openly reciprocate any feelings because she’s just a normal person not from inazuma? Like in her eyes Ayato is a princes and she isn’t a princess and therefore she doesn’t deserve him or should be with him? I guess slight angst with fluff ending?

I Hope you have a lovely lovely day 💕

Ayato thought that being honest and upfront with you would be the best thing to do. He isn't one who beats around the bush, deciding that a direct approach is the best approach. When he told you how he feels he tells you you don't have to reciprocate his feelings but is still a little surprised when you tell him you don't.

He has a good read on people so he really thought that he read your signals correctly and that you liked him as well, but when you tell him that you don't he decides to take you at face value. He ignores the cues that you give that directly contradict your statement, wanting to just believe you for now and avoid confronting you.

It doesn't take him long to figure out that whatever it is you said to him is a lie. You still crave his presence, spending time with him whenever the two of you are free and being almost overly cautious with the way you interact with him. He knows that it's because you don't want to overstep some imaginary boundary you've drawn up, not knowing what to say just yet.

He chooses to simply observe the way you act around him, trying to see if you were just concealing your feelings for him. After he feels he's gathered enough evidence to sufficiently make his judgement, he asks you if you've actually been secretly harbouring feelings for him.

Patiently, he waits as you slowly tell him that yes, you do like him but you can't. He listens as you tell him that he's too good for you and that he shouldn't even be entertaining you like this but you just can't help but indulge because he is. It takes him even longer to convince you that he doesn't feel that way and that he does like you and it doesn't matter how society might perceive it. He insists on courting you like a true gentleman, a request you decide to take a chance on and agree to. You're glad for it for the smile he gives you is unlike any other.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Find Another Moment

Pairing: Jim Street x fem!SWAT!reader

Summary: Through a trip to find his mom, a series of explosions and executions, and an impromptu dinner date, you realize that you need Jim Street by your side all the time. Almost as much as he needs you.

Warnings: spoilers for 2x22 "Kangaroo" and Cinque story line from s2, angst to fluff, Karen Street being a bad mom, lots of comfort and love!

Word Count: 4.2k+ words

A/N: I shocked myself by making a rewrite that isn't chock-full of verbatim lines from the show! I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!🤍

Masterlist Directory | Jim Street Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

There are very few people you rush to answer the phone for. When Jim Street calls hours after your shift ends, you nearly trip over your feet to get to the phone and talk to him.

“Street, hey,” you greet when the line connects. 

“Hey, sorry for the late call,” he says. “But I, uh, I wanted to ask if maybe you could get another ride to work tomorrow? I know it’s late notice.”

“Sure. Is everything okay?”

Street sighs, and your worry and concern for him grows.

“You can talk to me, Street. You know that. But you don’t have to.”

“No, I want to,” he answers. “It’s my mom. That thing with the credit card information worked out and I got an address. Now that I know where she is, I can do something. I’m going to go check it in the morning before I head to HQ.”

“No problem. Family comes first. If you want me to come along though, just wait in the car, I can. You shouldn’t have to do this at all, but it’s really messed up that you’re having to do it alone, Jim.”

You don’t often call him by his first name, so you hope he doesn’t take it as trying to force your way into his personal life. He gets enough grief from Hondo about his mom, and the last thing you want to do is make him think you want to interfere and give your opinion, too.

“Your decision,” you add. “But I can definitely call in a favor from someone else. And my car should be back from the shop this week, so I’ll finally stop asking you to chauffeur me.”

“I don’t mind. Just… with my mom, I don’t want to make anything awkward between us if she is there.”

“Street, there’s nothing that could happen that would change how I think of you or our relationship,” you assure him. “I understand if you want to go alone, though.”

“I don’t,” Street says softly. “I really don’t.”

“Then pick me up before you go. What harm can some moral support do?”

“Thank you.”

“What friends are for.”

“No, really. I don’t think you realize just how much you’re doing for me. Thank you.”

“Goodnight, Street.”

Street sits back and sighs. You said nothing could change your relationship, but after moments like this, he wants to be the one to change it. Being friends and teammates is great, but you could be more. And, for once in his life, Street wants to do something for himself, to be happy with you without any care for what others think. If his mother doesn't scare you away, by some miracle or chance of fate, Street will tell you that he has feelings for you. Then, you get to take it from there because Street has been manipulated too many times in his life to find comfort in causing others to rush into big decisions. Especially when his heart and happiness are on the line, too.

The following morning, you wait on the curb of your usual parking spot for Street. He seems nervous as he pulls in, and you hope that the moral support you came to provide eases him. You’ve heard the horror stories about his mom but haven’t talked to her extensively like some of your other teammates. If she is here, you’ll give Street room to do his thing and then navigate the rest as he instructs. Street is special to you, and you refuse to lose him by overstepping or pushing his boundaries. He’s your friend, and you stay there because if you lose Street, you lose everything that matters.

“This is it?” you ask.

Street leans over the steering wheel to look at the old, sinking apartment complex. People wander aimlessly around the building, and clothes and furniture hang from windows. A distinct sense of doom and gloom escapes through all the cracks and crevices, showing the building's age and lack of care.

“Come in with me?” Street requests. “Please?”

You nod as you open the door. As you walk toward Street, you have to step over broken beer bottles, cigarette butts, and empty nos canisters. At his side, you smile, trying to remind Street that you’re with him, no matter what.

Inside, you follow Street up a staircase lined with trash. The hallway at the top is dark and dirty, and the cheap laminate floor is peeling from the corners. No one deserves to live like this, you think as you notice someone sitting at the end of the hall, rocking back and forth.

Street slows beside an open door, and you stop as he pushes it open further. Music plays inside, and Street looks over his shoulder at you and nods once.

“Good luck,” you whisper. “I’m right here.”

You watch Street step inside, then turn slightly to see inside the apartment. It’s trashed and nearly unlivable, but Karen Street is sitting on the floor and laughing at an old cartoon. Your eyes move to Street as he tries to get her attention. A sound down the hall draws your attention momentarily, but you turn back quickly when Street asks who someone is.

“Bryce,” the unseen man answers.

“So, you leave the apartment and disappear for weeks without a word and starting using again ‘cause you chose this guy?” Street asks.

“Name ain’t ‘this guy,’ it’s Bryce,” Bryce says. “And you need to go.”

You can see Street, but not Bryce from your position in the hallway. When Street stands quickly, you step inside and watch as he shoves the man against the fridge.

“Okay,” Bryce pants.

“Hey, stop it,” Karen calls as she stands. “Stop it, stop it! Eddie, baby, please.”

While Bryce asks who Eddie is, you debate whether you should walk back into the hallway or try to help Street. When Karen hugs Street while talking to his father, you wait. You step toward him as he shoves his mom back.

“Oh, Jimmy,” Karen says when she realizes it's Street and not her husband. She pulls her robe closed and murmurs, “I’m gonna… straighten things up.”

She moves toward the kitchen, and you follow her, nodding at Street. You gently place your arm before Karen and smile when she turns toward you.

“Hey, Mrs. Street,” you greet softly. “I can straighten up for you, but why don’t we go somewhere else for now?”

“What’s she on?” Jim asks behind you.

“We took a mix,” Bryce answers. “A mix of a lot of things.”

“Maybe we could go get breakfast,” you suggest. “Wouldn’t you like some time with Jim?”

Karen nods and turns toward Street. “I can make waffles,” she offers. “I might have to go to the store though.”

“I don’t want waffles, Ma,” Street answers.

Street grabs a blanket from the table and drapes it over his mom’s shoulders. “I’m taking her home,” he says as he places his hand on her back. “Bryce.”

You follow Jim and Karen for a few steps, then stop. “Bryce,” you call. “If I find out that the mix of a lot of things was your creation, I’ll be back.”

“It wasn’t!” he yells after you.

You wave your hand over your shoulder as you exit, leaving the door open behind you. When you catch up with Street, he’s almost back to his car.

“You take her home, I can call someone,” you offer.

“I’ll drop you off. Tell Hondo I’ll be late?” he replies.

“Sure.” Street closes the car door, and you catch his wrist as you ask, “Are you okay?”

He shrugs, and you nod in understanding. You squeeze his hand gently, then release him to get in the car. Street means more to you than he’ll ever know, and you’ll do everything you can, even covering for him to Hondo, to be here for him.

“Street, it’s me,” you say to the voicemail. “Hondo knows you’re running late, but I didn’t tell him anything specific. I’m going to the courthouse with Cortez. Um… if you need anything, let me know.”

After you hang up, you exit the car and meet Jessica on the sidewalk. She knows who you called, you’re sure of it, but you’re hoping that she won’t try to meddle or give you advice. The walk into the courthouse is a comfortable silence, which you’re grateful for. As you sit, Jessica speaks to the reporter on her other side, but you keep your eyes on the defendants before you. When they stand suddenly and begin chanting, you roll your eyes. They’ve been saying the same thing since they were arrested.

“The time to be good to each other has passed,” they add. “The system will be burned to ashes, starting with this courthouse.”

You look at Jessica as you lean forward.

“That’s new,” she says.

Outside the courthouse, people begin yelling, and you don’t hesitate to stand and walk toward the door. Jessica follows behind you, and when you enter the hallway to see Cinque on the screen, you stop in your tracks.

“Cinque,” Jessica says. “He must have hacked the feed.”

She raises her phone to film the live video, but you listen to Cinque rather than focus on who is with him or where he is. Hondo and the rest of your team will be watching back at HQ, but if you can help, you want to be prepared.

“So,” Cinque continues, “this time we don’t want money and we don’t want to bargain. We’re going to burn the system down and rebuild on its ashes.”

Cinque raises a phone and presses the screen. Several cars outside the courthouse explode, and you duck down as the people around you scream. Jessica pulls her gun and instructs people to move farther into the courthouse. You stay beside her and fight every instinct to run out and help the people closest to the explosion.

“Cortez, this isn’t over,” you say over the chaos behind you.

Jessica holsters her gun and pulls her phone out of her pocket. “He’s going to sentence a politician on live television every hour,” she tells you. “He’s just getting started.”

“That was the 4th Street bridge, but he’ll move. You need my team.”

Your phone rings before Jessica can respond. Street’s name on the screen is the best thing you’ve seen all day, you think as you answer the call.

“Street,” you greet when the call connects.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine. Cortez is good, too. No casualties here. How are things there?”

“Hectic. When are you coming back?”

“When am I coming back?” you repeat, looking at Jessica. She shrugs, it’s your decision. “I’m not. I’m going to stay with Cortez and keep an eye on everything here.”

“Be careful,” Street implores. “Keep me updated.”

“You, too.”

“Councilman Strub’s body, hanging from the 4th Street bridge, it seems familiar.”

“Figure it out, Street, we both know you can.”

“I have to tell Hondo all is good there.”

“I’ll see you later, Street. I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Less than an hour later, you’re still at the courthouse when Cinque executes another politician. You don’t watch this time, but you text Street to be careful immediately after the broadcast ends.

Back at HQ, Hicks tells Street, “Get the rest of your team and go grab Cinque!”

“The rest of my team isn’t here,” Street mumbles as he and Deacon exit the situation room.

“I know you’re worried about her,” Deacon says, “but she’s okay. If we want to get her back here safely, we have to stay focused, Street.”

Deacon joins Luca as Street calls for Chris and Tan to visit the location of Cinque’s last IP address. As he works, Street realizes that Deacon is right and wrong at the same time. He doesn’t just want you back to be part of the team, Jim Street wants you by his side all the time. Having you at his side, as a teammate, when things are bad, is great, but that’s not all he wants. He needs more.

 After successfully saving Councilman Washington, 20 Squad is surprised to see Jessica back at HQ. Street, however, only looks for you.

“She’s still at the courthouse, waiting for things to settle there,” she tells Street. “Deputies didn’t mind the help.”

Street nods and watches Jessica walk to her office with Hondo. He’s glad you’re okay and safe, but he’d prefer to see you in person. You stepped up this morning to help him with his mom, and now, Street isn’t sure when he’ll see you again.

“We need to find Cinque,” he tells Luca.

“For personal reasons or the public’s safety?” Luca asks knowingly.

“Why not both?”

Your phone rings during a conversation with a bailiff. Jessica’s name on the caller ID makes you answer it before you even excuse yourself.

“Cortez, hey,” you greet. “Everything okay?”

“It will be. Cinque is in custody, and Deacon and Hondo are reviewing all the intel we have to find the last Emancipator. I need you to join me at City Hall, if everything is under control at the courthouse?”

“As under control as it can be. They’re understandably freaked about the explosions and the live broadcasts, but they can spare me. I’ll be there in twenty.  Do you think we’ll actually find anything or have to wait for another lead?” you ask as you exit the courthouse.

“I wish I had an answer for you.”

Before you leave for City Hall, you text Street to let him know where you’re going. You hesitate over the ‘Send’ button, then add, I’ll see you soon. It’s a promise.

“Find anything?” Street asks as he enters the situation room.

“There’s a live press conference at City Hall, we think it’s the next Emancipator target,” Hondo answers. “Cinque’s been planning all of this for a while. Was there anything going on at City Hall in the last year?”

“Let me see,” Deacon murmurs. After a quick search, he pulls up a record and photos. “They installed new security cameras four months ago, and the installation crew had to scan IDs to gain access to the building. And that work crew sure looks like our Emancipators on trial.”

“They used the installation job to plant explosives inside City Hall,” Hondo realizes.

Street’s phone buzzes, and he continues listening to Hondo as he reads your message and rereads it.

“Cinque likes an audience. Now he’s got one on live TV,” Hondo adds.

“Tell Cortez,” Deacon urges.

“She’s not the only one there,” Street says, looking up from his phone. “They’re both in a death trap.”

“Call her,” Hondo commands as he raises his phone to his ear. “We need everyone out without raising flags.”

Standing in the crowd at City Hall, you watch as Cortez turns to the side and answers her phone. Your phone begins buzzing immediately after, and you step back to answer the call from Street.

“The Emancipators are planning to blow up City Hall,” Street says, skipping his usual greeting. “Hondo wants everyone out.”

“Got it,” you answer.

“No, hey, listen to me. You get out of there.”

“Street, I will.”

“Don’t wait, just get out of there and come back here. Okay?”

“I’ll be back soon, Street. I promised, didn’t I?”

Now, you just have to keep that promise.

Back at HQ, Hondo preps 20 Squad, and they roll out in Black Betty less than five minutes later. In his seat, Street forces himself to pay attention to Hondo. If he doesn’t focus on his job, his mind will run rampant and make him think of everything that could happen to you.

When people begin exiting City Hall, the final Emancipator detonates one of the explosives hidden inside. You’ve strayed from Hicks and Cortez to make sure everyone gets out safely, and when the building shakes and the first explosion echoes through the halls, you cover your head.

“Go, get out of here!” you yell to a man in the same hall.

The explosion sounded like it was on the two-side of the building. Though you know the sound may have been distributed oddly and you could be wrong, you begin moving that way. Street told you to leave, but you’re this close; you can’t sit back and do nothing.

“Go,” you call as you run past civilians exiting doors off the hallway.

You near the two-side as the explosions continue, ranging in speed and location. Without communications with your team, you have no idea if the bomber is even in the building. Or anyone else, for that matter.

“22-David, Chris got the bomber,” Luca alerts.

“30-David to D-Team. Status,” Deacon requests.

“26-David, clear,” Street answers.

“25-David, clear,” Tan adds.

“20-David, all clear,” Hondo reports after a moment. “And I’ve got Cortez.”

“Just Cortez?” Street asks.

Street doesn’t wait for an answer before he rips his phone from his pocket and calls you. You don't answer, and Street runs toward one of the only standing entrances. As he enters the falling building, he yells your name, screams through the dust, ignores the burning in his eyes and throat, and climbs over the rubble.

“Talk to me!” he yells, feeling ready to collapse. Leaning against a pile of debris, Street yells your name once more.

Each explosion disorients you more. Between the dust, the noise, and how the closer explosions throw off your balance, you lose sight of the exterior wall and your escape. Instead, you focus on moving forward and keeping your hope of finding any door.

Someone yells in the distance, but you can’t decipher where they are. Everything is muffled, and your steps are growing slow and heavy in your oncoming lethargy.

“Street,” you whisper, reaching for your phone before remembering you dropped it while running past a falling pillar.

Your eyes flutter closed as you lean against a wall. Investigators will be inside soon, so you rest amongst the wreckage and consider simply waiting for them. Until someone yells your name, that is.

“Street?” you ask without opening your eyes. You try to imagine the voice in your head again, and the simple thought of Jim Street gives you the strength to stand. “Street!” you yell. You’re interrupted by a cough, but you call for him again and hope you aren’t imagining his presence.

“What can you see?” Street yells.

He sounds closer now, and you smile as you reply, “Dust!”

“Cute,” Street says, his voice quieter but clear.

You turn to the side, and your eyes widen when you see him. Street steps to you and pulls you against his chest, hugging you tightly. He cradles your head against his chest for a moment before he pulls back and lays a hand against your cheek to look at your face.

“Let’s get out of here,” he suggests. “You feel okay?”

You nod and agree, leaning against Street as he follows Luca’s radioed directions to a clear exit. In the light of day, you can see that you and Street are both covered in dust, but there’s no one else you’d rather have beside you for support. You like having him by your side, you realize, and you wouldn’t mind staying at his side even when you’re off-duty.

“Thank goodness,” Street sighs. “I thought I’d forgotten what you looked like without all the City Hall powder on you.”

“You stare at her enough it should be burned into your mind,” Luca teases as he waves at you. “Have a good one.”

“You too, Luca,” you call.

“You want to come over?” Street offers, pulling his backpack onto his shoulder. “I can make you dinner.”

You smile as you close your locker. “I really want to, Street. But isn’t your mom at your place right now? Don’t you need to spend time with her, before, you know?”

“Is that the only reason you’re saying no?”

“I didn’t say no,” you argue with a smile. “I don’t want to intrude, though.”

“Come with me,” Street repeats, offering his hand.

You lay your palm over his, and you know you are home. Your place has always been by Jim Street, and you’re finally seeing that.

“Go ahead,” you murmur at Street’s door. “I’ll either be here to take you to my place or I’ll come in later.”

Street nods and squeezes your fingers gently. As he enters his apartment, he sighs. “Hey,” he tells his mom.

“How was work?” she asks.

“It was good,” Street lies. You were in danger, it was terrible, but his mom has enough to deal with already. Not that he would have told her the truth anyway. “How you feeling, Mom?”

“My headache’s cleared away, so… Thank you so much for coming and getting me. Uh, thank your friend, too. You okay?”

Street doesn’t answer, his eyes straying to the door, where you’re waiting to be everything he needs and more. Not because you have to or feel some obligation or twisted sense of responsibility for him, but because you want to.

“I’m so sorry, Jimmy, that you had to see me like that,” Karen continues. “Sometimes your mom’s just pretty sick.”

The door opens, and Street doesn’t turn around because he knows it isn’t you.

“Mrs. Street,” Karen’s parole officer says, “I have to remand you back into state custody for parole violations. You missed several check-in appointments and were found under the influence or narcotics.”

“You reported me?” Karen asks Street.

“So that you can get treatment, get better,” Street explains.

“I can’t go back to jail. Jimmy, I can’t go back to prison, I can’t. After all I’ve been through and all I’ve done for you, you’re sending me back? What kind of son would do this to his mother?”

“The kind that doesn’t want you to die.”

You watch as Karen is led out of Street’s apartment. With her back to you, she never sees you, but you heard everything. The door is still open, but you knock regardless as you step into Street’s home. His eyes are on the floor until you enter, and then he looks up with sadness evident on his face. Jim Street has never been one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but with you, he’d rip it out of his chest and place it in your loving hands without second-guessing that you’d treat it better than he ever could.

“Jim,” you say softly. “I’m so sorry.”

Street gently grabs your left wrist, closing his fingers around your skin and feeling your pulse thump beneath his touch. With his other hand, he pushes the door closed. When you step closer to him, Street pulls you into his arms and drops his head to your shoulder. Carefully, you move your hands to rub between his shoulders while gently brushing through his short hair.

“You did the right thing,” you promise him. “You love her. Even if she can’t see it, you did the right thing.”

Street’s arms tighten around your waist, and you close your eyes as you hold him.

“What do you want for dinner?” Street asks against your shirt.

You chuckle at his sudden change of subject, but neither you nor Street move. The comfort, the peace, the love you feel at every point of connection you have with Street is better than anything you’ve ever felt or will ever feel in the future.

“What if we order from your favorite place?” you suggest.

“Why?” Street mumbles, his hands clutching the back of your shirt.

“Uh, because you like it.”

“No, I mean, why stay with me, be here for all of this?”

You gently push Street back to look into his eyes. With your hands on either side of his face, you smile and answer, “Because I want to be. Right here is the best place I’ve ever been.”

Street smiles, his dimples appearing beneath your thumbs at your honesty. With his hands at your side, Street leans his forehead against yours and sighs.

“I really am hungry,” he admits.

“I thought we were having a moment,” you tease, brushing your thumbs over his dimples.

As you look into Street’s eyes, you desperately want to kiss him. After everything that’s happened, you don’t want to make him uncomfortable or force him into something he isn’t ready for yet. So, you wait.

“You didn’t listen to me. When I told you to get out of City Hall… you were all I could think about and when we realized what Cinque’s crew was doing, I realized that I need you, all the time,” Street confesses.

“I thought you were hungry,” you whisper.

“You can’t have it both ways,” Street replies happily. “Unless you want it both ways, and then I’ll find a way to make it work.”

“I want you, Street,” you say. “Now and forever, I want nothing but you.”

“Even with all the drama?”

“And the trauma,” you affirm with a nod. “We all have pasts and baggage, Street.”

“Would kissing you immediately after sending my mom back to jail be weird?”

“Now that you’ve pointed it out, yes, it would.” You step back and suggest, “Dinner and then we try to find another moment?”

“Only if you’re in it,” Street answers.

[cowboygenesis]

2: sweet brew | din djarin x reader

part 2 of the "brown eyes" series: masterlist.

pairing: din djarin x reader

chapter warnings: none.

word count: 5.9k

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: (update: revised the ending a little) 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, and enjoy!

Your 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.

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.”

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

You take a deep breath, savoring the decadent 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 leather of your couch?

“And before you ask, no, I doubt he’ll let you borrow it. I’ve heard it cost him a small fortune, so he’s understandably a little protective over it,” 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.

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.

“His name is Grogu,” the man finally speaks, placing the kid on the floor again. He looks at his father in question. “He was… orphaned. I took him in under my care.”

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 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 in 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. "Different from other children."

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

"I can tell," 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 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. This was a hit with my friends back when I—" You stop yourself, realizing you’re teetering on dangerous memories. "Back in the day," you finish with a small, tight smile.

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.

Din 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.

“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.

“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. ”Are you not 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.

“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.

[takemebacktocaitlyn]

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

‼️  DISCLAIMERS FOR THIS CHAPTER  ‼️ 

#ScrewYouVeryMuch, #NoTalkAllTongue, #MuscularGirlsCanGetIt, #NoThoughtProcessJustWords!

Flirty!Reader, Clueless!Energetic!Reader x Pussyblocker!Adrianna x Annoyed!Clarisse, Reassuring!Sympathetic!Reader x Angry!Flustered!Clarisse, Kinda Player!Clarisse, Protective!Reader x Defensive!Clarisse, Iconic!Reader x Hidden!Impressed!Clarisse

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 Parents, Mentions of Dead Parents, Coping with Grief and Losses, Calling out on mindless behaviors, Future Gf who’s quick to call you out on your shit and still loves you regardless of the situation (Absolutely Reader), Both Reader and Clarisse are in the wrong in some way, A LOT Angst At The End

Italics Alone are Reader’s Thoughts

Bold Italics are Other Various Character’s POV

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: anyways, i hope you liked this chapter! please don’t be a silent reader and interact within the chapter. 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, 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?

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated!

© asvterias, 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works onto any other platforms without my permission.