#i am just overwhelmed with everything that i have

[gf2bellamy]

So I am obsessed with fics where the bau find out that early seasons!Spencer has a girlfriend so if you could please write any form of that I would literally lose my mind ♡

Maybe Morgan and Garcia (because those two are everything to me) run into Spencer and his girlfriend on a date or something??

ice cream — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: eating ice cream, reader throws away an ice cream cone bc she doesn't like it a/n: hiii thank youu for your request !! also morgan and garcia might just b the best duo ever

The ice cream shop was a cozy little place, with pastel-colored walls and a chalkboard menu filled with swirling, handwritten flavors. The air was sweet with the scent of waffle cones and sugary toppings, and the soft hum of the freezer behind the counter added to the cheerful ambiance.  

You stood in front of the glass case, your eyes scanning the colorful assortment of flavors, each one more tempting than the last. But as much as you wanted to try something new, the sheer number of options was overwhelming. 

“I don’t know what to get,” you mumbled, leaning closer to Spencer, who was standing beside you.

Spencer tilted his head, studying the menu with that thoughtful expression you loved so much. “You like chocolate, don’t you?” he asked, pointing to the rich, dark chocolate ice cream that looked as smooth as silk. 

You nodded but hesitated. “I do, but… I kind of want to try something new. What if I don’t like it, though?” You bit your lip, glancing at the line infront of you. There was only one customer ahead of you, and you knew you had to decide soon. 

Spencer’s lips curved into a small, understanding smile. “How about we buy three ice creams?” he suggested, his tone gentle. “One chocolate, so you have something you know you’ll like, something new for you to try, and one for me. That way, if you don’t like the new flavor, you won’t be stuck with it.” 

You blinked at him, surprised by his solution. “Three ice creams? Isn’t that a little excessive?” 

He shrugged, his smile turning playful. “It’s not every day we get ice cream. Might as well make it an adventure.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at his logic, and the tension in your shoulders melted away. “Okay,” you agreed, a happy smile spreading across your face. “Let’s do it.” 

When it was your turn to order, you decided to go with the chocolate mint for your “adventure” flavor, while Spencer chose a classic vanilla. The chocolate ice cream, your reliable favorite, was the third choice.

Once you stepped outside, the warm afternoon sun greeted you, casting a golden glow over the street.

You stood in front of the store, holding your two cones—one chocolate and one chocolate mint—while Spencer happily started on his vanilla.

You took a tentative lick of the chocolate mint.

Almost immediately, your face scrunched up in disgust. “Oh god, no. What is that?” you exclaimed, the strong mint flavor overwhelming your taste buds. It was like eating toothpaste mixed with chocolate, and you quickly reached for the chocolate ice cream to wash away the taste. 

Spencer burst out laughing, his shoulders shaking as he watched you struggle. “That bad, huh?” he asked, his eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“It’s awful!” you said, glaring at the cone. “I don’t know how anyone could like this. I’m throwing it away.” 

“Wait, wait,” Spencer said, still chuckling as he held out a hand to stop you. “Let me try it.” 

You hesitated but handed him the cone, watching as he took a small bite. He chewed thoughtfully, his expression unreadable for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah, that’s… not great,” he admitted, handing it back to you with a grin. “But at least now you know.” 

“Yeah, now I know to never trust chocolate mint again,” you said, tossing the cone into a nearby trash can with a dramatic flourish. “Chocolate is the only flavor for me.” 

Spencer laughed again, the sound infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile despite your ice cream disaster. “Well, at least you tried,” he said, nudging your shoulder gently.

You leaned into him, savoring the sweetness of your chocolate ice cream and the even sweeter moment with him. 

The sun was warm on your skin as you and Spencer strolled down the bustling street, hand in hand. The ice cream in your free hand was slowly melting.

Spencer’s thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles, a small, comforting gesture that made your heart flutter.

You pointed out different stands as you walked, smiling at the quirky items on display and debating whether you should buy a ridiculously oversized hat or a silly toy.

“Look at that!” you said, tugging on Spencer’s hand as you gestured to a stand selling handmade jewelry. “Those earrings are so pretty. Do you think they’d suit me?” 

Spencer glanced at the stand, his brow furrowing slightly as he considered your question. “I think they’d look great on you,” he said after a moment, his tone sincere. “But you’d look good in anything.” 

You grinned, nudging him playfully. “Smooth, Dr. Reid. Very smooth.” 

He chuckled, his cheeks turning pink, and you were about to tease him further when a loud, familiar voice cut through the air. 

“Reid?!” 

Both of you froze, turning toward the sound. Your eyes landed on a stand a few feet away, where a blonde woman in colorful, eccentric clothing was waving enthusiastically. Next to her stood a tall, muscular man with a smirk on his face.

You recognized them immediately—Penelope Garcia and Derek Morgan. 

Before you could react, Garcia was rushing toward you, her arms outstretched like she was about to tackle Spencer in a hug. Morgan followed at a more slower pace, his smirk growing wider as he approached. 

“Oh my gosh, Reid!” Garcia exclaimed, stopping just short of throwing herself at him. “What are you doing here? And who is this?” Her eyes landed on you, sparkling with curiosity.

You felt Spencer’s hand tighten around yours, and you glanced at him, confused. His mouth had fallen open slightly, and a blush was creeping up his neck, spreading to his cheeks.

“Uh, hi, Garcia. Morgan,” Spencer said, his voice slightly higher than usual. “This is, um… this is—” 

“His girlfriend,” you finished for him, offering a warm smile. “It’s nice to meet you both. Spencer’s told me so much about you.” 

Garcia’s eyes widened, and she let out a delighted squeal. “His girlfriend?!” she repeated, looking between you and Spencer. “Oh my gosh, Reid, you’ve been holding out on us! How long has this been going on? Why didn’t you tell us?!” 

Spencer opened his mouth to respond, but Morgan beat him to it. “Yeah, pretty boy,” Morgan said, crossing his arms and giving Spencer a teasing look. “Since when do you keep secrets from your team? Especially one this big.” 

Spencer’s blush deepened, and he adjusted his glasses nervously. “It’s… not a secret,” he said, though his voice lacked conviction. “I just… haven’t mentioned it yet.” 

“Haven’t mentioned it?” Garcia repeated, placing her hands on her hips. “Reid, this is huge! You’re dating someone! And she’s adorable!” She turned to you, her expression softening. “You are adorable, by the way. I love your outfit.” 

You laughed, feeling a little overwhelmed but charmed by Garcia’s enthusiasm. “Thank you,” you said. “I’ve heard a lot about you too. Spencer says you’re the heart of the team.” 

Garcia beamed, clearly pleased by the compliment. “Well, he’s not wrong,” she said, winking at Spencer.

“So,” she said, turning to you with a mischievous glint in her eye, “what’s it like dating our boy genius? Does he recite random facts at you all the time? Oh, does he—” 

“Garcia,” Spencer interrupted, his voice pleading. “Please don’t.” 

You laughed, enjoying the way Spencer squirmed under their teasing. “He does all of those things,” you said, grinning at him. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

Garcia sighed dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. “That’s so sweet. I think I might cry.” 

Morgan rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile. “Alright, lovebirds,” he said, “we’ll let you get back to your date. But Reid, you’re officially on notice. No more secrets, got it?” 

“Got it,” Spencer said, though he looked like he was already regretting the promise. 

As Garcia and Morgan walked away, Garcia turned back to wave enthusiastically. “It was so nice meeting you!” she called. “We’ll have to do lunch soon!” 

You waved back, still smiling, before turning to Spencer. “Well, that was… unexpected.” 

Spencer let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah,” he said. “Sorry about that.” 

“They’re great,” you said, squeezing his hand. “And they clearly care about you a lot. I’m glad I finally got to meet them.” 

Spencer looked at you, his expression softening. “I’m glad too,” he said.

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. “It’s nice to know your team has your back.”  you said softly.

Spencer smiled, as he tightened his hold on your hand. “Yeah,” he said. “It is.” 

[heliosunny]

Hi hi!! Can I request a yan! Jing yuan with an assistant reader? Like manipulative Yuanie. Thinking about how he’ll have one of the people who are your colleagues overload you with work so he can swoop in and save you like he was your “knight in shining armor”. Having you fill out lots of paperwork so you’ll have to work overtime and stay with him more is definitely something he’d do!

I think yan! Jing yuan would also take you out on ‘business dinners’ as he’d like to call it. 🤭🤭

I also wanted to ask do you take nsfw requests? Or maybe you can make a rules list too please!

Mwah ❤️ I hope you have a good day!!!

Yandere!Jing Yuan x Assistant!Reader

The workload had been suffocating lately. Stacks upon stacks of paperwork found their way onto your desk, each page demanding your immediate attention. Your fingers ached from gripping the brush for too long, eyes burning as you struggled to keep up. It didn’t make sense how your responsibilities had doubled out of nowhere.

"Ah, still working?" A familiar voice interrupted your thoughts.

Jing Yuan leaned against the doorway of your office, golden eyes filled with amusement as he took in the sight of your disheveled state.

"You're overworking yourself" he chided, stepping in. "That’s no good. If you collapse, who will assist me?"

You let out a tired sigh, rubbing your temples. "I don’t have a choice. These reports need to be done before the deadline."

Jing Yuan hummed thoughtfully, gaze flickering over the piles of documents. "Strange. I was under the impression that some of these tasks weren’t meant for you…"

His voice was light, almost casual, but something about it made your skin prickle. Before you could respond, he reached out, plucking a report from the top of the stack.

"Ah, this one" he mused, flipping through the pages. "This should have been handled by your colleague. How peculiar."

Your brows furrowed. Had you really been doing work that wasn’t meant for you? It made sense now—why everything had felt overwhelming lately.

Jing Yuan sighed dramatically, setting the papers aside. "It seems someone has been overloading you, either by accident… or design." He tilted his head, white strands of hair slipping over his shoulder as he offered a sympathetic smile. "I’ll have to look into this."

"For now" he continued, "why don’t you take a break? Stay a little longer with me. I was just about to have dinner—perhaps you’d care to join me? Consider it a business dinner, of course."

You shook your head, exhaustion pressing down on your shoulders. "I appreciate the offer, General, but I can’t. I still have work to finish."

Jing Yuan’s golden eyes flickered with something unreadable before he let out a soft chuckle. "Ah, such diligence. It’s admirable, really." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "But overworking yourself won’t earn you any favors, you know."

Still, you refused to budge. "I’ll manage."

Jing Yuan sighed, feigning defeat. "Very well, if you insist." He straightened, a small smile playing on his lips. "At least allow me to lend a hand. I can ease some of your burdens—"

"No."

The word left your lips firmer than expected. His smile didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze, something unreadable yet sharp.

You didn’t give him a chance to press further. With a quick bow, you excused yourself, diving back into your work before he could weave his words around you again.

By the time you finished, the lights are already on. The cool night air biting against your skin. You exhaled, finally free from the suffocating weight of paperwork.

Or so you thought.

Jing Yuan was leaning against one of the pillars near the entrance, arms crossed in an almost lazy manner.

"You’re late" he murmured, pushing himself off the pillar. "I was beginning to worry."

"General? What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing. Working until this hour—alone, no less? That’s hardly safe."

"I can take care of myself. How old do you think I am?"

Jing Yuan tilted his head, his amusement growing. "I don’t doubt that. But even the strongest warriors aren’t invincible." He stepped closer. "If you had accepted my help earlier, I wouldn’t have had to wait for you like this."

"You—waited for me?"

Jing Yuan let out a soft hum. "Of course. What kind of superior would I be if I let my hardworking assistant wander home alone at such an ungodly hour?"

His logic was twisted, you knew that. But the way he said it, the way his voice dripped with gentle concern, made it difficult to argue.

"Come," he said, placing a hand on your back, guiding you forward. "I’ll escort you home."

-----

The moment you stepped into your office, dread settled deep in your stomach.

More paperwork. MORE PAPERWORK?

The stacks had doubled—no, tripled overnight. Piles upon piles of documents sat on your desk, some even spilling onto the floor. It was impossible. There was no way this much work had suddenly appeared unless…

Your mind flickered back to the conversation from yesterday. Jing Yuan’s words echoed in your head.

"It seems someone has been overloading you, either by accident… or design."

A sinking feeling settled in your chest, but you shook it off. You didn’t have time to dwell on suspicions, not when you were buried under all this.

You spent the morning frantically working, but no matter how fast you went, the papers never seemed to end. By midday, your exhaustion became unbearable. Your pride screamed at you to push through, to handle it yourself, but reality was much crueler.

You needed help.

And you knew exactly who to ask.

Reluctantly, you made your way to Jing Yuan’s office, fingers curling into the fabric of your sleeves. The guards outside barely spared you a glance before letting you in.

Inside, Jing Yuan lounged comfortably behind his desk, golden eyes lifting lazily as you entered. His lips curled into a knowing smile.

"Ah, what a pleasant surprise" he mused. "To what do I owe the honor?"

You hesitated. Even without looking at him, you could feel his gaze, sharp and expectant.

Taking a small breath, you finally spoke, voice quieter than intended.

"I… need help."

The silence stretched between you for a moment, thick with something you couldn’t quite place. Then, Jing Yuan chuckled.

"My, my," he drawled, resting his chin against his palm. "So even my diligent assistant has limits. How adorable."

Your face burned, and you instinctively looked away.

"I would never abandon a subordinate in need," he said smoothly while walking over to you. "But…"

You tensed as he stopped just inches away from you, his presence overwhelming.

"I have one condition."

You swallowed. "What is it?"

He smiled. "You’ll sit near me while we work. That’s all."

That was… it? No outrageous demand, no unreasonable request?

Sensing your hesitation, Jing Yuan leaned in ever so slightly, his voice a soft murmur. "Surely, that’s not too much to ask?"

You bit your lip before reluctantly nodding. "...Alright."

Jing Yuan’s smile widened. "Good."

Without another word, he led you to his desk, gesturing toward the seat beside his. The placement left little space between you, the close proximity forcing you to feel the warmth of his presence.

"Now," he said, handing you a brush, his fingers grazing yours for just a moment too long. "Let’s begin, shall we?"

As you dipped the brush into the ink, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had fallen right into his trap.

The quiet scratching of brushes against paper filled the office, the occasional rustling of documents the only other sound. You sat stiffly beside Jing Yuan, fully aware of his presence as he worked leisurely beside you.

It wasn’t just the closeness that unsettled you—it was the way his eyes would flicker to you every so often, studying you between strokes of his brush.

"You’re quite tense" Jing Yuan noted, voice laced with amusement.

You didn’t look up. "I’m just focusing."

"Hmm." He leaned back slightly, stretching. "I wonder… do I make you nervous?"

Your fingers twitched slightly around the brush, but you forced yourself to keep writing. "Of course not, General."

Jing Yuan chuckled, clearly entertained. "No need for such formalities. We’re spending so much time together—surely, you can call me Jing Yuan?"

You hesitated, but before you could think of a response, he smoothly shifted the subject.

"I must say," he mused, "this is quite an improvement. If I had known all it took to keep you close was a bit of extra work, I would have arranged this much sooner."

You turned to him, only to be met with his usual easy-going smile.

"Just a joke," he reassured lightly. "Unless… you’d rather I keep you overworked? I could make sure you need my help every day."

There it was again. That subtle pressure wrapped in velvet words.

You swallowed hard and forced a polite chuckle. "That won’t be necessary."

Jing Yuan exhaled as if disappointed. "Pity."

Hours passed, and despite his slow, deliberate pace, he finished his portion faster than you. He hummed, watching you struggle to keep up.

"You’re still working?" he asked, feigning concern. "You really should take a break."

"I can’t afford to. There’s still too much left."

Jing Yuan hummed in thought. Then, as if struck by an idea, he leaned in slightly, his voice a near whisper.

"How about this?" His tone was warm, coaxing. "I’ll help you again tomorrow… but only if you have dinner with me afterward."

"You deserve a meal after working so hard," he continued, resting his chin on his palm. "And it’d be nice, wouldn’t it? Just the two of us, away from all these dreadful reports?"

It sounded harmless enough.

Reluctantly, you nodded. "Alright."

Jing Yuan smiled, pleased.

"Good" he murmured. "Then it’s a promise."

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, casting the Xianzhou Luofu in a soft, warm glow. Lanterns flickered to life as you walked beside Jing Yuan, your exhaustion weighing heavily on your shoulders. He had insisted on walking with you, his usual lazy smile in place, but there was an unmistakable satisfaction in his gaze.

You had been too drained to argue.

The restaurant he chose was far from the usual places where officials gathered for formal meetings. It was intimate, the kind of place that felt too personal for just work.

"You didn’t have to pick somewhere this… refined" you murmured, hesitant as you stepped inside.

Jing Yuan chuckled. "Nonsense. You deserve a proper meal after all your hard work." He guided you to a private table tucked away from prying eyes, his hand lingering just a second too long against your back.

As you sat down, a waiter arrived almost instantly, as if they had been expecting you.

"Order whatever you like," Jing Yuan encouraged, waving a hand dismissively. "Consider it a reward for your dedication."

You hesitated before cautiously selecting something modest. The last thing you wanted was to feel indebted.

Jing Yuan, on the other hand, ordered without restraint.

"You know" he mused, "I admire your work ethic, but I do wonder—do you ever take time for yourself?"

"I don’t have much choice. The workload has been… demanding."

His golden eyes glinted. "Ah, yes. It seems someone keeps piling too much on you, doesn’t it?"

You glanced at him suspiciously, but he merely took a sip of his wine, his expression unreadable.

"It’s a shame" he continued, "how easily people take advantage of you. Always so responsible, so eager to prove yourself… It makes you an easy target."

His words struck a nerve—not because they were wrong, but because he was speaking as if he weren’t the very person orchestrating your exhaustion.

"You make it sound like I’m helpless" you muttered.

Jing Yuan let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Not at all. You’re quite capable… But even the strongest warriors need someone to protect them sometimes."

There it was again. That gentle, insistent push—reminding you that he was the only one who truly saw you, the only one who cared enough to step in.

Your meal arrived, breaking the tension momentarily. You focused on eating, but Jing Yuan never stopped watching, his gaze following every small movement you made.

"You should eat more" he remarked at one point, nudging a dish toward you. "You push yourself too hard. It worries me."

"This is just a business dinner" you reminded him, almost as if you were reminding yourself.

"Of course," he agreed easily. "Just business."

But the way he poured you another drink, the way his fingers brushed against yours with each small gesture, told you otherwise.

Jing Yuan was in no rush to leave, drawing out the meal with casual conversation and idle remarks about work, yet every topic always circled back to you.

"You should rest more." "You work too hard." "It must be exhausting, always carrying everything on your shoulders."

His voice was gentle, warm, the perfect balance of concern and admiration.

“I should head home” you finally said, setting your chopsticks down. “It’s getting late.”

Jing Yuan tilted his head slightly, his golden eyes studying you in silence. Then, he sighed dramatically, leaning back in his chair.

"I suppose you’re right" he said, sounding almost disappointed. "I wouldn’t want to keep you from your much-needed rest."

Relief flooded you—until he added, “I’ll escort you.”

You tensed. “That’s really not necessary...”

"I insist."

You swallowed your protest, knowing that arguing would only drag this out longer. With a quiet nod, you allowed him to walk you home. The city was quiet at this hour, save for the occasional passerby. Yet somehow, despite the openness of it all, you felt cornered.

Jing Yuan didn’t speak much, but the silence between you was anything but comfortable. When you finally arrived at your door, you turned to him quickly, hoping to end the night before he could push further. "Thank you for the dinner, General."

Jing Yuan smiled. "No need to be so formal. After all," he reached out, lightly brushing his fingers against the back of your hand, "we're much closer now, aren’t we?"

Your breath caught in your throat, but before you could step back, he withdrew his hand with a chuckle.

"Rest well, I'll see you at work tomorrow."

With that, he turned and walked away, his figure slowly disappearing into the night.

-----

Jing Yuan had been in a good mood that morning.

You had shyly asked for his help, relied on him, and even allowed him to walk you home. His patience was paying off, you were already beginning to lean on him, just as he had planned.

So when he strolled into the office, humming softly to himself, he expected to find you waiting for him, as usual.

Instead, what he saw made his easygoing expression freeze.

There you were, standing beside another officer, chatting casually as if the exhaustion from yesterday had never existed.

Jing Yuan’s sharp eyes immediately honed in on the scene—on the way you nodded, the small laugh you let out at something the officer said.

That wasn’t part of the plan.

The lazy, pleased expression he had worn all morning dulled into something unreadable.

Slowly, he stepped forward, his presence casting a long shadow as he approached.

Your conversation stalled the moment you noticed him. The officer beside you stiffened, standing at attention.

"Ah, General!" the officer greeted with forced politeness. "Good morning."

Jing Yuan’s golden eyes didn’t even acknowledge him. Instead, they remained on you.

"Good morning," he said pleasantly, but there was no warmth in his voice. "I hope I’m not… interrupting anything important?"

"No, we were just talking about-"

"Ah, I see," Jing Yuan interrupted "And here I thought you had your hands full with work."

The officer looked between the two of you, sensing the tension. "I should get going" he mumbled quickly before excusing himself.

"Was something wrong?"

Jing Yuan chuckled, shaking his head. "Not at all," he said lightly, stepping closer. "I just found it surprising."

"Surprising?"

"That you still have the energy to entertain idle chatter… after all that work."

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Jing Yuan placed a hand on your shoulder—gentle, yet firm enough to root you in place.

"Come now" he murmured, voice as smooth as silk. "There’s still plenty to do, isn’t there?"

In that moment, you understood—he wasn’t pleased.

And he wouldn’t let this slide.

The tension from the morning never fully left.

Jing Yuan acted as if nothing had happened, his usual lazy smile in place, his voice carrying the same smooth, amused tone.

But you could feel it.

The real punishment began soon after.

It started subtly.

Your workload, already overwhelming, suddenly doubled.

Requests that would usually be divided among the other assistants somehow all ended up on your desk. Forms, reports, urgent documents—all requiring immediate attention, all piling up at an alarming rate.

By noon, you could barely breathe under the pressure.

Still, you pushed through, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you struggle.

But just as you were starting to make progress, Jing Yuan’s voice interrupted your focus.

"Ah, this one’s incorrect." he mused, holding up a form you had completed earlier.

You blinked, frowning. "But I—"

"Fix it for me, won’t you?" he cut in smoothly, placing it back on your desk.

You stared at the document, confusion creeping in. You were certain you had filled it out correctly. But when you reached for another, you saw that the one you had submitted before, the one he himself had approved, was suddenly filled with minor errors.

Mistakes that hadn’t been there before.

Had he… altered them?

Before you could question it, he spoke again, his tone light and teasing.

"It’s unlike you to be so careless" he mused, resting his chin on his hand as he watched you. "Are you perhaps… distracted?"

He was toying with you.

And yet, what could you say?

Accusing him directly would only backfire.

So, you swallowed your frustration and forced yourself to keep working.

By the time evening arrived, exhaustion clung to you like a second skin. You could barely think straight, your hands aching from the relentless writing. Just as you were about to gather your things to leave, a shadow fell over your desk. Jing Yuan.

"You’ve worked so hard today" he said, his voice like silk. "Why don’t I treat you to dinner again?"

Your body screamed for rest, but you knew—this wasn’t an invitation.

It was a test.

And you already knew what happened to those who disappointed him.

So, with a quiet nod, you accepted.

And just like that, he won again.

-----

I think I'll update some rules if I have time.

For now, I don't receive NSFW content, it's a bit challenging for me in that field. :3 I rather focus on what I'm capable of doing rather than accepting all requests and giving you unwanted results.

[konoharfts]

YO! LOOK GUYS I’M NOT DEAD!!

Follower Event Doodle Dump Time!!

Just uhh pretend this isn’t two days late 😐

Also Bonus:

YIPPEEE!!! 🎉🎉🎉

Thank you to everyone who participated!!!!!

@kindatiredtho @stressed-sock @natsbatscats @haleingstorm @m1locer3al @baileythebean @clevertyranttidalwave and also whoever sent the anonymous ask <3

Thank y’all so so much for all the support for my silly little arts <<33 seriously y’all 300 is CRAZY!!! If someone told me 3 weeks ago that after posting on Tumblr not only will I gain all these followers in such a short time (and also get <2000 notes on a single post!!!!!!) but I’ll also find an amazing community with so many talented, creative, and funny people I would not have believed it. I am constantly so positively overwhelmed with all these gushy feelings for all of y’all that if I pour my heart out now I fear this post would be way too long :’) so for once I’m keeping it short and sweet hehehe :)

Love y’all <3 I’m so excited to continue posting art on here!! (What’s next? Idk, guess you’ll have to see 👀👀)

🫶🫶🫶🫶

Okie now I’m going to catch up on everything I’ve missed after putting myself in an art comma byeee~~~

[probablysimpledreams]

Surprise Valentine (Dabi x reader)

a/n: a little early v-day treat for you cuties<33 I'm still working on a Keigo piece for valentines day so that should be out soon (hopefully) lol I was working on it then went out and when I got home the idea for this fic washed over me so crazily I was like I HAVE to write it ahhh enjoy lovelies <33

wc: 1096

"I don't need a babysitter!" Toga huffed as she skipped down the dimly lit street, refusing to face Dabi who was following close behind. 

"I find that hard to believe," Dabi rolled his eyes. "I'm here for my own reasons, so just shut up and keep walking. We're almost there anyway." Toga stopped in her tracks, a wicked grin spreading across her face as she took in his words. Dabi was joining her to steal Valentine's Day treats and items from the store on his own accord? It could only mean one thing.......

"I knew it! You are in love!" the young girl beamed, completely invading Dabi's personal space as she danced around happily. "Love love love!"

"Ohmygod will you shut up?!" Dabi snapped back, looking down at his feet as he kept walking. He didn't want to admit it but Toga was right, he was in love with you. So much so that he wanted to be the sweet boyfriend who surprises you with cute gifts, despite his claim to dislike this and any other holiday. God love was embarrassing. 

"You didn't deny it," Toga teased, dodging the small flame he threw her way. Dabi just groaned in response, silently begging she'd leave him alone so he could grab what he needed and get out. 

After a few more steps and teasing remarks by Toga, the pair finally made it to the closed shop. Dabi swiftly cuts out any security cameras and locks, allowing the two to enter the shop. The isles were filled with a massive assortment of heart shaped candies, plushies, flowers, and other everyday items in pink or red to make buyers want to grab it. 

Though he wouldn't admit it aloud, Dabi was overwhelmed as he browsed the store. Everything felt so flashy, so forward, so lovey dovey. But none of it felt like him. If he was going to do something for you, he was going to make sure you could see the thought and love behind it. He may not be the most romantic man or the best with words, but he always made sure his actions told you exactly how he felt. Exactly how much he loved you. It had to be perfect. He needed to be the best boyfriend. He needed your love. He needed you to never leave him. He needed- 

"You're overthinking this dummy," Toga's voice snaps Dabi back to reality as she approaches him, hands full of heart shaped chocolates and little plushies. "I know you know what ______ likes, so just pick something and stick with the decision." 

Though it annoyed him, Toga's reassurance eased his thoughts. He took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes before looking at the isles again with a new, refreshed mindset. This time a black cat plushie with a gold heart collar caught his eye. He chuckled as he remembered the countless times you'd say he reminded you of a cat or he had "black cat energy," whatever the hell that meant. As he went to grab it, his eyes began trailing upward and landed on a plushie that happened to be your favorite animal and color. A small smile tugs at his lips as he examines the item, noting it slightly resembled you as well. He decided to grab both plushies, snatching a pack of your favorite snacks before heading out with Toga. 

Once back at the hideout, Toga immediately began showing off her "shopping" haul to the rest of the League. This allowed Dabi to go unnoticed as he snuck out, headed straight to your apartment. He wakes you up by knocking on your window, blue eyes shining as he stares through the glass. 

"I'm begging you to use the front door," you sigh as you open the window, allowing him to climb into your room. You were still trying to catch your breath after he scared you wide awake by arriving here at 2 am without any prior warning.

"Mmm no can do sweetheart, gotta keep you on your toes," he grinned. 

"Why are you even here?" you yawned, urging him to join you on the bed. "Not that I'm complaining or anything, just isn't like you to show up without some kind of heads up. Everything okay?" His heart swelled at your concern. The way you loved him so gently, so purely made his head spin. That feeling only intensified as he remembered why he even came over in the first place. 

"I-uh-I have something for you." His eyebrows furrowed as he mentally scolded himself for sounding so nervous. Your eyes widen with excitement at his words. 

"For me?" you smile, looking at him. You could tell he was nervous which only made you smile grow. God he's so cute.

"Just take it," he grumbles. While it came off coldly, you knew he was just nervous. Everything about his relationship with you was new to him, and that scared him. Because of this you were always patient, and knew his actions showed his true emotions. That's why your jaw almost dropped when he handed you the plushies and snacks. 

"Stopppp is this us as plushies?" you happily asked as you examined the plushies. You already knew the answer though, smiling ear to ear as you hugged the soft and fuzzy items. 

"Thought you'd be into some corny shit like that," he chuckles, nerves slowly dissolving seeing you so happy. He hid his still trembling hands from your line of vision as he pulled you into his side, kissing the top of your head. "Happy Valentine's Day baby." 

"AHHH I love you!! I love you!!!" you cheered, pulling him to lay down on the bed with you. You moved to lay on top of him, covering his face with kisses before nuzzling into his neck. His arms tightened around you as you cuddled against him, smile still painted on your face. "Thank you for my gift." 

He hummed, small smile tugging at his lips as he rubbed your back gently. "Glad you liked it." 

"I have something for you too but," you yawned, "I'll give you it before I head to work in a few hours." Your eyes start falling shut as the warmth from Dabi's body lures you back to sleep. "Mmmmm good night, I love you."

"I love you too baby." Dabi leans down to kiss your lips before adjusting the way you're laying on him so you both could fall asleep comfortably. His arms tighten around you once again, reminding you he's not going anywhere as you both drift off to sleep.

[fandomfablesunleashed]

Simple love

Zoro x reader

Summary: No grand gestures, just the two of you—exactly what you needed for the perfect Valentine’s Day.

Words: 0.4k

Notes: First for the Valentine’s Week event. Just a little something

English is not my first language

Masterlist

The salty breeze of the open sea ruffled your hair as you sat cross-legged on the Thousand Sunny’s deck, a book resting in your hands. You were so engrossed in your novel that you barely noticed the large shadow creeping over you—until a familiar voice broke the moment.

“I told myself I wouldn’t fall for anyone… but here I am, buying roses like an idiot. So here— Happy Valentine’s Day”

Before you could even process his words, a bouquet was shoved into your face, the scent of fresh flowers overwhelming your senses. You blinked in surprise, staring at the vibrant red roses wrapped in simple paper, slightly crumpled as if they’d been held too tightly before being delivered.

Biting back a laugh, you looked up at him. “Wow, such a romantic statement,” you teased, taking the flowers and looking them over. They were beautiful, and despite his gruff delivery, you knew the effort behind them meant more than words ever could.

“You know I'm not romantic,” he muttered, crossing his arms.

“I know, I know,” you grinned. “Yet here you are, bringing me flowers. Thank you—they’re lovely.”

He huffed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. But before he could grumble any further, you reached into your bag and pulled out a sleek bottle of sake. “I got you something too. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

His eye immediately lit up, fingers curling around the bottle like it was the most precious treasure in the world. “You really know the way to my heart.”

“Well, unlike you, I don’t get lost easily,” you teased.

“Hey!” He shot you a betrayed look.

You burst into laughter, reaching up to tug playfully at the collar of his jacket. “Sorry,” you murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. He grumbled against your mouth but didn’t pull away, instead kissing you back. “Now,” you whispered against his lips, “how about we steal some food, take this sake, and make ourselves a proper date?”

His smirk returned instantly. “Pissing off cook and having you all to myself? Sounds like a perfect day to me.”

Laughing, you grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the crow’s nest. The sun dipped toward the horizon, casting golden hues across the water, and for a moment, everything felt undeniably perfect. He might not have been traditionally romantic, but in his own quiet way, he was precisely what you needed. No grand gestures, no flowery words—just the two of you. And somehow, it was the perfect Valentine’s Day.

[djarins-cyare]

I thought it would be harder to pick and then I saw "Be-All And Endor pegging bonus scene" and anyway here I am. 😍

Ahaha, I hoped someone would ask about this one from my WIP folder! 🧡💚

This is set several months after the main story ends. My plan was – and still is (eventually) – to write some random scenes from Din and Reader’s future in lieu of a sequel.

Several readers commented they would’ve liked to have read the scene in the final chapter where Reader tells Din to go shower and meet her in their cabin to cross off another item on their “things that’ll happen eventually” list, which suggests some type of ass play for Din, based on an earlier comment in chapter 37 where he indicates he’d be interested in trying it.

As usual, the smut slowed me down when I started drafting it. Honestly, I don’t think I know enough about pegging to adequately describe it, so I put it on the back burner until I could do sufficient research.

That said, when I got your ask, I went back and checked how much I had already written, and I realised I actually have a decent-length scene leading up to the smut… it just fades to black (again) when they’re about to start.

So, Kate, since it’s you and you definitely deserve a reward for all your cheerleading of Be-All (for which I’m forever grateful), I’ve decided to give you not just a snippet but the whole of the 1k+ word scene that I’ve got so far. I’m not posting it on AO3 yet – I’ll do that later once I’ve written the second half of it and converted the AO3 version into a series – so for now, please enjoy this Tumblr exclusive bonus content!

⚠️ Please note the following contains heavy spoilers for anyone who hasn’t read the original story!

Be-All And Endor Bonus Chapter (excerpt): The Solace

Rating: Mature (18+) Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader Word count: 1,150 Tags/warnings: References to sex, anal play, pegging (nothing explicit); brief reference to a past attempted SA; the dildo is referred to as a cock; some swearing and explicit language; one (1) Mando’a insult

You find the toy tucked away in the back of your drawer, hidden from prying eyes for weeks. Even though Din knows you acquired it before leaving Glavis, you’d insisted on keeping it a surprise until you could finally try it out.

But things had got in the way.

His painful Darksaber injury, worse than Nantoogen’s concussive blaster bolt on Endor. His discovery of that mythosaur marker in Kolzoc Alley, faded and ominous. His bitter disappointment at reaching the lowest level of the substrata and finding it empty. The thrill of uncovering hastily painted coordinates that revealed his tribe’s new location.

Just like that, your fun and games were on hold.

In the weeks since, everything that’s happened has overwhelmed you both – physically and emotionally – for better and for worse. The covert, the recognition of your union, your shiny new helmet… Din’s exile.

The Armorer’s final words and your defiant retort still ring tragically in your ears almost a day later, as if your helmet has trapped them there:

“You have not yet sworn the Creed; therefore, you are not an apostate. You may stay.”

“But I have sworn riduurok to Din Djarin and the gai bal manda to Grogu; therefore, I am a wife and mother. I am loyal to my clan and could never abandon them for a tribe that exiles one of its own despite his wish to atone. You taught me that loyalty and solidarity are the Way, and I will honour that. So, I thank you for your offer, but nariti lo’shebs’ul.”

You can still feel the sting of tears on your cheeks, still see Din’s dejected body stiffen as you told his alor to shove her offer up her ass. Amid the grief, you sensed a spike of shock – even pride – flicker within him for a fleeting moment.

Now back in hyperspace’s safe and superluminal embrace, you both need the relief of the release you’re about to partake in. But he needs it more.

He still hasn’t really talked. Not properly – not like you know he can. He’s been barely responsive, stiff, twitchy, and every subtle quiver speaks of his deep turmoil. Apostate. It’s an awful label. His inner storm has been yours to share through your connection, but you’ve resisted. You saw his need for solitude on Anantapar, so you’d granted him several hours alone in the cockpit – helmet on.

After several failed check-ins for food and comfort, it was to this suggestion alone that Din had responded. Once you’d assured him that Grogu was asleep in his cubicle, he’d immediately risen from his chair, awaiting instructions. You’d told him to shower and to meet you in the cabin without his helmet, where you’d unveil your purchase from Glavis.

Now, with a determined breath, you face the final hurdle: figuring out how to attach the damn thing.

You’d liked the look of the ‘strapless’ versions, but the vendor had advised that a strap would be best. More stability and a better experience for your husband, she’d insisted. Fewer distractions for you while it’s his turn, she’d winked. Fair point. You’re not sure you could concentrate solely on his pleasure with something nestled inside your pussy, rubbing your G-spot to distraction.

It takes a few minutes of fiddling, but you successfully secure the harness. It’s actually more comfortable than it looks.

You turn back to the drawer and run your fingers along the dildo’s length, marvelling at the silky texture. It cost a kriffing fortune, so it’d better be worth the credits. A snort escapes you at the thought that Nantoogen’s bounty reward paid for this. It’s almost poetic that the man who tried to sexually assault you has now purchased you your very own cock.

Once it’s nestled securely within the harness, you spend several minutes pacing around the cabin, watching it bob along in front of you. Kriff, you’re oscillating between nervous, curious, and aroused. It makes you feel… powerful.

You and Din have an established sexual dynamic, though, and he’s always in control, even when he’s seemingly not. He has also previously rejected the idea of using toys in the bedroom, fully confident that (for you, at least) he can do better with his own dick. But as much as he’s enjoyed taking your fingers in his ass on occasion, he’d eventually agreed that something more substantial would guarantee him a more gratifying time.

Given his general dislike of sex aids, you’d asked the vendor for a realistic dildo to match your skin tone, especially since you know he’s been attracted to men in the past. Hopefully, this will help him feel less like he’s having something plastic shoved up him and more like he’s enjoying someone’s body.

With the trusty Tatooine lube at the ready on the nightstand, you strip off everything but your bra and your new appendage, then perch on the edge of the bed and wait.

You’re so accustomed to every rattle on the Crest by now that even his bare feet can’t hide his ascent up the ladder, and your pulse quickens in readiness. You stand, wanting to present him with the full spectacle upon entry to the cabin.

Din steps through the door as it slides open, but he stops dead the second he catches sight of you. His uncovered gaze plummets straight down to your cock, eyes widening in surprise, brows rising in tandem with a sharp inhale.

He swallows, staring… staring…

You gulp, hoping… hoping…

And then you see it – the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. It’s nothing compared to the wide grin you’re used to seeing on your husband’s face, but you reach out with your mind, trying to decipher that almost-smile. There’s still a heavy soup of grief, but there’s more now, too. Intrigue, anticipation… a hint of excitement. Sexual excitement.

“Do you like it?” you venture, gently steering him toward those positive feelings.

He swallows again and nods, still staring. “It looks… real.” Taking a careful step forward, he comes within touching distance yet still only uses his eyes. “I like how real it looks.”

A rush of relief pulses through you. Those credits were well spent.

With a grin, you comment, “Well, it doesn’t have balls, but I don’t need those to fuck you. My metaphorical ones are big enough.”

Din’s eyes finally rise to meet yours as he steps even closer, the smirk on his lips now more obvious, and you catch another spike of his pride over how you handled your exit from the covert. “I fucking love you,” he declares, pressing a hard, grateful kiss to your lips before pulling back abruptly. “Where do you want me?”

“On your knees, on the bed,” you command, knowing full well that this is an illusion of power he’s giving you. “I wanna see that tight little ass in the air.”

His smirk grows. “Yes, Sir.”

Mando’a translations, in case they aren’t obvious:

riduurok [REE-doo-rok] – marriage agreement

gai bal manda [guy bal MAN-dah] – adoption ceremony (lit. “name and soul”)

nariti lo’shebs’ul [nah-REE-tee loh-SHEBS-ool] – shove it up your ass

Notes:

“Trusty Tatooine lube” is a reference to the scene in the final chapter that I mentioned above – Reader picked some up before they left, which is why she suggested that particular activity as soon as they’d left the planet.

In case anyone’s forgotten, Din tells Reader in chapter 30 (after their shower sex) that whatever sex aids she used before he came along have no place in their relationship, indicating his general dislike of sex toys. I don’t think he’s a prude, but this version of Din has a preconceived notion that he needs to be the best lover he can be without any ‘cheating’. Reader could easily talk him into using toys on her, of course, simply by educating him a little better – just as she’s done regarding other things he’s been somewhat naive about. But here, she decides to respect his prior avoidance and give him an experience that feels as ‘real’ as possible. Perhaps this will help him realise that toys might be fun for her, too!

Reader also refers to having “seen his need for solitude on Anantapar”, which, as a reminder, refers to when he had a teensy bit of an emotional breakdown at the tail end of their honeymoon in chapter 38.

I adapted the lovely insulting Mando’a phrase from a previously existing phrase in Karen Travis’s novel ‘Order 66’ – Kovid lo’shebs’ul narit – which is supposed to mean ‘shove your head up your ass’, but the grammar is a little off. So I put the verb in the correct place and properly conjugated it, then removed the word for ‘head’ (it doesn’t need an object as she’s just said the word “offer”, so it’s clear what she’s talking about).

Holy crap, I’m scared now I’ve put this up. This is the first new Be-All content since July 2023! 😭 Fun timing, though, because I have another two Be-All bonus posts coming out in the next few days as the fic is about to hit a milestone, so stay tuned!

Permanent tag list lovelies:

@bergamote-catsandbooks @chiyo13 @cw80831 @finalgirl-96 @harriedandharassed

@howhighwepose @kirsteng42 @leithatnight @lilac-boo @lucienofthelakes

@pigeonmama @punkygreeny @roughdaysandart @sadisticheskiy @samarys

@syd-djarin @wrathkitty

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➤ MAIN MASTERLIST

[blakeswritingimagines]

The Proposal; Chapter Three, The Unexpected Connection.

Summary: Going to what seems to be a childhood dream for most except for the rich snobs, rude gossiping ladies, feeling out of place and awkward... until your knight in shining hockey man arrives.

Warnings: Reader being gossiped about and put down, Reader being out of place, Reader getting absolute princess treatment, Protective! Nico, Caring! Nico, Drinking but not drunk, Praise (given), Reader and Nico have a moment on the dance floor, Nico opening up to reader, Teasing! Nico, Cuddling.

Word Count: 7.0k

Pictures are from Pinterest

Part 1 - Part 2

You're in the bedroom, a mountain of fancy dresses and accessories thrown across your bed. You've never owned such expensive or glamorous clothes before, and the weight of them is almost overwhelming. "How am I supposed to pick just one?" you mutter to yourself, running your fingers over the silks and satins of the dresses. The jewelry is just as extravagant, the sparkling necklaces and earrings catching the light as you move through them.

You look at the clock - Nico had left a few hours ago to help with the last-minute preparations, leaving you alone to get ready. You'd tried to tell him you were perfectly capable of getting ready without his help, but he'd been insistent on providing everything you'd need for the party. Now, you're standing in the bedroom, still in your bathrobe, trying to figure out how to choose a dress and how to style your hair. You pick up one of the dresses, a silky garnet red number with a low back and a high slit up the leg. It's a stunning piece, and you can imagine the way it would cling to your curves and accentuate your figure. But as you hold it up against yourself in the mirror, you're struck by a wave of insecurity. "What was he thinking, buying this for me?" you murmur, feeling a pang of anxiety. It's too sexy, too attention-grabbing. You've never worn something like this before, and the thought of walking into a room filled with high-profile guests dressed like this is both thrilling and terrifying. "Damn it," you mutter, frustrated with yourself. "Why is it so hard to pick just one?" You look back at the red dress again, the silky fabric taunting you, daring you to put it on and feel like a movie star. "Screw it," you say out loud, your voice a mix of determination and anxiety. "I'm going to be there with some of the biggest stars in the city. If I'm going to be in the spotlight, I might as well go all out."

You quickly shed your bathrobe and step into the red dress, the silky fabric sliding over your skin like a lover's caress. Looking in the mirror, you have to admit - you look amazing. The dress fits like a glove, clinging to your curves in all the right places, the slit in the hem giving a tantalizing glimpse of your upper thigh. You try to calm your nerves as you step into the accompanying shoes, a pair of sparkling red heels that match the dress perfectly. Then, you turn your attention to your hair and makeup, trying to achieve that perfect balance of glamour and elegance. After what feels like hours of prep, you look at yourself in the mirror, proud of the work you've done. Your hair is styled to perfection, your makeup flawlessly applied. The red dress hangs from your body like a second skin, the jewels at your throat sparkling in the light. You look like a movie star, someone straight out of a Hollywood fantasy. Suddenly, there's a knock at the cabin door. Your heart lurches into your chest, your palms suddenly sweaty. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart as you walk towards the door. Opening it, you see a car waiting outside, the driver standing there with a professional smile. "Good evening, miss," he says, his gaze flickering over your outfit. "Mr. Hischier has arranged transportation for you to the party." Without waiting for a response, he opens the back door of the car for you, gesturing for you to step inside. Your heart skips a beat as you realize this is it - you're about to embark on this glittering adventure, into the world of high society and extravagance. Taking a deep breath, you step into the car, feeling both excited and slightly nauseous.

As the car pulls up to a grand, lavish location, your heart races in your chest. The building is enormous, its facade decked out in twinkling lights and garlands, the sounds of music and laughter spilling out into the night. A row of expensive cars lines the driveway, their headlights illuminating the valet parking as drivers help guests step out of the vehicles, their outfits just as fancy and extravagant as yours. You take another deep breath before getting out of the car, the cool night air hitting your face and causing a shiver to run down your spine. Straightening your dress and smoothing your hair, you take a few steps towards the entrance, your heart still pounding as the sound of music grows louder while you start to look for Nico. The interior of the building is just as grand as the exterior, its high ceilings decorated with sparkling chandeliers and lavish tapestries. The atmosphere is one of opulence and extravagance, and the people around you are all dressed to impress, their expensive suits and jewel-bedecked dresses only adding to the aura of glamour. You step further into the room, your gaze sweeping over the crowd searching for a familiar face. But everyone seems to blend together, all of them beautiful, well-off, and dripping in wealth. You feel a twinge of anxiety, a moment of doubt. What are you doing here, among these people? Just as you're starting to wonder if this might have been a mistake, someone touches your arm, making you jump slightly. You turn to see Nico standing there, a charming grin on his face that makes your heart skip a beat.

He's dressed in a tailored dark suit, the fabric hugging his lean frame perfectly. His hair is swept back from his face in a tidy but handsome style, and a hint of cologne drifts from him, something spicy and masculine that makes your head spin. "There you are, grumpy," he says, his gaze drinking in your appearance. "You look…" He trails off, his eyes widening as he takes in the full effect of your dress. "Wow. You look incredible." You can't help the flush of pleasure heating your belly that spreads at his words. Your heart flutters in your chest, a smile tugging at your lips. "You don't look so bad yourself," you manage to tease, your voice shakier than you would have liked. He grins at your compliment, his eyes sparkling. "I knew red would look good on you," he says, his gaze travelling over your body, taking in every curve and dip of the dress. You feel self-conscious for a moment, his gaze feels almost like a physical touch, igniting a fire under your skin. "Everyone seems to be… so wealthy," you murmur, looking around at the crowd again. Nico just shrugs, a careless grin on his face. "Yeah, these parties tend to attract a certain crowd," he says. "But don't worry, grumpy. You fit right in." He offers you his arm, a silent invitation. You hesitate for a moment, feeling once again out of your element. But then, with a deep breath, you slip your hand into the crook of his arm, feeling suddenly steadied by his presence. As you let him lead you through the crowd, people turn to look at you, their eyes lingering on your figure and your attire. You can feel their gazes like pinpricks on your skin, some curious, some envious. Some are outright staring, their mouths hanging open at the sight of you on Nico's arm. Nico seems to thrive on the attention, swaggering through the crowd with a confident grin on his face. He looks utterly comfortable, completely in his element. As you pass by a group of well-to-do women, you catch snippets of their hushed conversation, their voices sharp with jealousy.

"Is that Nico Hischier?" one of them murmurs. "Who's the girl he's with? She's gorgeous." Another one sniffs, her voice icy. "She looks out of place. Probably just some… puck bunny or something he picked up." The words sting, but before you can react or say something, Nico's arm tightens around yours, pulling you closer to him. His voice is gruff when he speaks, sending a thrill through you. "Ignore them, grumpy. They're just jealous." His proximity, his protective gesture, sends your heart racing, a flutter of feelings stirring deep within you. You nod mutely, trying to ignore the stares and whispers as he keeps leading you through the crowd. He guides you towards a bar, and with a quick nod to the bartender, you're handed a glass of champagne. He takes a glass for himself and turns back to you, a spark in his eyes as he takes a sip. "So," he says, his voice low and intimate. "How are you holding up, grumpy?" You take a sip of your drink, the bubbles refreshing in your mouth. "I'm… managing," you say, your voice soft and shaky. The noise of the party feels overwhelming, the voices and music buzzing and swirling in your ears. "I just feel… like a little out of my element, I guess." He chuckles, taking another sip of his champagne. "I had a feeling you might feel that way," he says, his gaze roaming over your expression, taking in your slight unease. "But trust me, you're doing great. You're handling it way better than I thought you would." The honest praise in his voice makes you feel a little better, a warm sense of pride swelling in your chest. "Thanks," you murmur, your voice growing slightly steadier. "I guess I just wasn't expecting everyone to be so… wealthy and fancy." He laughs again, an amused sound. "Yeah, these kinds of parties tend to be a bit…" he waves his hand, "flashy, shall we say." He drinks half the rest of his champagne, his gaze locking with yours. "But you're the one making an impression, grumpy. Everyone is staring at you, and I don't blame them."

His words make you feel flustered, your heart skipping a beat as he says the last part. "Are you sure they're just… staring at me out of admiration?" you ask, your voice filled with a mix of curiosity and insecurity. "I feel like they're also judging me." He hums, taking another sip of his drink. "Oh, they're definitely judging you," he says with a smirk. "But don't take it personally. These people judge everyone, even each other. It's this city. Everyone is so… competitive and image-focused." You nod, your eyes roaming over the crowd, taking in the perfect outfits, the perfectly styled hair, the perfectly coiffed smiles. It's intimidating, to say the least. You frown at his words, a pang of disappointment filling you. "So I'm really just a piece of eye candy for them?" you ask bluntly. He sighs, his expression shifting to something softer. "It's not that simple," he says, his voice gentle. "Sure, there are people here who would judge you just on what you're wearing. But then there are others who'd judge you for no reason at all. Like I said, this city can be harsh. But it's not always bad. And you haven't met the right people yet… besides me, of course." His tone is reassuring, and the corner of his mouth twitches into a half smile. "Besides, you're not just eye candy," he adds, his gaze flicking over your body again. His eyes linger on the slit of your dress, the curves of your legs, the smoothness of your skin. His look makes you feel exposed, like he's seeing something underneath your skin, like he's seeing the real you, the you that you've tried to keep hidden. Your heart begins to race, beating against your chest until you can hardly breathe. "Is that so?" you manage to croak out, your voice hoarse. "Then what am I supposed to be other than eye candy, then?" He chuckles again, the sound deep and warm. "Well, you're strong," he says, his voice lowering slightly, "and you're smart, and you're fearless. You're everything these people aren't." He takes a step closer, his body almost brushing against yours, his gaze locked on yours. "You're not just eye candy, you're something special. And they just can't handle that."

His words echo softly in your ears, the compliment sinking deep into your core. You feel a flutter of something in your chest, a swelling of warmth and something else you can't quite name. "I…" you begin, but your voice trails off, lost in the sight of his handsome face looming closer to yours. He leans in, his face now just inches from yours. "You're not gonna let some pompous and judgmental strangers in a fancy party ruin your night, are you, grumpy?" he whispers, his voice a low, intimate rumble. You swallow, your throat suddenly dry. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, the faint but intoxicating scent of his cologne mingling with the scent of your perfume. "No," you murmur, your voice a soft, breathless agreement. "I'm not going to let them." He smiles, the corners of his lips curling up into a sly, victorious smile. "Atta girl," he murmurs, his hand moving to touch your chin, tilting it up gently. "That's the attitude. Now, if you're not gonna let them get to you, you're gonna have fun, right?" You nod, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Yeah," you reply, a hint of determination in your voice. "Yeah, I'm gonna have fun. I'm not gonna let these people bring me down. I'm gonna enjoy the night." The party is in full swing, the noise and music and laughter of the guests filling the air. You and Nico have been moving effortlessly through the crowd, stopping every now and then to chat with someone. He seems to have some sort of social pull, everyone seems to know him and greet him with familiar warmth. You're starting to feel a little more comfortable, even making a couple of light-hearted jokes and a few smiles here and there. But, you can't help but feel a bit of self-consciousness, especially with the way some of the other guests look you over, whispers following in your wake. As the strains of a slow tune waft through the air, Nico casually slips his hand into yours and tugs you closer. The gesture is subtle but intentional, guiding you onto the dancefloor without asking. He wraps his other arm around your waist, pulling your body against his. He gently rests his chin on your head, the height difference between you forcing you to look up at him.

The feel of his body against yours, the heat of his touch, the scent of his cologne in your nostrils all overwhelm you. You can feel the other couples, their eyes on you, and you hold your breath, expecting the judgmental whispers and the stares, but Nico seems to brush them off, his eyes glued to your face, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Relax, grumpy," he murmurs, his voice low. "Just focus on me." You try to relax, taking a deep breath and focusing on the feel of his hard muscles against your soft curves. His hand on your waist is firm yet gentle, grounding you in the moment and helping to distract you from the stares. He guides you in a slow, swaying motion, the song a soothing lullaby that seems to wrap around you in a bubble of privacy, just the two of you in the middle of a crowd of people. You can feel the slow rise and fall of his chest against your forehead. You're so close to him, your bodies almost molding together seamlessly, the heat and the scent of his skin surrounding you like a comforting cocoon. You can't help but notice how good he feels, how solid and strong he is, and how the way his hand rests on your back makes you feel both small and protected at the same time. You're silent for a moment, enjoying the moment, until Nico's low voice breaks through the silence. "You okay, grumpy?" he asks, his lips almost brushing against your ear. The gentle caress of his breath against your ear sends a shiver down your spine, and you nod, your voice catching in your throat. "Y-yeah," you stutter, your brain trying to come up with a more articulate response than a simple 'yeah'. "I'm… I'm fine. I'm okay. Just… trying to ignore all the eyes on us." He chuckles, his chest vibrating against your cheek. "Don't worry about them," he says, his voice firm but soothing. "They don't matter. What matters is you, me, and this song. And I'm not done with you yet." He pulls you even closer to him, your bodies now flush together, his free hand splayed over your lower back.

You're practically draped over him, your body pressed against his in a way that should be inappropriate, intimate even, and you can feel the heat from his skin seeping through the fabric of your dress. The slow music continues to swirl around you, the notes wrapping around the two of you like a warm, comforting embrace, and somehow the world around you feels like it's fading into the background, leaving only the two of you in this private bubble. His touch is so possessive yet gentle, it makes your heart race, your breath catch in your chest. You're acutely aware of his every movement as he starts to sway with you, his body moving in time with the music. You almost forget about the rest of the world, the only thing you're aware of is the feel of his hand on your back and the slow, steady beat of your heart. "You know," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your hair, "I haven't even thanked you properly for tonight." You blink up at him, your mind suddenly shifting gears. Thanks? What for? He's the one who invited you to this fancy party, who got you into this nice dress, who's dancing with you now. You don't deserve his thanks. But the warm smile on his face, the gentle look in his eyes make you want to argue. "For what?" you ask, your voice soft. He lifts an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth tugging into a half smile. "For going out of your comfort zone," he says, his thumb tracing idle circles on your back. "For being here, with me. You could have said no, stayed at the cabin, avoided all the judgmental eyes.. for me." Your heart stutters for a moment, his words igniting a warm flutter in your chest. He's right, you could have stayed at the cabin, but you didn't. You came, at his request, despite your anxiety over the environment. He's thanking you for trusting him enough to follow his lead. You raise an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. "So you're saying you have some influence over me?" you tease, your voice light and playful.

"Oh, absolutely," he replies, a smirk of his own curving his lips. His hand moves lower, now resting almost possessively on the small of your back. He pulls you even closer, his body now molding against yours seamlessly. "I wouldn't say I have control over you… just a fair bit of influence." He chuckles, leaning down to murmurs in your ear. "And I plan on using it wisely." His proximity sending a rush of warmth through you. You try to ignore the fluttering in your chest, but it's getting harder and harder to hide. His arm pulls you even tighter against him, his body now flush against yours. "Oh, and how are you planning on using it, exactly?" you ask, your voice now a mixture of curiosity and challenge. He smirks, his arms tightening around you, his muscles flexing. "Oh, I have some ideas, grumpy," he whispers, his voice low and gravelly. "But I think it'd be better to show you." With a fluid movement, he spins you slowly, his hold on you still firm and gentle. Now you're turned so you're looking straight at him, your body facing his. He leans in, his mouth hovering just millimeters away from yours, his breath fanning over your skin, his eyes fixated on yours. "Ready?" The proximity of his face to yours makes your body thrum with anticipation, your heart hammering against your ribcage like a trapped bird. You swallow, your throat dry, and your voice comes out a little hoarse. "Ready for what?" you manage to croak out, your eyes locked on his. A soft, amused chuckle escapes his lips, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. He's so close, your bodies almost pressed together, his hand still holding you possessively in place. "You're not playing dumb, are you?" he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. "You know damn well what I'm going to do." Your mind is spinning, trying to process his words, trying to figure out the implications of his statement. You want to deny it, to say something witty or sarcastic, but the heat in his gaze, the heat emanating from his body, the way his hold on you is so possessive and firm makes it hard to think, let alone speak. "But I…" you begin, your voice trailing off.

He leans in, his lips hovering just millimeters away from yours, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that steals the breath from your lungs. For a moment, time seems to stand still, the sound of the music and the chatter of the crowd becoming a distant, background noise. Then, he moves, closing the gap between you in a single fluid motion, pressing his lips to yours. For a brief moment, your mind goes completely hazy, your body frozen in surprise. But then, the kiss deepens, the heat of his lips, the press of his body, sending a flurry of sensations through you. It's everything and nothing all at once. It's new, strange, exhilarating and slightly terrifying. The taste of his lips, the feel of his body pressed against yours, the heat pooling low in your stomach, all combine into a chaotic mix of sensations that blur your thoughts. Your mind goes blank for a split second, your body acting entirely on instinct, moving instinctively into the kiss, pressing closer against him, your arms coming up to rest on his shoulders, holding on to him like a lifeline. The kiss deepens further, his tongue seeking entry to your mouth, his arms around you like a steel trap, trapping you against his body. You can feel every inch of him, the hardness of his muscles, the heat radiating from his flesh, the press of his body against yours, igniting a fire in your core that spreads through your body like gasoline and matches. Your mind feels like it's spinning, your senses drowning in him and only him, his lips, his mouth, his body overwhelming every other thought, every other feeling, until you forget where you are, who you are. The kiss finally eases, pulling back after what feels like an eternity, their mouths parted slightly, their foreheads resting together against each other. The music and the chatter of the guests continue, but for a few moments, they seem distant, everything else fading into the background. His arms still hold you close, one hand splayed possessively over your lower back, the other resting lightly on the nape of your neck, his thumb moving in gentle, soothing circles against your skin. His face is mere inches away from yours, his eyes searching your face.

Your heart is still racing, your body still humming with aftershocks of the kiss. It feels surreal, like a dream, that moment frozen in time where nothing else matters except the feel of his body against yours, the sound of his heavy breathing, the scent of his skin. You can almost forget where you are, who you are, but his grip on you is so firm, so grounding, that you can't help but feel a strange sense of safety and comfort. Finally, he breaks the silence, his voice a low, gravelly murmur. "You alright there, grumpy?" he whispers, his lips almost brushing against your ear, the heat from his breath sending shudders down your spine. He's still holding you close, his grip strong yet gentle, his body still molded against yours, his hands like anchors keeping you grounded in the moment. You nod, your words coming out softer than you expected. "I'm…I'm okay," you murmur, the words slightly slurred by the lingering effects of the kiss. You're still reeling, your mind trying to process what just happened, but the feel of him holding you, the sound of his voice, the heat of his body against yours is helping you come back to reality, piece by piece. He lets out a low, soft laugh, his chest vibrating under your touch. "Just okay?" he teases, his grip on you loosening slightly, his thumb now tracing idle circles on your skin. "I think I can do better than that, grumpy." He leans in, his lips brushing against your earlobe, his breath warm against your skin. "Want me to try again?" A shiver runs down your spine at his words, his breath against your skin causing a jolt of heat to spread through your body. The kiss before was overwhelming, but the thought of another one, so soon, with him holding you so close, sends a rush of anticipation through you. You nod, the nod coming out as more of a whimper than you were expecting, your voice shaky. "Yes…" you whisper. He smiles, the smile growing wider, his hand moving to cup your chin, tilting your head back so you have to look up at him. "Good answer," he murmurs, his voice low and rough, his eyes still fixed on yours. "Now, relax, just let me do the work, alright?"

You and Nico make your way back to the rented cabin, the quiet surrounding you both an almost stark contrast to the party you had attended. The night has grown cooler, the air crisp and clear, the stars twinkling overhead. The moonlight spills through the trees, illuminating the trail, while the occasional night animals can be heard in the woods. As you walk, you remain close to him, a part of you still buzzing from earlier in the evening. The memory of the kiss, the feel of his body against yours, the weight of his hand on your lower back, it's all still vivid in your mind. He walks beside you in silence for a few moments, the only sound the crunching of the leaves underfoot. Finally, he speaks, his voice soft in the quiet night. "You enjoyed yourself, grumpy?" It's a casual question, but you can catch a hint of something more hidden beneath it, a curiosity, perhaps. You turn to look at him, trying to gauge his expression in the shadow of the night. There's a slight smirk on his lips, as if hinting that he already knows the answer, but he's just waiting for you to admit it. You pause for a moment, considering your answer.

"It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be," you answer honestly, choosing your words carefully. You don't want to sound too impressed or over eager, but you don't want to pretend like you didn't enjoy yourself either. He hums thoughtfully, his eyes still fixed on your face. "Just 'not bad'?" there's a hint of a challenge to his tone, as if trying to draw more of a reaction from you. You give him a sidelong glance, a small smirk on your lips. "Don't push your luck, smart-ass," you reply, your tone a mix of feigned annoyance and amusement. He can see you're not buying his act of nonchalant indifference, and the smirk on his own lips deepens. "But I suppose it was 'somewhat enjoyable'… for a rich, snobby person party," you add, making sure to put enough emphasis on the 'somewhat' to imply it was, at best, a half-truth. He chuckles, a soft, low sound, the sound making your stomach do a small flutter. "You wound me, grumpy," he teases, his tone playful, but with a hint of an edge to it. "I'll have you know this party was for very classy, very important people." He pauses, then adds wryly, "I don't see what's so bad about wanting to enjoy the evening, especially with such an… interesting companion." You roll your eyes, a small scoff escaping your lips. "Interesting? Is that the best word you can use to describe me?" you ask, feigning annoyance yet again. Nico chuckles in response, clearly not buying your act. "Oh come on, grumpy," he drawls, his voice low and slightly mocking, "we both know you had a good time tonight. You don't have to pretend otherwise." You huff, your hands going to your hips in a haughty pose, but you can't help but let out a small laugh. This man is insufferable, yet somehow you can't help but find him charming. "I did not have a good time," you insist, trying to sound grumpy but failing. "The only good thing about it is that it's over."

He raises an eyebrow at your statement, a skeptical look in his eyes. "So, in short… you didn't have fun. You didn't like the people, you hated the food, the music was terrible…" he recites back to you, each word spoken slow and deliberately, clearly not buying your act of indifference. "The dancing… the kiss?" You look anywhere but him at the mention of the kiss, the memory of it still fresh in your mind. You shift uncomfortably, trying to act nonchalant. "The kiss was… unexpected, I'll give you that," you murmur, your eyes looking anywhere but his face. "But it wasn't the highlight of the evening." He laughs softly, enjoying your awkward attempts to sidestep the topic. He knows he's getting under your skin, and is taking great joy in it. "Unexpected, but… enjoyable?" he presses, his voice low and deep. "Come on, grumpy, you can't tell me you didn't enjoy the kiss. Didn't you like it?" Your body suddenly feeling warm as you recalled the warmth of his lips. The thought of admitting your enjoyment to his question causes your heart to skip a beat. You can see the hint of a smirk on his lips as you struggle to find an answer. "I… It was…" you blurt out, your voice betraying a hint of hesitation. "It was… fine." As they approach the cabin, the night growing colder around them, Nico notices the way you shiver slightly, your body reacting to the chill in the air. He glances down at you, his eyes taking in your slightly shivering form. Without a word, he shrugs off his light coat and drapes it over your shoulders, his movements swift and casual. "Can't have you freezing, can we?" A part of you wants to protest, to tell him you can handle the cold yourself, but the warmth of his coat enveloping you, the scent of his expensive cologne on the fabric, it's too hard to deny. You murmur a soft "Thank you" as you pull the coat snugly around yourself, the material warm and plush against your skin. He smiles at your murmured words, his eyes taking in the sight of you wearing his coat, a small sense of pride in the fact that you are now wearing something that is his. "You're welcome," he replies nonchalantly, as if it was a completely normal thing to do. "I just figured it was the least I could do to keep you warm."

You and Nico make your way into the cabin, the wooden walls enclosing you in a cozy bubble of warmth. The night's chill is kept outside, and the air inside is comfortable and warm. As the door shuts behind you with a soft click, Nico turns to you, his eyes taking in the sight of you, still wearing his coat. "So, sleepy, grumpy?" he teases, a hint of mockery in his voice. You roll your eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. "I could always make you sleep on the couch again, you know?" you reply sarcastically, your voice laced with feigned nonchalance. In truth, the idea of sharing a bed with him after tonight makes you slightly uneasy just as it did when it first happened, but you know you've got no other choice. His smile widens at your response, his eyes dancing with amusement. "Oh, trying to get rid of me so soon?" he drawls, his tone light and teasing. He walks over to the bed and sits down on the edge, patting the space next to him. "Come on, you know you don't actually have the heart." You hesitate, your eyes flickering over to his inviting form, still seated on the bed. Part of you wants to stand your ground, to make a snarky comment, but the other part, the part that is tired and weary, the part that just wants to get this over with, is winning. You huff out a resigned sigh and make your way over to the bed, sitting down on the edge, still leaving a small space between you two.

He notices the small space you leave between you, his smile growing a bit wider. He scoots over closer to you, his shoulder pressed against yours. "Comfy enough for you?" he asks, a hint of mockery in his voice, as if he already knows the answer. You resist the urge to scoot away, instead just giving a small, dismissive nod. "Just fine." The truth is, the warmth of your body a few inches from his is making you incredibly aware of his presence. You can feel his body heat, the subtle rise and fall of his chest with each breath. Your heart rate has picked up again, your thoughts racing. He notices the change in your breathing, the way your heart rate has picked up. He can sense your uneasiness, and a flicker of something almost like concern passes over his face, although his expression quickly hardens again, returning to the easy nonchalance he always seems to wear. He hesitates for a moment, a rare moment of genuinity on his face. "Can I say something?" You turn to look at him, your heart beating a bit faster, wondering what he'll say. "What is it?" you ask, trying to sound casual, as if you're not expecting anything serious. He hesitates again, searching for the right words. "I know we're not… close," he starts, his tone careful. "And we have our differences. But I just want to say… I had a good time at the party." He seems almost vulnerable, his voice softer than it's ever been. "I'm not used to… that kind of thing. Having fun, I mean. It was… nice, I'm used to faking a smile and hanging around the parties until I can leave… I can't remember the last time I actually enjoyed myself like I did tonight." Your eyes widen as he speaks, surprised by the unexpected honesty. You weren't expecting him to actually open up, to admit something so… genuine. The thought of him finding enjoyment in something that you didn't think was possible surprises you, yet it makes your heart swell a bit, in an odd way. "You… actually enjoyed yourself?" you find yourself asking, your voice soft. "Because of me?"

He shrugs, a small smile on his lips. "Yeah, because of you," he replies casually, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "You were… fun to be around. More fun than I thought. And you… you made me feel… I don't know. Not so alone, for a change." You're a bit taken aback by his honesty, by the truth in his words. You never thought that he would open up about something like this, especially to you. You're used to his snarky comments, his mocking tone, his nonchalant attitude, but this… this is entirely different. You don't know what to say, what to do, except to respond with a small, soft, "Oh." He chuckles in response, his eyes roaming over you, taking in your surprise. "Cat got your tongue, grumpy?" he teases, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You're usually so quick with a sarcastic remark." You huff in response, your usual snarkiness returning. "I'm just… processing," you reply, feeling a bit defensive against the teasing. "It's not often you let your guard down." He shrugs again, a cocky smirk on his lips. "Oh please, my guard isn't up all the time," he replies, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I just don't see any reason to constantly be on the defensive. It gets tiring. Besides, you bring out certain… feelings within me, ones I didn't think I was capable of." A small flutter in your stomach. It's odd, the way he can switch from being a sarcastic flirt to something softer, something more… genuine. You're not used to this side of him, not used to him being sincere. You try to cover your surprise with a scoff, a small scoff, "Whatever." You roll your eyes and turn over as you get under the covers to go to sleep. He watches you turn away from him, a small smirk still on his lips. He can sense your surprise, your defensiveness, your struggle to deal with his unexpected honesty. It's not often he lets himself show vulnerability like this, but something about you brings it out of him. He scoots closer to you, his body heat mingling with yours. For a moment, he considers holding you, pulling you close. But instead, he settles for gently poking your shoulder. "Hey, grumpy."

You huff, your eyes still closed, "What." You're used to his sarcastic remarks, his teasing comments, but somehow, this softer side of him is throwing you off, making you unsure of what to do. He grins at your response, your irritation only amusing him more. He pokes your shoulder a bit harder, "Not going to say goodnight to me?" he teases, his voice a bit mocking. You huff again, rolling your eyes at his teasing. Why does he have to be so unbearable? "Goodnight," you reply, doing your best to sound as irritated as possible. "Happy now?" He grins at your response, pleased with himself. He moves closer to you, his shoulder pressing against yours, his body heat mingling with yours in the cold night. "Almost," he replies, his voice filled with mock-satisfaction. You resist the urge to shiver as his body heat envelops you, your breath catching in your throat. You keep your eyes closed, trying to act as if his closeness doesn't affect you. "What else do you want, then?" you ask, your voice betraying a hint of annoyance. He smirks at your tone, enjoying the effect he has on you, even if you insist on hiding it. He leans in closer, his breath tickling your ear as he whispers, "I want you to turn over and face me." You stiffen at his words, your eyes opening in surprise. You hadn't expected him to request such a thing. You shift slightly, slowly turning over to face him, your eyes meeting his. He smiles as you finally turn to face him, his eyes taking in your expression, your eyes wide and slightly surprised. He scoots closer to you, his body pressed against yours, his chest rising and falling with each breath. "Much better," he murmurs, his hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. You resist the urge to shiver again, his body heat and the closeness of his proximity making you feel inexplicably flustered. You huff, your usual snarkiness returning, "And what now?" you ask, your voice betraying a hint of nervousness.

He grins at your feigned nonchalance, his eyes roaming over your face, taking in your slightly flustered expression. He scoots closer, his body pressing against yours even more, their legs and arms touching in the limited space. "Now? Well, that depends on you," he replies, his voice low and smooth. "I could give you a million things I want, but I'll settle for one thing for now." You raise an eyebrow at his words, your curiosity piqued despite yourself. You're not used to him being so… blunt, so upfront about what he wants. "And what's that?" you ask, attempting to sound as neutral as possible. He grins at your question, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. He moves even closer, his chest pressing against yours, his breath hot against your cheek. "What I want right now, is this," he whispers, his hand taking one of your hands and placing it on his chest, right over his heart. His eyes locked on yours, his gaze intense. He moves closer still, his hand resting on your hip, his thumb drawing small circles on your skin. "I want you to stay awake a bit longer," he replies, his voice dropping even lower, the words almost a whisper. "No sleeping on me yet." You watch him, your heart fluttering at his proximity, the feel of his breath against your cheek, the weight of his hand on your hip, his thumb tracing circles on your skin. You try to keep a neutral expression, to hide the effect he's having on you, but it's getting harder and harder. "You really want me to stay awake, huh?" you murmur, your voice a mix of mockery and surprise. He laughs softly at your response, his hand moving from your hip to cup your chin, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. "Of course I want you to stay awake," he replies, his voice a low murmur. "I don't want you drifting off to sleep just yet. I want to enjoy the rest of the night with you… just like this."

You shiver at his touch, your heart racing under his gaze. His words, his proximity, the feel of his hand on your chin, it's all making you increasingly flustered. "And why is that?" you ask, your voice slightly shaky, your feigned nonchalance fading. He grins at your reaction, enjoying the way he's affecting you. He moves closer, their bodies pressing even more against each other, his hand still holding your chin, his eyes locked on yours. He lowers his head, his lips hovering just inches from yours, his breath hot against your lips as he speaks. "Because right now," he whispers.

"I'm feeling… greedy."

[xechu]

a/n: A bit of a long post, but I thought I'd share some character notes I have of Sukuna from my au 'Cross My Heart'. I don't foresee myself writing anything that is related to Sukuna's past before him meeting reader, which is why I thought it would be nice to release some notes just to give him some more depth. This will have some little fun facts about Jin as well since they're twins. As you might be able to tell, I'm a bit invested in this au right now. But I am trying to work on my other fics, so you might not see anything else come out for CMH this upcoming week. x

tw: 18+ mdni, suggestive themes, mature themes, complicated family dynamics, death

cmh!sukuna - growing up & teen years

Their mother has always been out of the picture so it was just Wasuke, Jin, and Sukuna. Wasuke never mentioned much about their mother, it always seemed to be a sore topic. All they know is she's no longer alive.

Sukuna had always been kind of troubled as a kid and well into his teens. Finance has been tight growing up, so Jin and Sukuna had to work odd jobs since they were 13 until they were of legal working age, which then they would be on an actual payroll working minimum wage jobs.

Uraume knew both Jin and Sukuna since elementary school, but they have always been a little closer with Sukuna. They didn't attend the same high school as they attended another school in a different district, but they were still in contact with Sukuna.

In high school, Jin was the nerd, and Sukuna was just an edgelord that all the girls found very mysterious and alluring. Sukuna's height skyrocketed during this time as well, so he just naturally stood out. He was popular not because he aspired or tried to be - it just happened.

Given his physique, some teachers would also try to recruit him into sport teams, but Sukuna said no, because he had to work part-time after school.

Jin and Sukuna never talked to each other much. Even though they were in the same high school. People didn't even realize they were related because of how different they looked, until graduation when some students saw them taking pictures together with Wasuke.

Sukuna looks a lot like Wasuke, and Jin looks a lot like their mother.

There was a bit of resentment between the two brothers growing up, because Sukuna thought Jin was spineless, whereas Jin thought Sukuna was selfish.

To be honest, both Sukuna and Jin had a difficult time expressing their thoughts and feelings because Wasuke was pretty harsh on the boys growing up, but he also had a lot on his plate as a single father. Given Wasuke's curt nature, he didn't really know how to nurture children and did only what he thought was right.

Sukuna was easily agitated and explosive, versus Jin who bottled everything up and could be a bit reclused when things got too overwhelming.

Kaori and Jin were high school sweethearts. They met in the debate club during Jin's sophomore year. Kaori is one year older than Jin. Jin was not the argumentative type, but he decided to step out of his comfort zone, and try something new. Seeing how Jin is now, it's hard to believe he was incredibly shy in high school. Kaori had a lot to do with him being more expressive with his feelings and really getting him out of his shell.

cmh!sukuna - college days

Left home shortly after high school graduation. He got into a huge fight with Wasuke, because Sukuna wanted to go into trades instead of university. Jin was accepted into a prestigious ivy league university on full scholarship.

Wasuke had found Sukuna's acceptance letter to the same university in the bin, after Sukuna lied and said he didn't get accepted. Wasuke went into an explosive fit - he couldn't understand why his son was settling for 'less' and told him with that mentality he will amount to nothing.

Though Sukuna left home at 18 and seemingly hated his brother, he never changed his telephone number just in case one day Jin needed him.

College was when Sukuna really began to let loose and felt the full experience of freedom.

Lost his virginity to some random TA in his college, he couldn't even remember her name or face, until she approached him one day out of the blue and thought she was pregnant. They went to a health clinic and it turned out to be a false alarm. The TA wanted to continue the relationship on the down-low, but Sukuna dropped it.

Sukuna met Yorozu during his first year of college. Her band was prepping for a college event - they did a cover of ‘Smile Like You Mean It’ by The Killers, which initially piqued Sukuna’s interest

Yorozu and Sukuna hit it off quite well, it had a lot to do with their approach to life, and to be honest they were both kind of troubled at the time.

Toji and Shiu came into the picture shortly after, they met Yorozu during an elective course they all shared, and somehow the four of them all came together as a group even though they were from vastly different fields of studies. Toji and Shiu have known each other for a long time.

Yorozu's area of study - music (4 year), Shiu's area of study - international business (4 year), Toji's area of study - exercise science (3 year), Sukuna's area of study - automotive technician (apprenticeship program, 2 years)

cmh!sukuna - 20's, up to when he went to jail

When Sukuna was 21, he received a phone call from Jin. Wasuke passed away very abruptly. He came home from work one night and said that he had a headache, went to bed early and never woke up.

After going through Wasuke's stuff, they accidentally broke one of Wasuke's picture frames. The framed photo was from their high school graduation. Sukuna never saw the photo before, but Wasuke wore a big smile, one that Sukuna had never seen growing up. And when he looked closely, he could see that his father's gaze was actually on him in that photo.

On the back of the photo, Wasuke wrote a note to his late wife. "They grew up well. I tried my best though it would have been better if you were around, but they still managed to pave a path for themselves despite my shortcomings as their father. Jin is very much like you, while Ryomen reminds me much of myself. They are truly both our children. I am proud of them. I miss you, but the three of us are doing fine."

That revelation with the photo really fucked Sukuna up. That's when he also patched things up with Jin.

Jin graduated at 22 from an ivy league business school, and had this ambition of becoming an entrepreneur. At this point, Sukuna had already been working as a full-time mechanic for two years. Jin approached Sukuna with the idea and that's when they kickstarted their garage business.

The first year was quite difficult, but then afterwards it started picking up, eventually by their fifth year, business was booming. Jin was able to get married to Kaori, and bought a house to start their family. Sukuna bought two condos, and continued living his life of work hard, play hard, and just enjoying a commitment-free life.

Patching up his relationship with Jin and starting a business really saved Sukuna's life - and that's why he has so much respect for Jin and the business. It definitely curbed down his edginess and he felt less troubled, but he's far from a saint and knows there's still a lot he needs to work on.

A few months later, the altercation with the bad business deal happened and Sukuna went to jail for two and a half years.

Toji, Shiu, and Yorozu would occasionally visit him in jail

Jin and Kaori would visit Sukuna too, but Sukuna was the one to tell Jin and Kaori not to visit when they found out she was pregnant. "Don't worry about me, take care of the kid. I don't want a pregnant woman coming in and out of jail like that. I'll see you both and the kid when I'm out."

Writing © xechu - please do not redistribute, translate, or repost any of my works.

[airandyeah]

Gimme Gimme Gimme (God!Sukuna X Reader) Pt.8

My Masterlist Series Masterlist Makes me overjoyed that the taglist keeps growing, I love you all and appreciate the support! This chapter is one of my favorites so far. This is all from the POV of you in your past life, so this isn't in the present.

The air was thick with the oppressive hum of his power. Sukuna, in his true form, loomed above you, a towering god of destruction, his body a grotesque amalgamation of strength and fury. His four eyes glowed with an unsettling light, and his form radiated an aura that sent shivers down your spine. He should have been terrifying, and in many ways, he was. But in this moment, it felt as if something else was stirring beneath the surface—a hesitation, a vulnerability that you had never expected from a creature like him.

You found yourself frozen in place, your gaze tracing the sharp contours of his face, the flicker of humanity hidden behind those overwhelming eyes. Despite his power, despite the danger that clung to him like a second skin, there was something strangely intimate in the air. The world seemed to hush around you, as if it too was holding its breath.

Sukuna’s massive form shifted, his hands trembling slightly as if unsure of his own strength. He lowered his gaze, his lips curling into something close to a frown.

"Are you afraid of me?" His voice was deeper, more resonant in this form, but there was an undercurrent of something softer beneath it—something almost uncertain.

The question hung in the air, fragile like a thread waiting to snap. You felt the weight of it, the gravity of his being, but you could see it in the way his eyes lingered on you—he wasn’t just waiting for an answer, he was waiting for you to look at him as something other than the storm he had always been.

"No," you whispered, your voice barely a breath in the vastness of his presence. "I’m not afraid of you."

He seemed to hesitate at that, his colossal form shifting again, as though he had expected something different. The flames that danced along his body flickered erratically, and he let out a long, deep sigh that vibrated through the air like a wave crashing against the shore.

"You should be," he murmured, his voice barely audible now, a tinge of frustration mixing with something else—something you couldn’t quite place. His gaze softened, just for a moment, as if you were more than just a pawn in the game he was playing.

You took a cautious step toward him, your heart pounding in your chest, unsure of what this moment meant, unsure of what to expect from him. He could obliterate you in a heartbeat if he wished. Yet, there was a strange tenderness in the way he watched you now. His massive frame bent slightly forward, as if trying to shrink himself down to your level, trying to find a way to connect beyond the ferocity that defined him.

A shaky laugh escaped you, catching Sukuna off guard. You took another step, your voice light but full of sincerity. “You know, you’re really trying, huh?”

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable at first, but there was a flicker of something—surprise, maybe—before the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"I am," he said, his voice laced with something almost sheepish, despite the godlike strength in his form. "But you make it difficult."

The statement was strange coming from him, and it caused your heart to beat faster. You could hardly reconcile the destructive force before you with this hesitant, almost bashful being. It was as though the chaos inside of him was being held back by some invisible force, some thread of connection that bound you both together. It made your chest ache in ways you couldn’t describe.

Sukuna took another step toward you, his gaze now softer, more intent. "You should go," he said, his voice low, "before I ruin everything."

But it didn’t sound like a threat. It sounded like a plea, a desire for you to escape the storm inside of him. And yet, you stood your ground.

"I’m not afraid," you repeated, your voice stronger now, full of something that you couldn’t quite name. "And I’m not going anywhere."

For a long moment, there was silence between you both, the weight of his presence pressing down on you. His towering figure loomed over you like an ominous storm cloud, but there was something undeniably tender in the way his eyes lingered on you. And when his hand reached down—massive, like a mountain range in its immensity—you didn’t flinch.

His fingers brushed your cheek softly, an act of gentleness that felt almost impossible for someone like him. His touch was like fire and ice combined, burning with power yet somehow cool against your skin, as though he was learning to be something else entirely.

"I don’t know how to do this," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know how to be this—how to be anything but the destruction in my bones."

You looked up at him, the fear, the tension of the moment slowly starting to ebb away, replaced by something more complicated. Something fragile.

"You don’t have to know," you said softly, stepping closer, your hand reaching out to touch the edge of his palm, your fingers trembling slightly. "You just have to try. And so do I."

Sukuna’s eyes softened, and for a fleeting moment, the intensity of his form—his monstrous, destructive power—seemed to waver, like a storm cloud dissipating in the face of sunlight. He stood still, as if waiting for something. As if waiting for you to change everything.

And in that moment, it almost felt like you could.

"You make it hard to be angry with you," he said, his tone still rough but no longer filled with the usual menace.

You smiled softly, your heart pounding in your chest as you finally stood beside him—not as the all-powerful god of destruction, but as a being, vulnerable and seeking something you couldn’t define.

"Then maybe that’s a good thing," you murmured.

For once, it felt like the storm inside him was quieting. And maybe, just maybe, you were both learning how to navigate the calm before the inevitable chaos. ~~~ The river’s gentle current hummed softly in the background, as if the world itself had quieted in anticipation. You were sitting on a large stone near the water's edge, the cool breeze brushing against your skin, your thoughts as restless as the water flowing past.

That’s when you saw him. Sukuna.

He wasn’t the towering god of destruction you were used to seeing—no, today he was something else entirely. His shoulders were slightly hunched, his usual posture of arrogance replaced with a hint of uncertainty. He walked slowly, almost hesitantly, as if he wasn’t sure of his place beside you.

In his hands, there was something small—delicate.

You raised an eyebrow, a mix of curiosity and amusement tugging at your lips. “What is that?” you asked, leaning back against the stone.

Sukuna froze for a moment, his dark eyes flicking to yours. For once, he didn’t seem quite as confident, his gaze faltering for just an instant. He cleared his throat, and his fingers tightened around the bundle of pale pink flowers he had carefully gathered.

“They’re for you,” he said, his voice quieter than you expected, a small flush creeping up his neck. “I… thought you might like them.”

You blinked, trying to process what had just happened. The god of destruction—Sukuna—was standing before you, holding flowers like a bashful child offering a gift. The sheer absurdity of it almost made you laugh, but you quickly swallowed the impulse.

"Flowers?" you asked, a grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Did you pick them yourself?"

He didn’t meet your gaze. Instead, he glanced down at the flowers, his fingers subtly fidgeting with the petals. “It wasn’t easy. But I thought... they might make you smile.”

You couldn't help it. You let out a small, amused laugh. "You? Picking flowers? That’s a first."

Sukuna’s eyes flashed up to meet yours, a faint flicker of something like irritation in his gaze. But instead of the usual scorn, there was a touch of self-consciousness. “I can do things other than destroy,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “I don’t need to be reminded.”

You smiled at his defensiveness, feeling the tension between you loosen. It was so strange—this side of Sukuna, so unlike the god of destruction, so unlike the creature of chaos he was born to be. And yet, here he was, standing before you, a blush creeping onto his face as he offered you the delicate bouquet of pale pink flowers.

Taking the flowers gently from his hands, you leaned forward and inhaled their sweet fragrance. "Thank you," you said, your voice soft, genuine. "They’re beautiful."

Sukuna’s lips twitched, his usual impassive demeanor flickering just slightly, like a cloud passing over the sun. "I’m glad," he said, his tone still low but with an unspoken sincerity. "I wanted to do something... for you."

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling warmly at him, a softness creeping into your heart. Sukuna, the god of destruction, the being who had brought kingdoms to their knees, was standing before you, flustered, awkward, and yet… trying so hard to offer something precious.

“Maybe next time, you can bring me a bouquet of fire instead,” you teased gently, watching as his expression flickered between annoyance and uncertainty.

"You're impossible," he grumbled, but there was something in his voice that made it clear he didn’t mind. Not really.

And for the first time in a long while, it didn’t feel like the world was on the verge of crumbling. It felt like something entirely different—a quiet peace, an almost fragile moment in time that you wished you could hold onto forever. ~~~ The evening air was thick with the scent of earth and trees, the setting sun casting long shadows over the quiet clearing where you stood with Sukuna. The world around you felt distant, the sounds of the forest muffled by the sheer intensity of the moment. You didn’t speak—neither of you did, as if words might shatter the delicate peace that seemed to settle between you.

Your gaze flicked to him, to the imposing figure that was both familiar and distant. Sukuna stood a few steps away, his usual cold detachment softened by something unspoken. His intense gaze, usually filled with power and arrogance, was now shadowed with something else. Something quieter.

The breeze stirred your hair, and you caught the flicker of something soft in his expression as his eyes followed the movement. It was a fleeting moment, but you saw it—a crack in his stoic façade. For a brief second, he didn’t look like the god of destruction. He looked like a man, caught in a rare moment of vulnerability.

You shifted slightly, stepping closer to him without thinking, feeling the pull of something unspoken. It wasn’t something you had expected from him—this closeness, this quietness that felt almost intimate.

He noticed your movement, but instead of pulling away or retreating into his usual guard, Sukuna seemed to hesitate. His gaze flickered to your hand, and for a heartbeat, everything around you seemed to pause. You could feel the tension in the air, thick and heavy, like something was about to change.

And then, without a word, Sukuna took a slow step forward. His movements were deliberate, controlled, but there was an uncharacteristic hesitation in his actions. His hand, large and strong, hovered just beside yours—barely an inch of space between you—but it was enough to make your breath catch in your throat.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. You could feel his presence like a weight against your skin, the heat from his body so close it almost burned. His eyes locked with yours, a fierce intensity in them, yet there was something vulnerable hidden beneath the surface—a quiet longing.

You didn’t say anything. There was no need for words.

And then, his fingers, ever so gently, brushed against yours.

It wasn’t a grand, sweeping gesture. It wasn’t dramatic or intense. It was simple—delicate, even—and yet, it sent a shiver down your spine. His touch was hesitant, unsure, as if he feared you would pull away or reject him. But instead of moving back, he lingered, his thumb brushing the back of your hand in a soft, almost tentative gesture.

You didn’t pull away either. You didn’t need to. There was something in his touch—a quiet plea, a hope that had no words, but was felt in every brush of his skin against yours.

You held your breath, the silence thick between you, your pulse quickening with the sudden weight of the moment. For all his power, for all his history of destruction, Sukuna had never seemed more... human.

His voice broke the quiet, low and almost raw. "I thought... if I could, I would never let go."

It was a strange thing for him to say—vulnerable, uncharacteristic of the god who had destroyed so much in his time. Yet here he was, with his hand just barely touching yours, his words carrying the weight of something deeper.

You stared at his hand, then back into his eyes, and a smile tugged at the corner of your lips, the softness of the moment making your heart flutter. “You’re not really good at this, are you?” you teased, the words light, but the sincerity behind them evident.

Sukuna’s lips twitched, the faintest sign of a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I never had to be,” he said, his voice still rough but with a hint of something else—a tenderness that he didn’t know how to express.

You took a slow, deliberate breath, and with a quiet motion, you closed the distance between you. Your fingers curled gently around his, the warmth of his hand filling you with a sense of peace, even in the chaos of everything around you.

He stiffened at first, the unexpected move catching him off guard. But then, just as slowly, he relaxed. His grip tightened slightly, not possessive, but almost as if he was afraid this moment would slip away if he didn’t hold onto it.

You stayed there for a long while, neither of you saying anything more, but the silence between you was no longer awkward. It was comforting, like a secret the world couldn’t touch. The weight of everything—the destruction, the fear, the uncertainty of the future—seemed to disappear, if only for a fleeting moment.

And in that moment, Sukuna didn’t seem like a god of destruction. He seemed like something else entirely—a man who, for just an instant, allowed himself to feel something he hadn’t in centuries. ~~~ After the silence that stretched for what felt like a lifetime, the tension between you and Sukuna finally cracked, like the faintest of glass shattering.

He shifted slightly, his hand still resting gently in yours, but now there was a strange lightness in the air—a moment of reprieve from the intensity. You could feel the weight of his usual dominance returning, but it was... softer now. Almost like he was trying to work out what to do next, and failing, just like you were.

For some reason, his uncertainty made you smile. You couldn’t help it. You hadn’t seen him like this—not this... awkward. And it was too much to resist.

A quiet chuckle escaped you, and Sukuna immediately stiffened, eyes narrowing at you. “What’s so funny?” His voice was laced with an almost comical mix of defensiveness and curiosity, as though he couldn’t fathom why you’d suddenly laugh.

“You,” you said simply, the giggles bubbling out despite your attempts to keep them in check. “You look like you don’t know what to do with yourself.”

His brows furrowed deeper, his lips pressing into a tight line as if to fight back his own irritation. But then, just when you thought he might snap, you saw it—the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth, the smallest hint of a smile trying to break free.

“I do know what to do with myself,” he muttered, though there was a crack in his usual cold confidence. “I just don’t know what you want.”

You grinned, poking at his pride with a teasing edge. “I don’t know what you want either, but you’re definitely not as smooth as you think.”

His eyes flashed with that familiar sharpness, but before he could retort, you pulled on his hand gently, dragging him toward a nearby tree where you leaned against it. Your laughter had become more genuine now, bubbling up freely as you watched him stumble slightly, trying to maintain his regal posture while simultaneously adjusting to the fact that you had shifted the power dynamic, even just for a second.

You were still laughing when you caught a glimpse of his expression—his eyes softer now, and for the first time, he looked a little... self-conscious. It was an absurdly endearing sight, and before you even realized it, you found yourself laughing even harder.

Sukuna sighed heavily, throwing his head back in mock exasperation. "You're impossible."

“I know,” you teased, wiping a tear from your eye. "But you're a little fun to tease. You should smile more, you know."

He scowled, but there was no real heat behind it. "I don’t smile."

“Clearly,” you shot back with a smirk, still a little breathless from laughing.

And then, as if to prove a point, you exaggeratedly made a silly face, pulling your cheeks in and puffing your lips out in a ridiculous manner. Sukuna blinked at you, clearly taken aback by your goofy expression, and for a second, you wondered if he would break.

It was just a quick glance—a fleeting moment—but you caught it: the smallest, barely noticeable upturn of his lips, as if he couldn’t help but appreciate your silliness.

You widened your eyes playfully and stuck out your tongue. “Not impressed?”

He stared at you for a heartbeat, and then, without warning, he leaned in. His fingers curled gently around the back of your neck, pulling you close enough that your breaths mingled, the teasing smile still on his face.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered again, but this time, there was something more in his voice. Something that made your heart race in your chest.

“Impossible is fun,” you whispered back, your lips brushing his lightly as you tilted your head.

Sukuna paused for a split second, as though considering something, before his eyes darkened in a way that made you feel like the air between you had just shifted. And then, with a single, smooth motion, he closed the gap between you.

His lips met yours—firm and unhurried, as if he was testing the waters. It wasn’t like the fiery, desperate kisses of some of the stories you’d heard—it was more like the soft release of something that had been building between you two for far longer than either of you had acknowledged.

You froze for a moment, heart pounding in your chest, but then, just as quickly, you leaned into him, your fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. The moment felt both slow and fast, a rush of adrenaline mixed with a sense of grounding, of connection that neither of you had expected.

And when the kiss broke, it was soft, lingering, leaving your mind spinning and your pulse still racing.

Sukuna didn’t pull away immediately. He hovered just an inch from you, his breath warm against your skin, as though he were waiting for your reaction.

You blinked up at him, dazed and a little surprised at how natural it felt, how soft his touch was despite everything. The space between you seemed suddenly more charged with an unspoken understanding, a new layer to what you shared.

"Well," you said, your voice a little breathless, "guess you're not completely hopeless after all."

Sukuna’s eyes flashed with amusement, the smirk that had once been all arrogant confidence now more playful. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood,” he muttered, but there was no bite in his words.

You laughed softly, your heart still pounding, but this time it was different—lighter, as if the weight of all the chaos and destruction could be put aside for a moment. You didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for now, you had this—this silly, unexpected moment, and maybe that was all you needed.

And as the night deepened around you, you stayed close, your fingers still entwined, the echoes of your laughter dancing in the air between you.

Taglist: @rinkomei , @sleepycrybbylaiah , @queenmimis , @maellem , @after-laughter-come-tears , @damdido Taglist is always open for anyone!

[sturniololuvz]

Can you do a fic where the sister gets into a big fight with them and they say some really really really mean and hurtful things and she distances herself for weeks and they make up with a cute ending

“Silent Echoes”

Sturniolos x sister

Warnings : none

Being the only sister to three loud, chaotic brothers—Nick, Matt, and Chris—was never easy, but Y/N loved them more than anything. They were her best friends, her protectors, her partners-in-crime. But sometimes, they could be the absolute worst.

It all started on a random Tuesday. Y/N had been feeling off all day—school had been stressful, she had a fight with her best friend, and she was just overwhelmed. When she got home, all she wanted was some peace.

Instead, she walked into the living room to find her brothers shouting over each other, fighting about something stupid as usual.

“Can you guys keep it down?” she muttered, tossing her bag on the floor.

“Relax, it’s not that deep,” Chris said, barely sparing her a glance.

“I’m serious,” she snapped. “I have a headache, and I just—can you all shut up for five minutes?”

Nick rolled his eyes. “God, you’re always complaining.”

“Yeah,” Matt added. “You act like everything revolves around you. Newsflash: it doesn’t.”

That stung. “Are you serious? I barely say anything compared to you guys!”

Chris scoffed. “Oh, please. You’re always in a mood. If you’re not whining, you’re mad at us for no reason. It’s exhausting.”

Y/N’s face burned. “Maybe I’m mad because you guys never take me seriously! You treat me like some annoying little kid—like I don’t matter!”

“Maybe if you weren’t so sensitive all the time, we wouldn’t have to,” Nick shot back. “God, no wonder nobody wants to be around you.”

Silence.

The words hit her like a slap. She felt her throat tighten, her heart drop. None of them realized how deeply they’d just hurt her.

Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing herself to stay calm. “You know what?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am annoying. So I’ll stop bothering you.”

With that, she turned and walked out.

— ✩ —

She didn’t talk to them for days. Days turned into weeks.

At first, she thought they’d apologize immediately. But they didn’t. They carried on like nothing happened, and that hurt even more.

She stopped joining them for late-night drives. She ignored their texts. She started spending more time in her room, in the backyard, anywhere but near them. And the more time passed, the more they started to notice.

Nick missed her sarcastic comebacks. Matt missed her movie nights. Chris missed her stealing his hoodies even when she had her own. The house felt emptier without her laughter, without her voice adding to their usual chaos.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later, when she declined their invite to get ice cream—her favorite—that they realized just how badly they had messed up.

— ✩ —

One evening, Y/N was in her room when there was a knock at her door.

“Go away,” she muttered, expecting them to leave like they had the past few weeks.

But they didn’t. Instead, the door creaked open, and all three of them stood there, looking… guilty.

Chris held a stuffed bear in his hands, Nick had a pint of her favorite ice cream, and Matt was holding a blanket—her blanket.

“What are you doing?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“We’re making it up to you,” Matt said softly.

She crossed her arms. “Took you long enough.”

Chris sighed. “We were stupid. Really, really stupid. And we didn’t realize how much we hurt you.”

“You do matter, Y/N,” Nick added. “More than anything. We were jerks, and I’m so sorry.”

Chris stepped forward, setting the bear on her bed. “We missed you. Like, a lot. The house is too quiet without you.”

Her heart softened. She wanted to stay mad. She wanted to make them suffer a little longer. But looking at their guilty faces, their awkward stances, and the way they were practically begging for her forgiveness… she sighed.

“You guys really suck at apologies,” she mumbled.

“But did it work?” Matt asked with a hopeful grin.

She rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. “Yeah… it worked.”

The boys immediately tackled her into a hug, squishing her between them in the warmest, tightest embrace.

“Never shutting you out again,” Chris mumbled.

“Never saying anything that dumb again,” Nick added.

“You’re stuck with us forever, sorry,” Matt teased.

Y/N laughed, feeling the weight of the past few weeks lift off her shoulders. “Yeah, yeah. I love you guys too.”

And just like that, the Sturniolo triplets and their sister were whole again.

[incorporealbombchelle]

Campion Hall : An Iteration

Mr. Reed × Fem! Reader (18+)

Synopsis: Part 2 - (y/n) welcomes an unexpected visitor...

⚠️TW: Violence, Misogyny, Threatening/Tense Situations, Age Gap, Raw P in V Penetration, Choking, General Smut, General Discomfort.

Mr. Reed holds up his phone, our messages pulled up on the screen, then pockets it.

"I really really missed you, too (y/n). Now bring me up to speed on this 'K' person, sounds like a fascinating specimen," A close-lipped smile. My jaw drops, his eyes catch mine and I stammer.

"You- but you had said...three weeks?" I manage.

"Know how restless you get. I wanted to surprise you. May I come in?"

I nod, stepping aside to invite Mr. Reed into my dorm. The space feels cramped with more than one person in it and I can't take my eyes off him.

His glasses sit atop his head and he sheds his coat, looking incredible in jeans and a denim button down. He pulls up my cushy reading chair from the center of the room so it faces the bed, and I perch myself in front of him on the comforter, cross-legged.

"So... K, hm?"

"Keiran, creep next door, not important. You wanted to surprise me...Consider me surprised." I laugh, giddy.

"You said that if I wanted you, I'd just have to fly over and get you. Well, (y/n), I want you. So here I am. Getting." He gestures for me to scoot closer, I do.

"So... this...you missing me business, how much?"

"A lot."

"Oh?"

"Too much." I whisper, looking down, nervous.

But there's his thumb, caressing my cheek, forcing my gaze back to his.

"Come here."

My entire body burns as I lean in to kiss him and as our lips meet, it all goes quiet. The hum of the radiator, the buzz of the light fixtures, silent against the sensation of his lips, their soft insistence.

He pulls me into his lap so I'm straddling him in the wideset chair, hands wandering up my thighs as his tongue slips over mine and I moan. He tastes like coffee, something fresh -mint?- and something else, something so uniquely and addictively him.

I break the kiss, panting "I need you,"

"I'm aware. You also need," he drags the loose sleep shirt over my head, tossing it aside "to be patient. Hands clasped behind you, please."

I do as he asks because I am patient and one of his hands wraps my throat, holding my body in place just above his lap, my mind fuzzing over as the other finds its way to the gusset of my panties, feather-light, tracing soft figure-eights into the thin fabric. I whine as I attempt to grind myself against his hand, seeking any further friction, any amount of control.

I'm helpless, desperate, pathetic for him, and this is exactly how he wants me.

Mr. Reed tugs my panties aside, slipping two long fingers inside to work me at a torturously slow pace. His eyes hold mine and he continues speaking:

"(y/n), I know exactly what you want, what you think you need. I also know what you do need, and that too much at once after nothing at all would almost certainly overwhelm you."

"No, it-"

"Oh?"

He curls his fingertips, applying pressure to my G-spot and I hear myself moan as I clench around his fingers once, twice.

"Mm. Know you better than you know yourself sometimes...Scary, isn't it?" He smirks.

His hand releases my throat, my eyes tracing its path to his fly. As he unbuttons, unzips, I swallow to keep from literally drooling over him and my whole body buzzes because despite his protestations, I need everything, anything, he'll give me. He brings up his other hand from my center to my mouth, I suck his fingers clean while my own work at the buttons of his shirt and he lets out a low hum at the softness of my tongue.

"Lay back for me."

As I settle into the sheets to watch him undress, it occurs to me that we're completely to our own devices. There's nothing to inhibit us here. Not for a second. I let myself breathe, he's trailing soft kisses up the inside of my thighs and heaven is a place on earth with him.

His tongue is warm as it drags up my vulva, draws slow circles against my clit, his fingers fill me out again, I moan. "Misterr Reed?"

He hums into my sex, the vibration sending a shudder through me.

"I want you to fuck me." I breathe.

"You're sure?" He teases, still fingering me.

"Please,"

He smirks up at me, contented with my good manners and prowls up my body, coating my stomach, chest, collarbones in light kisses.

Mr. Reed then aligns himself with my heat, sucking in a sharp breath as he fills me out completely in one harsh plunge and I gasp.

He strokes my cheek, sympathetic.

"Still tight as ever, mm?"

He reads my thoughts, giving me a moment to adjust. But a moment isn't enough.

In an instant, he's steadily rocking into me, the heel of his palm resting over my lower abdomen, pressing gently into the soft flesh, and I can feel all of him. Every vein, every pulse. It's so much, too much, and I whimper.

He lets out a low moan as his hips meet mine, and I feel myself tense around him as his thrusts build to an unrelenting cadence.

"I- oh my god, I'm-" I whine, he cuts me off.

"Not just yet. Here,"

I follow his lead as he pulls out and turns over onto his back. Straddling his hips as he guides mine, he slips in easier this time. I rest my hands over his chest, swiveling downward, and gasp sharply as I'm further impaled onto his length.

Once he's fully seated within me, Mr. Reed places a palm on my inner thigh, his thumb gently rubbing over my clit as I begin shifting my hips back and forth, his own rising to meet them. 

"Ohhh my god, Misterrr Reeed?" I mewl, hot, needy.

"(y/n)..." He groans.

Feeling a familiar tension coil within me, I clench around him once, twice.

The hand he's not working my clit with holds me steady by my throat and this is just. Too. Good. My restraint snaps, and I whine pathetically as I feel myself come undone around him.

Mr. Reed's hand settles into my hair and I bury my face into the crook of his neck as I finish out my orgasm, his other hand warm as he rubs up and down my back. "There you go, that's good... Good girl, relax, you're alright..." he presses a couple gentle kisses into my shoulder.

"Th-thank you," I manage shakily, blinking away tears and he's concerned.

"(y/n) are you...crying? Was I too harsh on you? You're not hurt, are you? I'm so sorry if I-"

"No, no. I just... it was a lot, and-"

"Let's take a break then, hm?"

He lifts me off of him and I curl up against his side, shaky, limp, spent.

Mr. Reed grabs my discarded sleep shirt from the floor beside the bed, cleaning himself off with it before tossing it into the hamper in the corner of the room. He pulls me into his chest, holding tight, kissing the top of my head gingerly.

"(y/n), what would you say...to a date tonight? We could... go out, eat, drink, head back to mine... if you feel like it, we could pick this up where we left off?" His hands are on my back and in my hair again, this is perfect and that does sound nice.

"I'd like that a lot..."

"As would I. 8pm?" 

"8pm." I smile up at him.

Our first date plan is sealed with a kiss and he is comfort personified.

We lay there, limbs intertwined, for a while and it's like I never left Colorado. In his arms, I am at peace.

After Mr. Reed leaves, I shower and the rest of the day flies by fast between cleaning the dorm, folding the laundry and finishing another much too long analytic thesis. I review a few different outfit options, settling on a long,  fitted black dress and heeled boots. I check myself out in the mirror and I look... good. Sophisticated. Sensual. Put together. Perfect for a first date.

I apply a few swipes of mascara, some tinted lip balm, and decide I'm ready. I open my phone to send a text to Mr. Reed and SHIT. It is 8:27, I'm late, and I didn't even notice his texts to me. I let him know I'll be there in about 15 minutes and head downstairs, out the door.

I know it's a terrible idea to jog in heels, but I'm half an hour late, and these are platforms, so that rule doesn't really apply as I round the building and-

"Oi! Jesus! Oh. Its you."

Of course. Of course. The night of my first official date with Mr. Reed, I'm nervous, I'm late, and now as I run face first into the chest of a clearly plastered Keiran, I have to wonder how this night could be any more of a disaster.

"So then, (y/n), do you ever display concern for those around you in any way whatsoever, Or...?" his voice is gravelly, strained and his movements slow as he looks me over. There's a sway to his stance and "Are you seriously... drunk? On campus? Wow K, that is class, really, but I've got somewhere to be, now if you'll excuse me," I push past him, walking fast.

"I won't excuse you, actually." I stop, turning to face him.

"What?"

"I find you disgraceful. To the institution. Your family. Yourself..."

"I'm disgraceful? You're the one stumbling home from the pub at 9pm blind drunk."

"And you're a complete slag, off to go fuck your sugar daddy in some seedy motel, no doubt. Looks like we're both degeneratesss."

"Whoa, whoa. What are you even accusing me of?"

"What does it sound like I'm accusing you of? I saw that pensioner waiting for you in the hall this morning on my way out. He's not a professor, so good on you for subverting that trope. He's definitely not a relative, if he was he'd have an accent like yours... so who is he, (y/n)? How do you know that old man? Hm?"

He raises a brow at me and I don't like being interrogated.

"He's a friend of my family. My father's best friend, actually. He was just visiting. Has a place near here." I squint at him and what does he think he has on me?

It's the first time I haven't lied outright in response to a personal question he's asked me and as Keiran takes a step forward, imposing, I stumble back against the wall of the building.

"Y'know what I think, (y/n)?" He slurs, breath humid, vodka-scented as he invades my personal space further "I think, you're fucking that old man."

A beat.

"Keiran, you don't know what the fuck you're talking about. You're clearly very drunk, so let's just not-"

"No, no no. Because you see, I was confused. So I waited around. And I heard you. And I heard him."

This isn't happening. This is not happening to me right now.

"Look, I don't care what you think you heard, because it wasn't-"

"NO! YOU do not interrupt ME."

His eyes are bloodshot, pupils large and hollow. He reeks and something tells me this particular issue can't be sorted with words alone.

"I think, you picked him up at some café, real shifty, and you're so dedicated to this 'tell-me-I'm-your-national-anthem' American bimbo bullshit, so fucking desperate to be anything other than the boring, illiterate cunt you are, that you'd bring some geriatric to campus just to fuck in your dorm so you can have a story. A secret. A personality. An edge. It's insulting, really,"

His voice cracks and he stares through me as he continues: "You write terribly,  and somehow keep every man in this hall, every man at this university, guessing, wondering, fantasizing about you, all so you can fuck some geezer you probably met last weekend?

And he doesn't even get you off, does he? Nah, there's no way," The grin on his face doesn't reach his eyes, which roam my body predatorily and "What gets you off, (y/n), is the idea that you are so special, so eccentric and pretty and bloody American, that the law will never. Fucking. touch you. Well I am the law. And your clever streak ends here."

He leers over me, hands on either side of my head, trapping me against the wall and my heart beats out of my ribcage. If it's survival of the fittest, he doesn't evolve past this moment. He's incapable. His pimple-rotted face sits centimeters from mine, closer, and my fear of him has just run out. Now I'm angry. Really, truly, infuriated.

"YOU. are so. Fucking. ANNOYING!"

I scream in his face, turn and for a second I don't even realize what I've done as he staggers back, holding his wrist. There's...blood? in my mouth, and I spit onto the cobblestone, disgusted to have touched him in any capacity but especially this one.

"FUCK! DID YOU JUST FUCKING BITE ME?!" He lunges for me but I'm fast, he's drunk, his eye socket catches my elbow --crack-- and Keiran shreiks.

"AGH! Ow! JESUS FUCK!!"

To ensure he can't follow me to Reed's, I throw a kick at his knee which -well done me- lands, and actually works on account of his brittle English constitution and my exquisite taste in footwear.

He falls, I run.

[kaede-yamada]

They had gone from coworkers, to friends, to lovers. while that seemed like it could have happened fast; the dynamics between them had gradually changed and molded into a way that made everything fit so naturally. It happened in a way that made Kaede feel as though it was always the right thing to do. It also made him hyper aware of their romantic situation. He didn’t it to seem like he was doing too much or want to push her away by being overwhelming. It was why he was always thinking about everything between them with consideration. he’d been through a lot the last few years but he wasn’t trying to make Layla replace anyone or fit in a mold that had been left by his late wife. He wanted Layla to always just be Layla. He wanted her to find the position that made her the most comfortable in their relationship.

“ even back then I liked those moments. It was really the only time I felt any sort of peace “ he admitted when it came to their early days of bonding. Or had felt so long ago but even when Kaede was at his worst those calm and quiet moments between them at the bar had been healing for him because it allowed Kaede to slow down and just sort of breathe. He could just talk to Layla and they got to know one another more. “ I’m gonna be honest, I don’t know what Celeste knows but Theo has been filled in on most things. “ he admitted. “ I wouldn’t want anyone to think there was a weird favoritism thing happening. But I am glad it’s out there and in the open. I have nothing to hide when it comes to us “

“ things hadn’t gone right in my life for a while. Sometimes it’s hard to break the habit” Kaede admitted again when it came to the way he approached everything. His previous thoughts of being hyper aware of everything seemed to be obvious to those around him. “ You also mean a lot to me. I don’t want to screw anything up between us. “

The words leaving his lips had felt so natural and it was because they were. It all had felt like the right moment and he wanted to make sure since the feelings had manifested that he’d reveal them when it felt the most correct. Now that it was out it was like a weight had been lifted. “ I think so. I’d love to go back home with you “ he repeated back before kissing her again. Kaede had never been one for PDA but his own confession and the kisses were proving he was coming a long way from where he’d once been @ponderosus

Layla can't think of a single thing in her life she'd put the same amount of investment in, than she had in this relationship. Completely committed to making sacrifices, exercising patience, and asses her own behavior in life purely because she wanted this to work. There was more than one element to this, beyond the two of them. There was a late marriage, and a child Layla knew had to be the main priority. Happily satiated by the soft music that echoes through the bar, she lets her hands latently run up and down the side of his forearms. "I think the bar was the only space we were ever alone together before everything happened." Until she turned up on his doorstep looking for comfort after her mother had made contact with her. "I was worried that Theo and Celeste might be concerned I was getting preferential treatment. It was probably a good idea they found out." Better to offer the truth than risk rumours and untruths circulating around the workplace.

"I know you are." Kaede often reminded her how grateful he felt, as if there was a seed of worry in the back of his brain concerned she didn't completely believe it. With a soft smile, she leans in to lean her head on his shoulder, finding warmth in the crook Kaede's neck. "But sometimes I worry you're worried that things might suddenly go wrong." Which, all things considered, was understandable. But Layla didn't want Kaede to spend the entire relationship walking on eggshells that might not even exist. "You put a lot of pressure on yourself for someone who is in their first relationship after being a widower."

When she finally hears the words repeated back to her, a weight falls off Layla's shoulders. He meant it, those three words held an equal amount of weight as the ones she offered him. "Are we finished in here? I'd very much like to take you home."

— @kaede-yamada

[miercolaes]

sartre said hell is other people, but i must admit my life would give him a run for his money. wednesday will return to hunt and haunt all of you this wednesday. that being said, i am starting fresh! i have 79 drafts and 10+ notifications i haven't yet checked. so, instead of jumping blogs, we're starting fresh right here, by deleting everything. i've also updated the gsite for wednesday, mostly the aesthetics but also i'm trying to write her backstory from my point of view, which includes many iterations of wednesday. i will also post a bunch of memes and probably a starter call as well!

[mossy-aro]

ultimately i think my insistence on aro positivity honestly is as much a political stance as a personal one.

when i say aro positivity is crucial and that i dislike doomer-ist posts that express sentiments like 'I hate being aro so much I wish I was dead instead’ it's not because I don’t think there can and should be a space for negativity and acknowledging self-hate, or the many ways being aromantic can really suck sometimes. i find that to be very important!

that being said. there is smth here about how self-hate posts are sometimes just arophobia that we inflict on ourselves. and when we put that out into the ether it (intentionally or not) can become arophobia that we inflict on other members of the community. i think there absolutely needs to be a place for negativity and the expression of anger and frustration and self loathing even - these are all good things to talk about because these are things that we experience. that being said, it can also be genuinely upsetting and triggering to people to have what is essentially arophobia shown to them and then have that be validated by other aspec people. your personal thoughts can affect your wider community on a level you may not anticipate. and i understand it i truly do! it took me so long to be able to recover from accepting being aroace - it threw my entire world off kilter and made me question everything about my place in the world.

but my insistence on aro joy and positivity is because ultimately i do believe that building is at the core essence of it all. that ultimately discussions and the purpose of community should be about construction, not destruction. and this is both a personal and a political stance. talking about how much you hate yourself and cultivating online discussions/spaces where negativity about aspec identity is the main and only theme is destructive - if that’s where we let the conversation end. these thoughts can and should be used as a vehicle to look for a path forward!

joy and positivity create a space where the focus can become on forging a path forward, on construction, on community building instead of tearing ourselves and others down with negative thoughts. it’s not productive or healthy when it stops at a place of negativity - it becomes actively destructive to the essence of community.

and i do think that this is especially poignant considering the fact that being any kind of queer, but especially aromantic (and/or asexual) means forging a path for yourself and making your own happiness where there is no obvious way forward. our communities exist mostly online (right now, anyway), there is little recognition of our existence in the real world, the effects of amatonormativity are both pervasive and actively dehumanising, and there are legal, economic and social structures in place actively making our lives more difficult. yes that all sucks! it’s good to acknowledge that. we need to in order to change it. but more importantly, that’s not the end. we are still here and our happiness, our future is for us to determine. even if we can’t change the laws or society, loving yourself and understanding aromanticism as a political identity (as well as personal), as a radical worldview, and as a protest against amatonormativity is essential for both community and personal well being. the personal is political.

tldr. i guess my point is that as a community, we should focus on building, improving, and nurturing ourselves and each other (construction) as opposed to destruction. we should recognise aromanticism and asexuality as political identities as well as personal ones and rely on community and self-love in the absence of anything else as a form of protest and political power. destruction (the recognition of everything that is wrong) is essential as a starting point - but where do we go from there? we rebuild.

[gingermintpepper]

One of my biggest pet peeves is the assumption that something has to be sad for it to be tragic.

I've always been a big believer of the 'Apollo has an awful love life'/'Apollo is plain unlucky with love' line of thinking but it does bother me that the general reasoning for that statement is given to the concept of 'Apollo is somehow undesireable and thus rejected' (Cassandra/Daphne/Marpessa) or 'his lovers die young and thus their love is unfulfilled' (Cyparissus/Hyacinthus/Coronis). I personally think that's a very unfortunate way of looking at things - not only because it neglects the many perfectly cordial entanglements and affairs Apollo has had, both mortal and divine - but because it presents a very shallow interpretation of the concepts of love and loss and how loss affects people.

Apollo can still grieve lovers that have a long, healthy life. The inherent tragedy of an immortal who knows his lovers and children will die and cannot stop it does not stop being tragic simply because those lovers and children live long, fulfilled lives. The inherent tragedy of loss does not stop being tragic simply because someone knows better than to mourn something that was always going to end.

What is tragic is not that Apollo loves and loses but that loss itself follows him. Apollo does not love with the distance of an immortal, he does not have affairs and then leaves never to listen to their prayers again. He does not have offspring and then abandon them to their trials only to appear when it is time to lead them to their destinies. He raises his young, he protects the mothers of his children, he blesses the households that have his favour and multiplies their flocks that they may never go hungry. He educates his sons, he adorns his daughters and even in wrath he is quick to come to his senses and regret the punishments he doles out.

Apollo loves. And like mortals, there will always be some part of him that wishes to protect the objects of his affections. Apollo, however, is also an emissary of Fate. He knows that the fate of all mortal things is death. He knows that to love a mortal is to accept that eventually he will have to bury them. There is no illusion of forever, there is no fantasy where he fights against the nature of living things and shields his beloveds from death. Apollo loves and because of that love, he also accepts.

And that, while beautiful, is also tragic.

[feyrevelry]

SYLVERIAN WAS TOO ATTENTIVE A LOVER, too in tune with those he shared intimacy with for this shift in energy to go unnoticed. It didn't just brush against his awareness ; it crashed over him with such startling intensity that it left him momentarily breathless.

Astarion was upset.

Was the thought of simply being together and holding each other so upsetting to Astarion?! Was Sylverian’s company, when they weren’t having sex, so unpleasant?!

And suddenly — perhaps because Sylverian was such a bleeding empath and so easily swept away by the emotions of others, or perhaps because he was still overwhelmed, or perhaps because something felt so terribly wrong, or perhaps because of all these things at once — he felt anger stir. It coiled hot in his gut, unsettling and unwelcome, and before he even realized it, he was shying away from Astarion’s touch.

❝I don’t want… this,❞ he said, his voice sharper than intended.

He swallowed hard, his anger dissolving as quickly as it had risen, leaving behind something softer. Something raw and aching. His voice now wavered, quieter, unsure.

❝I… I feel like I am just a reprieve for you,❞ he admitted, his thoughts tumbling from his lips before he could stop them. ❝I don’t judge you for it. I have done the same, when fear stole my rest and only your touch kept the nightmares at bay.❞ Without Astarion, the tadpole and everything else would have been too much to handle. ❝But I meant what I said before, that I want to try, and I don’t think you truly give me a chance———❞

He stopped himself before he could say anything else, his gaze faltering, his fingers toying with a lock of his golden hair to anchor himself. Gods, the tent felt stifling all of a sudden.

Outside, the last remnants of daylight had given way to night.

❝I… forgive me,❞ he murmured at last. This was all so confusing. ❝It has been a long day. I should rest.❞

WHAT FANCIFUL IDEAS SYLVERIAN HAD OF THEIR ROMANCE. The truth was so cruel that Astarion might've choked on it if he hadn't swallowed his own self-hatred at his own treachery. It was buried six feet deep. (Would that dead things could simply stay dead in this world.)

"You make it almost painfully easy to adore you, my dear." If there were a kernel of truth in his words, it was lost to Astarion. Lost in the way he started to drift the moment warm hands carved paths on his skin.

Instinct would always bring him back to this place when there were hands involved. It was a blessed relief from propping up the dam between himself and his guilt.

Sylverian's hands traveled over his skin worshipfully, and while his body arched into his touch like a cat chasing hands stroking through its fur, Astarion was sinking into himself. Every brush along his collar bone, over the swell of his hips - it sent him swirling down a drain away from it all. Gratefully distant, performing pleasure at the behest of those gently questing lips. The horrors would come later.

A scattering of kisses, the brush of a cheek against a cock he could will hard simply by breathing the nervous tension out of the muscles in his groin, and he was braced for what comes next. What a tender thing this little fey was. Giving himself over to this wasn't nearly so bad as alternative options could have been -

What?

The comfortable distance Astarion had managed to sink himself into was ripped away so suddenly that he was jolting upright. His thighs spread wide - no longer an invitation, but now an attempt to keep Sylverian away from touching a single millimeter of his vulnerable flesh. Irritable fingers dug into the cushion positioned beneath those pale hips. The fabric may have ripped, but he wouldn't know because he suddenly felt livid at this rejection of his sacrifice.

There was a tremor in Astarion's legs as he inhaled sharply to school the rage from his features and words. "If that's what you'd prefer." His normally smooth tone was clipped, short. It took a magnificent force of will for him to bring his fingers to the side of Slylverian's cheek to cup his face like a glittering gem. Farcical tenderness.

"Whatever you want, Sylverian."

A dramatic exhale burst free of Astarion's chest, his body collapsing like a tower back against the pillows. The storm cloud overtaking his expression made him appear to be terribly put out, even when a quiet part of him whispered relief. His arms spread wide even so to welcome Sylverian to join him somewhere more... above board.

"Come here then."