#and its quite obvious with the way they interact with each other and with the anons
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this fandom really saw some ppl having some joy and whimsy making different blogs for fun and really went "lets spread even more hate! lets be even angrier than before and say people are disgusting freaks just because they enjoy something harmless! thatll show them!! never let anyone be happy ever again!!"
#birdcage rambles#sun and moon show#sams#tsams#the sun and moon show#like.literally those blogs r Just For Fun#and its quite obvious with the way they interact with each other and with the anons#then u have ppl over there that r purposely being hateful just to ''spite them'' or wutever#do ppl being happy really make u that upset? bc u cant allow urself to enjoy something eithout being angry at ppl?#its like walking across the entire playground just to throw rocks at someone bc they looked like they were having fun#like its just fucking useless#learn to have some joy and whimsy
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Celebration in Winterfell — Jacaerys Velaryon.
— summary: Jacaerys notices his wife's fears about the childbirth of their first child and takes her to celebrate her name day in Winterfell, his wife's homeland.
— pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Stark!reader
— type: fluff
— word count: 752
— tags/warnings: female!reader, pregnant!reader, husband!Jacaerys, cuddling & snuggling, fear of childbirth, married couple, established relationship, half-brother!Cregan mentioned, canon divergence (No Dance of the Dragons/War for Succession). no use of y/n. english is not my first language.
�� Jacaerys masterlist • HOTD masterlist
— author's notes: A gift for my sweet @thesongoficeandfir3, who's celebrating her birthday ❤️❤️ Definitely I'm not a fluff writer but I tried this time for you lmaooo. Happy birthday pookie 💞💞
— crossposting: AO3
❥ about me • main masterlist
Visiting Winterfell that week had been your husband Jacaerys’ idea. A way to celebrate your name day in your homeland, with the people you were always close to before moving to Dragonstone to seal the marriage union between the two of you.
He wanted to present you with something that was more important than a grand feast with random ladies and lords, and he also did not want to be so superfluous as to give you only jewelry at this crucial moment during your pregnancy.
Jacaerys could see the look of melancholy in your face every time you saw his family gathered around you, all laughing and joking with each other. Ever since you married the crown prince, you had become part of that family bond they shared. You were like an older sister to all of Jace’s brothers and quite like a daughter to Rhaenyra as well. But there was an obvious sadness in your eyes during your recent dinners together and you were always looking away when his siblings teased each other in a funny and friendly way. You had even become quieter than usual, as if you were just existing there at the table, not wanting to interact with anyone for a while.
Lucerys was the first to notice his sister-in-law's distant behaviour and he quickly informed his mother. Then Rhaenyra asked Jacaerys if he had noticed anything different about you or if your marriage had cooled a bit in those last few days. When Jacaerys felt thoughtful, confessing that you had been gradually distancing yourself as the moons passed and that you were constantly sending letters always destined for the North, it was not difficult for Rhaenyra to understand what must have been going through your mind.
You were missing your family, your home... and all of this was growing stronger with each passing second as your pregnancy progressed. It was something that Jacaerys could not help you with a simple conversation. Your fears were valid, feeling worried due to the fact that you would not have a chance to see your homeland and loved ones again before the childbirth of your firstborn.
"Are not you cold? Are you sure, my love?" Jacaerys asked during the hour of the owl, the first night of your stay. There was a hint of tension in his tone, but you understood the main reason for his question. Concern about the health of his wife and his child.
"I was used to it, my dear husband. A little time living in Dragonstone would never be enough to rid me of my love for the North." You teased Jace, who rolled eyes playfully, pulling you closer on the bed, smelling the sweet scent of your dark hair and burying his face in the crook of your neck.
Jacaerys’ palms caressed your round pregnant belly, enjoying the small kick he felt through your skin. The baby always moved when Jacaerys was near, almost as if it was desperate to be born soon and meet its father. “I bet it is a girl.”
Jace let out a laugh as he felt another strong kick even through your white nightgown and the layers of fur blankets to protect your from the heavy cold of the North. "Did you see? She agrees with me."
You rolled the eyes at your husband’s childish joke, forgetting even the fearful thoughts that flooded your mind. Rhaenyra was frequently joking about her firstborn being a needy boy and you always agreed with her. Jace felt in love since the day he met you. Now, he was braving the cold of Winterfell so he could make you happy on your name day. The next day he might even go hunting with your half-brother Cregan and bring back something special for your feast, caught by himself.
"I am so happy to celebrate another year of my life here, with my whole family." You smiled at Jacaerys, snuggling a little closer into his embrace, leaving soft kisses on his jawline. " I mean... almost my whole family, because I am missing your brothers and your mother."
"We can have a second celebration in Dragonstone when we return..." Jacaerys suggested, caressing your pretty hair with one hand, the other remaining on your pregnant belly. "Whatever my beautiful and gorgeous wife wishes. Because I love you with all my fire, and I will do anything to celebrate your health, to show how grateful I am for the existence of the most perfect woman of the Seven Kingdoms."
#venusbyline#hotd fluff#jacaerys velaryon#jacaerys velaryon fluff#jacaerys velaryon x reader#jacaerys velaryon x you#house of the dragon fanfic#house of the dragon#hotd x reader#hotd x you#hotd x y/n#asoiaf fluff#jace velaryon#jace velaryon x you#jace velaryon x reader#jace velaryon fluff#asoiaf x reader#asoiaf x you#hotd fic#hotd fanfiction#hotd fanfic#asoiaf fic#asoiaf fanfic#harry collett#hotd fandom#hotd imagine#hotd one shot#hotd au#hotd#asoiaf fandom
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Hellooo! I was wondering if u could make a fic or headcanon (its up to u tho!) about seishirou fake dating? I think the reason would be bcs the girls in his school would stop chasin after him or smthing like that? And ofc eventually they like each other. I hope ur doing well! take ur time and have a great day!
Heyaa!! The request box is pretty full these days, I'm moving as fast as I can, have a nice read!!
Fake Dating With Nagi Seishiro

Seishiro is fed up with the constant attention he gets from the girls at school. No matter how politely he turns them down they just won’t stop chasing after him. It is tiring and it is starting to interfere with his focus. Finally he comes up with a plan. He needs a fake girlfriend. Someone who can convincingly pull it off and won’t actually fall for him
That is where you come in. Maybe you are a friend or maybe you are just someone who seems reliable and disinterested in him romantically. One day after class Seishiro corners you with his usual calm and collected demeanor intact “I need your help” he says crossing his arms and leaning casually against the wall “Pretend to be my girlfriend. Just for a while. It will get them off my back”
You blink at him surprised “Why me??” you ask skeptical “Because you are the only one who won’t make this weird” he replies with a faint smirk “And you are also the only one who doesn’t seem interested in all the attention I get” After some hesitation you agree “How hard could it be” you think. A little hand holding here a few staged moments there and it will all be over soon enough
But as the plan unfolds things don’t go quite as planned. Seishiro who is always calm and cool starts to act differently. At first you think it is just part of the act. Like the way he suddenly gets protective when someone teases you or how his smiles feel more genuine when it is just the two of you. But then you realize it is not just an act anymore
And maybe you are not just pretending either
At first, Seishiro would approach the fake relationship like a task. He remains composed and distant, treating the whole situation as a formal arrangement. Holding your hand or placing an arm around your shoulder would feel mechanical, done only when necessary to convince others
However, he takes the role seriously. If someone questions the authenticity of the relationship, Seishiro defends it without hesitation. He might casually say “She’s my girlfriend. Isn’t it obvious?” His confidence leaves no room for doubt, making the act even more convincing
As time passes, Seishiro’s demeanor starts to shift. Initially, every small gesture like walking you to class or standing closer than usual feels calculated. But soon it starts to feel natural. The way he looks at you, lingers a bit too long. The way he laughs at your jokes feels a little too genuine for an act
You on the other hand, are nervous in the beginning. Agreeing to the fake dating arrangement seems simple at first, but being the center of attention feels strange. When someone asks “When did you two start dating?” you might panic stumbling over an answer
Over time though you start questioning your feelings. Is this really just fake? Or have you started to care about Seishiro more than you’re willing to admit?
Together, your interactions change. What began as staged hand-holding turns into moments that feel genuine. A hug in public doesn’t stop as soon as people stop looking. A playful argument about what to eat ends with him smiling in a way that feels far too intimate for a fake boyfriend
Then there’s the jealousy. Even though the relationship is fake, you both start to notice how uncomfortable it feels when someone flirts with the other. It’s subtle at first Seishiro’s narrowed eyes when someone gets too close to you, or the way you feel your chest tighten when another girl compliments him
Eventually, these small moments lead to something bigger. Maybe one night, after a particularly convincing moment in public, you find yourselves alone. Seishiro looks at you, a rare vulnerability in his gaze, and asks “If this is supposed to be fake, why does it feel so real?”
Enjoy!
#nagi seishiro x you#nagi fluff#bllk nagi#nagi seishiro smut#nagi x you#nagi seishiro x reader#nagi seishiro#nagi smut#nagi x reader#nagi x y/n#seishiro nagi x reader#bllk fluff#bllk x you#bllk#blue lock x female reader#blue lock x y/n#blue lock x you#blue lock rin itoshi#bluelock x reader#blue lock x reader#blue lock#blue lock nagi#bllk x reader#bllk x y/n#bllk x female reader#bluelock x you
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CHAPTER FOUR — SERIES INFO
WARNINGS: Mean reader, Y/N usage
PAIRING: Oscar Piastri x Ballerina!Reader
CHAPTER SUMMARY: You join Oscar and Lily on a date. Of course, trouble ensues with you around.
NOTES: I love you Swan’s Song Y/N. I’ve also finally finished the storyline! There will be at LEAST 15 chapters. Some might have to be split into two, but hopefully not.
<<< PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER >>>
Y/N’S MESSAGES ☆ LILY ZNEIMER

your.username
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your.username Dressed to perfection 🕯️
tagged lilyzneimer
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username1 - Oscar spotted in the likes!
username2 - supporting his gf’s friend! cute
username3 - How can anyone hate on such a pretty girl
username4 - You forgot to mention that she’s snobby and stuck up 🥰
username5 - Y/N making friends?! No way
bhamroyalballet - She gets along with all the other dancers ✨🩰
♥︎ by author
> your.username - Sometimes.
lilyzneimer - You got ready so fast it was kind of scary!
♥︎ by author
username6 - These two hanging out is so cute
oscarpiastri
liked by lilyzneimer and others
oscarpiastri Date night :)
tagged lilyzneimer
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username7 - Wait a damn minute
username8 - AHH so cute
username9 - Jealous of them
mclaren - Our princess! Lily Zneimer 🥰
♥︎ by author
your.username - Back off.
> username10 - HEEELP
username11 - Wait. If Y/N is hanging out with Lily… and Oscar is ALSO hanging out with Lily…
username12 - DID SHE CRASH THEIR DATE I’M CRYING
> username13 - MAYBE IT’S A DOUBLE DATE?
> username12 - WITH WHO??
> username13 - GIRL IDK
lilyzneimer - ❤️🥰
♥︎ by author
oscarpiastri - 👀❤️
Y/N’S MESSAGES ☆ YVETTE REGUEIRO

“Y/N, you look lovely!” You stepped foot from your car, your face settled back into its serious mode: eyebrows relaxed, lips drawn into a fine line, eyes softened. Quite the stunning look. Lily was quick to compliment you, her polite voice almost melting your frozen heart.
Almost.
“Thank you, miss Lily.” You reply with a monotone voice, politely shaking her hand when the two of you met. Your eyes drift to Oscar, who’s eyeing you suspiciously. Yet, as soon as Lily looks up, he smiles. “Good to see you again, Oscar.” Your lips quirked into a tantalizing smile, just fake enough for him to notice.
“Likewise.” It seemed like he had to force the agreement out. He grabs his girlfriend’s hand, pulling her towards the entrance of the restaurant. You followed closely behind.
The interior was as fancy as ever. There was a live orchestra playing, accompanied by soft chatter filled by various groups of people. The dance floor, lit by a gorgeous chandelier that hung atop tall, hand painted ceilings, was crowded with swaying couples who were enjoying the nice night.
The three of you found a table not too far away, getting to enjoy the music as well as watch others dance— Something you were usually on the other end of. It was nothing impressive. Everyone there was far from professional, unlike yourself. You could spend the whole night criticizing each step in your head, but you decided against it. That’s no way to have fun.
Everyone talked quietly, and most of the time it was either Oscar and Lily conversing while you listened, or you and Lily while Oscar sat out. You tried to keep your interactions with the man short, but it was impossible to avoid him entirely when he was sitting right across from you.
“Won’t the two of you dance?” You asked, looking bored out towards the linoleum tiled floor.
“Mm,” Lily blinked and looked towards Oscar, and then back to you. “I’m not a very good dancer, and I don’t think Osc knows how at all.” You perked up slightly, gaze drifting towards the man, who shifted awkwardly whilst nodding in agreement.
You pushed your seat back, standing up with your hands on the table. “I’ll teach you, then.” You spoke firmly, making it obvious no wasn’t an answer. He looked towards his girlfriend for help, but she just smiled and nodded.
Once you were both out of earshot, mingling in with the other dancers, his friendly facade dropped. “Why?” He spat out harshly. You, however, ignored his question and grabbed his hands, putting one on your shoulder and holding the other with your own. You were the lead, so your free hand went to his waist.
“It’s shameful that you can’t dance, that’s why.” You mercilessly pulled him along, tormenting him with that face of judgement every time he took the wrong step. “You never learned ballroom dance? How embarrassing.” Your tone didn’t sound harsh, but with that disappointed expression, he could feel the shame sinking in.
Eventually he got the hang of it, so you stopped. “Now lead me.” You swapped your hands around, letting his drop to your waist, and raising yours to his shoulder.
When you both came back to the table, Oscar looked like he had come back from war. You, on the other hand, seemed quite alright. “I’ve returned your dance partner, miss Lily.” You collected your purse, leaving behind your portion of the bill in cash. “I’ll be taking my leave, but enjoy the rest of your night.”
“Ah, see you around Y/N!” That was the last you heard as you made your exit. Oscar begrudgingly followed her to the dance floor, feeling tired already. He wasn’t cut out for this.
your.username
liked by bhamroyalballet and others
your.username To dance is to be free.
tagged bhamroyalballet
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bhamroyalballet - It was the sylph’s dance that captivated the scotsman🩰
♥︎ by author
your.username - It was her beauty that made her irresistible. ❤️
username14 - This story is going to be soo good
username15 - I’m so excited to see this opening night
♥︎ by author
username16 - ATE DOWN
username17 - This better be good 😫
Y/N’S MESSAGES ☆ LILY ZNEIMER



Y/N’S MESSAGES ☆ OSCAR & YVETTE


Taglist! Comment to be added
@wierdflowerpower @imagine-it-was-us @suliigwp @dozyisdead @stxrlvrzz
#f1 x reader#formula 1#formula one#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 fluff#f1 smau#f1 imagine#op81#oscar piastri x reader fluff#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri smau#oscar piastri#op81 x you#op81 x y/n#op81 fluff#op81 imagine#op81 x reader#op81 fic#op81 smau#f1 texts#f1 x reader smau#formula one smau#oscar piastri x reader smau#oscar piastri x reader texts#a swan’s song
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My main gripe with the posts that are like "love is love includes platonic/familial/queerplatonic/etc. love" is ofc that they still fully ignore and exclude loveless people.
But what is also quite noticeable is that they also never mention sexual love. Because, it seems, in one stance about love (beside the "everybody loves"), a lot of aspecs still agree with society: that sexual love either just straight-up doesn’t exist, or that it’s inherently bad and abusive (that loving someone sexually without romance is abuse, "only using them for sex" etc.)
And on the other hand you also have aspecs acting like, on a societal level, sexual love is seen as equal to romantic love (with phrasing such as "love that isn’t romantic or sexual is devalued by society"), as if romanceless sexual love isn’t seen as basically the worst thing ever.
While I don’t experience love per se, the only type of love I can relate to even remotely is specifically sexual love. I care a lot for people I’m sexually attracted to, and sex is very important to me overall. And let me tell you, me expressing interest in a purely sexual relationship, no matter if I’d label my feelings as love or anything similar, are not ever treated any better than friendships or platonic relationships are.
I’m demonised to hell and back from queer people and non-queer allies and queerphobes all the same for my feelings and opinions on sex. Sex is seen as something that should only happen in very specific situations, and only then is it "good"; any other type of sex is "bad"; it’s just the definition that varies slightly between those groups—and I fit none of their definitions for "good" sex. No one sees sexual love without romance as a positive thing, least of all something equal to romance. (And especially not sexual intimacy and closeness without love and romance (or friendship, in slightly more progressive views, but that’s rare tbh))
Its just very noticeable that the majority of queer people, and between those especially aspecs because they do talk about non-romantic love the most, still don’t see sexual love as something that could just exist. It’s very noticeable when there’s hundreds of posts broadening the definition of love to include literally everything but specifically sexual love. Endless lists about what love is in non-romantic ways, and it’s glaringly obvious that people just do not believe anyone could care for someone they "just" want to fuck, "just" have a sexual relationship with, without wanting to be labelled as friends or anything similar even when they do things other see as friendship because they cannot grasp that people can care for their sexual partners even without having feelings for them that aren’t sexual.
Just still seems very sex-negative to limit sex to be something that either happens between people in a different kind of relationship (usually romantic, but again, some do agree you can have sex with friends, too), or something emotionless between strangers who then never interact with each other again (which is also most of the time treated as a bad thing which should stop).
Point is: Maybe question why you exclude sexual love specifically from your post about non-romantic love. (And at the same time, also stop acting like every person must experience some type of love)
#already made a post like this once#but I think I could sort my thoughts a bit better now#aromantic#aro#AlloAro#AroAllo#loveless#loveless aro
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Just Like a Movie Scene, Table for Two
Their love language towards you - Obanai, Giyuu, & Sanemi x reader (separate) | part 1
TW: most likely OOC
Been getting lazy lately, might start writing for Mashle Idk😞 Also Giyuu's part ended up being wayy longer than intended😢
Obanai Iguro - Gift Giving & Quality Time
Not much needed to say here tbh, it's quite obvious from how he treats Mitsuri.
Due to his traumatic past, he nurtured a distaste for women. To add to that, most females in the Corps were weak and lacked physical strength, furthermore skills in hunting demons. Thus, he looked down upon them even more. But once he finds a girl who could light his candle, he'll pour every ounce of himself to give her the love he thinks she deserves. It'll take time for him to open up to you, but the signs wouldn't be discreet.
He'll give you gifts from time to time, offer you to hang out with him or have lunch together. He'll listen to you talk your heart out, admiring the way your face lights up as you tell him how your day went. You mostly did the talking, he just occasionally hummed or nodded to indicate himself paying attention. If possible, he'll take every chance to spend any unoccupied time with you. Your bright and beaming presence had become one of his escapes from the dark and bitter reality of this world.
During those times together, he'll take mental notes of all the things you mentioned you like, and always put it into consideration when deciding on a gift for you. He'll find a way to combine the different things you adore into one form of a present. It may take him quite the effort and time to put his mind into it and figure out a conclusion, but it never goes to waste as long as he could bring out that beautiful smile in you.
Giyuu Tomioka - Acts of Service & Quality Time
He is no less than a man of few words; having difficulty interacting with others. Thus, when it comes to commitment in a relationship, he'd prefer to execute it through physical effort rather than going vocal. Other than not being able to express his feelings verbally, he believes actions tend to speak louder than words. He would be the kind of person that pays attention to the smallest details of your body language. Had you made subtle gestures of discomfort, he'll take notice of it rather quickly and immediately tend to it.
Once, he was in the middle of listening to your daily rambling when he saw how you kept rubbing your hands together and occasionally placing it on your neck, presumably seeking warmth. Without much thought, he took off his haori and placed it around you, making sure to cover your hands with its long sleeves. “You're cold.” If he could, he would've cupped your hands by now to provide further comfort. Unfortunately, he knew well that his hands were no less colder than the weather itself; not to mention how unaccustomed he also was to physical contact.
Being in the position of a Hashira means holding many great responsibilities; the more responsibilities to bear, the less time available to be spent together alone. Hence why Giyuu tries his best to see you whenever he can. If he had an empty schedule for the day, his first thought would be spending it with you. He'd take you out on a walk around town and market at night, and get you things he noticed your eyes have taken interest upon (despite your resistances and denial). If not in the mood for a crowded environment, you two would sit together somewhere more secluded, like a pond located in the woods.
He was glad that you were the one who always started the conversation, knowing how he could only do otherwise. Though even if there were to be silence itself between the two of you, no sense of awkwardness could infiltrate the comfort you both had by simply being in each other's presence.
Sanemi Shinazugawa - Physical Touch
He may not admit it, but he's often touch-deprived.
It was agony for him to hold back the urge to come up to you and just circle his arms around your waist whenever he saw you; his ego and pride refusing to let his guard down. He didn't want to seem weak, to let his well-known indifference falter and be viewed as soft in the face of others. Yet, behind closed doors, he clings to you like his life depended on it. He's been craving your touch for the whole day, especially after having to put up with lower-ranked slayers who drained his mental energy (berating them to death).
He'd come home falling into your arms, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he finally could let his muscles loose. The two of you would tell how each other's days went, with him laying on your abdomen as you played with his hair. He tried his best to stay awake and keep listening to you, really, but the feeling of your fingers skillfully easing the nerves in his head through the scalp was driving him to the edge of falling into slumber. Eventually, as the fatigue was too strong to be fought back, he finally surrendered and let his mind drift off to sleep, all in the while of your melodic voice.
#obanai x reader#iguro x reader#obanai x you#obanai x y/n#giyu x reader#giyu x you#giyu x y/n#giyuu x you#giyuu x reader#sanemi x reader#sanemi x you#sanemi x y/n#tomioka x reader#shinazugawa x reader#kny hcs#kny fanfic#giyuu fluff#obanai fluff#sanemi fluff#kny fluff#demon slayer fluff#obanai iguro#iguro obanai#giyuu tomioka#giyu tomioka#tomioka giyuu#tomioka giyu x reader#iguro obanai x reader#sanemi shinazugawa x reader#demon slayer
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can't get over how at its core, deltarune is about a group of kids who are so profoundly lonely they quite literally know nothing else. and about how the horrors persist but they're finally breaking out of that loneliness and that first taste of friendship is all the hope they could ever need. it hits especially hard as someone who was a weird undiagnosed autism kid at school and felt lonely all the time too.
Kris being so profoundly alone as the only human in hometown, loving their brother so dearly and living in the shadow of his absence. grown apart from noelle even though the two of them want nothing more than to be close again. presumably isolated by carol and dess(?) and unable to tell anyone about their possession. but despite it all they care so deeply about susie and value her friendship so much. and they act outside of the soul's influence for HER sake. they save her in chapter 1 and they're constantly in cutscenes acting without our influence to have the sweetest interactions with her. she is their hope 😭😭😭😭
susie being constantly perceived as the new kid or the bad kid all because people profiled her with no actual tells to her behaviour. internalising that she was bad because people told her she must be and acting bad so that she pushed people away instead of accepting that people just DIDN'T like her. but the SECOND her and kris made friends with each other (and ralsei and lancer) she drops the facade so quickly because it was harming her self esteem so badly to keep acting that way. and she's just so unapologetically weird and loyal and kind, and when she's finally given the chance to SHOW someone that side of herself she DEFINES herself by the hope it's given her. "the girl with hope crossed on her heart" like an OATH to keep on hoping, because of her friends alongside her that trust her and see past her exterior
ralsei most visibly embodies it with his whole "literally never spoken to a person in his life" backstory. he's just so visibly isolated from everyone even when he's trying not to be: he's a darkner so he's immediately excluded from any social hangouts in the light world, he's a darkner so other lightners (specifically noelle) tune him out because they're unsure of how to respond to his existence, he's so burdened being the only person who knows the entire extent of the prophecy, probably doomed to either die or lose contact with kris and susie to save the world... the prophecy characterises him by how alone he is - it's literally baked into his entire existence. he says his purpose as a darkner is to make kris and susie happy but the prophecy pointing out his loneliness also makes it seem essential to his role in the prophecy. he's designed to be so incredibly lonely he would do ANYTHING to keep friends. and he has those friends now. and he wants to fight for them. he's been so brainwashed by the prophecy and his darkner status to think he isn't even a person but susie and kris are reminding him he IS. they're dragging him out of this pit of low self esteem that prolonged isolation has granted him and are validating his desire to find an alternate ending to the prophecy. he's realising friendship isn't just him endlessly sacrificing his sense of self for others, because his friends are so keen on seeing the real him that they are weirded out by his subservience and insist on HELPING him become a person separate from their influence. AND IT'S WORKING. ralsei is feeling true hope for the first time because of susie and kris.
noelle is also so lonely. she's probably the least obvious alone character because she's popular and has friends like catti and berdly, but like. her relationship with her mum is strained and her dad is dying and her sister has been missing for years, and she has nobody to turn to about it. a lot of her friendships are too superficial for her to confide in her friends. she can't really complain to her dad about her mum because he's dying and can't help her. she can't talk to kris because her sister's disappearance burned almost all the bridges between the holidays and the dreemurrs, and she misses kris so deeply. god she misses them so deeply. the weird kid to her weird kid, she misses hanging out with kris and dess and asriel and she can never have that back. the way she's so scared all the time because of all the tragedy haunting her family but she chooses to seek out Susie's friendship (and romance) in spite of her fear...the way the dark world helped her remember how to assert her needs and how even though she thinks it's all a dream susie is in the light world reinforcing that lesson for her and taking Noelle's desire for friendship further. how Noelle is finally starting to reignite that old friendship with kris and how she knows them SO well she's the only person who knows something is off with kris in BOTH routes. she's the only person who knows something bad is happening to kris with their possession (besides probably ralsei but he doesn't know that out of familiarity with kris). GOD. she's finally coming back to SOME semblance of her childhood happiness and it's having such a profound influence on her.
okay so i was originally going to add berdly to this too but i accidentally wrote such a comedically huge amount about how lonely he is that I COULDN'T justify it lmao. i think it was quite literally as long as everyone else combined. like and subscribe if you want my berdly autism rant guys (joke)
#deltarune#kris dreemurr#susie deltarune#ralsei deltarune#noelle holiday#I didn't realise how insane I was about berdly until i wrote like 5 million words about him#but hey he's my second favourite character after ralsei i should have expected it#there's just something about his 'undiagnosed autistic kid in secondary school' swag that is too relatable to me#he's like a mirror to how i acted in secondary school except for calling people yanderes#the whole can't comprehend his own place in his relationships and Really Dense about how he comes off is exactly how i was when i was 15#and look at me now. diagnosed autism#FUCK. i did it again#anyway#ermmmmm i love deltarune guys#deltarune spoilers#??? adding that for the ralsei section just in case
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Why did no one tell me about the little “omake” chapters of DandaDan?
I was today years old when I learned the existence of these little extra omake or bonus chapters of Dandadan that expand on what’s going on with some of the other DanDandan characters like the Aira and Evil Eye Jiji one for example.
I thought it quite cute that Evil Eye cared enough about Aira to help her with getting her old friends to start talking to her again. That was actually oddly sweet of him.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the Evil Eye might secretly have a widdle crush on Aira. Doesn’t have to be true. I mean it’s just me spitting here.
But I’d be lying if Evil Eye crushing on Aira is definitely feeding into my thoughts on Aira and Jiji eventually being a couple.
I DO LIKE the Jijira ship. I mean Dandadan got me wracking up new ships to love like Uno cards with each new arc.
Already I’m Team Momokarun - obviously. Otherwise why am I even here if not to suffer at the hands of Yukinobu Tatsu as he proceeds to write the most beautiful shoujo romance love story disguised as a shonen battle anime that the world has ever seen and taking his sweet ass time doing it too. That magnificent romantic bastard.
---
I’m Team Jijira - I just think they’re NEAT okay? Our secondary BAKAS IN LOVE potential couple next to Momokarun.
No seriously, I think these two can actually work really, REALLY well together if Aira would just come to her senses of seeing that Okarun is OBVIOUSLY in love with Momo and NOT her, get over him and redirect her interest to the guy who is actually always by her side more than Okarun. Meaning Jiji.
As for Jiji and where he stands on love and romance. To all the people who keep saying that Jiji is in LOVE with Momo, I raise you one important question? Where? Where is this love you keep insinuating that Jiji has for Momo?
Believe me, I have watched the anime. I have read the manga up to date and all I’ve seen so far is a good boy who just simply cares very deeply for his childhood friend and is very protective of her. Nothing more.
I mean Aira is more obvious with her feelings for Okarun than Jiji is for Momo.
I dunno man. The Momiji ship and its shippers is giving me Zutara from Avatar vibes. Ya’ll up in here painting this magnificent love story between these two characters and telling everybody who would listen about it but when you actually read the ACTUAL canon content, there is nothing to insinuate anything like that at all.
Then again, I might just be biased because even IF Jiji DID in fact have a crush on Momo … that means shit because WE KNOW Jiji will NEVER end up with Momo BECAUSE SHE IS IN LOVE WITH OKARUN AND HE LOVES HER TOO!
Not unless Tat-Tat writes an arc where there’s an alternative universe/ reverse time line type shit where Momo ended up with Jiji instead of Okarun due to weebly wobbly, timey wimey stuff.
And now thanks to Aira omake chapter with the Evil Eye, I have more reasons to believe that Jijira could be a possibility. Either way, my Jijira shipping heart has been fed.
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I’m Team Vaminta: or Kintola? Whatever the official Vamola x Kinta ship is called. Doesn’t matter. Vamola is (literally) a queen and Kinta is her king. Nuff said!
My goat and baby girl deserve each other!
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And finally; I’m Team Rinuma - yes, yes, I KNOW Rin and Zuma have yet to actually officially interact in the story but how can I NOT ship them prematurely. The girl with gravity powers making people float and the boy with the umbrella? C’mon it’s like poetry. The ship practically writes itself even if Tat-Tat hasn’t gotten there yet. I see the vision and I’m embracing it while I can; dagnabbit!
---
So yeah, those are my current favourite Dandadan ships. Returning to the omakes, I also enjoyed the Chiquitta one.
Did not know Chiquitta was attending school on Earth. I mean it would make sense since his father is currently working on Earth so that Chiquitta can get all the milk he can get to keep himself healthy and strong. Yeah makes perfect sense actually.
Loved the chapter showing Chiquitta protecting his classmates from older bullies. Like father, like son. Chiquitta got hands man! That’s our favourite kappa son!
Also Chiquitta imitating Jiji of all people when interacting with a girl is insanely cute. Of all the people for Lil Chiqui to copy, why Jiji of all people? Then again, better him that Kenta, am I right?
There’s also speculation now that the little girl that suspects Chiquitta to be an alien is actually related to Okarun.
Like she’s his little sister and that Okarun comes from a large family where possibly some of the background characters we’ve probably overlooked throughout the story may allegedly be related to our favourite Yokai speedster.
Personally I’m down for this theory since it’ll actually confirm Okarun as being from Earth instead of my crazy theory of him secretly being a member of a humanoid alien race who was abandoned on Earth at birth and raised by a human family or someting like that. .
Because we have yet to glimpse into what Okarun’s home life is as yet, it’s got me wondering if Okarun even has a family. I mean surely he has to have a home because in spite being a loner/outcast for most of his school life, Okarun is always well-clothed, well fed and stocked up on occult-related magazines.
So outside of the alien heritage theory, it wouldn’t surprise me if Okarun actually comes from a pretty wealthy family and the reason why he’s always seen ready and flexible to go off on his own without his parents wondering about his whereabouts is probably because Okarun’s parents/caretakers are probably living a life where they’re never home with him.
Perhaps Okarun’s parents work overseas and the reason for Okarun’s deep fascination with the occult is cause its related to his parents’ occupation.
Maybe his parents are archaeologists or astrologists or a pair of people who study these kind of things and often have to travel abroad for long periods of time while Okarun is left alone; unable to accompany them due to him attending school in Japan.
I mean, it would make sense why we haven’t seen them as yet in the story. To me, Okarun living alone because his parents work overseas sounds more plausible than them secretly being alien.
Perhaps the little girl who suspects Chiquitta of being an alien doesn’t necessarily have to be someone related to Okarun. Perhaps she’s his neighbour or something. Or maybe she doesn’t even know Okarun and is just someone related to Chiquitta’s side of the story.
On the subject of aliens, it would actually be pretty funny if Okarun’s parents were another pair of refugee aliens who have been living on Earth for years and thus Okarun is secretly an alien who was born and raised on Earth.
Like his parents brought him up on the occult to desensitize him to the existence of the alien race. Their race; although they never revealed the truth of their alien lineage to Okarun, wanting him to grow up believing himself to be just a “normal human boy on Earth” when he actually isn't.
I mean that’s another theory for the pool of possibilities.
If Okarun parents are indeed secretly aliens then imagine them being Ken Takakura fans as much as Momo is because his movies were the first thing they were exposed to once they came to Earth and thus they decided to take the surname of Takakura and named their Earth-born “alien” son, Okarun after him.
It would honestly be insane if there comes a time when Momo gets to meet Okarun’s parents and the first thing they bond over is their shared love for Ken Takakura.
That would actually be insanely cute.
Overall, these are just little headcanons. For all I know, there’s probably no twist to Okarun at all.
He could really just be a regular guy who, despite everything that life had thrown at him, lucked out and found the love of his life and the literal girl of his dreams when she just happened to be passing by on a bad day and noticed him for the first time.
That really could be just it.
Then again; who really knows.
We really have to see what Tat-Tat has cooking up in that noggin of his for this ongoing love story he's made.
The most I will say is that the longer the story drags on with us readers never seeing or knowing anything about Okarun’s homelife, the more this squiggle meister will start to believe that he’s secretly an alien until it’s debunked by the actual story.
~LMS (2025)
#squiggles talks: dandadan#dandadan#okarun and momo#dandadan spoilers#jiji and aira#jijiaira#momokarun
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bad idea, right? (obi wan kenobi x f!reader)

tags: slightly sith coded obi wan, no use of y/n, my unhinged take on regency era, (blaming bridgerton and pride and prejudice), probably historical inaccuracies, SMUT, mentions of oral sex (fem and male receiving), mentions of fingering, piv sex, dom!obi?, i really don't know what to write here it is just filth and it is gonna get filthier
a/n: HII! so i became haunted by historical!obi au's and spent six months writing a short series... this is the first chapter out of three, so i hope you stay tuned for the upcoming one (it is FILTHIER than this and about 19k words)
likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, and i can't wait to hear your opinions! i am also crossposting on ao3, feel free to interact there as well.
enjoy!!!
part one | part two | part three | ao3
word count: 5.4K
chapter one: see you tonight?
“…Fuck, just like that-“
That voice. Yes, that’s how you ended up here, you think, as you roll your hips, feeling the exquisite contours of Obi Wan’s cock stretching your walls and pulling pleasure out of every cell in your body, and possibly from your soul too.
Ehem. Lord Kenobi.
And truth be told, that’s not exactly how things led here. Of course, his rich voice and the manner in which he used it were notable factors. The way he camouflaged his remarks under sweet quips never failed to make you giggle into the next day, and regardless of the topic (ashamedly, it was mostly about the other people in the room, and their rather obscene behaviors), the comments he made always reflected the intelligence behind it. He played the serious bit perfectly too, even though his reverent sentences carried some poetry, never pompous, yet deep enough to convey its origin and the realness of his sincerity… That’s why you started spending hours with him at balls in the first place. Ten minutes alone with him, undoing all the prejudice you had against the man. All the rumors about him were proven wrong, or at least, half true. And you liked that remaining part of the truth.
Only after that, came the subject of his charms. Not quite surprising, considering that there was no lack of handsome faces around, but a lack of brains in them. Or a true heart. You hated the hypocrisy of it all, and it was a blessing to find someone who shared that sentiment. Not to mention the benefit of him deflecting any unwanted company.
Likewise, he must've thought the same about you, thus your current position. It was obvious that both of you two had similar standards, even in these lewd matters. People didn’t call him a heartbreaker because he pursued a lot of women, but when he did and it came to an inevitable end, they were the shell of whom they used to be, like a person could be mummified by the absence of the joy he charmed people with it. And you, you weren’t the type to have somebody just because you could. No, you looked for a special connection, a click, and when you got lucky and found one among the countless candidates, you treasured it. Now, even the word click sounded wanting, there were sparks present between the two of you, a considerable, good dynamic you two had built, and that made everything just better.
You were almost sad thinking this was a one-time event, already knowing this is a moment you'll remember your entire life. (You weren't gonna push your luck on getting caught.) If there were such deals, two of you keeping it to each other forever in this aspect of life, you’d have signed that contract in a blink.
“Thought you said you were tired.” He breathes out, clearly an effort, yet the smug grin on his face leaves no room for doubt or pity.
“I’ve been sitting all day.” That’s how travel works in carriages, after all. “I think stretching my legs, is what I need.” You emphasize by raising yourself higher and slowly sink back down a few times, a motion that pulls moans from both of your mouths.
Travel. It took you half a day to reach your aunt’s estate, and you were fairly certain you wouldn’t attend the ball that is currently taking place. Then, you realized there was no way your gracious hostesses would see you tonight, you were forced to enter the saloon. It would be a quick in and out, maybe greeting a few more people, no dance, with the very valid excuse of I’ve been on the road all day and I am quite exhausted ready on your lips at any interaction. This was why you didn’t even bother to put much effort into your looks, opting for a change of dress, and nothing more. No jewelry, no retouches to your hair. After all, it would just add to your part if you seemed slightly off.
Somehow, it turned out to be a regrettable decision, when numerous eyes turned to you as you took a step into the room, and even longer after that. Maybe not every head turned or the music came to an abrupt stop, the sprouting silence broken by collective whispers, but it happened, subtle yet enough to make itself known. You were given the same treatment for years at this point, but there was no getting used to it. Color that had been settling in your cheeks seemed to be permanent, at least for the night, not leaving your side as you took your place among your relatives. The expensive fan you were gifted by- God knows who, you were in no mood to remember it now, did nothing to relieve your suffering.
And, countless other greetings don't help either. You fastened the movement of your hand, curling your lips into a forced smile. You could truly get tired from all these repeated words and gestures.
"I'm afraid I forgot to bring my dance card." You said again, to the third man who came with the same offer, Duke Caldo, all true except the part "forgot". You left it, willingly, just in front of your vanity mirror. The mirror which you desperately wanted to see yourself in right now, away from the ball.
"A great pity." The exclamation didn't come from him, though.
Your fan dropped from your hand and closed itself when it hit your wrist, dangling from the loop around your forearm as you heard that voice, no introduction ever needed. Perhaps, not even his voice was required, for there was always that unexplainable change in the quality of air in the rooms he occupied, like he was casting a spell on those around him, trickling magic dust with every step, a rare perfume. You wouldn’t use such metaphors if it wasn’t for the simple fact that your body always figured out his presence before your mind, catching a sense of that hypnotic essence. You often realized all the hairs on your arm standing up, or a tingling sensation in the back of your neck, breathing getting a bit harder, only to quickly locate him in your eyesight.
"Lord Kenobi." It is said in a contemptful respect, a greeting and a goodbye. “Goodnight, my Lady.”
You didn’t even bother to mutter a proper response, and frankly, the Duke didn’t wait for one either. So, all your focus can be reserved on the man in front of you.
You raised your arm as if intending to extend it so he could complete his small tradition of placing a kiss on the back of your hand, like he has done every time your paths crossed, even multiple times a day (that’s exactly how you noticed it was more than a simple salutation), (honestly, you liked it, his daring movement revealing a lot about his nature), only to flick it to reopen your fan. The gentlest gust of it licking your skin was more than enough now, making it all too pleasing to watch him save himself with a deep bow of his head, the annoyance quickly turning into a satisfied grin, like he didn’t expect anything less from you.
“That looks even more beautiful in your hand.” He pointed at it, but his eyes wandered all over your body. You did the same, though there was little notice, his usual beige suit far too familiar. Your focus was always on the fact that he looked so good in it, taking in the broadness of his shoulders, or his defined arms exquisitely pronounced over the fabric.
Right. So it was his gift. Why did you ever entertain other possibilities?
You weren’t going to disappoint him by mentioning it is only here because your panicked maid accidentally packed the first item she saw, for you never took anonymous gifts. You didn’t need the attention they brought.
"And I couldn't thank you enough for it. I can practically name it my savior tonight." You answered, making a show of lavishing yourself in the stream it creates.
"My only source of pride is the fact that it perfectly blends with the rest of your attire. Now, I can proudly say I know your taste."
Classic Obi Wan. Even his compliments, far from usual, borderline scandalous. He's been peppering you with them ever since the start of your friendship and you were never immune to them. You outright enjoyed them. Especially now, they didn’t help the simmering tingles forming at the depths of your belly, amplified by weeks of solitude. “Only a part of it I’m afraid, but you’ll learn the rest in no time, don’t worry.”
“Can’t wait.” He grinned and scanned the room for prying eyes. Finding none, he made himself more comfortable by your side, hoping to spend the rest of his night with you.
“I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” You admitted, somehow managing not to sound like you’re overly joyous of that not happening.
“I could say the same about you.” Was that excitement, or disappointment in his voice? Was he planning of politely ravishing other women, when you were not present to entertain him? Something told you those were not among his intentions, the smile on his face too honest, his twinkling gaze focused solely on you.
You tilted your head and curled your lips. Touché. “It is nice to attend the ball your acquaintances are throwing, even if you arrive late. But for you, sir, I'm afraid people will actually think you're looking for a wife."
He rolled his eyes. There was a hint of offense in them just at the mentioning of the subject, but the playful type, not the exasperated type he uses for others.
"Curious. The diamond of the season is also here. Isn't it strange that she still hasn't found someone, it's nearly the end of the season?" You inhaled sharply, dramatizing further. "Do you have something to do with it, Lord Kenobi?"
He scoffed, the impossibility of it reflected in his voice. "The diamond of the season?-"
"I thought you deserve nothing less." You explained, but he interjected.
"I'm only interested in one diamond." He said, initiating intense eye contact.
It was your turn to scoff, and run away from his gaze. "I was never the diamond."
"Only because you saw how better you were than the rest, and fled just before the start of the season." His eyebrows were raised, begging for a denial.
"I had planned that trip months ago." You simply stated. "And I came back halfway through summer, didn't I?"
"Just like now."
"Do I need to remind you who you have been spending time with since June?"
"And where were you coming from tonight, ending your visit of- how long was it?"
"I am fond of traveling. Balls and banquets can entertain someone so far. " You shrugged, "Lord Kenobi, are you trying to say that you missed me?"
"I could never claim otherwise."
That was true from your perspective as well. All these years of constant traveling, and this year was the first time you missed what you left behind at home, even during the buzzing, pretense-filled months. None of it seemed that intolerable, and somewhat fun, if you dare to admit. You knew this impression was his doing, and now after your while spent apart, the feeling came back tenfold, almost making you squirm over such loose confessions.
That was it. That was the turning point of the night.
“Truth be told, the night is going much better than I dreamed of, and I almost regret forgetting my dance card.” You raised your chin, and sent him a look. “Would you be so kind to help me find it?”
You could basically see the gears turning, a fire behind his eyes, fueling the desire growing in the depths of your belly. His gaze was piercing, even after he’d long decided, the truth known to both of you. Your heartbeats must’ve been visible, you imagined, and felt it skip a beat as he licked his lip. “Lead the way.”
Now that’s, how you ended up here.
However, as you look down at his face, the story gets blurry, perhaps outright loses its importance, abandoning your mind. His hair is tousled, a rebel strand in front of his eyes, and moves with every bounce. Your hands are too busy to hold onto his sweaty chest, slightly tugging on the auburn fuzz. You wanted to do that ever since he took his shirt off.
(Then again, you’re not sorry for the amount of time you couldn’t, drowning in him. The moment you felt his expert lips on yours, all your will to protest anything had died. Later, as his fingers joined the show, you quickly realized you were fine with what he gave, but he, ever the gentleman, let you prevail.)
It is a sight. And the moans that fall from his lips surpass the delicate melody the musicians are playing downstairs in every way, which can still faintly be heard. (You never thought an orchestra would accompany you during this, but here you were. It is a detail you’ll remember with a smile while looking back at it, but now, you couldn’t care any less.)
“You’re taking me so well.” He starts to thrust his hips up slightly, meeting your rhythm, but never overtaking it.
“I know.” You giggle, but the reaction he’s taken notice of is your fingertips digging in further, and your walls fluttering around his cock.
When you start to falter a bit, perhaps due to the fatigue settling on your muscles embarrassingly not long after his words, or his mere presence clouding your brain, his fingers that have been resting on your thighs slowly ascend to your hips. The fingers drenched in your juices, another element that has the coil in your belly tighter. The next few strokes, with his guiding hand, touch something deep inside you, and your jaw hangs open.
“Fuck…” is the only word you can mutter, and he chuckles at it.
“Is that so?” He mocks, but brushes your loose ringlets with a single hand, and caresses your nipple on its way down. The latter shows his true disposition, and that drives you to be more vocal, if you weren’t already.
“You feel… so… good.” You can hardly say, as your puffy clit drag against his skin all so deliciously like this.
He twitches inside you at the compliment, and you throw your head back with a whine. Despite the fact that he would kill to see your face, he doesn’t push, enjoying the state he’s putting you in with his voice. Every praise that falls from his lips earns him a melodic moan, along with the feeling of you tensing and relaxing, always responding to his call in one way or another.
You’re one step away from being a doll at his bend, though you couldn’t care any less, not when you are this close.
He likes it, very very much. Yet, not enough to silence his wishes of how to ruin you, in the best way.
In a blink, you find yourself on your back, and him on top of you. That’s not the first thing you see, though. It is his hand, lifted from wherever it fell, catching your chin to turn your head to him. Sounds of panting are all there is, no movement, no words, not even your rapid heartbeats drumming in your ears seconds ago as if the world stopped for a second.
His thumb caresses your lower lip, and you let it slip in. God, you can still taste yourself. The revelation has your objections at the change dead, your face twisting, yet he tsks thrice, capturing your attention.
“Let me see those eyes.” Obi Wan commands, and you have no choice but to oblige. “You look so good beneath me.”
Somehow, his words have you flushing and squirming as if that was the most inappropriate thing happening in this room. Funny, how he breaks your will, and you let it. Against all the talk of your friendship, until an hour ago, you’d have lashed out at an equivalent demeanor, even said in affectionate terms. (Any other way is simply impossible, anyway.) But, that hour proved itself to be much precious, and now with that glossy gaze, snatched right from the brink of climax, you focus on the doting aspect, how he cannot get enough of the image of you.
You start to writhe, the new emptiness inside you unbearable. “Touch me, Obi Wan…”
He's not proud of the way your begging has his cock leaking, though that hardly stops him. He lives for mutual pleasure, even just yours at the moment, yet you look so pretty like this, grasping the sheets.
"Like this?" He slides his thumb further into your mouth, relishing the feeling of your tongue swirling around it immediately. Or course he wasn't expecting you to suck him off if you didn't want to, nor would he ever ask for it, he can't help but imagine the feeling, his hips rolling in seek of stimulation.
You shake your head, and his finger is freed with a pop. You frown as the sole contact you have with him is lost. It is a warning sign for him, the fragility of your dream-like state, a reminder of how he has to do better, if he wants to take control. As a gentleman, he wanted to give you everything you desired, but since it was your first time together, a terra incognita, he had to be sure of your limits, so he followed your wishes gladly. The wishes which were masterfully balanced versions of both of your needs. The same problem troubled you too of course, but you were a quick learner, a connoisseur of his taste in no time. The fact that it was very similar to yours was an exciting discovery, certainly a pleasant one, and was a great help, so great that it almost felt like cheating. While he took no issue with your tricks; the urge to take you on his terms, the compulsion to show you how he wants to cherish you couldn’t be suppressed any longer. He had to let you know.
He leans in closer, his arms bend as yours find his shoulders like a habit, “Like this?” He murmurs, right before brushing his lips against yours, effectively swallowing your whine. Though it was a sound of protest, all complementary sentiments die when he nips at your lower lip, and you open your mouth, lost in the sensation of his tongue licking yours, and his sweet essence. In contrast to his other needs taken good care of, he hadn’t taken enough of the feeling of our mouths joining. God, he spent hours imagining your mouth, curling into every shape as smart words spilled from it, enhancing his fascination with you. It fires the flames of haze further, even if he’s not actually properly touching you. Your hand roams his neck, then etches itself into his silky hair. You’ve done that a few times now (and found his response most addicting), but it is hardly satisfactory compared to the amounts you dreamed of doing during these last couple of months. You saw him prim and proper mostly, not a strand out of place, making you marvel at its excellence, and the itch to mess it up growing stronger each instance, a stark contrast to your surroundings. Also, there were times the infamous piece fell in front of his eyes, and sometimes even more disheveled than that, riding a horse, enjoying sports with his friends, and once after a bath, when your family visit started a little earlier than planned. You were always admiring the way it reflected light, creating almost a halo around his head, especially in sunlight. It is the first thing your eye is drawn to whenever you’re in the same place, a beacon of sorts. You never thought you’d be this amazed by hair, yet the moans he produces when you tug on it, add to your astonishment, and you’re not sure if you can look at it again, without being reminded of this moment.
He breaks the kiss as for you to catch your breath, for he has long kept you away from it. Still, he continues to pepper you with tons of them, scattered all across your jaw and neck, in search of that sweet spot that has you cursing. It is not a serious journey, in fact, he does more than press his lips against your skin properly, tease you with his open mouth, drag his tongue along the taut muscle, nip and outright bite, once.
“No marks-“ You protest. Futile. You should’ve warned before he started to nibble, way before he sank his teeth, but it has happened after all, and you can already feel blood settling on the sites of his attack. “What I am going to tell my maid now?”
“The truth.” He retorts. “Of how you led Lord Kenobi into our bed, and did dirty, unspeakable things with him.”
That earns him a harsh pull at his scalp, and a pat on his shoulder. He meets with your glaring gaze, and cheeks redder than a minute ago. So, he’s still on your good side. Barely.
“Apologies, my dear.” He takes the hand that smacked him, and places a peck onto your palm before placing it back. You can’t break the eye contact as he does so, something about his appearance, perhaps his position, or the charming contours of his face, or the way he deals with your anger keeps you from kicking him out. Caressing your open legs, he massages them ‘til they relax afresh, squeezing at the soft flesh. You hiss when his movement nears your inner thighs, thanks to his beard, and the climax it brought you. The gesture hints, still, there’s the matter of fire burning in your belly. “Couldn’t resist, you know me. Let me make it up to you.”
He wastes one more second to carve this image inside his head, then fulfills his promise. He likes the way you tremble while you wait, a whimper leaving your mouth at him taking his cock into his hand and stroking it a few times. God, how you wish that was your hand. Damn your stubbornness, and demand for compensation. You put extreme effort into staying still, releasing a shaky breath when he places the tip at your entrance.
Remember when he said “ruin”?
He doesn’t push it in, instead letting it slide up your slick folds, and tap against your clit. You nearly jolt at the touch, yet again tasting bliss, even if it is in mere drops. He repeats the action, and you sob, digging your nails into his shoulders. Maybe you’re the one leaving marks now, but you don’t care. Eye for an eye you can say, in retrospect.
“You’re so wet.” He can’t stop looking into your glistening core. He also can hear it, the squelching sounds echoing at his every movement. He knows you can too, that it calms your nerves, though they act up for different reasons. “All this for me?”
Unfortunately, you are late to realize he doesn’t take your moans for an answer. You can’t help it, you are unable to form words. Even if you gather the strength, they die out at your throat, especially under his piercing look. Fuck, he loves how cockdumb you’ve become for him.
He takes pity on you then, dropping his cock to briefly rest on your opening, and forces his fat tip in.
Your back arches, a throaty sound filling the room. He shushes right next to your ear, in an effort to calm you down as he slips the rest in. It is as if you’re taking him the first time, like you weren’t riding him moments ago.
“Fuck-“ That’s the only reaction, the only answer he needs. You fall back into the sheets, the first time he rolls his hips, and sets a new rhythm, a slow one to kindle the flame once more. Your hair probably getting tangled from the way it’s rubbing against the sheets, and your legs are split wide open. You feel every vein and ridge moving against your walls, the slight resistance disappearing in no time. His chest brushes against yours, and combined with the warmth of his breath, so close to yours, it’s easy to let go of your worries.
This is why you ended up here.
“Faster!” While he already feels great, it’s not the exact pattern to provide that sweet release, not in the timeframe you hoped.
“I want this to last, dear.”
Your eyes roll to the back of your head. A part of it due to irritation. Being subjected to that response before, he snickers to see you’re still you, even when you’re literally fucked out of your mind. As he does so, his lips skim yours. You take it, greedily, one hand first on his neck to ensure he stays, then to his unruly tress, aspiring to compel him into the middle ground. That earns you a few groans, yes, but his will doesn’t seem to falter even a little bit.
Perseverance, is a mutual quality, as you already know.
You slowly release the grip you have on his head, emphasis on slowly. It goes unnoticed, thanks to your timely bite, the same assault he once carried out. You don’t waste the access to his tongue, sucking on it. You’re not sure if his moans are increased in number, or if it feels more because you swallow every single one of them, but the fact that his beard starts to prick your cheeks harder gives you an idea.
Your free hand falls into sheets and slithers across the length of your body. Just a little more- you’re almost about to touch your –
His fingers wrap around your wrist instantly, dragging it up, a little further away from your face. You twist your neck, a wail coming out as you reject his kiss.
Only to be met by the sight of that said fingers running up your palm, and interlock themselves among yours.
Your breath hitches, for reasons unknown to you.
“Ah- ah -ah.” He tuts, though there’s not a hint of disappointment in his voice. “What kind of a gentleman would I be if I let you do all the work?”
You can’t believe one physical contact, and his words, are enough to carry you to that previous peak. Your pussy contracts around him, beyond your control, an indication of your closeness, nothing compared to before.
“Ngh- that’s it.” He encourages, “Just relax and take it.” That’s more sincerity than you’ve ever heard from him.
It goes on and on for a while, him doing exactly what he promised to do, and fulfilling his wishes in the process. He already knows this could go on ‘til morning, and he still wouldn’t be completely satisfied, longing for your presence the second he leaves the bed. Still, he continues, pushing himself to his limit, and that’s getting quite harder when you clamp on him that hard. He feels his cock leaking, begging for that sweet end.
When his arm that’s not supporting his weight travels down, caressing your hip before pressing his thumb to your clit, finally, you reward it with a whisper of his name, a sound he won’t dare to forget. Your back arches impossibly higher, and he has to lean back, abandoning his other hold.
Your limb stays in the spot he left it.
He curses at the realization, perhaps its effect mirroring yours when he first initiated the contact. Fuck, how are you so perfect? He snaps his hips harder, and circles his thumb, feeling it throb.
“Obi Wan-I’m c-“
He loves how your words are cut with the need to scream that you gulp down, only resigned to breathing as your face contorts with pleasure. “Cum for me, love.”
Your moans blend into each other, as he cannot stay still at the feeling of your walls squeezing him so tight. He holds your trembling thigh, fondling the soft flesh, adoring the way it spills from his grip. He doesn’t stop ‘til they settle again once more, and even a little longer than that, pulling out in the last minute to cover your belly with his spend.
That act keeps you from turning to your side, and feeds the desire to hug the sheets, a soft but firm ground for your senses to return. You're not complainant of it anyways, you have a far better view in front of you, defined muscles undulating with each heavy breath, glistening due to the light coat of sweat covering them, lips puffy and slightly flushed with blood, as well as his cheeks. You always thought he was devilishly handsome, but this, this is something else. The world should consider itself lucky, or it would bend to his will just from his looks. Or unlucky, for the honor is bestowed upon a handful of people.
He believes he's blessed with the sight upon him, too. Still holding onto your thigh, he delights in spontaneous tremors that possess it. If he looks closely, he's sure he can see the faint mark he left. Your hair is sprawled around, much in contrast to the delicate up-dos you and every noblewoman fashioned, its most natural form, and the intimacy of it definitely causes a small breakdown. You belong in a painting, depicting goddesses and nymphs, a grace outside the limits of time and culture. Your droopy lids and tired pull at the corners of your mouth fill his chest with pride and more adoration, like after his every successful attempt to elicit a reaction from you. It happens often, thanks to the understanding that grows between the two of you, but every example is still treasured in in his mind.
“Well, I don’t know any better way to spend the night.”
You giggle. “I agree.”
“We should’ve done this before.”
Your lifted brows are the perfect answer. Like it’s that easy.
But he has a point, too.
In the comfortable silence, he gets up from bed, a sigh at the roar coming from downstairs, drowning the music. That’s still going, huh? You watch as he wets the nearest towel, and returns, cleaning the mess with unexpected gentleness that it almost tickles. There’s no aim to steal one more touch at his movements, no personal gain except an easy conscience, and even that is a stretch because it’s most natural to him, his understanding of tenderness.
“Well, thank you, sir.” You sit up, with a yawn, and scooch backward to your pillows as he retreats to give himself the same treatment. “And my nightgown, please.” You point to it, and amusingly follow his subtle headshake, and efforts to hand it over. He hesitates for a second at the last minute, considering rebellion, a last joke. You see it, and snatch the fabric from his grip before he can tighten it. He can feel it sliding over his skin, the light material flying. You slip it on, aware of his voyeur. with a victorious smile cut too short as exhaustion creeps into your bones. You’re no different, in any case, settling into the fluffy pillows, curiously examining each piece of clothing he puts on from afar, the unwritten rule of his habits, his hidden glances at your mirror in a feeble pursuit to tame his messy hair. You’re willing to be charged guilty for that.
He stalls, though, you can feel it after a while, around the time sleep clouds your vision. How could anyone blame him for not wanting to leave, carve your picture to his mind, and calm his yet again straining cock at it?
“You should be going. Servants are going to be wandering these corridors for orders, soon.” Your heart winces at the warning, because he's not the type to need it, or disregard you to put you at any risk. But your cognation runs thin, and he needs to know the dangers he might face.
"True. Right. You're correct." Is that a stutter? "Good night, my lady."
"Good night, Lord Kenobi.
"Glad to be of help in stretching your legs."
The cushion falls short to exactly hit him, but the sentiment is clear.
In the morning, you uncover the reasons behind his diversion.
Bastard signed every slot in your dance card.
#obi wan kenobi x reader#obi-wan kenobi x reader#obi wan x reader#obi wan smut#star wars fanfiction#my pen#smut#fluff#fanfiction#fics#obi wan kenobi imagine#star wars imagine#obi-wan x reader#obi-wan smut
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frenemies with ben!
What are we || Ben Shelton x tennis player!reader



A/n: love this 🤭
Wc: 1,120
Warnings: none
MASTERLIST
-
The tension had always been there. Every time you and Ben Shelton stepped onto the same court—whether as opponents or, God forbid, as doubles partners—the air crackled with something that wasn’t quite rivalry, but wasn’t camaraderie either. It was sharp-witted, competitive, and at times, borderline insufferable.
Maybe it was because you were both young, fiery players with something to prove. Or maybe it was because he had this frustrating way of pushing your buttons—both on and off the court. Whatever it was, it made every interaction between you a battle in its own right.
-
You spotted him the second you walked in. Ben was stretched out on one of the lounge chairs, phone in hand, legs propped up like he owned the place. His duffel bag sat beside him, his tournament credential lanyard dangling off the side. Unfortunately, the only open seat in the lounge was across from him.
Just your luck. You sighed, plopping down in the chair. You didn’t acknowledge him. Didn’t need to. The second he noticed you, you knew he’d say something. And right on cue—“Well, well. If it isn’t my favourite pain in the ass.” You exhaled through your nose. “Shelton.” He grinned. “What brings you here? Besides the obvious need to bask in my presence.”
You shot him a flat look. “Trust me, if I had a choice, I’d sit literally anywhere else.” Ben tsked, shaking his head. “And here I thought we were finally becoming friends.” You snorted. “Friends don’t talk that much trash on court.” He smirked. “Then what does that make us?” You paused. Good question.
Because, truthfully, you and Ben weren’t just rivals. You weren’t just two players who got under each other’s skin. You were something messier. Something unspoken. Something that made every exchange—every glance, every smirk, every lingering second after a match—feel like it held weight. But instead of addressing it, you rolled your eyes and leaned back in your chair.
“It makes us two people who tolerate each other at best.” Ben clicked his tongue. “Damn. That’s cold.”You just sipped your water, refusing to let him bait you further. Even though, deep down, you kind of loved it.
-
“Best of three points,” Ben declared, spinning his racquet in his hand as you both stood at the baseline. You arched a brow. “That’s not a thing.” “It is now.” You sighed. “You do realise that’s basically just a tiebreaker, right?” Ben grinned. “Yeah, but this one has bragging rights attached.”You gave him a slow, unimpressed look.
“Every time we play, you act like there’s a title on the line.” “Because there is.” He tossed a ball up, casually twirling it in the air. “The title of winner between us. And let’s be real—you’ve been dodging me for weeks.” Your eyes narrowed. “Dodging you? Please.”
Ben smirked. “Oh, so you do want to play?” You hated him. You really, really hated him. Mostly because he was right. “Fine,” you muttered, walking to the baseline. “But when I win, I don’t wanna hear any excuses.” Ben grinned like you had just handed him a Christmas present. “You won’t. Because that won’t happen.”
Ben served first. Big mistake. You had studied his patterns enough to know that his go-to under pressure was a body serve. Predictable. You anticipated it, stepping in early to redirect it down the line. Winner. “1-0,” you said, casually twirling your racquet. Ben huffed. “Lucky shot.”
Next rally, he came in aggressive, trying to overpower you. But you absorbed his pace, slicing a nasty angle that sent him sprinting. He got there—barely—but his shot landed short. You closed in, flicking a drop shot just over the net. Ben dove for it. Missed by an inch. “2-0.” You smirked. “Hate to say I told you so.”
Ben pushed up from the court, eyes gleaming with something between frustration and amusement. “You love to say I told you so.” He wasn’t wrong. But you wanted to put the final nail in the coffin. On match point, he upped the intensity, forcing you into defense with a barrage of deep, heavy forehands.
You barely hung in, scrambling from corner to corner, waiting for your chance—And then it came. Ben hit a rare short ball. You lunged forward, cracked a perfect forehand winner down the line, and turned around before it even landed. Game over. You didn’t see Ben’s reaction, but you felt it.
The weight of his stare. The way the air between you practically sizzled with competitiveness. And when you finally turned back, he was standing there, hands on his hips, shaking his head. “That,” he muttered, “was disrespectful.” You shrugged, all faux innocence. “You said no excuses.”
Ben exhaled sharply, rubbing his jaw. Then—before you could react—he stepped closer, invading your space just enough to make your heart lurch. For a second, he just looked at you. Not with the usual cocky arrogance. Something else. Something charged. Something that made the heat of competition feel like child’s play compared to the heat of this.
Finally, he huffed out a soft laugh. “You really don’t make things easy, do you?” You tilted your head. “Wouldn’t be fun if I did.” Ben lingered for a second longer—before stepping back, spinning his racquet, and shooting you one last grin. “Next time, I’m winning.” You smirked. “Guess we’ll see.”And with that, you both walked off the court, the battle unfinished.
But the game between you? That was just getting started.
#ben shelton#ben shelton fanfiction#ben shelton fanfic#ben shelton imagine#ben shelton x reader#ben shelton au#ben shelton tennis#ben shelton x fem!reader#tennis fanfic#ben shelton x you#ben shelton angst#ben shelton fluff#ben shelton smut#tennis au#tennis fanfiction#tennis#tennis x reader#fanfic#Ben Shelton x tennis player!reader
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I do think its significant that one of the reasons Travis is seeking Taivan's friendships is that there's no chance of his friendship overtures getting mistaken for sexual interest
Oh yes, I very much agree with this. They're the ones who didn't come at him at all during Doomcoming--for obvious reasons--and I think that still lives somewhere down in Travis' psyche. Hence: these two are safe, in a way, even though they're incredibly dangerous. Even though they've contributed to fear and pain and Javi's death. They're still, technically, safer people for him to be around than the others historically have been.
Also just thinking of Liv saying they've talked with Kevin about Van and Travis, about her butch energy setting her apart from the rest of the girls and his being the only boy his age setting him apart, how their gender dynamics would play off each other. There's something really interesting there, that idea of "nobody else can quite get what I'm going through, including you, but you feel similarly, so there's potential for bond there." That really lands for me, I would love to see more of their interactions on that front.
#ask#yellowjackets#yj spoilers#yj meta#i am a big fan of travis learning how to actually be part of the team#and the fact that the way he's been able to do it involves softening up so much#not to be one of the girls. but to sort of...be protected by and from them#it's so different from how we usually see teen boy stories played out and i am so here for it
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Through Ashes, New Light (Kinich x Reader)
The war against the abyss seemed to have affected every miniscule part of life and land in Natlan. Huge patches of greenery were burned to a crisp by Pyro vision holders fending off the monsters, houses and infrastructure affected by their flames as well, fighting tooth and nail for the survival of innocent bystanders and other warriors alike. The water of the Toyac Springs, after the initial impact, has yet to return to its normal vibrancy of blue, and the remnants of abyssal corrosion is very much still evident even with the help of the Meztli tribe’s manipulation and constant care of the water. Broken Geo structures littered the paths connecting each tribe. Thrown around in defense, perhaps, or simultaneously shattered with whoever’s spine was thrown against the hard rock. The war continued in the scenery. Every corner, inside and out, reeking of death.
Despite the power of elements obvious in each destruction, you only ever saw green. Dendro, vines, foliage, flashing before your eyes until you had stood in a healthily blooming forest surrounded by the screams forever burned into your memory. Your heart had never beaten anywhere this fast before. Like about to give out, or run away, without the rest of your body able to follow suit. Trapped, by the vines. It was all there had been, until nothing remained but a cold breeze where before your family stood.
You’d heard of Kinich before, very few people hadn’t. The Malipo, the hunter, and even fewer people had ever interacted with him personally - you included. It had come as a shock when the debris slowly settled and the vines retracted their grip, a while longer until you had the courage to open your eyes again, to be met with his heaving and bloodied frame. Sweat fell from his forehead, accumulated seemingly before he’d gotten here in the first place. His presence and state was proof enough of an appalling catastrophe developing throughout the nation in the most brutal manner, so seeing him alone drained you of hope faster than the cries of your tribe. People were still dying, right beyond the horizon. It did not end with your family.
Kinich had slowly turned his head towards you, breathing still heavy while the look in his eyes was utterly indecipherable. You wondered now, as you stared at your reflection in the water, if he had been equally puzzled by your expression: if it was just as empty and dazed, and what exactly either of you had witnessed already in this bloodshed. The void clearly present laid your hearts on your sleeves. It did not have to be said out loud, exhibited in any way for you both to understand the cloud of tragedy hovering over this land.
That day, you hadn’t spoken a word to each other. He had left quickly for everything else demanding his attention, the list must've been infinitely long, so the second you had found yourself alone again, the true realization of danger and loss began to sneak up your spinal cord with no care for the wound on your leg. Limping away still meant getting away, as far as possible from the continuing screams, the blood-soaked grass and the rubble of what was once your home. Had he blinded your sight for this reason? The worst thing was somehow gone: the bodies.
After encountering a group of survivors, your body couldn’t take much more in the false safety. The second your shoulders relaxed as you sat down, with someone tending to your leg and your eyes closing automatically, was enough to pass out despite the still lingering danger. Talking to them again days later when the rain had washed away most remnants of blood, you came to understand how they, too, had no hope of getting away. They had huddled together inside a decrepitated hut until… well, you’re not quite sure. Asking around produced contradicting or outright implausible answers, which naturally wasn’t a surprise considering the chaos all around. You had no reason to dig further. All that mattered was gone, and an explanation couldn’t satiate your doom.
Every tribe had since been working hard to rebuild what was lost, but they considered the people most affected by this war to be better off using the time to heal however much was possible. It’s still unclear whether this was a blessing or a curse, since not being distracted by the truckload of work meant sitting alone with memories and the purple water. It reflected your face like a mirror. Many people sat here day in and day out, and none of them would ever make a single sound. You recognized some faces from time to time: a mother without her child you’d seen crying in town, a man who’d walk home with a handful of wildflowers once a month, sometimes twice, for his wife, now not batting an eye at the succulent next to him. Everyone knew the lineup, though no one had the guts to speak. At least without a tone they’d use for a wounded animal.
Movement caught your eyes from across the water, solely a quick glance, a quick flash of color, made your skin crawl. For a couple seconds, your sight is replaced by a grayed memory of Kinich, who struggled to catch his breath and whose tight fingers around his weapon were stained at the tips. The picture faded in and out of focus until both the memory of him and the physical him turned their heads towards you in that blank expression, saying everything and nothing at the same time. You wondered what Huitztlan’s equivalent of sitting by the water was, whether or not he indulged. Whether no one dared to speak to him, either.
You’re first to look away. Back down at the water, there was no reason to hold eye contact. You had wanted to thank him many times, ask him of any details he remembered and if he was willing to share them, though you realized how much you’d hate to be asked that yourself. It seemed like a slap in the face were you to talk of anything other than the victory, and it’s evident he did his share of hard work for it. Even now at your tribe, not at home to bask in the dark under the sun.
Come to think of it, Kinich was really here despite that expression, similar to the husband and the mother and you. Was he indeed so strong to keep going just like that? You’d not heard much news of who exactly the other tribes have lost, though the total was high enough to doubt someone wasn’t impacted in any way. Especially him who traveled across the nation, a witness to the full extent of destruction during the havoc. He’d seen first-hand all the deaths you were now mourning as a people, and still he found the strength to come back in a feat that was unfathomable to you. Perhaps gratitude was appropriate, and he should at least know that much.
Your head shot up, fully expecting to find him waiting in the distance, but truly you had no idea how long you’d been in your thoughts for. He was gone already, and the sky had darkened with rain clouds. Instinctively, your shoulders slumped back down in disappointment, immediately relenting to the passed opportunity until you had enough of the plethora of horrible feelings that had been eating away at you. That much time couldn’t have passed, if you’re fast enough now. So, getting onto your feet swiftly, the chase after Kinich began.
While your legs carried you over the bridge as fast as possible, past the workers and the clerks who were barely evaded, all you could think about was what to say exactly. Thanking him for saving your life in a way it didn’t stress you both out any further seemed to be an impossible task, from words to pick and tone to choose to where to put your hands, there was no time to read up on etiquette as the clouds grew thicker and the path grew slimmer. Finally, up in the distance, there he was. Steady pace, you’d reach him soon, but the words chosen were not perfect yet.
He turned around once he heard you approach. Out of breath, winded, you clutched at your chest as you caught each other’s eyes, for the first time with emotion. Confusion against determination, it said less of your feelings than the blank stares you were used to, while a stone fell from your heart the second you spoke to him for the very first time. “Thank you, Kinich. Thank you so much.”
The rain began falling, first slowly but soon picking up in intensity. The surviving greenery around the path knew to cherish this blessing as nature stilled within the sound of heavier and heavier rain. The oddest thing, however, was that he, too, stilled. Unbearingly so: your fingers fidgeted nervously when silence is all you’re met with. At least his confusion subsided to be replaced with a calmer expression, but you wondered if it could’ve stemmed from the simple realization it was no monster who had run up on him. There went not wanting to stress him out further. Running at him crazed was possibly worse than a slap in the face.
“I’m sorry,” you said, though the sound did not even reach your own ears due to the rain. He titled his head, unclear whether he hadn’t understood you or why you would apologize, and when he turned from the path to slowly trott over to the mountain side, all left for you to do was follow him bewildered from a distance.
Natlan’s terrain presented many hideouts for the rain - in some cases, for danger - within the rock of its mountains. You’d heard stories of traveling merchants stuck in caves until a storm had passed, some trapped until a group of predators decided on a different hunting ground, or simply to cool down after long stretches. It was enclosed enough to feel safe, but remained a good view of the circumstances outside. The rain at the cave entrance flowed like white curtains in the wind. Like snowed in, a particular sense of privacy built itself up when you watched him sit down on the ground, both drenched by this point, without sparing you another look for reassurance, whether you were supposed to follow him in here in the first place.
There were no suitable words left in your arsenal to even spark small-talk, so for the first couple minutes he was plagued by a looming silhouette, standing somewhat awkwardly in the only source of light. Your plan to do this dignifiedly had failed from the very start, although luckily that fact was not apparent to you. It was the first interaction you’ve had in a while. Doing so to begin with was enough to convince of adequacy.
“The rain’s quite heavy, and shouldn't last too long. It’s safer to wait it out than go back.” While it was pouring buckets outside, the echo of his voice in the cave still made him audible enough for you to look up, sounding like a memory rather than the present. Unsure if it needed an answer, you remained silent for a while. “...You ran here. I don’t think that’s smart.”
The statement confused you more than anything, but it soon cleared up when his eyes wandered to your leg and approximated the area where the wound had been: given how it’s now smooth, he held his tongue. Water was a great, natural healer, and the experts in the tribe made quick work of any such trivial injuries once the chaos died down. It was never a reason to worry, and definitely not the cause for your pale complexion that day.
With a sheepish smile still feeling foreign on your lips, you answered him: “It’s taken care of, no fear. Thanks for your concern, but you saved me from any other wounds.” Regarding you for so long it rather pressured you to sit down as well, he eventually looked off to the side and offered some much needed breathing room. The rain’s white noise filled your ears like a daze, mixed together with the dreamy sound of your voices echoing off the hole in the mountain created a serene canvas. Almost scary, living in a memory.
“What’s your name?”
“Y/n.”
“You lived far from the tribe, there weren’t as many monsters and even less people. It wasn’t a hotspot at all, so there was not much for me to do. Should you regard me as some savior I’d advise you not to. There’s little glory in war-”
“They still died, you know? There was not much for you to do but it was enough to kill them - kill me as well, had you not shown up. Please don’t speak in that manner.”
He turned to look at you slightly surprised. Perhaps the first time someone didn’t watch their tone carefully when speaking to him after the tragedy, they’d usually smother people with either admiration or worry once they noticed that empty look, warriors and victims alike, as if it hadn’t come from the same, underlying causes. Both seemed to be the wrong reaction, however, for both reminded of death.
A considerably long pause began to drag before he finally spoke up. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure what you’d like to hear from me, so I went with my perspective.” You tried to force another smile while you leaned back against the cold rock, the drenched fabric of your shirt clinging onto the wall. This time, the smile was a bit easier to bear.
“You’re Malipo, I understand. There isn’t any particular thing I want to hear from you, not anymore at least.” The sight of the rain was captivating enough to steal your scattered attention, being given another small, though needed break in conversation. No longer used to holding one for so long, it took more energy than ever just thinking of words that fit whatever you tried to convey despite there not being much left on the tip of your tongue. It felt somewhat desolate again, in this memory.
“You weren’t supposed to go anywhere. The area was clear, there was no one to tell you where to evacuate, and after all, your leg was wounded. I don’t leave the wounded behind just like that, but when I came back, you had already run off - I hoped you had, but there was only blood. Later, at the stadium, there was no sight of you.”
“...I don’t remember much of it, if I may be honest, although it seems I give you quite the scare. Excuse me.” With much less devoid pupils, the difficulty of understanding one another spiked the more, especially when, after careful consideration, you locked eyes. “In fact, I’d like to forget about it for now.”
The quiet persisted long after the rain stopped. You weren’t sure who left first, from the dazy scene back out into the open, but the sun had already begun setting when someone stirred. Relenting, like the quick shower.
From a tranquil sort of view, the seasons seemed to change overnight. Leafs fell in the softest breeze, and the water lulling in the distance drew autumn in a soothing light. The weather had been working for every tribe’s benefit, not too cool and not too hot, since after all the work was done, it offered an opportunity to enjoy the newly rebuilt infrastructure and bask in the water that had returned to normalcy. The world appeared ready to let go, with news spreading that this upcoming spring should blossom beyond any records for a grim reason somebody’s yet to admit, but they tried their hardest to force the earth back in its usual rotation, ecstatic for ordinary days to return. You were uncomfortable, more and more. They looked too ready and too sure.
One good thing about so much rebuilding having been done was the fact these streets and houses were often vastly different from before. Old and jagged wood had been replaced, stained and sun-bleached tapestries made anew - while the patterns and general shapes stayed the same, the tribes must’ve looked the way they did in the time of the first heroes. So untainted, though now it was a simple illusion. However, the new view made you able to return and live, without horrible daydreams, in your old home. The unfamiliar house had never been so quiet.
A saving grace in terms of somehow integrating back into society was bestowed by an older shopkeeper who had lost the only employee under his wing: his own son. As tragedy often did, the tribe fit back together like a mismatched puzzle. You looked at each other and saw the dead, but no matter how bizarre, it was the only thing remaining to keep some going and fighting against the pressure deep in their stomachs, that, indeed after a closer look at their reluctance to smile as brightly as before, was still present. A zeitgeist ingrained in the whole generation.
Working with the shopkeeper had its advantage far beyond a sense of family. The man was older, his body not cut out anymore to be marching off for goods or lifting them in the first place. Though lovable, even communication was past his time, so it left only you for the task. Each assignment felt like a vacation away from personal tragedy, and correspondence with the Scions of the Canopy offered the rare chance of stumbling upon Kinich every once in a while, both at his tribe and at yours. They said he’d been busy these days, whenever you asked for his whereabouts. You smiled and nodded, smiled and nodded, since a truthful reaction was not appropriate considering you could barely call him a friend.
It had been weeks since you saw him last. The nagging feeling you’d get every time a courier came without having required his help, or walking back after delivering some goods and being let down when there was no glimpse of him, accumulated throughout weeks to the point even starting a new day felt too much of a hassle. Something made your heart throb whenever he’d stop by and politely keep a conversation with the old shopkeeper. You’d stand off to the side, exchanging some words of courtesy and maybe, if you were lucky enough, your eyes would meet and you could give him your best attempt at a smile. Each time it became more genuine. You had hoped he noticed the change, like a child showing off their drawing.
The skill to smile slowly regressed as you made your way back to the People of the Springs, carrying the hefty bag filled with Yumkasaur fur and Koholasaur scales (ethically sourced, as the old man would say). Kinich was still nowhere to be found today, and on top of that the delivery was misscheduled. The merchants for this order weren’t even at the Scions of the Canopy to pick up their stuff, which meant you had to carry it all back due to - not pointing fingers - a particular someone’s bad ears and/or memory.
When you at last returned to his storefront, the sweet old man was sitting with an apologetic smile and a cold cup of soda awaiting you personally. No possible way you could be mad, not after what you’ve done for each other, though the exhaustion and persisting annoyance had you drop the backpack and grab the cup, bowing down to him briefly before turning on your heel and heading back from where you came. Tomorrow it would be all forgotten, but today you were off work. He’d go back home soon as well, the sun slowly setting left no other choice but to call it a day.
Home… or house, although further from the tribe, was no struggle to get back to after having done a thorough job warming up your legs already. The view on the way was as scenic as it got for now, birds chirping, water flowing, no stairs to climb even inside. Before it fell into itself your parents’ home had two floors indeed, whilst during the Great Renovation you had practically begged everyone helping to keep it a small bungalow, a bunker against the empty space that would have otherwise haunted you into insanity, which turned out to be the right thing to do when they had refused your help over and over for the sake of ‘healing’. A bedroom, maybe, and a bathroom, and a kitchen, please. They had made those weirdly spacious, feeling pity.
The goats your family kept used to mow the lawn for free, ethically sourced labor, to quote, though not so much on your part. They required a crazy amount of work and care, things you had barely left for yourself by the end of the day, so the hard decision to give them away into better hands had soon fallen with teary eyes and a snotty nose. It was for the better, you still told yourself, for they were loved and brushed and fed after surviving such disaster, and the lawn was overgrown with wildflowers that popped in color year-round in a strange and ironic tradeoff. You’d never seen him as someone who would keep goats, the husband. Sometimes you braided the grass in between the flowers leading up to the door, perhaps it made her happy, leading up to the one step of the entire house, before the entrance. Occupied now, by Kinich.
His attention was fixed on the dewy grass - the braid had loosened over time - as the sun illuminated tiny water drops on each blade. The light hit his face now almost at eye level, and what a sight that was for sure. You had tried your best to extend every conversation with him, whether about the sweet tea the old man made on especially hot days or a group of saurians behaving strangely near the tribe’s borders, while some of these were even held when you could catch him in private, although since the night of the war, there had yet to be a moment you two were truly alone. Until now at sunset, back where it had begun. With no way to have prepared for this and no manual to follow, the only option was to improvise.
You had spotted Kinich somewhat late, and not expecting him whatsoever made your approach no surprise. Fairly sure he heard the ever-so-soft footsteps in the grass, since sticks and dead leafs betrayed any newcomer to even mild attention for the surroundings, similar to how the deer sounded in the morning whenever you left your window open. He didn’t look up, however, not until you stood before him.
Another inanimate expression that could’ve taken you hours to analyze was met by your confused gaze and tilted head, but, like him, no words. There was no real reason to lock the front door - any potential abyss monster in this area would’ve been strong enough to rip it off its hinges, and anyone picking the lock was an idiot for picking the house with the least appeal -, so you trotted inside after a couple moments.
“You can come in, Kinich, it’ll be dark soon. All the bugs crawl towards the light.” With that, you turned on the lamp in the kitchen, already brighter than the remainder of sunlight and backlit his sitting frame through the open door. He did eventually listen and grabbed a seat by the table, awkward in unfamiliar terrain. Some color returned to his face as you put your belongings on the counter and faced him, shoulders forcefully relaxed and trying out another form of a smile. Drained from the whole day made it a challenging task.
“I haven’t been around for a while and there’s still a lot of work to do, but today I finished a mission and had some freetime.” You could only nod to this. Not on close enough terms where you could expect an explanation for his whereabouts or even reveal what kind of frustration it caused, anything else felt wrong. He leaned back into the chair a bit, keeping his eyes on you. Only after making sure he truly was not getting another response did he continue, but the pause alone was enough to make your fingers fidget. “People said you’ve been asking for me. Is something the matter?”
Even trying your best to keep your tone as casual as possible, it appeared to not have been enough to fly under the radar, and looking back it should’ve been obvious by the way you scanned through the crowds before giving up and asking outright, although for some reason you hadn’t considered the possibility of him finding out and acting on it. In truth, there was no real reason for your curiosity. It wasn’t worry per se. He was a grown man with a huge sword and a vision, but it wasn’t for loneliness either. The sight of him here, in and of itself, was easing to the heart no matter how bashful the confrontation, and before you could begin to stammer over an explanation, he slowly rose from his seat. “Y-yes, I did ask, but nothing’s the matter. You didn’t have to come all the way here or wait for me. I’m sorry.”
Walking into the light calmly, it shone on him from above and drew a soft shadow across his features. He gave a gentle smile that took you by surprise, and you wondered if it was as rare of a sight as you thought it to be. Who had been lucky enough to see?
“Why did you ask for me, then? I’m back on my normal schedule and have time to spare, if there’s anything you need me for, please don’t he-”
“No, no, you’ve done enough for me,” you interrupted, waving your hands in front of your chest and shaking your head. It was more than just the truth, Kinich really had done all he could and the longing for a glimpse of him was not something you were entitled to, but here you stood in front of him, about ready to explode. A soft sigh left your parted lips. With confusing feelings, your shoulders slumped. “I… I think I just missed you. There’s not much to my day but you’re always a great addition, I looked forward to whenever we met. If it comes off as strange, please know it’s not my intention.”
Saying these things out loud made your skin crawl, it didn’t matter if they were the truth or not. All those days were still spent on keeping an eye out for him, if not in your tribes then on the paths between them, and the nights continued in the absence and disappointment that made your body roll into itself on the bed, under the covers, so maybe you did miss him. It only made sense. According to the look on his face, he wasn’t yet convinced either.
Your breathing turned shallow when he stepped a little closer, causing dizziness with every second devoid of a reaction to the point your cheeks slowly reddened and your eye contact began to waver. Even knowing who he was, the presence of a man without anyone else around felt partially imposing and intimidating, more so because you had no real experience. Now struggling to improvise, the ball was in his court.
“You missed me… yes?” He used a tender tone, though it did not help with your burning face and sweaty palms. A hesitant nod was all he got and tilted his head - perhaps he wasn’t all that scary -, causing a strand of hair to fall into his face. Handsome, too, it was a fact you hadn’t really sat down to unpack just yet, but having it now thrown back at you held the potential to make your knees buckle and voice quiver were you to try and speak. Trying to push that thought aside, you had to manually focus on his next words. “So… what can I do? You still called for me, Y/n, is it just to look at me?”
The use of your name, the way he casually let it fall from his lips as if there was never once to wonder whether he’d remembered it in the first place, made your eyes widen ever so slightly and the rest of his sentence fade into oblivion. Unfortunately, that is, since you continued to remain silent and observe him. His skin, that had tanned during whatever mission had kept him occupied and wandering through the land, and the tight muscles under his shirt moving rhythmically with his breathing, the soft strand of hair, the growing smile the longer you thought about this, all in focus.
Meeting his eyes for the first time in a while, they seemed to have undergone drastic change. The rare instances of genuine interest in his demeanor had not prepared you for the warmth that was apparently possible, that drew you in, so without approval from your brain, you took a step forward. Still leaving space that neither were able to close so far.
“There’s nothing I want, just… you.” Attention pulled to his lips when he sighed, you quickly looked away to not give the wrong impression. It wasn't an annoyance in his tone, something else entirely that you could not confidently place, and if you weren’t a deer in the headlights right now you would’ve appreciated the soft care he put into each of his actions. Genuine: you wanted to be the same.
“You didn’t seem to be a clingy girl. It must’ve been frustrating, then, all this time. I apologize.” His words took you aback once more, unsure whether you had to defend yourself or not, but his face revealed not a hint at a joke and begged to wonder what responsibility he thought to have for someone he happened to save one horrible day. You didn’t want him to do more. Not him, not the people of the tribe, not your friends or the old man, they had all done enough. So why was he still looking at you like that? A different kind of pity, without reminding of what you lost.
In the end, it was you who closed the gap. Slowly, at first, but you couldn’t take it anymore. Throwing your arms around his neck, he wrapped his hands around your waist in a tight and surprising embrace. It happened before you could realize, dragging on silently for longer than you could’ve hoped, and the stress of the past weeks visibly diminished into thin air as you fully relaxed against him. It did something to the both of you. The unexpected proximity gave way to a handful of new sensations - your warm body against his, the smell of your sun-soaked hair, standing on tiptoes to bury your face into the crook of his neck, and in turn you got to feel the gentle stroke of his fingers on your back, drawing circles that crawled up your spine.
It was only a matter of time before you pulled away slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes. The air you breathed began to mix, hot, steamy, you had never been this close. As if scripted, both of your gazes were pulled down to each other’s lips, parted and waiting painfully, though it was another gap someone had to find the courage to close. This time, luckily, it was him pulling you back in, not even with enough time to spare for another thought when he saw the way your chest rose up and down, those soda-tinted lips he could taste on your tongue, the sweat, still glistening on your skin. How could he have the heart to deny such delicacy, knowing his presence casted those shy smiles and red cheeks? Precious, he only wished to have known sooner what exactly you needed.
Full version on AO3 (linked). Thank you very much, have a good day and stay safe!
#ao3#ao3 link#fanfic#fanfiction#oneshot#x reader#smut#genshin impact#kinich#kinich x reader#kinich x you#kinich x y/n#kinich smut#genshin smut#reader insert#female reader#archive of our own
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WRITER SARA HESS TALKING ABOUT RHAENYRA AND ALICENT'S RELATIONSHIP IN SEASON 1 AND THEIR MOTHERHOOD FOR VARIETY MAGAZINE.


“I can definitely understand that it’s hot watching complex female characters who have agency and who are trying to navigate the world and understand themselves. Like, that is hot,” nonbinary actor D’Arcy says.
“And is very different from, I suppose, more two-dimensional portrayals of female sexuality.”
Cooke adds: “I guess what’s alluring, and quite scintillating, is that they all live in quite close proximity to each other,” noting “House of the Dragon” Season 1’s focus on keeping its characters near the Iron Throne in King’s Landing.
“Stealing these loaded looks with someone that you fancy and that’s forbidden, that’s hot. It’s all hot.”
“We had a lot of conversation at the beginning about, is this a feature or a flaw?” Hess says.
“There’s a lot of births, do we want to see a lot of births? My thinking was, every single childbirth I’ve ever seen on television, in any show, in any genre at any time, has always looked exactly the same: the woman lying on her back with her feet in the stirrups and doing the pushing and the baby comes out.”
“In my experience, women give birth in vastly different ways.”
“I thought we should show them all and they be really, really different, separate experiences and not just, now there’s that birth scene and we all know exactly what it looks like.”
FOLLOWING THE BIRTH SCENE IN EPISODE 6, D'ARCY RECALLS SHOOTING A PARTICULARLY REALISTIC MOMENT OF MOTHERHOOD WHEN RHAENYRA FINALLY GETS TO REST AFTER GIVING BIRTH AND IMMEDIATELY GOING OFF TO SHOW THE BABY TO ALICENT:
“She gets in and [her sons] Jace and Luke have gone and got a dragon’s egg and want her to look at it.”
“And I just remember responding, ‘Wow, that looks perfect,’ but not looking at them at all, I was looking in the other direction.
“And that felt like what a lot of parenting is probably like.”
FOR COOKE, THE MOTHERHOOD MENTALITY HIT IN EPISODE 9, WRITTEN BY HESS AND DIRECTED BY CLARE KILNER:
“That moment in the carriage where Alicent’s hungover son asks her if she loves him, and she says it by smiling and saying, ‘You imbecile.’
“Like, it’s so obvious, this is all for you.”
“Everything that I’ve done.”
“Everything that I’ve sacrificed.”
“All the awful things I’ve done in order to facilitate your ascension is because I love the bones of you.”
BUT MOTHERHOOD IS FAR FROM THE ONLY ASPECT OF A WOMAN'S LIFE THAT FEMALE WRITERS LIKE HESS AND WOMEN DIRECTORS INCLUDING KILNER AND PATEL INFUSED INTO THE STORY, WITH MUCH OF THE SEASON FOCUSING ON YOUNG ALICENT (EMILY CAREY) AND RHAENYRA (MILLY ALCOCK) AND THEIR DEEP BOND AND INTENSE FALLING OUT.
“There’s an element of queerness to it,” Hess says.
“Whether you see it that way or as just the unbelievably passionate friendships that women have with each other at that age.”
“I think understanding that element of it sort of informs the entire rest of their relationship… Even though they’re driven apart by all these societal, systemic elements and pressures and happenings, at the core of it, they knew each other as children, and they loved each other and that doesn’t go away.”
Hess continued: “Olivia has told me she believes — and this is her headcanon — that they at some point kissed or made out or had some kind of physical interaction that Alicent’s mother found out about and forbade.”
“And that was Olivia’s head story, ‘Oh, I can’t do that. That’s not right.’ And that’s the background for her in their relationship going forward. I would be 100% down with that.”
COOKE SAYS SHE AND D'ARCY HAVE “DEFINITELY” TALKED ABOUT ALICENT AND RHAENYRA BEING “EACH OTHER'S FIRST LOVE”:
“But when it comes to our iterations of the characters, too much has happened and too much time has passed to probably even recognize those fledgling feelings.”
“But Condal and Hess weren’t “necessarily interested in ever defining” what that love meant in terms of the women’s sexuality.”
“I happen to be a queer woman, but I know straight women who had ‘Heavenly Creatures’ -esque, romantic friendship with their best friend at that age,” Hess said.
“That’s something that I think, probably — I don’t want to stereotype anybody – but it seems to be more a phenomenon with young women than it is with men, probably because whether you’re queer or not, society cares less if you’re physically intimate with each other or hugging or touching each other.”
“You can have sleepovers and sleep in the same bed and nobody cares.”
#house of the dragon#hotd#hotd s2#tv shows#team green#team black#queen alicent hightower#hotd alicent#alicent hightower#rhaenicent#rhaenyra#queen rhaenyra targaryen#rhaenyra targaryen#alicent x rhaenyra#emma d'arcy#hotd rhaenyra#sara hess#clare kilner#motherhood#hotd s2 spoilers#hotd spoilers#emily carey#milly alcock#hotd cast#interview#ryan condal#variety magazine#olivia cooke
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Doc and Gambler: An essay A disjointed musing
I've been thinking about the words they use to address or refer to each other. Gambler and Doctor are rather special nicknames. I can't think of other characters who talk to each other a lot but avoid calling each other by actual names so deliberately.
First of all, of course I can see it as a sign of their relationship. They are old friends, so it makes sense that they have cute special names for each other.
Can there be other explanations?
1. We never see them use each other's actual first names.
It's understandable with Aventurine. If he's ever comfortable being called Kakavasha, it's definitely not now. And I can understand if he'd prefer Kakavasha to just remain a happy, innocent child in his memories forever.
It's more interesting with Ratio. Nobody calls him just "Veritas" (I think?..) He's referred to as Veritas Ratio in some official situations in his character stories. Even his elderly professor, who talks about teaching Ratio when he was a child, only calls him "Ratio."
Actually, I remember a theory that "Veritas" isn't a personal name but a kind of honorific. Maybe a title that Veritas University gives to its most distinguished members. But if Veritas is his actual first name, then I think it's quite significant that nobody seems to call him that. Especially while all of the other characters who have identifiable western-style first and second names are mostly referred to by their first name. (I'm sorry, I don't know how the Xianzhou characters' names work.)
A little off topic, but is Ratio even his real name? According to the wiki, his full name means "truth of the matter," and his Chinese name means "doctor truth." What a coincidence that a person with such a name became a famous scientist. Although there can be other explanations too.
2. They do use each other's more commonly used names sometimes (I think Ratio called him Aventurine once in the game when discussing him with us, and Aventurine addressed Ratio by name a couple of times). But it's mostly nicknames. Mostly Doc(tor) and Gambler, but also "learned professor," "knowledgeable friend," and a hundred of silly ways Ratio refers to Aventurine. I made a whole post about it long ago.
3. Can it be because all of their direct interaction happened in Penacony, in the middle of a murder mystery somewhat reminiscent of the board game Clue, with our little "Mrs. Peacock" and "Professor Plum" here just imitating the naming conventions of such a game? Like archetypes from a classical detective story, where most characters can be described with one word like that. But it's a bit of a crack theory.
4. The only situation we saw them talking to each other was when they had to play their roles for Sunday.
It's interesting that Sunday later proceeds to call Ratio just "doctor" or "learned doctor" too, the way Aventurine did. I mean, strictly speaking, there isn't anything unusual in calling a doctor "doctor", but it's funny in an awkward way. Imagine two close friends having special names for each other. And then a complete stranger who's been eavesdropping starts using these names too. Umm, that's "Dr. Ratio", Mr. Sunday, thank you very much.
Btw, that's another point to the theory that Sunday only knows (and tries to use against them) the things they deliberately fed him through their conversations.
So it might be that they did it deliberately for Sunday to hear. Like, see? we are so not friends that we don't even call each other by name. But then we see them using similar words when mentioning each other while talking to other people, and in Aventurine's thoughts too (in mission descriptions during Double Indemnity).
5. Although it might still be the way for them to try and distance themselves from each other, at least verbally, trying to deny the obvious special connection between them.
6. Or maybe it's about their "masks". They both have public personas to hide their real selves behind. (Ratio directly tells us about it and wears a literal mask to hide behind, and Aventurine's whole Harmony ordeal was basically to show his inner self, so unlike the confident and cocky Aventurine other people know.)
But they know each other better and see deeper than just their public personas of "Aventurine" and "Dr. Ratio". And it's still too early in their relationship to prod deeper ("Kakavasha" and "Veritas"). So a secret third thing it is.
#my stuff#dr ratio#aventurine#raturine#aventio#ratiorine#it's a classical case of#I'll just write a couple of short paragraphs#getting out of control#I blame my migraine for how incoherent it is#I just think it's neat that they have special names for each other#and I wanted to talk about it#there might have been a point I wanted to make#but I lost it midway through
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this is about to be super self indulgent but could you by any chance do a spencer reid x barista!reader maybe he keeps going back to the same cafe or something and memorizes like little facts about coffee or something lol i love your writing so much!!
aww this is such a cute idea!! yes of course :)
Spencer x gn!barrista!reader (FLUFF)
Word count: 540
Seven-thirty every morning. Not seven twenty-nine, not seven thirty-one, but seven-thirty on the dot. Just like clockwork does the tall, handsome and quite frankly, adorable man come to order his tall black coffee.
You try not bounce on the balls of your feet as he walks in. He's wearing a blue sweater today, one that you're sure would look great on the floor of your apartment.
There's no line. There rarely is when he shows up, its like he times his arrival to coincide with the lulls in activity at the small shop. Which unbeknownst to you, he in fact does.
"Good morning!" your cheery tone fills the empty space, louder than needed which would embarrass you any other time but only makes you smile harder when you make eye contact with him.
"Good morning Y/n, how are you today?" His glasses lift against his soft cheeks as he smiles back at you.
"Uh-good! I'm good, and you Spencer?" Saying his name makes you blush and you immediately duck your head to hide your flushed face. Its like your body has a physical reaction every time you interact with him.
His grin only widens seeing the reaction he pulls from you, desperately wanting to recreate it again. "I'm great thanks for asking! Just one black coff-" he cuts himself off as you hand him his order with a scrunch of your nose that has him weak in the knees.
"Sorry, I hope its not creepy- its just you come in here so often that-"
He cuts you off this time on your impending tangent, "No! Don't worry about it th-thank you! I love my black coffee!" This time its him thats a bit too loud.
The awkward silence that follows as you both stare at each other dumbfounded by the others obvious embarrassment may be the thing that keeps you up years from now.
Its only with a quick breath that Spencer recovers the conversation,"Did you know that coffee is believed to be discovered by an Ethiopian goat herder?" Its not completely true, but its all he could find online about the topic that was remotely interesting on his drive here.
Your wide smile in an attempt to keep a laugh at bay is what will keep him up years from now. "No, I didn't know that Spence. Did you know that coffee is believed to increase lifespan?"
The way the blood rushes to his cheeks should be embarrassing but it only fuels his next comment as he sets the money due on the counter, "Well then I guess I'll just have to keep drinking coffee..."
You catch on easily and flirt back with a shy smirk, "I guess so, and since I give you the coffee..."
He starts to make his leave but looks back with a smile that makes your heart soar, "Then I guess I'll just have to keep coming back..."
The sound of the door closing has your smile dropping a tad, but as you look down you find a crumpled piece of paper by the bills he left, it lifts once more. Because inscribed on the small note is yet another fact about coffee. And this one has a phone number written directly underneath.
#spencer reid#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid blurb#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction#dr spencer reid x reader#dr spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic
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A study on Lance's underrated role on the team. Pt 6.
Hunk pt 2
Last time we were talking about how Hunk would usually don't let teasing or hurtful words in moments of stress affect him. That doesn't mean Lance will not jump to his defense too.

In the Journey within, Lance says the famous "just drift out by yourself, Mr. Lone Wolf". At this point Lance had not really made any new kind of jab to Keith, and like we mentioned before he was taking Keith's orders very seriously but then really goes to the yugular in this episode and its only after Keith insults both Allura and Hunk.
There are some other small moments this episode that I wanted to mention.
Like Lance focusing on holding Hunk when they get launched in space.

And how he very much refuses to leave a teammate alone, no matter if that teammate asked them to run. He actually sounds confused by Hunk's request.

Lance's protectiveness can also be seen towards Hunk in the way he refused to harm or fight him even when the later was brainwashed and trying to hurt him. In their fight Lance never actually does more than just push Hunk far from him.

And will also support Hunk when he says no, even when its a direct order from Keith.
Like when Hunk refuses to take Kaltenecker with him and Lance arranges it so he can have nice road trip companions.

It is quite cute how Lance is the first person Hunk shows his shenanigans with the mice.
Overall, while sadly Lance and Hunk didnt have that many significant moments or more development for their friendship, we can see their mutual trust and ease around each other. And how Hunk feels comfortable enough with Lance to follow his plans, seek him for advice and be at the end of Lance's own brand of protectiveness.
As the legs, they work well together, often being paired up in missions and usually being the ones to cover the teams front and back when they go on foot.
Shiro
Starting with Shiro, now we have a curious case in that, sadly, we dont have a lot of moments with Shiro and more with Kuron, but since Lance always thought Kuron was Shiro i'm not going to split them.
In the first episode, one of the first things we are told about Shiro is how he is, in Lance's words "a legend" between pilots and his personal hero.
He expresses bewilderment at the Garrison's treatment of Shiro.

And saving him becomes a proper motivator for them to infiltrate after they discover he is there.

Later, when Shiro thanks them for helping in his rescue, Lance glances for a moment at Shiro's new arm, then smiles softly and follows the handshake.

And lastly, Lance is the one who refers to Shiro as their leader even before Allura assigned him to Black.
These little interactions through the first episode are meant to tell us how much Lance admires Shiro and how high he thinks of him.
This does change how they interact but that doesnt erase the fact that Lance still tries to care for him in his own way.
When they capture Sendak and try to see into their memories the paladins gather around to wait, Shiro being the most interested for obvious reasons but it takes too long and one by one all the paladins start to leave. Coran and Lance being the last ones.

Shiro decides to stay and Lance asks him to let them all know if something happens looking a bit concerned before leaving.
Gonna leave it here but what follows is also quite interesting.
It does make me sad that we dont have as many moments with Shiro and Hunk but what we have it's worth mentioning
[Masterpost] [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]
#voltron#voltron legendary defender#lance mcclain#hunk garrett#takashi shirogane#vld meta#voltron meta#we deserved more Lance and Shiro moments#lance admired him so much#with hunk too i cant believe we didnt get a heart to heart with Lance and Hunk#space mom lance agenda
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