#no cause this is so soft and he doesn't have a SHIRT ON HE'S GLOWING HOW CAN YOU EVEN BE SAD IN HIS ARMS IT'S WORTH 5 TRILLION ENDORPHINS

[hotyanderedaddies]

Trying to Ignore a Yandere Demon Who Wants to Claim You

[Yandere! Demon x GN! Anxious Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

"Whatever you do, do not-- I repeat: DO NOT acknowledge the demon in any manner. If you do, then he can latch onto you and take you."

The words of the psychic you'd contacted for help kept filtering through your head as you stared blankly forward, forcing your eyes to laser focus in on the bright colors of the TV. The volume was on full blast as you attempted to drown out the sounds of him.

"Darling," that eerie, deep voice echoed out. Its user was so close that could feel its hot breath wafting over your cheek, but you refused to give the slightest indication that you'd heard it.

"If a love demon decides that it wants you, then it'll follow you around nonstop like a lovesick puppy. It'll do anything to get you to notice it..."

The demon playfully ran one of his fingers through your hair, his skin hot to the touch. He completely dwarfed you, looking like he outweighed you by fifty pounds of pure muscle and was taller by at least two feet. His demonic proportions made him look hulking and menacing, yet whenever he looked at you, his mouth pulled into a large smile.... full of razor sharp teeth.

"Will you look at me, Darling?" he asked, sticking out his lower lip mockingly. "I love you. I only want to talk to my darling."

"Don't look at it. Don't listen to it. Don't react to its movements. The slightest indication that you're aware of its presence is a sign the demon takes that you've agreed to be theirs..."

The demon huffed, irritated. He stomped his way in front of the TV and glared at you with his glowing eyes. "I know you see me," he accused.

You refused to stop glancing forward, pretending that you could still see whatever show you were trying to watch.

The demon tore his shirt away from his body, showing off his impressive chest muscles. He held his arms out, as if to show off to you. "Check it out, Darling," he announced, "I'm bigger than most of the other love demons. So I can protect you and take very good care of you."

He slowly approached the couch.

"Because a love demon makes its presence known to only one person: their darling."

"I love you so much, Darling," the demon cooed, placing both of his hands on either side of your face.

You winced internally and tried your best to look deadpan, avoiding the demon's glare with all of your might.

You refused to break, because if you did, then you'd belong to a demon for all eternity.

But damn it, he was persistent.

Ever since he'd made his presence known to you last week, the demon followed you around everywhere you went, trying to get you to acknowledge him:

He'd cause a ruckus in class, throwing textbooks and chairs around, leading to the other students thinking that you were out of your mind and throwing them yourself.

He'd follow you into the shower and jerk off as you bathed, talking about how he couldn't wait to touch you himself.

He'd sing soft lullabies to you as you tried to sleep. And he would frequently get under the covers with you too, snuggling you from behind.

He'd follow you whenever you went grocery shopping, threatening to push one of the elderly shoppers in front of one of the moving vehicles in the parking lot. But you couldn't warn the other person unless you wanted to be taken by a demon. RIP.

He'd even gone so far as to set your dinner on the stove on fire, and you had to mutter loudly that you'd foolishly forgotten to turn the gas off.

He was growing impatient.

"Darling," the demon growled, baring his large teeth at you, "all you have to do is notice me, and I promise that you'll be all mine. All mine, and no one else's. Doesn't my sweet baby want that?"

He bit down on his lower lip for a second before perking up.

Before you could guess what was going on in his mischievous head, the demon pressed his warm lips against yours. They were soft to the touch and warm thanks to his high body heat.

It felt good at first, until he playfully bit down on your lower lip--

With a loud gasp, you jerked back and made eye contact with the demon out of shock. Oh shit...

"Finally!" the love demon laughed as your heart fell to the floor.

He lunged forward and wrapped both of his arms around you, yanking you deep into his embrace as if he were a cage. The temperature seemed to rise rapidly in the tiny living room as the demon began to transport you to wherever he dwelled, and to wherever you knew he'd never let you leave.

"W-wait!" you tried to beg.

"It's too late for that, Darling," the love demon laughed. "You're mine and I'm going to enjoy my prize all night long. I love you, Darling, thank you so much for accepting me."

"If you acknowledge the love demon, they'll take you away to be theirs forever, with no hope of ever escaping them or their crazed love..."

[yuquinzel]

BLUE LOCK BOYS AS ROMANCE TROPES !

— feat ⨾ itoshi sae, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, mikage reo.

— contents ⨾ fluff, angst.

ITOSHI SAE + second chance at love !

it's raw with desperation and fear and hope— the way sae's fingers are clutching the fabric of your shirt. it's wasn't supposed to be this way. he kisses the tears trailing down your cheeks, “you said it was over. you said it wasn't worth it. you said you didn't want—” you choke on your own words, hand closing in fists on your sides when sae mutters breathlessly, “i didn't mean it, never ever.” he says. something like guilt burns in his eyes, a taste of regret on his lips, uncertainty and impatience in his hastened breaths.

it's crazy, you think. the way he still has that effect he had on you years ago when you were both seventeen in the airport terminal, teary eyes and staggered breaths. when the fear that the distance would tear you apart first took over, and sae stopped believing. when you looked away from him for the first time and he didn't reach out to wipe your tears. it wasn't supposed to be this way. he was back after four years and you weren't supposed to be in his arms. you promised yourself you'd talk like old friends do, and he trusted himself that he wouldn't say anything to try and make you stay.

“i think it can work, you and me, us. just the two of us and it'll be enough.” you know these words have burned on his tongue for long, because they're warm on your lips. you're kissing him back like it's only natural to do so.“i'm already yours, always have been.” he murmurs.

ITOSHI RIN + childhood friends to lovers !

it's the warm and golden hues of the setting sun melting into the evening blues, splattered colours of contrast coming together— the mark of a newborn eve, the smell of wet earth after the first shower of spring and the cool caress of the breeze. rin is standing by the entrance gates to your school, leaning against the wall, head rested to the side as he waits for you.

you think you're caught in a trance. his back covers the remnants of the sunlight like the moon eclipsing the sun, casting shadows of orange glows. when he breathes, the shadows dance with him. he frowns in wait, and you catch up to him. when you smile, it's almost melancholy, “what's got you smiling like that?” rin eyes the solemn curve of your lips.

“hmm? i think it's ’cause i like you.” the words bleed from your voice in saccharine hues, in bittersweet whispers of unrequited love and fear that maybe you've ruined the carefully painted mosaic of years of knowing rin and the sea green gleam of his eyes, the quiet hums and smiles only you know, the knowledge that he doesn't know how to make paper planes, summer nights of horror movie marathons and trading ice creams.

rin parts his lips, eyes as wide as saucers. he sucks a breath in— searching for the second you say you're joking, “do you mean that?”

you nod and rin's arms swallow you whole, chests pressed so close your heartbeats sync and improvise as one.

“i like you too, really like you.” he breathes into your neck— lingers of relief and gratitude like he's breathing for the first time.

NAGI SEISHIRO + forced proximity !

past 2 am into the late hours of midnight blues and the heavy patters rain against the glass window, reduced to background noise because you're subconsciously trying to trace the steady pattern of nagi's breathing, eyes skimming the fall and rise of his chest every two seconds.

you've been awake since thunder rumbled the walls of your temporarily-shared bedroom for the first time tonight. some fun, memorable just-close-friends trip this is. perhaps it wasn't enough you had to share the bed with someone, maybe it's truly because that someone happened to be nagi seishiro that you can't sleep at all. you're conscious of every breath he takes, how his body expands and relaxes. the heat of your bodies melding as one like a blanket of second warmth over you. “you still awake?” you ask, low and soft. nagi hums, “mhm, if you still are.”

his voice is nothing but a breath of the comfort of not being alone, exhaustion from the day clawing at his throat. “you can sleep if you want.” you say, it's whispered into the night— a silent thank you because he's letting you know he's here as long as you want him, “i wanna stay like this.” he urges, bringing a hand to brush your hair behind your ear and you let him. you let him hook his arm around your waist, foreheads brushing lightly, breaths tangling in knots and lips seconds away from meeting. you watch the curve of his lips, how they move to form words, “i like this more.”

MIKAGE REO + fake relationship !

you think reo had always looked like midsummer nights adorned with princely smiles and bubbles of champagne in the glass, glitters of neon city lights against damp car windows, juvenile secrets traded as i love you's with the hope it lasts forever. ( it doesn't. )

it lingers in the way he kisses you these days— a small talk to fill in loud silences, pretense and improvised. you kiss him back— a lullaby of aching heartbreak, unrequited and young. it almost makes you forget about the blinding flashes of camera lights, hurrying to capture the moment mikage reo is seen with his partner.

it's just like he had asked you to, “date me” he'd said, missing the way your eyes lit up, “it doesn't have to be real, just enough so my parents stop setting me up for blind dates.”

“i don't think i can do this anymore.” your voice breaks, eyes refusing to meet his.

“what? why?—” he rushes close and you step back, “it's getting too real for me, i can't.”

he pauses— ponders your words, lets them replay in his mind over and over again, “...and you don't want that?” you do. so much that you said yes before thinking when he first proposed this, “what about you, reo? this... this means nothing to you right? none of th—”

“it does”, his voice is almost begging, “it means everything to me. you do. it's you and it's always been you.” he looks at you, wondering if he should continue. he does anyway, “it's real. i loved you every time i said it, every time i didn't say it. I'll say it again if you want me to—” and you hear it, like it's always been there, like it's all he's ever known, “— i love you, y/n.”

© yuquinzel2023 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

[spacebarbarianweird]

For the angsty romance prompts, #6?

"i am sor-" "don't you dare apologize."

"I am sor-" "don't you dare apologize" from Angsty Romance Prompt List

Probably not that angsty, I just can't hurt this character

(no beta)

Masterlist

AO3

Headcanons

Reverie

"Astarion?"

He sits motionless with an empty stare into the darkness. His eyes are open wide and his lips moving as if he is whispering. The vampire is completely naked.

How long has he been like that?

He doesn't notice you. His whole world is probably shrunk to the dark chamber of his mind. Elven trance. Or more like its twisted version when Astarion just has to relive the same horrid events over and over again?

Reverie - the Elven trance - is the way for Tel'Quessira to remember their long lives. But what if your long life was just a parade of horrors until recently?

"Astarion, can you hear me?"

Nothing. He isn't here.

You aren't sure what to do. Wake him up? Put the blanket over his naked body? Just sit there till he returns to reality?

What?

You sit beside him and gently touch his hand. It's cold like marble. You study his veins visible through the pale skin.

"Astarion, wake up."

And again, nothing. You put your hand on his back, touching the edges of the scars.

The thought of how painful it was for him makes you sick.

Vampires are stuck in time. Their regeneration is nothing but reclaiming the state of the body at the moment of death. That's why Astarion's hair doesn't grow. And when Cazador would flay his skin, it healed within the moments - and then, the vampire lord flayed it again. And again. And again.

The only thing that can leave permanent marks is silver.

The silver dagger cut those awful symbols onAstarion's back. And it will always remind him of the past. Nothing will ever make up for this.

You try to be as gentle as possible, caressing his skin as if it were the cat's fur. Careful, thoughtful.

Then, you wrap your hands around his waist and place the cheek on his back as if trying to hear the heartbeat.

Suddenly, his body tenses. Astarion jumps on his feet, making you fall on the wooden floor. His face is distorted with anger.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!"

You stand up and reach out for him but he bares the fangs. He looks like a wounded predator, dangerous and desperate.

"I am not touching you. What was it?"

"Nothing," he mutters. "Fuck! Why?!"

"Why what?"

He steps back as if you've hit him.

"How can I be with you if I can't trust you?!"

Oh no.

His back.

It's not like he forbade you from touching it. But he said to you at least a few times not to touch it without consent.

You violated his boundaries. This innocent touch was like torture to Astarion. What is worse, caused by you.

"I am sorry-"

"Don't you dare apologize! You knew what you were doing!"

Whatever you say now, it will make it worse. Much worse.

"What next, Tav? What else will you want to do to me when I am in reverie? When I am unconscious?"

Suddenly Astarion gets silent as if finally noticing he is naked.

You leave the room, carefully closing the door, the feeling of guilt and self-blame scorching your brain.

… A few hours later, you sit on the roof of the inn, watching the town. It's dark and quiet at night, as if abandoned.

You hear the soft steps behind you. Astarion, fully clothed, looks at you with his crimson eyes that glow a bit.

"Listen… Tav... I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"Never mind. Should have chosen a different way to wake you up."

He sits beside you. "I was re-living the moments when those scars were engraved on my skin. Over and over again. I knew it wasn't real, I knew it was just a memory, but the the pain was so real, I couldn't do anything."

"Astarion, I promise I won't touch the scars ever again!"

He chuckles and then puts off his shirt as if feeling hot.

"I need you to touch them. Please. I want to forget. I need to forget!"

He sits on the edge of the roof, and you crawl away a bit, so his back is right in front of your chest. Astarion does look like a marble statue. Cold white skin and no breathing.

You carefully touch the upper scars, caressing them with your fingers. Astarion doesn't move.

You intensify your touches, stroking his back and drawing invisible figures on his skin.

"You know… Silver feels like melted steel. I thought I would die of pain and shock the moment he touched me. But it was only the beginning. It took him a few days to finish the poem. Well, we both didn't need to sleep, after all."

You plant a kiss in the center of the scars, and Astarion shivers.

"I couldn't die. Because I was already dead."

You put your hands on his shoulders. No one will ever hurt him. He won't allow it. You won't allow it. You are his, and he is yours.

"Tav..."

"Hm?"

"You see the scars every day. How repulsive do they look?"

"They don't."

"Tav, for fuck's sake..."

You touch his curls and make Astarion look at you. "They don't. I feel sick when I think about how you got them. I tremble every time I realize that when I was happy, when I had fun, when I cheered - you were tortured at that dungeon with no hope to escape. But the scars themselves don't look that awful. I thought so the moment I saw them for the first time. I still think so."

He smiles and kisses your forehead. Your heart melts.

"So, I can touch your back now, or I still should ask first?"

"Don't ask. Let's… limit consent to strictly sexual things, if I can word it this way."

"Deal."

"And about what happened earlier. I am sorry-"

You smile and put your thumb against his lower lip.

"Don't you dare apologize."

--

Tel'Quessira - Elves ("the people")

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl@starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @astarion-beloved @tallymonster@caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes

[clairdelunelove]

okay, but, neighbor!ghost that doesn't usually celebrate halloween– that is, until his pretty neighbor shows up at his front door with a plateful of pumpkin-shaped cookies.

the spooky tradition was never one for him to celebrate. too many memories associated with terror, fright, and horror. his childhood never provided him with a safe space for him to indulge in the fun activities that many children his age would’ve enjoyed. pumpkin carving with a present family. trick-or-treating with a couple of his elementary school friends. apple bobbing at a local fair. all the festivities that caused people to glow with delight. laughter abundant in the air. hence, halloween was disguised as an excuse for people to use when they desired genuine company. a relief from the typical, dull work/school day. a justification to huddle up and share a slice of serenity. instead, it serves as the opposite for him. dread fills his body while recalling his manchester childhood. with tommy crawling to the edge of his meager bed, adorned in a crude skull mask. a means to scare him. hollow eyes cutting right through him in the shadowy room. a scream ripping from his mouth as his palms become sweaty, body kicking into overdrive. fight or flight instincts consuming him. his fault for letting his guard slip. a mistake he rarely committed now. a mistake he’d never fall victim to ever again. but he’s older now. knows that this specific day is the highlight of some people’s year so he doesn’t rain on their parade. simply withdraws from the excessive decorating that some tend to do. flicks off his porch lights that night, too. doesn’t want to get the neighborhood kids’ hopes up if they see that there’s signs of life within his flat. also discovers that the constant ringing of his doorbell is aggravating and having to frequently grumble, “no candy tonight,” is too bothersome. so he’s not one to celebrate halloween– that is, until there’s a soft knock at his door.  

neighbor!ghost who’s cautious about answering the door. because who would need him at this hour? if the base required his presence then they’d phone his landline if it was an emergency. no need to show up at this hour. his dark eyes briefly glance out the nearby window to catch sight of the dusky sky. hues of orange swirled with streaks of titian red that created the perfect backdrop for the evening. the weather had gotten cooler, also. with sharp gusts of wind nipping at the uncovered portions of his face and having to swap out his well-worn shirts for thermal long sleeves. preferred autumn for this sole reason because he’d have to rake up the fallen leaves. gave him a task to complete on the lonesome days when the base didn’t need his presence. he’s mentally checking off a to-do list (did the smoke detector need changing? was the sidewalk covered in leaves? did the ceiling lights need replacing?) when there’s another soft knock. “bloke’s insistent,” he grumbles with a roll of his eyes, “but I’m not buying anythin’.” assumes it’s just a door-to-door scam. or probably people collecting for charity. yeah, those people never let up.

neighbor!ghost who knows that curiosity killed the cat but he argues that satisfaction brings it back. he reaches a hand out to ease out the small piece of paper he stuffed inside the door’s peephole. a tactic he uses for extra security and privacy. never know if an unusual situation will arise. shifting forward, he presses closer to the peephole and focuses his gaze through the small opening. nothing. he huffs in disbelief. can’t believe he’s going through the entire 5 stages of grief solely because of a knock at the door. seriously, how bored must he be to spend this much time on a simple gesture? “wastin’ my bloody time,” he says while narrowing his eyes. yet, his calloused hand grips at the doorknob and twists. perhaps double checking could quell his curiosity. 

neighbor!ghost who’s lips draw together to instinctively blurt, “scram,” before going completely silent at the sight of you. the threat falls flat. you’re practically glowing at his doorstep. despite the lack of actual lighting, due to the fact that he prefers his place shrouded in the night’s shadow, you’re still nervously smiling up at him. a vision wrapped in an intricately knit sweater to combat the chilly evening and pretty eyes that follow him when he braces his arm against the doorframe. “hi,” you quickly regard him with a wave of your hand, eyes still trained on his uncovered bicep. Swirls of darkened ink and intricate patterns that failed to conceal toned muscle. accumulated from years of being in the service. and you assumed such a large man would be grim and solemn; unwilling to give you some of his time. yet, his hooded eyes regard you with an inquisitiveness that causes your heart to thrum harder against your chest. it’s clumsy and the tips of your fingers are trembling but that only intrigues him. he can’t help but mull over the fact that your greeting sounds like a bird’s gentle chirp in the early mornings. it’s polite, sweet, and he craves to hear more of it. 

neighbor!ghost who discovers that if he wordlessly stands there for long enough, you’re compelled to fill the silence. it’s a rather endearing quirk. prefers it, really. he’d rather listen to your angelic voice than hear his surly one. you initially waited for his response but you’re met with quietude and his perceptive gaze. he’s an expert in ridding people of their ulterior motives. you, however, you’re as kindhearted as they come and his verdict is proven correct when you reveal a tray of cookies to him. “made these earlier,” your gaze darted to the floor before quietly confessing, “wanted to drop some off to you.” the platter of sugar cookies gleamed up at him and ghost blinks– once, twice, three times. there were various designs (pumpkins, ghosts, bats) that were carefully decorated with royal icing in autumn colors. they looked perfect and he’d argue that they were better than the ones that he snagged a peek at from the local bakery. “it’s one of my favorite days so,” you cheerfully mention and cue him to take a cookie, “happy halloween.” 

neighbor!ghost who typically doesn’t reach for sickeningly sweet desserts but for you he’d make an exception. he grabs one that you offer to him and rumbles genuine praise, “thanks, sweet thing,” while taking a bite. the nickname provokes a flurry of want within you. you, however, tamper down the desire while you watch with wide eyes. he thoughtfully chews and nods in approval, a movement that draws your focus to him. finishes the treat without any prompting. and with his small confirmation that he enjoyed it, the brightest smile graces your face. the sight festers a warmth within him– one that causes his thoughts to regularly return to you. always. he supposes he could get behind this “halloween” thing if you were the one showing up at his door.

[lendeah]

A small prompt because I needed soft Astarion for once :)

Prompt: Astarion has a nightmare in the Underdark.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader

Words: 804

Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort

You rest peacefully, enjoying the calm breathing of Astarion beside you. Your bodies naturally meld together, having grown so accustomed to sharing the same bedroll since the first night you spent together, both seeking the closeness of having another body or soul. Suddenly, the elf begins to mumble, and his breathing grows rough and fast. His nightmares have really worsened since they entered the underdark, the scenery reminding him too much of his old life in the shadows.

His mumbling quickly starts scalating.

"No, please… Cazador… please…" 

The elf's breathing is shallow, his face scrunched in agony.

"Please, not the rats again… Not the blood… please…" 

Rising from your bedroll, you gently shake Astarion. 

"Hey," you whisper gently. "Hey, Astarion..." 

Despite your efforts, he continues to twist and hyperventilate.

“N-No! Please! I'll do as yo-you say, just don't…" Desperation echoes in his pleading voice.

You climb on top of him, shaking forcefully to pull him from his nightmare. "Astarion! You're not there! Wake up!"

He awakens with a sharp inhale and a shiver, pupils dilated, body trembling. His breathing is heavy, and tears stream down his cheeks. You breathe a sigh of relief, taking a moment to gently wipe away the tears with your thumbs. 

“You’re okay,” you whisper softly, your voice comforting. “Cazador is very far away. You are safe now.”

His tear-streaked gaze meets yours, but the sobbing lingers, accompanied by quivering breaths and trembling body. He wraps his arms around you, his tears soaking your shirt. Even if he’s awake and no longer dreaming you can’t seem to put his mind at ease. He squeezes you, tightly, as if this is the only thing keeping him from falling apart. 

His intense reaction catches you off guard; it’s the first time you have seen him this affected by a nightmare. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close to your body and gently caressing his bare back in a soothing rhythm. Gradually, his body relaxes, and the sobs subside into quiet sniffles against your chest. 

“Was it a bad one?” you whisper, your lips brushing against his hair.

Astarion doesn't withdraw; instead, he melts into your embrace, burying his head in the crook of your neck. There's a pause before he speaks, inhaling slow, shaky breaths until the shuddering subsides. In a weak, hoarse voice, he finally responds, "Yes..." but he remains tightly pressed against your body. "Cazador..." he manages to say, as if uttering the vampire's name demands a considerable effort.

You silently nod in understanding, letting one of your hands move up to gently bury in his hair, fingers caressing the soft strands. "Is it the darkness? Does it make it worse?" you ask softly.

"Dark... yes... and the caves... so... many caves..." his voice still trembles. "It's... too dark here," he murmurs against your chest.

“We’re all a bit frightened of the dark at times. A little light can make it more bearable,” you reply softly, conjuring dancing lights with a subtle flick of your wrist. The small tent is then bathed in a gentle glow, pushing back the shadows and offering a comforting radiance.

Gradually, he starts to relax in your arms, but to your surprise, doesn’t release his hold on you.

“This…this is better,” he sighs, “Thank you… I really miss the sun,” he says softly. 

You smile against his hair, murmuring, “I know you do. We’ll be back up in no time. I promise.”

Though you can’t see his face, the way he seems to curl into you adds an intimate air.

“Could you hold me?” he asks, uncertainty lacing his words.

The request surprises you, causing your heart to squeeze, but you conceal the reaction, not letting it show. Under normal circumstances,  you would have messed with him for his tender disposition. However, this moment feels too delicate to disrupt, so you simply nod in silence. You lie back down on the bedroll, guiding his head to rest on your chest, fingers gently threading through his hair once more.

As his breathing gradually slows, the only audible sound is his own quiet exhales. He’s so close that you can feel his cold body,  the velvety touch of his soft skin against your own.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, so softly that you almost can’t hear him. The tiny lights seem to dance in his hair, creating a somewhat angelic aura around him.

You tighten your embrace around his frame, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head before closing your eyes.  A quiet sigh escapes him, and in the gentle ambiance created by the dancing lights above and the distant, faint sounds outside the tent, neither of you utters a word. The space is transformed into something more than a tent – in that fleeting moment, an unexpected sense of home envelops you both.

[homestylehughes]

jack hughes: soft sunday love

authors note: OMG HI?? I'm back from the dead!!! I WILL do better... I PROMISE. anywayssss. thank you guys so much for all of the support on my other works so grateful <3. ANYWHOO I'm done yapping. enjoy this cute little fic I wrote about jack, our sassy yet cute king. okay bye I hope you enjoy, reblog and like if you like it🤭. <3333

wc: 844

warnings: it's a litttleeeeeee suggestive, but not complete smut! so read at our own discretion :)

It's very unusual for Jack to be home on Sunday, especially a Sunday morning. With usually having a game or morning skate. The feeling of his body beside mine, seeing his face glow with the light coming through the blinds was unusual. A site I could get used to, one that I'll never grow tired of seeing. 

I turn to my side to get a better look at him. Bringing my hand to trace the freckles and sun spots on his back, taking in every part of him. Bringing my fingers to his lower back and scratching back up. I do this, as I watch his chest slowly rise and fall. How is he so beautiful? I think to myself. 

Making my way from his back I slowly start to bring my hand to his hair, as I slowly start to run my fingers through his hair. Combing through his brown locks. I feel him stir below me, slowly turning to face me, still deep in sleep, his eyes are still closed. 

I take in the natural state of his face. At his clear and soft skin, cherry coloured lips, that I could kiss again and again. I take in every little piece of him. 

Bringing my hand from his hair, I slowly began to trace his face, jaw and slowly make my way to his neck. I love every part of him I say to myself. 

I began to trace his arm, stomach. My gaze is locked in that I don't even realize jack is looking at me until  my eyes make their way back up to his face. 

Our eyes catch each other, I can feel my cheeks slightly tingly and warm up like an embarrassed child that just got caught for doing something they shouldn't have done. 

“Why'd you stop, that feels good” he says, as he smiles down at me. 

He grabs my retracted hand that was once on his arm, and places it in his hair. “Please baby” he looks at me with those puppy-like eyes. I roll my eyes dramatically and begin to run my fingers through his hair again. 

Jack sighs in contempt and gently shoves his face into my chest, I can feel his smile on my collar bones like a little kid. 

“I missed this,” Jack says, face still pressed into my neck. I missed this too. I sigh back. Jack slowly lifts his face from my neck. His gaze is so strong in mine eyes full of love. “My pretty girl,” Jack whispers at me, as he slowly moves hair off of my face. His face slowly moved closer to mine. Teasing me with how close our lips can get to each other without completely touching. 

I start to grow impatient, I rise up just enough so our lips finally meet. His soft lips finally met mine. Jack sighs into my mouth as he grabs my face to pull me closer into him. The soft kiss starts to become more intense, as Jack moves so he's now on top of me. Our kiss becomes more urgent, as he pushes my thighs apart so he can rest in between them. 

The tension in the room grows by the second. Jack hands leave my face and travel their way down my body, as they try and pull away the sheet that covers it. Grabbing my hips to pull me more flush to his body. 

The sudden moves, causes my breath to hitch, giving Jack an opening to slide his tongue into my mouth. Fighting for dominance, our tongues battling back and forth. I can feel our breaths beginning to quicken. The room is becoming warmer.

  My grip on his hair starts to tighten as he starts to move his lips down my neck, hitting all of my sweet spots. “Jack” I sign out as I look down at him, kissing down my neck, and anywhere my shirt doesn't cover. I miss his lips on mine, grabbing his jaw and guiding him back to my lips. 

I can feel his smile on my lips as I go to kiss him. “Someones greedy this morning, I see” Jack mumbles against my lips. “I'll never get you like this,” I say before I connect our lips again. 

A few seconds later Jack pulls his lips from mine, with a smacking sound. Our chests both rise as we lock eyes. 

“I want more sundays like this” he says, “i agree, i want you all to myself in this bed every morning.” I utter back at him. A smile rips across jack's face, “your wish is my command baby” jack says as he moves his hands down my sides, sliding them under my shirt. Tracing my bare skin, his eyes still locked with mine. 

“How about we start now?” he says as he smirks down at me. Finally peeling my shirt off my body, bringing his face back to mine, our lips meeting again in a rush. my back meeting the soft sheets below me, in a soft sunday love.

[orchidniins]

hi, i love you fics so far! would you possibly be able to do fluffy morning cuddles with george? 🩷

Morning Cuddles | George Clarke

A/N: Thanks for the love! I just got all warm and fuzzy inside just thinking about this. Like I can just imagine George being such a soft boy and wanting to cuddle all day with his partner. This turned out a lot shorter than I was hoping, but I have a longer fic coming up next week so I wanted to get out something shorter for now. Hope you enjoy!!

Pairing: George Clarke x GN!Reader Warnings: Fluff Word Count: 700+

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The morning sun gently filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow into the room where George and you lay entangled in each other's arms. It’s still early, and you're wrapped in his comforting embrace, his strong arms wrapped around your frame, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing against your skin.

The sound of George's alarm interrupts the peaceful atmosphere, causing you both to stir from your slumber. With a sleepy groan, George reaches out to silence the alarm, his voice thick with sleep as he apologizes. "Sorry about that," he mumbles, his hand instinctively finding yours. "Go back to sleep, love." You feel his warmth as he begins to reluctantly pull himself from your embrace.

You yawn and sit up slightly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Slowly opening them, you're met with the sight of your boyfriend, his hair slightly tousled and sporting those soft curls you love that you think he doesn't show off enough. You offer him a sleepy smile as you assure him, "It's okay," before pulling him back towards you, snuggling even closer. "I'm awake now anyway."

With a soft chuckle, George wraps his arms around you, pulling you even closer against his chest. "Well, in that case, good morning, sleepyhead," he says, his voice laced with affection, as he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"Good morning," you reply, your voice soft and filled with warmth, your gaze lingering on his features, captivated by his sleepy blue eyes. "I could get used to waking up like this every day." you add as you continue to admire his handsome face.

George smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners with affection. "Me too," he murmurs, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "Me too."

With a soft smile, feeling the comforting softness of his t-shirt against your skin, inhaling the lingering scent of his body wash. You feel your body ease back against his and as the minutes tick by, you start to drift off to sleep again, lulled by the steady rhythm of George's breathing. However, right before you fall completely asleep, George gently shifts in the bed, a reminder that he needs to get ready for one of Chip's shoots.

You tighten your hold around him, a bit clingy, not quite ready to let him go. "Do you really have to leave?" you murmur, your voice tinged with sleepiness and reluctance.

George chuckles softly, his fingers tangling in your hair as he presses a kiss to your temple. "I'm sorry, love, but I do need to get ready," he says, his tone gentle but firm. He hesitates for a moment, his gaze lingering on your sleepy form before he adds, "But duty calls, and I can't keep the boys waiting."

You playfully pout at his words, and with a mischievous grin, you slowly move to straddle him, your hands finding their place on his chest. Leaning in close, you press a quick kiss to his neck before whispering in his ear, "Are you sure? I can make it worth your while to stay a little longer." Your playful tone is accompanied by a mischievous glint in your eyes as you try to tempt him to stay a bit longer.

George chuckles, his lips curling into a smirk as he pretends to consider your offer. "Tempting," he admits with a grin, his hands finding their way to your waist.

"But you know it won't just be a little longer, love" he murmurs with a playful glint in his eyes, his hands sliding up your waist as he leans in closer. He presses a soft kiss to your lips before gently maneuvering you off of him, his gaze lingering on your face with affection. "I promise, once I'm back, we'll spend the rest of the day together."

You sadly nod as George gets out of bed, a sense of longing filling the space between you as he heads into the bathroom. You watch him go, a soft smile playing on your lips as he bids you farewell with another tender kiss. His touch leaves a warmth on your skin, and as you hear the sound of running water from the bathroom, you already can't wait for him to return.

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Check out my other fics and oneshots here. Requests are currently open!! Or just drop in for a chat! 😊

[lovehyyuntold]

— Fluttering Between The Dusts Of Our Love

— Rundown: Days have gone by without each other, but house responsibilities have pilled against one another. However, instead of fulfilling such duties, the both of you get distracted by one another, and end up cherishing the moment instead.

— Pairing: husband!chan x wife!reader

— Word Count: 1400 → Genre: Contemporary Romance · Suggestive · Fluff ! No explicit smut !

— Warnings: Filled with utter nonsensical banter, teeth-rotting fluff, huge on physical affection, clingy chan, a little sweet make-out scene? Not by much, mentions of being bare in bed, lots of teasing and kissing

— It would be the biggest honor if you could reblog & comment. Share your thoughts, I genuinely love discussion.

Once again, thank you ♡

“Hey, hey, no!” 

“I am only in need of affection.” Your husband whines.

A huff comes out as a breath, eyes rolling at Chan. Your legs move in a hurry, swiftly getting to the other side of the room. You clicked your tongue, “Exactly. Why do you think I'm avoiding you?” Hands pointing at him as if you were having a conversation with a child.

“But we've been here for so long.”

He pouts, grabbing the nearest shirt by the edge of the bed, and folding it. You smile a little, admiration twinkling beneath your irises as you watch him work slowly. 

A bubble of guilt builds inside as you continue to gaze at him, for he hasn't had time off in weeks, and the first thing he ends up doing is chores? 

You couldn't help but pout with him, a busy man, he was, an endless supply's worth of music production in the palm of his hands, a passion of his. Yet, he does not complain when you ask him for help. It is much difficult when one falls in desperation for need, for every dust could become a bunny waiting to be inhaled. It isn't exactly your fault when jobs become the overlying priority in your lives.

From breakfast to noon since you've started this cleaning fest. Witnessing the sun's bright glow—it's soft hue of gold as it glimmers into the shimmering orange rays that seep through the windows. The slight howl of wind slipping past the curtains.

Coming back from the laundry room, you continuously flinch at the heat—that is, until you giggle at the idea of dumping these scorching clothes on your husband. Karma for distracting you each time you started a new chore. 

You enter the room, tiptoeing to Chan as you observe him—his lips moving, muttering random thoughts as he folds shirt after shirt. You had a slight feeling he heard you, but still risked it. As expected, he turns around—colliding with the laundry basket in your hands, the freshly dried clothes dumped upon his figure.

Planned failed yet worked out successfully.

“Hot!” He yelps, reacting violently by reaching for you, who's about to run away. But malfunctioning as you clutch onto your stomach from the slight wheezing—his eyes bulging wide, arms flapping around, head turning to multiple different directions. “Oh no, you don't!” He barks, grabbing your waist, causing your bodies to crash—bouncing on top of the piles of clothing scattered around the bed.

“How is this allowed? Yet, me offering my love to you earlier wasn't?” His tone, accusing, as he places his head on the crook of your neck, spooning you as you try to wiggle out of his grip. With no luck, his arms tighten on your figure with each move you take. A prey, you thought. As if you were a prey trapped inside a coiling snake. One so close to be devoured, if not the success of escaping doesn't occur.

“Doesn't count!” You squeak, his mouth nibbling slightly on your ear, nose rubbing around the back of your head. “Chris! It tickles! Stop–” He continues, only this time, moving towards your neck, peppering kisses as he sucks on some parts—tongue swiping every time he does.

“Don't resist, it'll only get worse if you do.” He whispers against you, fingers circling on your stomach while the other hand squeezes your thigh. Flipping your position, he swiftly moves his legs to your sides, trapping you below him—smiling, he places his forehead on yours. 

Curls of molasses fall down slightly, the sun's gaze highlighting such pure content written across his features. Eyelids scrunched up from adoration, love spoken in the sigh against your lips—breaths lingering as if a kiss was held in between.

He lays his hands on both of your cheeks, cradling your face beneath his grasp—softly planting a kiss on your forehead. He handles your head gently, as if you'd break at the smallest touch. 

Your husband smiles again, eyes crinkling at your dazed reaction. He chuckles, lowering his head—placing kiss after kiss on wherever he can, as if exploring your body, the body he's already ingrained in the depths of his soul. 

“I.” A kiss on your eye. 

“Can.” Kisses on your cheeks. 

“Never.” A kiss on your lips, biting delicately as if desire spoke within the action. 

“Get.” A kiss below your earlobe.

“Enough,” A kiss on your jaw, more as he explores your neck—dragging out the end of the word.

“Of.” A kiss on your collar bones, painfully taking his time as he descends to the middle of your breasts—staying there as he grabs your left hand. The gaze lasting on you as you flutter your eyes open, he must've looked ravished of you—there was no doubt, he was in dire need of such love. He's grown absolutely frantic without you.

“You.” He plants his last kiss on the back of your hand.

“Channie–” You whine, grabbing onto his arms, you almost forget how obsessively rough they've gotten. Chan laughs, “Hm?” The side of his lips curling up, holding onto you tightly—the space between you both disappearing each time that he presses your body closer and closer.

“T-the chores…” You stutter out, still trying everything in your power not to back down. “My sweet love. You're my priority.” He whines, nuzzling his face on your neck as you place your hands at the back of his head—one tenderly rubbing patterns at his back while the other plays with his hair.

“I'm off tomorrow.” He muffles into you, causing your figure to stiffen at the news. You haven't heard him say that since weeks prior—it was torturous, but he didn't really have a choice from the responsibilities he beholds. The group they have, they rely on each other, they care for each other, and all you could do was support him, because you understood.

Yet it felt as though everything burned to the ground instead, since he had never been home. He mentions this as if such news wasn't a big deal, as if you haven't grown miserable without him.

“How come?” You ask, curious—fingers now fully twiddling with his hair.

“My wife, how I missed you.” He whispers, placing multiple kisses on your neck—wherever he can reach without ultimately leaving the spot. “I barely get to spend any time with you anymore. I become devastated whenever I arrive home, and you're either asleep or gone for your work.” You could feel the frown forming on his lips. He held you tightly as the seconds trickled, as if you would disappear if he had not.

“Baby, you don't have to.” You clarify, knowing how much this job truly meant to him. “We both know it's none of our fault.” You go on, moving your hands down to caress the back of his neck and below—his warmth flowing onto your skin. “Sometimes, we aren't able to, and that's okay. It is why we cherish these moments.”

He jolts up, eyes wide as he stares at you, your brows scrunched up in return, “Now, let's—” Your sentence is cut off when he lets out a hearty giggle. He grabs both your legs, wrapping it around his abdomen, “What are you—ah!” You squeal as you place both hands around his neck. His hands seize your waist as he carries you to the top of your bed onto the pillows, gingerly placing you down.

“Stop it!” You screech while his hands lift your shirt until your full stomach is revealed—he nuzzles his head into it, “I don't think so, you're warm.” continuously placing kiss after kiss.

Eventually, you end up ticking him, repositioning yourself on top of him, straddling his chest—you grab the pillow closest to you, hitting him playfully as he chuckles, dramatically screaming as if to mock you. You cling onto him as if you had been a Koala, and him, oddly, a tree. He hums against you, grabbing your chin softly, tilting your face upwards to gaze at him.

“I love you.” Chan's eyes twinkle as he gazes at you, brown locks scattered beneath the pillow behind him—he wishes more than anything that you understood the weight of those three words, which meant more to him than any star out there. The biggest sensation of adoration written in such pupils.

“I love you too.” You whisper back, wrapping your body around him further—clothes forgotten, cluttered items forgotten, everything just there. 

At this moment, all worries have been forgotten, all tasks shrugged off, because it's just you and your husband in the middle of it all and there's no place you'd rather be.

— Date Created: 6/15/2022 → Date Edited: 8/27/2022

A/N: I had found this gem hidden in my drafts, previously made it for a friend, and edited it to fit Chan. Please don't expect too much. I hope you find it somewhat sweet. I genuinely love marital fics, they make-up that tiny side of my brain in need of dopamine.

— Still working out taglists and stuff. Note that I am very slow in releasing content, so if you'd like to be added (please interact) send an ask or dm < 3

©lovehyyuntold — 2023

[snoringkitty1]

Recharge

This is very different, writing on my phone :,>

Tw: Not proofread, just fluff :>

૮︵⭒‿᧔☪︎᧓‿⋆︵౨

You and Dan heng had spent all day running around on the Xianzhou ship. He didn't particularly like being on the ship without your company since, well, your soft gaze was one much better than the glares other vidyadhara gave him.

"The snacks here are really odd.." you stated, reading the lable on a drink you got from a vending machine. Dan heng was stood slightly off to the side, his arms crossed. "A pineapple and cream drink doesn't sound odd to me." He hummed and leaned over to read the lable.

"..I guess so." You shrugged and opened it up when you were about to try a sip. Someone harshed bumped into Dan heng, causing him to nearly fall over onto you.

You gasped, the drink getting spilled all over your face and shirt. Dan's eyes widened before he scowled and looked back at the man who'd practically shoved him on purpose, though the made seemed too proud and unbothered to be scared.

He didn't have time nor the social battery to deal with that. Instead, he gently grabbed your arm while you were still busy pouting about missing out on your drink and simultaneously ruining your afternoon.

"Here..hold still." You lowered your arms, so they rested idle at your sides, looking at your shirt with a frown. He snapped his finger, and suddenly, all the juice on your shirt began to..leave?

It's like the liquids were being sucked out, little bubbles of juice floating in front of you. The little glow in Dan heng's eyes told you it was his powers working the magic. It was pretty fantastical to watch.

Finally, all the little bubbles dissipated as if they didn't exist to begin with. "There..i'll buy you another.." he sighed and patted your head. You frowned and moved his hand down to hold your face.

"But..it wasn't even your fault! I can buy myself another, it's alright." You smiled and kissed his palm. He still seemed a little upset that you had been dragged into the prejudice involving his former self.

But seeing you happy raised his mood, despite the problems that occurred not even ten minutes ago.

No matter who interfered, you would not let anyone ruin this date. Even if his mood was already ruined.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Upon your return to the express, Dan heng had his arms crossed and his eyes closed as the two of you listened to March about how her date with Stelle went. His social battery was definitely going on empty, so as much as you liked listening to March, you wanted to help him feel better.

You snuck away from the lounge and went into the room you both shared. You toom the pillows and blankets from your mattress and made a big nest of pillows and blankets on his mattress. Cuddling would certainly lift his mood, right?

As you were putting the finishing touches on the pillow pile, the door opened with Dan heng in the way. His eyes widened a bit upon seeing the mess that was the pillow nest. "What is this?" He inquired as he closed the door and walked further into the room.

"A pillow nest!" You grinned and walked over to him, "i noticed how tired you looked after our date, and i didn't think you'd last long listening to March. So i snuck in here to make a cozy pillow nest." You smiled.

Seeing your smile made him smile, he sighed and leaned close to kiss your forehead. "What would i do without you.." he hummed and held your face before playfully pinching your cheek.

You smiled proudly and grabbed his hands, and pulled him over to the pillow nest. "C'mon, snuggles will help you recharge, right?" You smiled and let go of his hands and flopped onto the many blankets and pillows.

He followed suit and crawled in beside you, "always.." he hummed, "my favorite way to recharge.. is with you.." he mumbled and smiled as you pulled him close. "I'm honored.." you whispered, brushing your hand through his hair and smiling to yourself.

The silence that filled the room was what Dan heng would usually recharge in before he met you. But now, he craves your presence more than anything whenever he's tired of being around people.

The sound of your heartbeat and breathing were enough to put him right to sleep.. His eyes closed, and he did just that. He fell asleep in your arms, and tou were happy to have put him at ease.

He was just Dan heng here. He didn't need to worry about anything else. His favorite place to be, was right in your arms.

⠀

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Thanks for reading.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

A continuation of Sweet On You (part three Hard Candy here)

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.9k] prompts: Say you want me and I'm yours" and "I don't know what to do. I could teach you." Best friends to lovers, sofa sex, who doesn't have a praise kink?

The walk home to Steve’s house was less awkward than you thought it would be, considering your drunken admission.  

But the cool night air had sobered you up and there was something nostalgic about walking down the empty road with your best friend, the night sky inky and endless above you. 

Hawkins was quiet, the dull thud of the party left behind and Steve was next to you, one foot in front of the other as he balanced himself on the white lines of the tarmac. You wondered if he could hear your heartbeat in the quiet of it all, if he would hear the way it was rattling off of your rib cage, if his was doing the same. 

He stole glances at you, not so subtle gazes from under his lashes when he thought you weren’t looking, as if he wondered where this night was going, where those white lines were leading you both. You turned the corner into his street, the houses growing bigger as you went, the cars on the drive more expensive and the smell of chlorine filled the air, the soft trickle of backyard pools and front lawn fountains filling up the silence. 

“You staying?” 

It was an almost rhetorical question. Steve knew you would, you always did. There was one of his old basketball shirts balled up under the pillow he knew you liked best, waiting for you since you wore it last weekend, vodka drunk and clutching Robin as Steve steered you home to his. 

And besides, you were there with him, on the sidewalk in front of his empty house, breath stuck in your chest ‘cause, oh my god, you told your best friend you were jealous of a girl he was with. 

You didn’t know what to say. You knew the boy was simply checking, wondering if the fresh air had changed your mind, had woken you up and made you regret what you’d said when your head had been filled with smoke and bass, tequila on your tongue and a little green monster on your back. 

It’s probably why he looked nervous, eyes low, lips a little twisted at the side as if he was preparing for rejection. 

But you nodded, leaning lazy against the frame of his porch as he fumbled with the front lock. The night had become warmer, or maybe it was just you, but tension fizzed in the soft breeze and heat gathered on your skin, like the entire town was warning you of a storm brewing. 

It felt like something big was about to happen. Something astronomic, something dangerous. 

You walked into the dark house when the lock finally clicked, Steve holding the door open for you as he always did, taking his time to put the deadbolt back on, a habit over the years. 

Your legs took you to the kitchen, normal routine after a party. You’d normally raid the Harrington’s fridge, scalding yourself on the oven door as you fished out almost burnt pizzas and sharing slices with Steve. 

But you stood at the countertop, bottom lip tucked between your teeth and waited for Steve to follow. You heard his shoes hit the floor, one by one before the shuffle of his jacket sliding off his shoulders. When he finally emerged into the room, he flicked the light that hung over the dining table, soft and low, and far away enough from you that it didn’t hurt your eyes. 

The entire room was cast in a glow, Mrs Harrington’s love for anything crystal making the lightshade throw reflections across the kitchen, the tiles, Steve’s face. 

You swallowed, hard. 

His hand found yours, pulling at it from where it was twisted in your shirt sleeve until he could twine his fingers with yours. The boy used it to guide you into him a little, your back still pressed against the counter top and although you’d been wrapped around him not even an hour ago at the party, this felt different. 

Intimate, altering. 

His other hand caught your chin, lips parting at the sudden touch of him and you obeyed easily when he tilted it up, silently asking you to look at him. Everything about Steve oozed confidence, it always had, and despite the way he put his hands on you, gentle but a little domineering, there was a softness in his eyes that told you he was holding onto some doubt. It flickered there, buried in the warm brown, honey and golden, and it made you soften against him. 

His fingers spanned the length of your jaw, reaching to the highest point of your cheekbone and his thumb bumped at the corner of your lips, a touch that sent a shock through you, and briefly, you wondered if that storm you thought you felt outside had arrived. 

Steve’s voice was hoarse when he spoke, rough with nerves and the leftover silence you had both walked home in but he murmured to you, eyes trained on your own. 

“Did you mean what you said?”

An exhale, an inhale, yours or his you didn’t know. You were close, so much closer now. You didn’t know when your other hand had reached up to clutch at him, his shirt fisted in your hand as if he was the only thing grounding you, as if you had to make sure this was real. 

It didn’t feel like a game, like flirting gone too far. You’d toed the line with Steve many times, usually when one or both of you were tipsy, a little high and seeking affection. Sometimes it was a battle, quick words and smart ass comebacks on sharp tongues that eventually turned to teasing, raised brows, tongues pressed against teeth and eyes that gave away too much. 

‘Cause this was Steve Harrington. Best friend of ten years, professional piggyback giver, part time babysitter and the only person in this godforsaken town that could call you ‘sweetheart’ and not receive a kick to the shins. 

You didn’t wanna ruin that. You couldn’t handle that being taken away. 

He saw your doubt too, the nerves. He saw right through you, always had. The boy could read you like a book and it was as infuriating as it was helpful. He gave you the nudge that you needed, his knees bending a little so he could bring his face level with your own, noses so close to brushing together. His gaze was liquid gold, buried treasure under sand, full of promise. 

“Cause if you did, just say it. Say you want me,” Steve let out a huff of breath, as if even saying the words out loud affected him more than they should, like he wasn’t supposed to admit to it. “And I’m yours.”

His admission hit you in the chest like a good old fashion sucker punch, flooding you with heat and something else you didn’t quite understand yet. You weren’t sure what he meant, not fully, but with the way your best friend was looking at you, you didn’t think this was the time for a talk about labels and what ifs. 

You thought about the girl, the one with the pink lips and permed hair, perky and pretty and all over Steve. You thought about the way it made your chest hurt, like it cracked you down the middle and made your heart ache. You wondered if you could make it feel better, if you could fix it. 

You didn’t answer, not really, not properly. You just used what was left of your liquid courage to push yourself up onto your toes, hand still curled into the neck of Steve’s shirt as you pulled him to you. 

You kissed him with more authority than you thought you owned, more than you should’ve considering your lack of experience with boys but the answering moan from Steve filled you with confidence, lips moving over his, chasing the taste of red vines and cheap beer. 

And as his hand pushed at the material of your shirt, tucking it up and out of his way so his palm could slide against your bare waist, you wondered how any decision that felt so good could possibly be bad. 

The push and pull of it made your body fizz, a buzz in your chest that felt better than any high and a sigh escaped you, soft and a little desperate. You felt the boy's thumb at the corner of your mouth again, bossy as it tugged on your bottom lip, asking you to open. 

Honestly, it was everything you expected from him. . 

Hands rough, touch soft, lips impatient and greedy, like you were the last spoonful of ice cream. He chased your kiss, groaning when you parted your lips for him, pushing up and into him a little more. You took what he gave you, handed it right back, hot and heavy. Despite this being your first kiss with Steve, you were used to this dynamic, his touch, the way you felt safe beside him. Your heart still hammered, but there was a comfort in the rhythmic beat of it, your own personal soundtrack to the way he kissed the breath from you. 

You weren’t sure who moved first, you just know it was a little clumsy, bodies swaying, legs tangled, dancing across the tiles and lit by low lamps and the moon. Steve was still bending down for you, lips still joined, hands roaming but he gave up when you both bumped into a bar stool, the harsh squeak the only other sound next to your harsh pants. 

He gathered you to him then, closer than before, hands around your waist so he could pull you up against him, walking you backwards on the tips of your toes as you leant into him, arms looped around his neck. 

You made a stop against the doorframe, your back against it as he crowded you, kiss deepening and hands getting bolder. Steve snuck the flat of his palm higher up your shirt, warm and smooth along the side of your ribs until his fingers grazed at the band of your bra, lace under his touch. 

He groaned when you gasped, lips stuttering over yours as he pulled away just enough to mumble against your mouth, “god, you make the prettiest sounds.”

And then you were tumbling through the hallway again, tripping over the shoes you had both abandoned and Steve paused at the stairs before deciding the climb to his bedroom didn’t allow him to keep kissing you and fuck, well, that just wouldn’t do. 

So you both headed for the lounge, a room that was showcased by a large archway, and it held a huge fireplace and squishy sofas, everything surrounded by marble and wood panelling. You had never been in that room, had only ever seen it used at Christmas time, but when Steve led you to the forest green sofa, you happily let him pull you down onto it, and suddenly it was your favourite place in the whole damn house. 

“Steve,” you whispered his name into the kiss, voice husky and you felt the boy shift underneath you at the sound. “Fuck, please I-”

“Tell me,” his voice was throaty, like sex and excitement, and he pulled you further into his lap, legs splayed on either of his and his chest heaved at the sight of your dress pushed up your thighs. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give you it sweetheart, I swear.”

His words were too much for you and you moaned, noses bumping as you surged back into him, a little messy, the kiss hot and deep. Your hands found his hair, fingers scraping into it from the nape of his neck and you gripped the ends, tugging a little. 

The response you got was overwhelming, a roll of his hips under yours, the thud of his head as it fell back and hit the wall behind him. The dirty groan that broke your kiss, chest vibrating beneath you. You pulled back, staring, lips parted. His eyes were wild as he gazed up at you from under thick lashes, jaw slack and lips rosy from your lip balm. 

His hands had found your hips, dipping into the curve there before running over your thighs, toying with the hem of your pretty, green dress. 

“Did you like that?” You whispered and you wished you could say you were teasing, taunting him but god, you were so genuine, so in awe of having that sort of effect on the boy. 

Steve nodded, swallowing hard and he sucked in a breath, eyes still dark on you. 

“Do it again.“

You shivered but ran your hands deeper into his hair, pulling a little more than you did before and you were rewarded with another low groan, the sweetest sound falling from his lips. 

You couldn’t help the way your hips rocked, forehead touching Steve’s, barely kissing but lips brushing over his and you were both losing it a little, panting hot air into each other’s mouths. 

He whispered your name and you swore you’d never heard it sound so good. Steve made it sound like sin. 

“Please babe, shit, what do you want, huh?” His mouth was back on yours, kisses longer, more drawn out the messier they got, as if he couldn’t bear not to taste you. “Tell me what you want.”

You knew he’d do anything for you, give you anything what you wanted, what you asked for. Steve Harrington had spent a decade proving that he would, from late night car rides, your favourite cherry slurpees and walks home from dates that never worked out. If he told you he wanted to give you the world, you would’ve believed him. If you asked him to stop, mid kiss, dress messy and rucked up your thighs, he would. 

But he didn’t expect you to say what you did. A request that left him breathless, his jeans tighter than he thought possible, mouth dry. 

“I wanna touch you,” you told him, voice quiet and shy ‘cause there was a flush of warmth there, embarrassment lingering where excitement should’ve been. 

“Holy shit,” his reply was a rush of breath, a strangled moan and he looked up at you as if you’d answered all his prayers, like you were a dream come true. 

“You do?” Steve asked. You nodded and his hands tightened their grasp on your thighs. “Oh fuck.”

You leaned in sweet, kisses turning a little shy and you pressed them to his lips, the corners of his mouth, his jaw, until you reached his ear. You paused, worrying your lip between your teeth before you gathered the courage to speak. “I don’t know what to do,” you admitted, voice small and you were already mentally scolding yourself because you were hardly a blushing virgin and of course you knew what to do. Logistically, anyway.

Steve pulled back to look at you, brow furrowed in confusion - because hell, he knew enough about your sexual exploits, whispered between groans and laughter over the counter of Family Video, his and Robin’s eyes equally wide. He just didn’t happen to know how much of a failure they truly were, and at the sight of you worrying your lip, he shifted his expression to neutral. 

He cleared his throat and the awkwardness that had settled between you, one hand running soothing up and down your leg as the other one tapped at your chin, silently asking you to look at him. You did, gazes meeting but you couldn’t help but twist your lips, wondering if you could take back the words, if you could distract him with a kiss instead.

“What d’you mean?” the boy asked, and his voice was soft and genuine, his eyes searching.

You shrugged, fingers toying with the hem of his shirt, twisting the material in your hands so you didn’t feel so still, so open and watched as he kept his gaze on you.

“I dunno,” you mumbled, confidence slipping. You flicked your eyes to his, not at all shocked to see him still watching you. You swallowed, urged on by the hand that was running circles over the top of your knee. “Most guys I’ve hooked up with only really wanna get to the main event, y’know? They’ve never really had much patience for anything else.”

You said it matter of factly, hands soothing over the creases you’d made in Steve’s top, wondering if you had managed to completely kill the mood. Your lips were already missing his, your hands aching to wander, to pull off his shirt and map out every mole and freckle you knew he had.

“So yeah,” you said with a little finality, wondering if you’d already had your last kiss with your best friend, “I don't know what to do, not really.”

There was a beat of silence and it was filled with the crackle of a promise, the warmth of something undiscovered and exciting. Steve was still looking at you but there was a lift to his brows and he smiled, shoulders shrugging as if what he was about to say was the most casual thing in the world.

“I could teach you.”

[anyasathenaeum]

Can i request vash & wolfwood his wife didnt know she pregnant, so reader do overwork until pass out in the end both of them know reader is pregnant, and the reaction his wife giving birth the twins i wanna see how absurd they face it 🥺🙏✨ thank you

And really love u writings anyway

A/N: WAIT THAT'S KINDA CUTE, headcanons coming up! Thanks for the request and thank you so much for reading my stuff! :D

Warnings: Mention of pregnancy, childbirth, blood, slight violence in Wolfwoods', reader is AFAB in this one

Vash the Stampede

Given that Vash is... Vash, there was no way either of you knew if you could even get pregnant in the first place.

Seriously - no known plant/human hybrids existed, so the two of you never really thought much of it. You both just kind of assumed hybrids couldn't exist because plants couldn't reproduce with humans

Well, how WRONG you both were

But of course, because neither of you knew it could happen, neither of you caught on when you eventually started feeling nauseous, throwing up at random points in the day and feeling gently under the weather

110% you and Vash both were like "aww dang a cold? That sucks" and Vash would cuddle you lots to try and make you feel better cause he just thought you were sick

You also didn't let this sudden "sickness" slow you down - you kept working hard, on the run with Vash and the others, moving constantly, sleeping under the glow of the worms in the warm sand, hauling your weight and then some as the group continued to travel across No Man's Land

However, what you hadn't anticipated was suddenly not being able to do as much as you used to be able to - suddenly the sun beating down on you was too much, the heat overwhelming, and before you knew it, you had collapsed

Vash and the others were definitely concerned, but the concern turned to confusion and disbelief when they accidentally got a look at your stomach when your shirt had ridden up as you sat up once you regained consciousness - your stomach was SWOLLEN.

Everybody was a bit freaked out, you very much included, until you started to put the pieces together - your "illness", your sudden inability to tolerate things as you had before, your stomach swelling

"Vash... I-I think I might be... pregnant?"

Honestly, I think Vash would be stunned at first but once he realizes that what you're saying makes sense (and after the confirmation of a doctor from one of the nearby towns you guys travelled through), he'd be DELIGHTED

Would be the type of husband/partner who would never let you carry anything heavy anymore, hovering over you protectively, always worrying and making sure you were comfortable and not endangering yourself or your baby

"You need to rest, (Y/N)! You're growing a whole new being, you and I have gotta make sure you're taking good care of yourself now!"

Would give you ankle/foot massages A LOT to help with discomfort

Vash would definitely spend a lot of time talking to your tummy as it grows bigger, pressing soft kisses to your stomach and caressing it gently

Vash would be excited but TERRIFIED simultaneously to be a dad - so much sadness, death and regret followed him everywhere he went, and he was terrified to bring you into it, let alone an innocent child

You would have to comfort him and reiterate that you were in it together and that you think he'd be a wonderful dad

Also, because Vash is a plant and they age rapidly compared to humans, the pregnancy would be faster than a traditional human pregnancy

Vash has seen births before, especially given how long he's been around, so that part of it all doesn't make him nervous. The fact that now, it's HIS child, THAT makes him nervous

Would absolutely cry during the birth of your twins, partially out of fear, partially out of joy, and also partially because you'd gripped his hand so hard that you'd likely broken several of his fingers (oops)

Borderline passed out when they told him there were TWO babies - he wasn't expecting that at all

IDK why but I can see him being a dad to either twin boys (like him and Nai), or 1 girl, 1 boy.

It doesn't matter though, cause Vash would love your babies from the moment they let out their first cry, the reality hitting him - he's a father now.

Would give anything to protect you and his children - you're his world. His family. <3

Nicholas D. Wolfwood

Unlike Vash, you and Wolfwood absolutely knew that pregnancy could happen

You and him both were sorta neutral about it - not actively trying to prevent a pregnancy, but not actively trying to conceive either.

"If it happens, it happens," Wolfwood said with a shrug when you brought it up to him

And so, you two just went about your lives together as always.

Of course, neither of you really bothered to keep tabs on your pregnancy status because you were busy travelling (and being on the run) with Vash and the others

Everything was as it usually was, with the group trying to escape from another disastrous clash with a police force of some kind, bullets flying past you all

You were hiding behind a corner, covering Wolfwood as he managed to fend off the cops coming after Vash and the rest of you, when a stray bullet struck you in the side, causing you to cry out and fall back

"(Y/N)!" You heard Wolfwood scream out your name, but you couldn't seem to see where he was anymore

Before you knew what was happening, the world went black

When you woke, your eyes opening to bright light, you quickly gasped and sat up only to cry out from the sharp pain in your side

Wolfwood was by your side, a deep scowl on his face, but you could see in his eyes that he was scared

"Mornin', sweetheart, nice of you to rejoin us in the land of the living."

Once you were more fully awake, the doctor came in to speak with you and Wolfwood, cheerfully reporting that "Thankfully, the bullet missed anything important, and the baby is just fine, too."

Umm, what?

Both you and Wolfwood choked slightly on your own spit as the doctor said that, with you coughing out "What baby?"

Yup, turns out you were pregnant and had been for a little while already at that point

From that point forward, Wolfwood becomes EXTREMELY protective of you, refusing to let you walk in front of him or even stand in front of him (he plans to use his body to protect yours if something bad happens)

He'd do his best to smoke less and not do it around you because it isn't good for the baby (he's trying hard but he still forgets sometimes)

Wolfwood would be the kind of guy who outwardly seems very relaxed and unphased by the situation but secretly has tried to read through every parenting book he could get his hands on

And when it's time for you to give birth? Listen, Wolfwood has seen a lot of things in his life, but he was NOT expecting birth to be that gruesome

Would become very pale, sweating profusely before dropping like a stone, out cold

Comes back to life when your baby begins to cry, announcing their arrival into the world

You would witness a rigid man bend and soften in front of you - you'd see Wolfwood's gaze soften and a genuine smile appear on his face as he holds your and his baby in his arms, a tiny hand wrapping around one of his fingers

Love at first sight for Wolfwood - he never thought a family would be something he wanted, but now that he has one? He's never letting go of it

Until the doctor announces that the second baby was coming

Thankfully the nurse had enough sense to take your baby from Wolfwood's arms shortly before the doctor announced that because he ended up back on the floor, out cold again

Kind of a wuss around childbirth but he loves his babies (and you) more than anything else in his life

I can definitely see him as a dad to twin girls (idk why he gives me girl dad energy)

[anincompletelist]

feb + march recs <3

[other rec links below the cut!]

y'all know the drill! as always, please remember to leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed the fic or show support in other ways, and be kind! mind the tags and if you come across something you dislike, please kindly (and quietly) move on.

I had quite a few recs to catch up on - and am STILL catching up on - as I have been MIA with physical/mental health shenanigans as of late (so please excuse the fact that these are a bit angsty skjdhkjhd). thank you as always to these authors and their beautiful words for being a comfort! I love having a full 'to-read' list! :D

see you again soon, and happy reading! <3

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I've Always Loved New York, Since Garlic Aioli | KingCaspianX | E | 12k

Alex would say that this date is going really, really well. It hurts to admit because he now owes Nora a six-pack of beer, but he’ll happily swallow his pride if it means he gets to spend as much time as humanly possible with the cute librarian with the elbow patches who’d asked him out last week. The cute librarian, Henry, is not wearing any elbow patches this evening, but is instead dressed in cream linen pants and a soft blue oversized shirt. There’s a slight sheen of sweat on his skin, on his collar bones, down his neck from the balmy New York air but instead of being gross, the way Alex probably is, it’s sinful. He’s glowing. Alex wants to lick his throat. Jesus, he could have sworn he was straight a minute ago. Or, Henry asks Alex on a date. Alex, straight, accepts.

Henry's an Asshole (I Want to Kiss Him) | anarchyat4am | T+ | 7k

At the NYE Gala, Henry starts feeling the hazy edges of anxiety and an uncomfortable tightness in his chest. It takes him longer than it should to take notice of the feeling, and even longer to realise that the cause is likely the binder he’s been wearing all day. He escapes the party, Alex gets him upstairs to his room to change, and the rest of the night goes far differently than Henry could have expected.

getting good now | Standinginmoonlight | M | 20k

Alex sighs and balls his hands up into fists, digging them into his eye sockets until he sees stars, and then he’s speaking without his brain giving his mouth permission. “I can’t believe I’m going to marry someone British.” Or: the Love is Blind AU that no-one asked for.

cause you're classic and I'm reckless | @firenati0n | T+ | 5k

“I've, actually, uh. I've never done this before.” At this, Henry stops short, takes a second as his gaze moves up and to the left, trying to recall something. “I've seen your films. You most certainly have done intimate scenes.” Alex clears his throat. He hopes his nerves aren't completely obvious, the slight waver in his voice about to give him away. “Yeah, well. Never with a man, so. Not at this scale, anyway.” “Would it help to, er, practice?" Henry winces a little as he says it, which does not inspire confidence. But Alex is shocked nonetheless. What the fuck?

love was just an ocean (I would drown before I float) | srrafoxjournals | NR | 21k

There are moments in Henry’s adolescence, maybe even later, when he feels he doesn't belong to anyone. He is no one’s son. He is no one’s little brother. He is no one’s partner. He isn’t related to anyone at all. He’s just there really, just existing. Just an entity. Though he thinks he’s realistically always felt this, it doesn’t make itself known until he turns thirteen. Or: moments from Henry's pov

It's Not Rotten Work If It's You | a_stray_thief | E | 31k

After years of taking suppressants to hide his omega status, after the email leak and the election, after things finally settle, Henry and Alex spend Henry’s first heat together.

say you'll see me again (even if it's just in your wildest dreams) | @coffeecatsme | T+ | 21k

5 times Henry is too scared to come out to Alex and 1 time Alex gives him the courage. Or, 6 times Alex slowly falls in love with Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, for exactly who he is.

*I HIGHLY recommend this entire series! check it out here!

What are the chances? | @wordsofhoneydew | E | 2k

Nora helps June achieve her first vaginal orgasm.

Bang a Gong (Get It On) | @cactusdragon517 | E | 11k

AKA ouroBROros, as dubbed by the Brownstone. The long awaited foursome fic. -- It’s late when they end up out in the yard, the fire from the firepit casting all of them in golden syrupy light under a dark sky. It feels like a night for secrets and Liam thinks it’s why he asks, Spencer’s hand a gentle pressure on his thigh.

cut | validvali | E | 12k

Holy fucking eyelashes. He’s all tan skin and bright eyes and charming smile— everything that makes Henry weak in the knees. Pretty brown eyes dart between the lineup and his clipboard, trying to put two and two together, but all Henry can focus on are those arms. Those hands. That arse. “Can I call you up, handsome?” Henry almost blacks out. [or, the five times alex and henry shoot a video together as (not so) strangers, and the one time they do as a couple.]

Silence & Sound | @nocoastposts | E | 2k

Alex tugs at his hair and tries to focus on choosing his next words. He knows that Henry will help him - that he wants to help him. He knows that all he has to do is say the word. Henry stands and steps closer, holding Alex’s chin firmly and tilting his head up so their eyes are forced to meet. “You need me to clear that lovely head of yours, hm?” “Please,” Alex says in barely a whisper. or: Henry helps Alex fill the silence before indulging in the sound.

Through All My Cards | @cactusdragon517 | E | 7k

Alex, preparing for top surgery, gives in when June suggests he not recover alone. Enter her friend, Henry Fox.

I love you (ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard) | coffeecatsme | E | 20k

Henry doesn’t doubt that, just as much as he doesn’t doubt now that Alex won’t have a single issue with him being trans. In another life, when Henry whispered it in the quiet hours of the night, he didn’t. In another life, when he kissed Henry anyway, he didn’t. In another life. In this one, when Alex meets his eyes, all there is left behind them is a cold glare that freezes Henry to his soul. One year ago, Henry had a whirlwind of a day with Alex after a chance meeting in a coffee shop, only to leave in the morning to protect his heart. He doesn't expect to see Alex again, until he shows up at June's wedding and finds out her brother is the same Alex he hasn't been able to get out of his mind for a year - and he's pissed.

Can You See Me? (I'm Waiting for the Right Time) | @affectionatelyrs | T+ | 7k

“Whose turn was it?” Henry asks while Alex is busy pondering the merits of throwing himself out their fifth-story window and hoping his boner doesn’t take anyone’s eye out on his way down. “Forgive me, but I am a bit tired. Do you think you could take it?” There’s no way that Henry’s not doing this on purpose. He makes words mean things when put in a certain order for a living, for fucks sake. Alex almost quips back depends on how big it is just to see how—or if—Henry would react. “Yeah, um, no problem.” There. Much more normal. He could steal Henry’s job at this rate. “Truth or dare?” [Or, Alex’s world gets flipped on its axis during a game of truth or dare]

At the end of a bar | @hgejfmw-hgejhsf | E | 9k+

Alex has a supremely shitty day at work and finds himself wandering into a bar where a mystery man catches his attention.

What do you have against color? | jumpsuit | E | 11k

Upon opening the hardcover of a found sketchbook to locate the owner's contact details, Alex discovers only this inscription: In case of loss, please return to: Instagram @henryfox.usk He, of fucking course, knows who Henry Fox is. That striking yet humorless, rude, and self-righteous British prick he met on the first day of the symposium. [Or, an AU where Alex and Henry are urban sketchers. A short story of how they get to know each other, fall in love and in bed within one day.]

Sunless Dusting Libraries | @itsmaybitheway | T+ | 7k

Henry should leave, he should wait until everyone is asleep and then silently leave, without a trace. As if he never existed in Alex's life, as if he never touched Alex's body, as if he never wanted only exist in his heart and mind. Because that is what Alex deserves. Alex deserves someone who can love him out and proud, someone who is not shamed for his existence, someone as bright as him, not the pale starlight gleam Henry is. But lying there on the pile of mattresses they piled together and called a bed- Henry can not even find it in himself to breathe, let alone get up and go. Betrayed by his own existence, once again. [or: what-If taken by a depressive episode, Henry can not leave the lake house?]

each time we touch / I wanna take too much | firenati0n | M | 1k

Alex keeps his head angled away from the couch, leaning his back against the base for support as he pretends to be engrossed in conversation with Pez on the floor; pretends not to shamelessly eavesdrop on Henry's conversation with some girl on the opposite end of the couch, a classmate in Henry's course on human sexuality and expression. He digs his fingers into the frayed edges of the shaggy rug, feeling the soft strands slip through his hands as he keeps his eyes on Pez. Keeps his ears on Henry, who's sitting behind him, his knee occasionally nudging Alex's back as he talks animatedly, his whole body moving as he gestures; all languid limbs, lithe body, loose lips, lazy smiles.

to repair a hollowed heart | coffeecatsme | E | 28k

Alexander Claremont-Diaz, the young ruler of the Underworld, the presider of souls that have passed away, has been banned from Olympus his entire life, on account of bringing death and destruction wherever he goes. His seat in the highest council of gods has been left permanently empty until someone sees all that he is and still falls in love with the man behind. It's been twenty centuries since the curse has been put upon him, and Alex has long since given up on finding the right person. [Or, a Hades and Persephone AU no one asked for]

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back with more soon! see my other recs below:

vol i

vol ii

vol iii

vol iv

vol v

emotional hurt/comfort

kid fics

tag for all recs

xx

[chemicant]

The things they do...

Law, Kid, Zoro, Nami, Robin

I'm outing myself with this simp list, but I just love the way they are

Law

when he pulls on a pair of surgical gloves and they snap onto his hands, the way you can see the dark outlines of his tattoos through the thin layer of latex

the shimmer in his eyes when a carefully laid plan is reaching its finale, he doesn't quite realize himself but his face lights up with child-like anticipation

the way he subconsciously fiddles with an object in the air while deep in thought with a casual wave of his hand

how he sits cross-legged in his chair, hands always tapping out a beat only he can hear onto the arm rests

when he undoes the top buttons or rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, allowing his tattoos to peak through

the way he walks into a room, head up high, an air of effortless confidence

Kid

the way he smells like oil with a subtle metallic undertone, you can't tell if its a remnant of his workshop or the battlefield

everything about the way he works. his tongue sticking out in concentration while he maintains his prosthetic. how he tucks stray strands of hair under his goggles after he pushes them out of his face to take a break

when he swings his fur coat over his shoulders effortlessly with one hand, how it finds its spot draped perfectly over his back

his sadistic smile when he's in the throes of battle, rushing in confidently with a storm of scrap swirling behind him

his face when he's angry, veins pronounced against his pale skin and static in the air. the almost eerie calmness to him that commands the room

how he doesn't seem to register pain, shrugging it off unflinchingly. yet you still catch him at times reflexively massaging his left arm, distracted by the phantom ache

Zoro

how he always sits facing the entrance to a room, always on high alert, watching for danger

the muscles on his unscarred back when you watch him train, how they ripple gracefully with his every movement

when he tugs the bandana off his arm and wraps it around his head with practiced precision

that rare belly laugh he does when he's happy. the one that causes him to throw his head back and crinkle his eyes in spontaneous joy

the weight that each of his movements carry, purposeful and intentional, not a single motion gone to waste

Nami

how she proudly shows off the tattoo on her shoulder blade; along with the pale white scars that run underneath

the gentle dusting of freckles on her face and upper arms, how they glow in the sun

the way the tips of her fingers always smell like zesty orange peels

the sound of her heels clacking against the wooden floorboards of the Sunny

how she sometimes fiddles with her clima-tact, twirling it around her fingers and snapping it to length with a flick of her wrist

Robin

her soft chuckle when she finds something amusing, almost unnoticeable yet so distinct

the way she puts her hair back into a ponytail and pushes up her reading glasses when she's deep into her work

how she loves to listen to what you have to say, but also her animated rants about her passions

how she uses her sunglasses to keep her hair out of her eyes, but a couple strands always come undone to frame her face

the sharp features of her face that are only accented further by her piercing blue eyes

[mariasont]

Our Minds Entwined-----------------------

ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9, ch 10

MDNI----------------------------------------------------------------

pairings: aaron hotchner x oc x spencer reid

summary: in which jason gideon's daughter joins the fbi as the newest, brightest member

warnings: implied smut, evelyn annoying the fuck out of hotch pt 2

Chapter Nine:

The morning light filtered in Evelyn's bedroom, casting a lazy glow across the room as Spencer's kiss melted into Evelyn's lips. She stretched languidly across the bed, the soft fabric of her lounge set--a cozy ensemble chosen for the day's travels--wrinkling beneath her. The scent of mint lingered in the air, a fresh reminder of her morning routine now complete. Spencer stood, the sheets sifting, his departure slow and reluctant.

"You're not leaving me already, are you?" Evelyn's words were a playful whimper, her eyelids fluttering open to reveal a hint of feigned distress. Her hand lazily patted the empty space beside her as if to say there was no good reason for him to get up just yet.

"I'm going to engage in a necessary biological process commonly referred to as 'using the restroom'," Spencer said, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile. "You're very needy in the morning,"

"'M not," Evelyn protested with a drawn-out whine, but she puckered her lips in a pout that begged contradiction, her hands pulling on his sleeve. "Round two?"

Spencer's laughter was a soft rumble, his lips grazing the delicate spot beneath her chin, causing a ripple of giggles to escape her. "Tempting as it is, I should get out of here before Hotch shows up. I'm not sure 'we were just analyzing sleep patterns' would fly as an excuse."

"Yeah, I doubt he'd buy that."

As the bathroom door closed behind Spencer, Evelyn sank back into the pillows. Casual was a term she had never associated with sex before--yet here she was in a no-strings attached arrangement. The simplicity of it all was good and so was the sex--god the sex was good. Evelyn never knew it was possible to want to have it all the time, yet here she was feeling like she could jump his bones at every minute of the day.

Spencer re-entered the room, his eyes sweeping over the space with an inquisitive glint. The room was a reflection of Evelyn herself--unapologetically girly, with walls adorned with soft pastel shades and shelves lined with an array of romance novels. He paused at the collection, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

Evelyn shot him a look, her arms crossing defensively. "Listen, not everyone finds the dictionary to be a page-turner."

"I didn't say anything," Spencer replied, his hands raised in surrender, the ghost of a smirk on his face.

"You didn't have to," Evelyn retorted, "I could hear you thinking it."

Spencer's fingers grazed the spine of particularly worn novel. "May I?"

"Hands off, pretty boy!" Evelyn's protest was cut short as she bounded from the bed, trying to intercept Spencer's reach for the book.

Spencer's chuckles echoed in the room, the book just out of Evelyn's reach as she hopped in vain. With a quick, fluid motion, he captured her wrists with one hand, and with a gentle firmness, her pressed her against the wall. She stood on her tiptoes, the top of her head barely reaching his chin.

"Spencer Reid, if you don't put that book down this instant, I'll--" Evelyn demanded.

"Patience," he replied, the pages flipping rapidly under his gaze. "I'm conducting research."

"Research, huh? In that case let me assist," she trailed off, her hands catching the hem of his shirt, coaxing him back to the bed.

With a laugh, Spencer closed the book. "Evelyn, Hotch will be here any minute. Are you even packed?"

"Of course, I am," she replied, "I'm just gonna miss our nights together while I'm gone, Dr. Reid."

"I'll miss you too," Reid admitted. "Did you know that the heart doesn't actually 'miss' in a literal sense? It's a brain colloquialism for the activation of the brain's reward system, particularly the anterior cingulate cortex and insula, which respond to emotional stimuli..."

Spencer's lecture on the heart was cut short by a sudden, firm knock on the door. Evelyn's eyes widened as she darted a glance through the window, spotting the familiar black SUV outside.

"It's Hotch," she hissed, a note of urgency in her voice. "Please tell me you parked in the garage."

"I did," Spencer assured her, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Okay you stay here," Evelyn directed, her gaze flickering from Spencer to the door as she snatched up her suitcase. "Make sure you wait until we're gone to leave, mkay?"

"Yes, ma'am," Spencer replied, a soft chuckle in his voice, punctuating his words with a gentle tap on her ass as she made her way out.

Evelyn moved to the door with a fluid grace, pulling it open to find Hotch in an uncharacteristically casual stance. He was dressed down for the flight in a soft, gray henley that accentuated his build, paired with jeans that were a far cry from his usual suits. She found the sight disarmingly attractive. Hotch, in turn, was struck by how Evelyn's casual outfit clung just right, only seeming to enhance her natural elegance.

"Morning, sunshine," she chimed, her smile sharp and gleaming as she tore her gaze from his body.

Hotch's gaze fell to the overstuffed suitcase at her feet, one brow arching higher than the other. "Planning to move in, or is that all for three days?"

"Oh, Hotch, you wouldn't last a day with me as a roommate. I'm a handful and then some," Evelyn teased. "And this," she gestured to herself, "takes a suitcase full of effort. It's not sorcery, but it's close."

Hotch watched her with a measured gaze, finding himself momentarily lost in thought. Inwardly, he doubted the necessity of her suitcase's contents. She hardly needed meticulous preparation to look the way she did. It was a thought, he chastised himself for having, he was her boss, and such considerations were definitely beyond the scope of the role.

Evelyn made a move for the suitcase, but Hotch was already one step ahead, effortlessly hoisting the luggage before she could. Side by side, they walked to the car, their footsteps in quiet accord. With a swift motion, Hotch stowed the luggage in the car, and they both climbed into the car.

Evelyn settled in and her gaze fell to a coffee cup awaiting her. "Hotch, is that for me?"

Hotch started the engine, feigning indifference. "Let's just say I prefer my mornings peaceful, and a caffeine-deprived Evelyn is anything but."

She grinned, noting the vanilla scent wafting from the cup. "And you got my favorite?"

"I make it a point to remember the important details--unlike like someone."

"You know, I had a feeling you'd bring that up," Evelyn said with a roll of her eyes. "A girl's entitled to one coffee mishap, isn't she?"

The early morning drive to the airport was a quiet affair, punctuated only by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional melody that Evelyn couldn't resist singing along to. It seemed that every song on the radio was her 'favorite,' and she serenaded Hotch with a gusto that was inversely proportional to her musical accuracy. Hotch's expression might have read as mildly pained, but in truth, he found her off-key notes unexpectedly charming.

Evelyn navigated the narrow plane aisle with a practiced grace, sliding into the middle seat. On the window side, Hotch had already claimed his spot, his gaze fixed on the world outside. The aisle seat remained vacant but not for long. A man, older and with a certain disheveled charm that bordered on sleazy, soon occupied it.

His suit was a tad too shiny, the kind that tried too hard to impress, and his hair was slicked back in way that seemed to defy both age and gravity. Evelyn, ever the person she was, didn't seem to mind as she offered him a polite smile, the kind that was courteous yet distant. The man returned the gesture, revealing a gold tooth that glinted in the cabin light.

"Well, isn't this cozy?" the man started, "I must say, you make our cramped quarters seem rather pleasant."

Evelyn flashed a polite smile. "That's very kind."

Hotch sat quietly, his gaze fixed on the exchanged with an intensity that betrayed his calm exterior. His protective instincts were fully engaged, a subtle tension visible only in the slight clench in his jaw. He watched as Evelyn navigated half the flight with her usual poise, responding to the main's veiled advances with nothing more than polite nods and neutral smiles.

Oblivious to any underlying intentions, she carried on with an air of kindness, her attention occasionally drifting to the window. Hotch, ever watchful, noted the subtle cues--the way the main leaned in, the too-warm chuckles, the searching glances. Yet, Evelyn seemed unaware.

"Your choice of material is quite... enlightening," the man remarked, his knee brushing against Evelyn's for the umpteenth time.

"Oh this?" Evelyn remarked casually, holding up the romance book. "Just a little light reading for the flight."

The man chuckled, his tone dripping with innuendo. "Careful, those can set quite the mood. Might be more than you bargained for."

Confusion flickered across Evelyn's features, failing to grasp the full intent behind the man's comment. Hotch, however, was all too aware, his patience wearing thin with each 'accidental' contact between the man's knee and Evelyn's.

In a moment of quiet resolve, he leaned towards her, his voice a soft murmur meant only for her ears. "You said you prefer the window seat, correct?"

Evelyn's eyes widened, the corners of her mouth curving into a smile of genuine surprise. "Are you offering it to me?"

He confirmed with a simple nod, his eyes holding hers with a gentle firmness.

She lowered her voice, a playful smile dancing on her lips. "You're just full of surprises today, aren't you? I better start taking notes; the team's never going to believe this."

Evelyn stood up, her movements betraying a slight reluctance as she moved to switch seats. Meanwhile, Hotch stood from his seat, his stature filling up the limited space between them. As Evelyn edged by, the proximity caught her off guard, sending a surge of warmth through her, her heartbeat thundering in her ears.

"Oh, sorry," she breathed out, barely audible, as a wave of crimson flooded her cheeks, her mind chastising her for the clumsy encounter.

Hotch offered a silent nod, his own heartbeat imperceptibly faster.

Time stretched on and as the drone of the engines filled the cabin, Evelyn rose yet again, her movements fluid yet mindful in the confined space. The narrow space forced Evelyn to turn her back as she edged by, her focus solely on the beckoning call of the restroom. Hotch, his composure momentarily slipping, masked his distraction with a cough that sounded almost strained against the quiet chatter.

Hotch was a man of control, yet as Evelyn moved past him, her presence was undeniable and quite literally right at eye level just like her ass. The fabric of her attire accentuating her every move, leaving an imprint on his watchful eyes that lingered longer than necessary. Hotch's gaze followed her every move, tracking her discreetly until she merged with the aisle.

The man beside Hotch, leaned in closer than necessary. "Quite the view, huh?" he commented in a hushed tone, a sleazy grin spreading across his features.

Hotch's expression hardened, his jaw setting a firm line. Facing the man, his eyes were steely, his voice a low rumble of warning, "I'd suggest you keep your observations to yourself. It's a long flight, and I'd hate for it to become any longer for you."

The remainder of the flight passed without incident, the earlier tension dissolving into the cabin's recycled air. Evelyn, none the wiser to the exchange between Hotch and the man, mused to herself about the sudden peace.

As they disembarked in Miami, Evelyn and Hotch were greeted by the warm air that wrapped around them like a welcoming shawl. The hotel loomed around them, a sprawling resort nestled amidst lush gardens and shimmering waters.

"Hotch, look at this place! I think the Bureau's expense department got their wires crossed," Evelyn gushed as they entered the lobby, where her attention was swiftly stolen by the sight of the pool through the floor-to-ceiling windows. "I half expect to see a celebrity or two lounging by that pool. Speaking of which, how strict do you think they are about conference attendees taking a 'research break' in the water? Asking for a friend, of course."

"Evelyn," he began, "what you do in your free time is at your discretion. However," he continued, his gaze locking onto hers, "we have a dinner engagement this evening with some key figures from the conference. It's an informal setting, but impressions matter. I trust you'll bring your usual insight and professionalism to the table."

"Professionalism? Oh, you've got it, boss man. I'll be the picture of professionalism--so much so, they might just mistake me for you," she teased, her grin suggesting she was only half-joking. "As long as you keep me on the guest list for these conferences."

Hotch's gaze lingered on Evelyn for a moment, a silent warning conveyed in the briefest of looks. "I need to meet with some representatives from the BSU," he said, "Here's your room key," he added, handing her a small envelope with a practiced hand. "Remember, 'be good' isn't just a suggestion, it's an expectation."

"Oh, Hotch, when have I ever been anything but good?" Evelyn asked, batting her lashes with an exaggerated innocence.

Hotch offered nothing but a deadpan look in response to Evelyn's words, the unamused mask firmly in place as he turned and walked away with measured steps.

Evelyn's delight was unmistakable as she made it to her room. The space was more than nice--it felt luxurious. From the plush bed to the breathtaking view that beckoned from the window. But the room couldn't contain her restless energy for long. She swiftly changed into a comfortable pair of jeans and tank top.

Evelyn's casual stroll through the hotel brought her to a halt outside a bustling conference room where Hotch stood, surrounded by a circle of professionals. One woman in particular caught her eye--a vibrant figure with a small tattoo adorning her exposed shoulder, her proximity to Hotch just shy of intimate. Her laughter rang out, a decibel too high, piercing the hum of conversation. The sound seemed to echo in Evelyn's ears, stirring an unfamiliar jealously as she watched, a sense of possessiveness she hadn't anticipated washing over her.

"What am I doing?" Evelyn questioned herself, a frown marring her usually carefree expression. She shook her head, trying to scatter the unexpected feeling that clouded her thoughts. She was already with one coworker. With one last look at Hotch and the woman, she turned, her footsteps echoing through the hall.

The evening had settled over the resort, casting a soft glow of the evening lights. In her room, Evelyn stood before the mirror, draped in a black dress that embraced her form with an almost immoral familiarity. The neckline offered a glimpse of the swell of her breasts that made her second-guess the appropriateness for dinner. She pondered if the dress crossed the line from chic to scandalous, especially since Hotch had left the dress code to her imagination.

As she reached for her lipstick, a knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

Opening the door, she was greeted by the sight of Hotch. His dark suit was crisp, the lines clean and authoritative, setting off the steely look in his eyes. For a fleeting second, Evelyn found herself at a loss for words, her usual quick-witted banter deserting her. She marveled at the sharpness of his jawline, the intensity of his gaze.

She blinked, a rush of warmth flooding her cheeks as she took a moment to appreciate the man before her. Regaining her composure, she greeted him. "Well, if it isn't Agent Hotchner, looking sharp enough to cut through red tape."

His eyes softened as his gaze dragged up her figure. It was rare when words, typically his steadfast ally, seemed insufficient. Clearing his throat, he allowed a genuine smile to touch his lips. "Evelyn, you look beautiful."

The unexpected warmth in Hotch's voice sent a flutter through Evelyn's stomach. A blush crept up her cheeks as she stammered. "Oh--uh, thank you, hotch," she managed, her voice a notch higher than usual. She stepped aside, gesturing him in. "Just give me one sec, I need to... uh, apply my lipstick," she said, her hands fumbling for the cosmetic.

As Evelyn carefully twisted the tube of lipstick, she began to speak. "So, who exactly is going to be at this dinner...?" She trailed off, focusing on the precision of the crimson shade as it glided over her lips, forming an 'o' shape. "And the seating arrangements, I hope they're not too formal. It's always so awkward to make conversation when--"

Hotch found himself unexpectedly transfixed, leaning casually against the doorframe yet entirely absorbed by the scene before him. Evelyn's lips, parting and pressing as she spoke, were all he could see. She was speaking--something about the dinner, the guests--but the words seemed to drift away. All of it was drowned out by the delicate precision with which she painted her lips, the occasional catch of her teeth against the plush red, the way he could imagine those same lips wrapped around his cock. The mundane task, one he had never given much thought to before, suddenly seemed the most fascinating thing in the world.

Evelyn caught the distant look in Hotch's eyes and paused, her lipstick hovering mid-air. "Hotch?" she probed, a note of curiosity in her voice.

He snapped back to the present with a slight start. "Huh? Oh, yeah, sounds great," he mumbled, almost as if on autopilot.

Evelyn eyed him quizzically for a moment but then shrugged it off with a smile. "Well, I'm all set," she said, slipping her lipstick into her purse. "Shall we?"

The restaurant was a cocoon of warmth and subtle elegance, its walls adorned with tasteful art and tables set with crystal and fine china that caught the glimmers of the chandeliers overhead. As Evelyn and Hotch made their way through the hushed conversations and the soft clinking of cutlery, she felt a flutter of anticipation mixed with the slightest edge of nerves.

As Evelyn neared the table, a sharp pang of recognition coursed through her--the woman from before was there. The woman who had flirted with Hotch, her casual elegance now a sharp thorn in Evelyn's side. The closer they got to the table, the more Evelyn felt the bitter vine of jealously winding its way up, tightening around her voice. It made it all worse as she realized the same woman that was flirting with hotch was the infamous Lillian Lewis, best-selling author and behavioral analyst. She was a legend in their work.

Hotch, ever composed, acknowledged the table with a subtle nod. "Professor, gentlemen," he began, "this is Special Agent Evelyn Gideon."

The men at the table, both influential benefactors of the BAU, received her with a warmth that melted away some of her stiffness. "Agent Gideon, a pleasure," the man, Thomas Weller, remarked, his handshake warm and reassuring.

Dr. Reeves greeted her with a thoughtful nod and a smile. "Welcome, Evelyn. It's always good to see new faces in the field."

Evelyn mirrored their greetings, her smile unfurling effortlessly, softening the formality of the moment. Her voice turned to one of admiration as she tried to push aside the knot of discomfort in her stomach. Despite her confusing feelings to Hotch, game recognizes game. And Professor Lewis was one of the best.

"Professor Lewis, it's an honor. Your work on micro expressions has been a game-changer in high-stakes negotiations."

Professor Lewis gave a curt nod, her 'Thank you' slicing through the air, sharp and devoid of the earlier warmth. Her eyes, a steely grey, seemed to appraise Evelyn with a scholar's critical gaze, flickering over her with an air of polite disinterest.

As they took their places at the table, Hotch smoothly slid Evelyn's chair out for her. As she eased into it, she shot him a teasing smile. "Such attentiveness, Agent Hotchner. I wasn't kidding about taking notes, the team will need a full briefing when we get back."

Hotch leaned in, his breath a whisper against her ear. "Remember how I said being good wasn't a suggestion?"

The warmth of his breath left her momentarily dazed, a tingling sensation lingering where his words had landed. She shrugged softly at his words, shooting him a quick wink.

As the dinner conversation ebbed and flowed around them, Dr. Reeves leaned forward, drawn by the familiar ring of her last name. "So, your father is Jason Gideon?"

Evelyn affirmed with a modest tilt of her head. "The one and only."

With a scrutinizing look, Professor Lewis cut into the conversation, injecting dryly. "Must've been nice having that as your golden ticket."

The comment hung in the air, and Evelyn felt a momentary discomfort. She recovered quickly, though, with a light-hearted retort. "Well, it certainly wasn't a Wonka bar, but it did come with its own set challenges," she said, hoping to deflect the tension with humor.

Without missing a beat, Hotch offered a measured nod in Evelyn's direction. "Evelyn has earned her place on the team. Her record stands on its own."

Evelyn managed to navigate the rest of the dinner with grace, her laughter blending seamlessly into the restaurant's hum. It was easy for her to charm the benefactors just like Hotch assumed she would: the way she remembered personal details, the easy way she joked about the appetizers, or how she gracefully deflected any praise to her team, specifically her unit chief.

As the clinking of glasses subsided, Mr. Weller nudged Hotch with a knowing look. "The bureau's lucky to have someone like her," before shooting a wink to Evelyn, he added, "And hey, if you ever get tired of this guy, give me a ring, huh?"

As they prepared to leave, Hotch's hand found its way to the small of Evelyn's back, guiding her through the crowd. The warmth of touch sparked a cascade of tingles down her spine, and she couldn't help but press back against his palm, a subtle gesture not lost on the observant eyes of the professor.

"Did you hear that, Hotchner?" Evelyn teased as she pressed closer to him. "The bureau is lucky to have me."

Hotch's fingers gave a gentle squeeze on her back, his voice low and teasing. "I knew that would go to your head."

The hotel's quiet corridors echoed with the soft tread of their steps as Hotch accompanied Evelyn to her door. The distant hum of the air conditioning lent a subtle rhythm, while the floorboards yielded a soft protest against their weight.

Evelyn paused at her door, her palm grazing the cool metal of the doorknob. Her gaze flickered up to Hotch. "Guess I'm not high on Professor Blake's list, huh?"

A smile of quiet assurance played on Hotch's lips, his gaze steady. "I wouldn't quite put it that way," he murmured, his voice low. "That's just her way."

Evelyn exhaled a breath tinged with mock amusement, her gaze honing in with accusation. "Well, she sure seemed to have a different way with you earlier," she insinuated, her words just loud enough for him to catch.

"What was that?" Hotch asked, an eyebrow raised in silent invitation for her to elaborate.

"Nothing," Evelyn retorted with a swift dismissal.

Hotch shook his head, a silent chuckle in his throat.

He lingered, his eyes savoring her--the contours of her face, the curve of her beck, the line of her shoulders. Hotch found himself captivated, unable to divert his attention. As the hallway seemed to condense around them, Hotch found his gaze on the delicate bow of her lips, the color seeming to tempt him in more ways than one.

"Goodnight, Evelyn," he finally managed.

"Goodnight, Hotch," she voiced evenly, her words smooth and controlled, a veil over the wild drumming of her heart.

With a final nod, Hotch turned and walked away. Evelyn retreated into her room, the door's click sealing her inside, its sound a faint punctuation in the quiet. She exhaled a deep, satisfied breath, a serene smile playing on her lips. She moved with a soft deliberateness, preparing for bed, her slow and purposeful movements discarding the dress.

She pulled out her pajamas, the fabric soft and familiar between her fingers. A shade of blush with tiny hearts, the material hugged her just right. Dimming the lights, she climbed into the plush bed, the sheets cool against her skin. 

next

taglist: @nonamevenus @aceofspades190

[dwntwn-strnlo]

ICH LIEBE DICH matt sturniolo

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓁𝓎, dwntwn-strnlo.

↳ 𝐀/𝐍. 'ich leibe dich' translates to 'i love you' in german

↳ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. matthew sturniolo x reader

↳ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. saying "i love you" in a different language not knowing they understand

↳ 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃? no!

getting home from a date that ended way to soon, you lazily kick off your heels before sighing and sitting down on the couch with a smile. matt stands hesitantly at the door, waiting for you to say goodnight.

you've been dating for a few months now, but you are yet to make things official. the feeling of love had been creeping up on you for a while now, but you're just incredibly terrified to actually voice your emotions to the boy. so you decided it was best to wait to see if matt would make the first move; little indications proving that you aren't alone in this brain-numbing headspace.

matt smiles, running his hand through his slightly wavy hair before stuffing his hands in the confined but fuzzy pockets of his winter jacket. "so, did you have fun?" he asks, rocking back and forth on his heels.

the small motion easily added to your uncontrollable feelings of love for him- even though it was an action that all stereotypical dads repeat on the sitcom side of midnight television. but you didn't really care, it was undeniably sweet. matt is the first person in your entire history of dating that genuinely cared for your input after a night out.

lightly biting on your lip to hide a stupid, growing grin, you laugh and nod your head. "i did, thank you, matt." and it was truthful, you had the most fun you've had in a while. it's not everyday you're asked to get all dressed up for an insanely expensive date, only to go play glow in the dark minigolf and play trashy 2000s music in a van that your grandma drives. eating messy street tacos as you desperately try to keep the delicacies inside the shell, and not all over your fancy clothes.

his face undeniably gets washed over with a rosy shade of pink, a delirious grin setting on his face as he plays with the collar of his dress shirt. "yeah?" he giggles. "well good, i'm glad you enjoyed it."

you stand up with a giggle, happy to see how flustered he still gets four months into the relationship.

walking over to the brunette, you gently cup his face in your hands, pulling him close for a quick kiss. "did you, have fun?" you smile, repeating his previously asked question.

"i did." he smiles, lightly nodding his head. he turns his face into your palm, gently pressing a sweet kiss to your hand.

you delicately trace your fingers over his star crossed skin. quickly and silently reminding yourself that one of these days you're ought to count each freckle that he so smoothly calls yours. just like he calls everything yours, his eyes? yours. his nose? yours. anything and everything belonged to you and him, and nobody else. which just so happens to make your feelings blossom.

matt closes his eyes, sighing into your palm as your thumb grazes comfortingly over the bridge of his nose.

"ich liebe dich." you mumble, you've said this simple translation many times before, but this time felt different from the way his breath quickened before he opened his eyes.

as he meets your eyes, you cant help but watch as the way his pupils quickly dilate and shrink back to the normal size. butterflies harshly swarm your stomach due to this action, even though he doesn't know it happened. causing a soft smile to swiftly perch your lips.

"ich liebe dich auch." he smiles, closing his eyes and leaning in. pressing his lips against yours.

pulling away, your eyes widen. finally processing the words that just left his mouth. you knew he was gonna pick up on some of the randomly mumbled sentences that you effortlessly put out in the air, but certainly not that. it never even crossed your mind that you said it enough for him to learn it.

finding the look of shock on your face, he giggles. "do you want me to say it in english, or do you got it?" he teasingly remarks, furrowing his brows with a contagious smile.

you playfully roll your eyes, "i got it." you smile, pulling him back in for another kiss.

TAGLIST

@slvt444smvt @thetriplets3 @p1harmonydelulu @stxrniqlo @ifilwtmfc @iha8you @oneirophobic @20nugs

[mtgc858]

Wekiddy Headcanons cause yes

Also my take on the characters personality and such.

Part 1

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

Going in order from the wiki lol

Boom 9

Boom 9 is the quiet one of the group and often doesn't talk, he does but only to ones he likes lol.

He isn't human(obviously) but a lot don't know WHAT he is especially trying to figure out by his eyes, KC Glow does however but wants to keep it a secret to troll the others.(everyone's dying to know what he is).

He besties is KC Glow.

Kevin

Kevin is a quiet tired type but still has his bright loud moments.

Kevin is Swingy and KC Glows brother (Swingy by blood and KC Glow by Adoption).

He has social anxiety hard core, Especially when he first joined the band, He actually only joined cause of his brothers but after the first show, he felt confident with his brothers by his side.

Still has anxiety but not as bad as before thankfully

Likes that he doesn't have to sing or rap on camera lol.

Double K

He is chill and probably the most mature one of the group despite not being the oldest.

He is soft spoken and sometimes doesn't say much besides "Yep" or "No" (Big Mac ref lol).

He loves being a great help to the rest of the group even if he doesn't say much.

Blue GT

Blue GT is the type of guy to party all night and in the morning he just sleeps until he can do it all over again(he hasn't but will if given the chance lmao).

He's rich but doesn't flex about it that much, he only likes to party mostly then anything else.

Despite loving to go to a rave club he would be let down if people started smoking and would leave cause he can't stand the smell(sensitive to certain smells).

MJ 182

He is the chaotic one lol, definitely has bitten a few people before and will do it again.

Has told others that he isn't human before which isn't much of a surprise cause of his sharp fangs and eyes.

Legit shows off what he is with pride on his shirt(Alien lol).

He's a alien 100% (I blame @zankydraws lmao).

Loves cats so much lol.

Boom Fuzz

Definitely the tired angry gremlin that will eat your shirt sleeves when angry which is always.

Will play by his own rules with beatboxing and will make his own beat that doesn't really follow the rest of the band but somehow works anyway.

Has gotten in trouble for spray painting in famous places lol

Hates everyone....well besides KC Glow, no one knows how he got into the band to begin with or even became friends with them to begin with lol

ASAP Bee

Cool chill man that won't secretly kill you in your sleep if you insult him or his friends.....Or in general.

Had bees in his small bag lol or well bee theme stuff.

Oddly smells like honey,Blue GT loves the smell lol which would explain why they are friends lol.

Likes rolling his tongue randomly when he touches to troll others from rolling his R's.

M.O.G

The kind sweet gentle creature that loves making others happy.

Loves pie,apple,lime,cheese,berry, Pumpkin, etc.

Just a sillay emoji.

Arashi

I actually don't know much for him lol but um I guess he's the mascot of the group with a personality I guess lmao

Big Duke

The most chill one of the group complete and rare to anger or upset.

Had a calm deep voice but can change the pitch to a lighter one sometimes.

Is friends with everyone even if some (*cough cough* "Boom Fuzz" *cough*) don't like him.

He likes braiding his and others hair

Okay finally finished with part one lol so yippie