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wchswift · 2 days ago

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─── SO HIGH SCHOOL

pairing: dean winchester x fem!reader

summary: As teenagers, you and Dean had a whirlwind romance before everything fell apart. Years later, you reunite—and it’s like high school all over again.

contents! mutual pining, teenage love, soft, flirting and touching, stupid in love dean, mdni 𖤐 18+

word count: 2.8k

𝒟ean masterlist !

Dean was the first and only real love you had.

Well, not exactly real. And maybe not exactly love.

He was the good part of your day. That person you knew would be there. The person who made school possible and tolerable.

Dean was always known for his charm, for his way with girls. For always having them. But the moment Dean joined your group of friends and you two became even remotely close, it was as if something, a connection, that you didn't know could exist, finally made itself present within you.

It wasn't something verbalized, something explicit. But as soon as you had your first kiss, there was no one else. No other girl in school had a chance with him. He wouldn't let you go, and much less took his eyes off you.

Everything felt so real. Even if it was just between the lines.

He was the best "relationship" you ever had. The best moments and the best treatment you had from a boy were with Dean Winchester.

And then just as it all began, suddenly he wasn't there anymore.

One night you two were together in the back seat of the car and the next morning he was gone from town, without any explanation.

And when you were seventeen, that was the last time you saw Dean.

You and Dean were sure you would never see each other again. You were teenagers, it was normal. People come and go from school all the time, it was common to meet people at school and then never see them again, never find out how they are.

This is what you and Dean thought things would be like. Just a memory that would fade in time. Never having to worry about looking each other in the eye again.

But when was anything ever simple in Dean Winchester's life?

A case never ended up being just a case.

The small town didn’t exactly scream "monster hotspot," but something was definitely off. Three people had vanished without a trace in the past two months, all last seen at the same place—a cozy little diner on Main Street that doubled as a bookstore. The place was old-school charming, the kind of spot with checkered floors, the scent of fresh coffee in the air, and a tiny bell over the door that jingled whenever a customer walked in. Nothing about it screamed "supernatural danger," but Dean had learned long ago that the worst things often hid in the most ordinary places.

“Alright, so we got three missing persons, no bodies, and a common location,” Sam said, flipping through his notes. “No signs of struggle, no EMF spikes, no sulfur. If it’s something supernatural, it’s keeping a low profile.”

Dean tapped his fingers against the Impala’s steering wheel, squinting at the diner across the street. “Or it’s just smart. Maybe a witch, maybe something we haven’t seen before.”

Sam sighed. “So, the usual—talk to employees, check out security footage, dig through lore?”

Dean smirked. “Aw, you're so smart, Sammy.”

With that, they climbed out of the car and crossed the street, the bell over the door announcing their arrival. The place was warm and inviting, filled with the quiet hum of conversation and the soft crackle of pages turning. Dean barely had time to take it all in before his gaze landed on someone behind the counter.

He recognized you instantly. There wouldn't be a day that he wouldn't.

You were busy jotting something down, focused on a customer, completely unaware of him—at first. Dean’s stomach tightened, his pulse kicking up. It had been years, but damn if you wasn’t still the same girl he remembered—just sharper, more grown-up, but still you. The girl who had once snuck out of your house to meet him, who had laughed against his lips under the Friday night stadium lights, who had looked at him like he was worth something—until he left without saying goodbye.

When you lifted your head, ready to serve the new customers, that’s when you saw him.

For a second, just a second, your eyes met, and he saw it: the flicker of recognition, the moment your heart probably dropped into your stomach the same way his had.

To this day, Dean always remembers the way you used to look at him. The sparkle in your eyes, the way they seemed to smile, emanating happiness and trust.

Just seeing you made him feel as if he were in high school again.

And now? Now you were standing behind the counter, your apron tied around your waist, a pen tucked behind your ear, looking at him like you weren’t sure whether to punch him or pretend he didn’t exist.

Dean opened his mouth, but for once in his life, words failed him.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” you finally muttered, eyes narrowing.

Sam cleared his throat. "Uh, Dean—?"

“Yeah, yeah, I got it, Sammy.” Dean snapped out of it, forcing a grin. “Long time, no see, sweetheart.”

"Didn’t think I’d ever see you again, Winchester.” Your voice was calm, even, but there was an edge to it, a quiet challenge. "Guess life’s full of surprises."

Dean exhaled through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah… guess it is."

Sam, ever the unfortunate third wheel, glanced between them and shifted uncomfortably. "Uh, we’re actually here about the disappearances. We’re—"

"FBI?" you cut in, lifting a brow. "Do you want me to believe that you two are FBI?"

Dean had to bite back a smirk. Of course you weren’t buying their act. You had always been sharp. Always saw right through him.

Sam hesitated. "We just have a few questions."

You sighed, tapping your fingers against the counter before jerking your chin toward an empty booth in the corner. "Fine. Take a seat. I’ll be over in a minute."

Dean watched as you turned on your heel, disappearing into the back. Only when you were out of sight did he let out a slow breath, dragging a hand down his face.

“Well,” Sam muttered, “that wasn’t awkward at all.”

Dean ignored him, eyes still locked on the door you had just walked through.

Yeah. This case just got a hell of a lot more complicated.

Only to get better, when you return, you decided to act as if he didn't exist. There was no sign of recognition on your face. No lingering shock, no flicker of emotion. Just cool, effortless professionalism, like you didn’t just have the wind knocked out of you moments ago.

A notebook is in your hand now, the pen twirling between your fingers as you slide into the seat across from them. Your eyes flick briefly to Sam—acknowledging him first, like Dean isn’t even there.

“So,” you say, tone even. “What exactly do you want to know? If this is about the disappearances, let me say I don’t know much. Just that they all came in here before they went missing. We gave their names to the cops already”

Dean leaned in, arms folding as he tilted his head slightly. “You always this helpful, sweetheart?”

The nickname made your eye twitch—barely.

You finally, finally glanced at him, and for a second, all he could see was the fire behind your gaze.

“I try my best, agent.” Your lips curled in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Anything else?”

Sam cleared his throat, glancing between the two of you, clearly picking up on the weird energy but too polite, more like too damn confused, to say anything. “Uh—right. But anything else you might’ve noticed? Strange behavior? Anyone bothering them?”

You exhaled through your nose. “Not that I remember.”

Feeling that with all this tension he wasn't going to get anywhere, Sam decided to stop there. “Alright, I think that’s all we need for now, then. If you remember anything else, let us know.”

With a nod, you began to rise from your seat, your body moving almost instinctively as you embraced the end of the conversation. “Sure thing."

As Dean watched you walk back to the counter, he couldn't believe you acted as if he wasn’t even there. However, if you thought that was the end of it, you were mistaken. Now that Dean had found you again, he wasn’t planning to just walk away. Not this time.

“Dude,” Sam muttered, voice low, snapping Dean out of his reverie. “What the hell was that?”

Dean exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “It’s complicated.”

Sam frowned. “Yeah, no kidding. You gonna fill me in?”

Dean didn’t answer right away, just watched as you disappeared through the swinging door behind the counter.

He used to love watching you walk away. Now it just felt like he was losing you all over again.

After a beat, he pushed up from the booth. “I’ll be back.”

Sam sighed. “Dean—”

But Dean was already moving.

The back door of the diner led to a narrow hallway—one he knew you’d taken to get a breather. It was quieter back here, the hum of conversation fading into a dull murmur.

And sure enough, there you were.

Your hands braced on the edge of a small counter, eyes closed, breathing deep. He knew that look. Knew you were trying to steady yourself, get your walls up before he could knock them down.

Too late.

“Still not gonna look at me?”

Your shoulders tensed at his voice, but you didn’t turn. “What do you want, Dean?”

He leaned against the doorframe, arms folding. “Oh, I dunno. Maybe a little acknowledgment? A hey, Dean, long time no see. Thought you were dead or in jail—”

“Wouldn’t have been surprised.”

Dean let out a sharp breath, a humorless smirk twitching at his lips. “Yeah, well. Didn’t end up that way.”

Silence.

You reached up, rubbing your temple, like talking to him was physically painful.

And hell, maybe it was.

After a beat, you finally turned to face him, arms crossing. Your eyes were sharp, guarded. But there was something else beneath it. Something raw.

“Why are you here, Dean?”

His chest ached at the way you said his name. Not like you used to—soft, familiar, like it meant something. Now it just sounded… tired.

“Job brought us here,” he said, keeping it simple.

You studied him, unconvinced. “And what? You thought, hey, let’s stop by and ruin her day while we’re at it?”

Dean huffed a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, because that’s what I wanted. To see you look at me like I’m a damn ghost.”

You flinched. It was quick—so quick he almost missed it. But he didn’t.

And suddenly, the fight drained out of you. Your gaze dropped for the first time since this whole thing started, fingers tightening against your sleeves.

Dean’s throat worked.

He could push. Could try to get you to really talk, break down that wall you were building brick by brick.

But the way you looked right now? Like you were holding yourself together with nothing but sheer will—

He couldn’t do it.

Not yet.

Instead, he exhaled, running a hand down his face. “Look. I don’t know how long we’ll be in town. But I think we’re gonna be crossing paths whether you like it or not.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t answer.

Dean nodded, stepping back. “Just… don’t pretend I was never here, alright?”

And with that, he walked away.

He didn’t see the way your jaw clenched, the way your fingers curled into fists like you were stopping yourself from reaching out—

Didn’t hear the breath you let out, shaky and uneven, as soon as he was gone.

You knew this wasn’t the end—couldn’t be. Deep down, you knew that your story with Dean Winchester was far from over. And you knew that the moment he decided to see you again, he would pull you close once more, weaving his way into your heart until you could never imagine leaving his side again.

Weeks passed.

Looking back, you weren’t sure when exactly everything shifted.

Maybe it was after Dean came back to the diner and made you listen while he told you the truth—even though at the time you were sure that the man you once loved was completely insane.

But maybe it was when you started helping with the case, and somewhat believing him—not because you wanted to be a hunter, but because you wanted to be with him.

Or maybe it was just inevitable. Like gravity pulling you back into his orbit, like you never really had a choice in the first place.

All you knew was that, suddenly, it felt like before—like sneaking out past curfew, like warm summer air and stolen kisses in the Impala, like every love song that made your chest ache.

Only now, you weren’t kids anymore.

And Dean Winchester had never been the kind of guy to love halfway.

Which was how you ended up here.

Sitting in a diner, trying to pretend like Dean’s hand wasn’t sliding up your thigh under the table.

Across from you, Sam exhaled sharply through his nose. His patience was wearing thin.

“Dude,” he gritted out, glaring at Dean. “Can you stop touching her for five seconds?”

Dean, the picture of innocence, took a sip of his coffee. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Sammy.”

Sam’s expression was pained.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing, but when Dean leaned in—his lips brushing your ear when he definitely didn’t need to be that close—you swatted at his chest.

“Dean.”

“What?” He smirked, not even pretending to be sorry. “Just admiring my girl.”

Sam muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like I hate this.

But it only got worse from there.

Dean was relentless.

His hands were always on you—an arm wrapped around your waist, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, palm resting low on your back. He kissed your temple absentmindedly, whispered things that made you flush, smirked when he caught you looking at him like you still had a teenage crush on Dean Winchester.

Because you did.

You always had.

Later, at Bobby’s, the three of you sprawled in the living room—Dean practically wrapped around you on the couch, arms snug around your waist, his breath warm against your neck.

Sam was across the room, doing some research on his laptop, eyes glued to the screen as if sheer focus could block out the absolute nonsense happening beside him.

Dean, completely unbothered, nosed at your temple. “You cold?”

You weren’t.

At all.

But you hummed innocently, just to see what he’d do.

Dean, ever the problem, tugged you closer, his hands sliding beneath the hem of your sweater, tracing slow, lazy circles against your skin.

You shivered.

He felt it.

And he smirked.

“You’re shameless,” you whispered, biting your bottom lip to repress a smile.

Dean nipped at your jaw. “Yeah?” His lips brushed your ear, and God, you felt it everywhere.

“Hey.” His voice was quiet, meant just for you. “Wanna know somethin’?”

You swallowed. “What?”

Dean shifted, his mouth so close his breath fanned warm against your skin. “First time I saw you? When we were stupid teenagers?” His hands traced higher, fingers barely grazing the edge of your bra. “Damn near forgot how to breathe.”

Your stomach plummeted.

“Dean.”

“Mm?”

Your heart hammered, but you fought to keep your voice steady. “Sam is right there.”

Dean pulled back just enough to glance at his brother—who was clearly tuning you out, laser-focused on not acknowledging this entire situation.

“If he has a problem, he can get up and leave.”

You swatted at his chest, biting back a laugh, but when you turned to face him, his expression shifted—no teasing, no smugness. Just him, looking at you like he was seeing you all over again.

His fingers brushed your jaw, tilting your chin up.

And just like that, you felt seventeen again.

God, what was it about him that made you feel like this?

That made you ache?

Dean’s lips parted, his gaze flickering down to your mouth.

Your breath caught.

He grinned—slow, lazy, devastating. “You gonna let me kiss you, sweetheart?”

You were sure your heartbeat was so loud.

Sam made a strangled noise in the background.

Dean groaned, dropping his head back against the couch. “Jesus Christ, Sammy, just leave the damn room.”

“I'm living here too,” Sam deadpanned, not directing his gaze towards you.

Dean huffed, shaking his head before turning back to you—his eyes darker now, filled with something deep and warm and completely unshakable.

You swallowed, fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt.

This man knew what he wanted and, boy, he definitely got you.

But God, Dean Winchester was so much. And he had been from the start.

And you were so gone for him.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

lina's notes: I should have posted this a long time ago lol, but it didn't turn out exactly how I wanted and I was a little unsure but I hope you liked it <3

taglist: @lyarr24 @cowboysandcigarettes @blossomingorchids @bettystonewell @rositaslabyrinth @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @freeluigihesbae (if you want to be removed or added let me know <3)

#꣖ ີ ꣓ writes.#dean winchester 🪽#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #dean winchester x fem reader #dean supernatural #jensen ackles #dean winchester drabble #dean winchester fic #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #jensen ackles x reader #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural dean #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural drabble #taylor swift fanfiction #jensen ackles fic

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mrs-delaney · 3 days ago

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Hide | The Set-Up | Chapter One

Summary: Joe Burrow never liked talk shows, but a post-Super Bowl appearance on The Tonight Show was part of the job. He expected scripted questions, football talk, and a few forced laughs with Jimmy Fallon. What he didn’t expect? A surprise guest—Riley Carter, the lead singer of The Rambles, a band he’s quietly admired for years. A harmless game of “Love Match” turns into national TV humiliation when Joe picks Riley over every celebrity presented—only to have her walk out onto the stage moments later. What started as his worst nightmare might just turn into something much more interesting.

Pairings: Joe Burrow x Riley Carter (OC)

Word Count: 5.6k

Requested: No | Yes

Warnings: Mild language, talk show ambush, secondhand embarrassment, and undeniable chemistry

This story is ONLY posted on Wattpad and Tumblr under miss_delaney. If you see it anywhere else, it has been stolen. Do NOT copy, repost, translate, or distribute my work on any other platform. Please respect my writing.

Want to be added to the taglist? Drop a comment or message me! 💕

Requests: Open

Author’s Note: And so it begins! I wanted to set the stage for Joe and Riley’s story with an unforgettable (and hilariouslyuncomfortable) first meeting. Their chemistry is immediate but unexpected, and this talk show moment will definitely be something neither of them forgets. Buckle up—this is only the beginning! Let me know what you think! 😊💛

The air in the greenroom was stuffy, the leather couch sticking to Joe's palms as he shifted uncomfortably. A half-empty bottle of water sat on the glass table in front of him, condensation pooling around its base. He glanced at his phone—thirty minutes until showtime. Thirty minutes until he would be paraded out in front of a live studio audience like some kind of trained animal, expected to perform and charm and be witty.

He knew when he signed up to be a professional football player that there would be specific commitments he'd be uncomfortable with. At the top of that list? Talk show interviews. Yet, here he was, just weeks after his team's heartbreaking Super Bowl loss, sitting under the fluorescent lights of a Tonight Show greenroom, mentally preparing himself to face Jimmy Fallon and millions of viewers.

Joe ran a hand through his hair, carefully styled by the show's hair and makeup team despite his protests that he "looked fine." In his navy blue varsity-style sweater with white collar, dark blue pants, and silver Converse sneakers, he felt more comfortable than he would have in a suit and tie. He liked to keep things casual, understated—nothing that would draw unnecessary attention. His personal style was cool and effortlessly stylish, and thankfully his stylist had allowed him to wear his own clothes rather than forcing him into formal attire for this appearance.

"Ten minutes, Mr. Burrow," a production assistant called, poking her head through the door with a clipboard pressed to her chest. "Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?"

"I'm good," Joe said, forcing a polite smile. "Thanks."

As the door closed again, he exhaled heavily. Why had he agreed to this? It wasn't that he disliked Jimmy—by all accounts, the host was a decent guy. But there was something about these talk shows that made Joe feel exposed, vulnerable. Football was different. On the field, he was in control. He knew the plays, understood the game, could anticipate the defense's moves. But talk shows? They were unpredictable. And Joe Burrow didn't do unpredictable if he could help it.

His phone buzzed with a text from his mom: *Good luck tonight! We're all watching!*

Great. More pressure.

The same PA appeared again, this time with more urgency. "Mr. Burrow? We're ready for you."

Joe stood, straightening his sweater and taking one last deep breath. Game face on. Just like preparing to take the field, except the arena was a brightly lit stage, and the opponents were awkward questions and his own social anxiety.

As he followed the PA through the maze of corridors, the dull roar of the audience grew louder. The studio was packed, every seat filled, the energy palpable even from backstage. A makeup artist rushed over for a final touch-up, dabbing powder on his forehead with practiced efficiency.

"You're on after the monologue," the stage manager explained, positioning Joe just offstage. "When Jimmy introduces you, just walk out, wave to the audience, and take a seat on the couch."

Joe nodded, his throat suddenly dry. Simple enough.

The show's theme music blared, and Joe could see Jimmy bound onto the stage, his trademark enthusiasm drawing immediate cheers from the audience. As the host launched into his monologue, Joe tried to focus on his breathing, on the solid ground beneath his feet, on anything but the fact that in a few minutes, he'd be on national television.

The audience's laughter ebbed and flowed with Jimmy's jokes, a few about the Super Bowl making Joe wince internally. Still too soon.

"Our first guest tonight is one of the NFL's brightest stars," Jimmy was saying now, his voice cutting through Joe's thoughts. "Quarterback for the Cincinnati Bengals, please welcome Joe Burrow!"

The audience erupted, and Joe stepped onto the stage, the bright lights momentarily blinding him. He raised a hand in greeting, mustering a smile as he crossed to Jimmy, exchanged a brief handshake and half-hug, then settled onto the couch.

"Joe Burrow!" Jimmy exclaimed, as if they were old friends reuniting after years apart. "Man, it's great to have you here. How are you feeling after the Super Bowl? You guys played an incredible game."

And so it began—the usual questions about the season, about his teammates, about his plans for next year. Joe fell into the familiar rhythm of athlete interviews, giving just enough to seem engaged without revealing anything too personal. Always polite, occasionally funny, but careful. Measured. The Joe Burrow the public knew and the media expected.

Jimmy was mid-monologue when Joe realized this was going to be far worse than he thought. The host's expression shifted into something mischievous, a clear signal that the carefully structured interview was about to veer off course.

"So, Joe, we're going to play a little game tonight. I think you're going to love it. Or hate it. I don't know—you tell me after."

Joe's shoulders tensed, his fingers curling imperceptibly into the couch cushion beneath him. This wasn't part of the prep his publicist had gone over. "Uh... okay?" he managed, already feeling a cold sweat forming at the base of his neck.

"It's called Love Match. It's simple—I'll show you two people, and you pick who you'd rather hang out with. No pressure, totally harmless."

The audience tittered with anticipation, and Joe felt his pulse quicken. He hated these kinds of segments—the ones designed to create viral moments at the expense of guests' dignity. But there was no graceful way to refuse now, not with the cameras rolling and millions watching.

Joe wiped his palms on his jeans, the denim rough against his clammy hands. He was already regretting saying yes to this interview, already calculating how he'd face his teammates after whatever embarrassment was about to unfold. "Sure, let's do it," he muttered, earning knowing laughter from the audience who clearly recognized his discomfort.

Jimmy grinned and turned to the screen behind them, clearly enjoying himself. "Alright, first up—Bella Hadid or Riley Carter?"

Joe blinked, the name triggering an immediate reaction he couldn't control. Riley Carter. The name hit him like a freight train, derailing his carefully maintained composure. He knew her. Well, he didn't know her, but he knew *of* her. The lead singer of The Rambles, a band he'd been following since his college days. Her voice had been the soundtrack to some of his most significant moments—draft night, his first NFL win, even the quiet moments on the team bus when he needed to center himself.

It was more than just appreciating her music. There was something about her that had always caught his attention. The raw honesty in her lyrics, the way she carried herself in interviews, a confidence that seemed effortless and real. She was stunning too—blonde hair that fell in perfect waves, piercing blue eyes that always seemed to be looking right through you, a smile that could light up a room. It was a crush he'd been keeping to himself for a long time, not even sharing it with teammates during those late-night conversations when everyone else revealed their celebrity fantasies.

"Uh..." He shifted in his seat, stalling as his mind raced. He could lie, pick Bella Hadid like most guys probably would. The safe choice. The expected answer. But something made him hesitate. "Riley Carter," he finally said, the name feeling strange to say out loud in this context.

The audience cheered, and Jimmy's eyebrows shot up in exaggerated surprise. "Interesting! Alright, Riley Carter or Zendaya?"

Joe gave a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck as he realized he was now committed to this path. "Riley Carter."

"Oh, wow, she's on a roll!" Jimmy teased, clearly enjoying Joe's discomfort. "Alright, Riley or Kendall Jenner?"

Joe shook his head and smiled to himself, resigned to his fate. If he was going to be embarrassed on national TV, he might as well be honest. "Still Riley."

Jimmy leaned back in his chair, feigning shock as the audience's cheers grew louder. "Well, folks, I think we've found the most loyal man in Hollywood. Joe, it seems like Riley Carter's got your full attention!"

Joe tried to laugh it off, though he could feel the heat rising in his face, the telltale warmth that he knew meant he was turning crimson. "Yeah, I guess so," he managed, trying to seem casual despite the fact that his heart was pounding against his ribcage.

Jimmy glanced offstage with a sly grin that immediately set off alarm bells in Joe's head. That look—he'd seen it before on other talk shows. It was the look that preceded the ambush, the surprise that made for great TV but terrible personal experiences.

"Well, that's convenient because—surprise—I happen to know Riley personally. In fact, I invited her to the show tonight. Everyone, please welcome Riley Carter!"

The audience roared, a wall of sound that seemed to fade into the background as Joe's world narrowed to a single point. This couldn't be happening. His private admiration—not even admitted to his closest friends—was about to be thrust into the spotlight in the most mortifying way possible.

And then she was there, emerging from the wings, walking toward him with the easy grace he'd only seen in music videos and concert footage. Riley appeared from backstage, looking effortlessly stunning in a white silk crop top and high-waisted flared pants that accentuated her figure perfectly. Her blonde hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, framing a face that was even more beautiful in person than on screen. The studio lights caught the subtle highlights in her hair, the gleam of her simple gold earrings, and the soft pink of her lips.

Joe's stomach dropped, a physical sensation like missing a step on a staircase. Pure, unadulterated panic coursed through him as the distance between them closed. He shot to his feet, operating on autopilot, his mom's voice in his head reminding him to stand when a woman entered the room.

She approached with a smile that seemed genuinely warm rather than the practiced expression of a celebrity forced into an uncomfortable situation. Up close, Joe noticed details he'd never been able to see on screens—the light dusting of freckles across her nose, the striking blue of her eyes, the small scar near her left eyebrow.

"Hi, how are you?" she asked as she leaned in for a quick hug, her voice softer in person than he'd expected.

The scent of her perfume—something subtle and warm, like vanilla and bergamot—briefly surrounded him as they embraced. Joe's brain short-circuited, processing the surreal reality that Riley Carter—*the* Riley Carter—was hugging him on national television after he'd just admitted to basically having a crush on her.

"Good. Huge fan, by the way," Joe managed, his voice slightly shaky, aware of how utterly inadequate the words were. *Huge fan*? Could he sound any more like a cliché?

"Thanks," Riley said warmly, showing no sign that she found this situation as bizarre as he did. She took her seat on the couch beside him, close enough that he could see the delicate gold bracelet on her wrist, could smell that subtle perfume again.

Jimmy clapped his hands together, clearly thrilled with the success of his surprise. "Alright, Joe, Riley, this is already off to a great start. Riley, I hope you don't mind, but I've been telling Joe all about you."

Riley turned to Joe, her brow raised playfully, a hint of mischief in her striking blue eyes. "Oh, really? Should I be worried?"

Joe chuckled nervously, hyperaware of the cameras capturing every expression, every movement. "Probably."

Jimmy laughed, leaning forward in his chair. "Joe's been very consistent tonight, Riley. Picked you over everyone. Kendall Jenner? Nope. Zendaya? Nope. It was Riley Carter every time. You're basically his MVP."

Joe fought the urge to slide down into the couch and disappear. This was beyond embarrassing—it was excruciating. Having his private thoughts broadcast not just to an audience but to the very person those thoughts centered on made him want to evaporate on the spot.

But Riley seemed to take it all in stride, grinning as she looked over at Joe with what appeared to be genuine amusement rather than discomfort. "Well, loyalty is important, right?"

Her easy response gave Joe a lifeline, something to grasp onto in this sea of mortification. "That's what I was going for," he replied, a small smile finding its way to his lips despite the circumstances. Maybe, just maybe, he could survive this.

Jimmy leaned forward, his voice dropping as if sharing a secret, though of course his microphone ensured the entire studio audience—and millions of viewers—could hear every word. "You know, Riley, Joe told me earlier that this is his worst nightmare."

Joe groaned, running a hand down his face, wishing he'd never confided that particular fear to the host during their pre-show chat. "Jimmy, don't do this to me," he pleaded, but there was no stopping the train now.

Riley laughed, the sound light and musical, clearly enjoying his discomfort but not in a malicious way. "Oh, really? And why's that, Joe?"

He glanced at her, his cheeks tinged red, feeling like he was back in high school being called on in class when he hadn't done the reading. "Uh... because now I look like a total idiot?"

"You're doing fine," she said, her voice soft and reassuring in a way that suggested she understood exactly how uncomfortable he was.

Jimmy clapped his hands, clearly pleased with the chemistry unfolding before him. "See? She thinks you're doing fine. That's progress! Alright, we've got to take a quick commercial break, but don't go anywhere—we'll be back with more from Joe Burrow and Riley Carter!"

As the red light on the main camera switched off, signaling they were no longer live, Joe exhaled heavily, his shoulders slumping slightly with the temporary reprieve. The studio lights remained bright, the audience still watching expectantly, but at least they had a moment's pause from the national spotlight.

The camera crew moved into position for the commercial break, adjusting equipment and checking angles. Jimmy turned his attention to a producer who had approached with a clipboard, leaving Joe and Riley with a moment to themselves on the couch.

Riley leaned slightly toward Joe, her voice low enough that only he could hear. "So, this is your worst nightmare, huh?"

The proximity, the subtle scent of her perfume, the direct eye contact—it was overwhelming in the best possible way. Joe exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You have no idea," he admitted, surprised by his own honesty.

She laughed softly, the sound more intimate now that it wasn't performative for an audience. "You know, I think it's sweet. I mean, you didn't know this was going to happen, right?"

Joe met her eyes, grateful for the understanding he found there. "Not at all. I thought I was just playing a dumb game for laughs. I didn't think you'd actually be here."

"Well, surprise," she said, smiling, a genuine warmth in her expression that made his chest tighten strangely. "It's not so bad, is it?"

Joe shrugged, a small grin tugging at his lips despite himself. "It could be worse. You could've said I was weird or something."

Riley tilted her head thoughtfully, her eyes studying his face in a way that made him feel simultaneously exposed and seen. "Weird? No. Nervous? Definitely. But it's kind of endearing."

The compliment caught him off guard, and Joe chuckled, running a hand through his carefully styled hair, probably ruining the makeup team's hard work. "Yeah, well, it's not every day you get ambushed by your celebrity crush on national TV."

The words escaped before he could filter them, his usual carefully maintained guard momentarily lowered by the surreal situation and Riley's disarming presence. As soon as he said it, he wished he could take it back, stuff the admission back into the private corner of his mind where it belonged.

Riley blinked, caught off guard by his honesty, before her lips curled into a slow smile that transformed her entire face. Something playful and pleased sparked in her blue eyes. "Celebrity crush, huh?"

Joe's face turned bright red, the heat spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. He looked away, focusing on a random spot on the stage floor. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"Just a little," she teased, her voice laced with amusement but no judgment. "But don't worry—I'm flattered."

Before Joe could respond, Jimmy returned, clapping his hands together with renewed energy. "Alright, we're back, folks! Let's jump right back into it!"

The red light on the camera blinked on, and just like that, they were live again. Joe straightened slightly, trying to regain his composure as the interview continued.

The rest of the segment flowed more easily than Joe could have anticipated. The initial shock had worn off, and there was something about Riley's presence—the way she effortlessly filled silences, laughed at the right moments, and occasionally glanced at him with what seemed like genuine interest—that made the experience almost... enjoyable?

Riley talked about her new album and upcoming tour with her band, her passion evident in the way she leaned forward, hands animated as she described the creative process. Joe found himself watching her more than he should, captivated by the little details—the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was thinking, the slight crinkle around her eyes when she smiled genuinely.

When the conversation turned to him, Joe surprised himself by opening up about his plans for the offseason, including a long-overdue vacation in the Bahamas with his family. Normally, he kept such details vague, offering just enough to satisfy the question without revealing anything too personal. But something about the night—maybe the fact that his carefully constructed wall had already been breached—made it easier to share.

Despite his earlier nerves, Joe found himself relaxing more as the conversation went on. Riley laughed at his jokes, even the bad ones, and they shared a few lingering glances that left him wondering if she might actually be into him too—a possibility so far-fetched he could barely allow himself to consider it.

By the time the segment ended, Joe felt almost disappointed. He'd survived what he thought would be a nightmare, only to find it had transformed into something unexpectedly pleasant.

Jimmy stood to thank them both, his expression satisfied—he'd gotten exactly the kind of segment producers dream about. "Alright, let's give it up for Joe Burrow and Riley Carter, everyone! Thanks for being such good sports tonight!"

"Thanks for having us," Riley said with a bright smile, the picture of graciousness.

Joe, finding a bit of his usual humor despite the circumstances, added, "Yeah, this was... something. But I think I survived."

Jimmy laughed, already angling for a follow-up story. "You did great, Joe. Just make sure I get invited to the wedding someday."

The audience roared with approval, and Joe shook his head, laughing despite himself. "Yeah, we'll see about that."

As the cameras stopped rolling and the show moved to its next segment, Riley turned to him, her expression unreadable for a moment. Joe braced himself for the letdown, for the polite but distant thank you and goodbye that would signal the end of this strange interaction.

Instead, she surprised him. "See you backstage?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of hopefulness that sent a rush of something warm through his chest.

Joe nodded, trying not to look too eager. "Yeah. Definitely."

As they both rose and made their way off the stage, Joe felt a strange mixture of emotions—lingering embarrassment from the ambush, adrenaline from the live performance, and something else. Something that felt dangerously like hope.

Joe was a private person; this was something he worked very hard to maintain. Despite his career, he tried to keep his life as normal as possible. He carefully separated Joe Burrow the quarterback from Joe Burrow the person. He limited his social media presence, declined most endorsement deals that would put him in the spotlight more than necessary, and cultivated a small, tight-knit circle of trusted friends.

So, as he left the stage after what was probably the most humiliating interview of his life, Joe was crossing his fingers that Riley wasn't just pretending not to be weirded out by the whole thing. If she was weirded out, he'd have to retire immediately, move to a remote island, and never show his face in public again.

Okay, maybe that was a little dramatic, but he was certain of one thing: he would never agree to another talk show again. No matter how much his agent insisted it was "good for his brand."

The backstage area was a maze of corridors, production equipment, and busy staff members. Joe nodded politely to various crew members as he made his way through the hallways, his signature navy varsity sweater with white collar and blue pants making him easily recognizable despite his attempts to slip by unnoticed. He grabbed his duffel bag from where his assistant had left it backstage, slung it over his shoulder, and considered his next move.

The logical thing would be to head straight back to his hotel, call his agent to complain about the ambush, and try to forget the whole embarrassing episode. But the thought of leaving without talking to Riley again felt wrong somehow.

As Joe rounded a corner, he spotted a sign with Riley's name on a dressing room door at the end of the hallway. He paused, taking a deep breath to steady himself. Inside, he was a mess of nerves and uncertainty, but outwardly, he maintained the same cool composure he carried onto the field before big games. It was a skill he'd perfected years ago - never let them see you sweat.

Meanwhile, back on the stage, Riley turned to Jimmy with a playful but pointed glare as soon as the cameras were off.

"Alright, Jimmy, what the hell was that?" she asked, crossing her arms with a look that was half-amused, half-exasperated.

Jimmy laughed, throwing up his hands in mock defense, his expression utterly unrepentant. "Hey, don't blame me! I wasn't planning for things to go that well. I just thought it would be a fun little game—Joe's the one who went all-in on picking you every single time."

Riley shook her head, clearly flustered but unable to maintain real anger at the host's matchmaking attempt. "I mean, yeah, but still. You didn't warn me this was going to turn into a matchmaking ambush on live television."

Jimmy leaned in with a knowing grin, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Come on, admit it—you were into it. He was practically blushing the entire time! And don't think I didn't notice the way you kept sneaking glances at him."

The observation hit closer to home than Riley was comfortable acknowledging. She'd been genuinely charmed by Joe's obvious nervousness, by the unfiltered honesty that had slipped out when he admitted to his crush. It was refreshing—most men she met in the industry were all polished lines and practiced confidence. Joe's authenticity had caught her off guard in the best possible way.

"Jimmy," Riley groaned, wanting to end the conversation before the host could see too much in her reaction. "I am never coming on this show again."

"Oh, sure," he teased, clearly not believing her for a second. "Just make sure to thank me in your wedding toast."

Riley rolled her eyes, already heading for the door, but she couldn't quite suppress the smile that threatened to break through. "Goodbye, Jimmy."

"Goodbye, Riley! Love you!" Jimmy called after her with a laugh that followed her down the corridor.

As soon as Riley stepped into her dressing room, she was ambushed by her publicist, Jesse, who had been watching the segment on the monitor and was practically bouncing with excitement.

"Riley! Oh my God, that was amazing!" Jesse exclaimed, her dark curls bobbing as she gestured enthusiastically. "The way you two kept sneaking glances at each other? And the blushing? I mean, seriously, the entire audience was eating it up!"

Riley groaned, collapsing onto the plush couch as she covered her face with her hands, the cool metal of her rings pressing against her warm skin. "Please tell me it wasn't as bad as it felt."

"Bad? Are you kidding me? That was the stuff rom coms are made of," Jesse said, sitting on the armrest of the couch with a dramatic flourish, her tailored pantsuit crinkling slightly. "You were charming, he was adorable—it was perfect. Social media is already buzzing, by the way. 'Riley Carter and Joe Burrow' is trending."

Riley peeked out from behind her hands, narrowing her eyes at her publicist and longtime friend. "Seriously? That fast?"

"Uh, yeah." Jesse held up her phone, the screen illuminated with a flood of tweets and Instagram posts. "The second he turned bright red when you walked out, it was over for him. Everyone loves it. But forget Twitter for a second—did you see the way he looked at you? Riley, the man is smitten."

The thought sent a strange flutter through Riley's stomach, one she hadn't felt in a long time. She'd met plenty of attractive men over the years—fellow musicians, actors, models—but there was something about Joe Burrow's unassuming charm, the way he seemed almost reluctant to be in the spotlight despite his career, that intrigued her.

"Oh my God, Jesse, stop," Riley said, half-laughing, half-groaning as she pushed herself up from the couch.

Jesse smirked, smoothing her blazer as she stood. "Alright, fine. I'll stop. But only if you march down to his dressing room right now and give him your number."

Riley's eyes widened, a rush of unexpected nerves flooding her system. "What? No. That's not happening."

Despite her words, a part of her considered it. What was the harm? If nothing else, she'd have a funny story about the time she gave her number to Joe Burrow after Jimmy Fallon tried to set them up on national television.

"Okay, fine," Jesse said, crossing her arms with a determined expression that Riley recognized all too well. "Then he can come here. Either way, this is happening, because the energy between you two was insane, and if you don't do something about it, I will."

Riley opened her mouth to argue, to tell Jesse that she was being ridiculous, that whatever chemistry the audience thought they saw was just the product of an awkward situation handled with mutual grace. But before she could get the words out, there was a soft knock at the door.

The sound sliced through the room like a thunderclap despite its gentleness. Both women froze, staring at the door as if it might reveal its secrets without being opened.

Jesse's eyes lit up, and she gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. "Holy shit. What if it's him?"

"Stop," Riley hissed, suddenly feeling very aware of how fast her heart was beating. She sat frozen for a moment, her stomach doing somersaults, caught between hoping it was Joe and hoping it was literally anyone else.

"What are you waiting for? Go open it!" Jesse urged, waving her toward the door with frantic gestures.aving her toward the door with frantic gestures.

Taking a deep breath to calm her inexplicably racing heart, Riley stood, smoothed her hands down her pants, and crossed to the door. Her fingers hesitated on the handle for just a second before she pulled it open.

Standing in the hallway was Joe Burrow, his navy blue varsity-style sweater with white collar, dark blue pants, and white Converse sneakers making him look effortlessly cool. His stance exuded quiet confidence - one hand casually in his pocket, shoulders relaxed, posture perfect - the same easy self-assurance he displayed walking through stadium tunnels before games.

Inside, Joe's panic was at maximum level, his heart pounding against his ribs like it was trying to escape, thoughts racing through his mind at lightning speed. But none of this showed on his face. Outwardly, he maintained perfect composure, the same unflappable demeanor he'd perfected for high-pressure game situations. He leaned slightly against the doorframe with practiced nonchalance, his expression giving away nothing of the chaos inside.

"Hey," Joe said, his voice smooth and controlled, with just the right balance of confidence and warmth. "I, uh, just wanted to come by and say I'm really sorry about what happened out there. Jimmy kind of blindsided me."

Riley leaned against the doorframe, a small smile tugging at her lips. She was conscious of Jesse hovering just out of sight, no doubt drinking in every word of this interaction for future teasing material. "You don't have to apologize. Honestly, I thought it was kind of sweet."

Joe blinked, relief flickering across his face, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "You did?"

"Yeah," she said, her smile widening. "I mean, it was awkward, sure, but in a cute way. You handled it way better than I would've."

Joe laughed softly, glancing down at his shoes—expensive-looking leather loafers that somehow didn't seem like his style. "Well, I seriously considered running for the exit at one point."

Riley laughed, the sound genuine and unrestrained. "I believe that."

The moment felt lighter now, the initial awkwardness dissolving into something more comfortable. Joe looked back at her, a playful glint in his eye that she hadn't noticed during the interview. "So... I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing that Jimmy was basically narrating my humiliation out there, but you seemed to handle it like a pro."

"Are you kidding? I was dying," Riley said, grinning. "You're the one who stayed cool the whole time."

Joe tilted his head, raising an eyebrow in a way that transformed his face, adding a mischievous quality to his otherwise clean-cut appearance. "Pretty sure sweating through my shirt doesn't count as staying cool."

Riley laughed again, shaking her head, one hand reaching up to tuck a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "Fair enough. But still—it was fun. In a totally ridiculous way."

Joe rubbed the back of his neck, his smile softening into something more genuine, less performative. "Yeah, ridiculous sounds about right."

There was a beat of quiet between them, not awkward, but charged in the best way. The kind of silence that felt like its own conversation. Finally, Joe broke it, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"So, uh..." He hesitated, then let out a small laugh that betrayed his nervousness. "Man, I'm terrible at this."

"At what?" Riley asked, tilting her head, though she had a pretty good idea of what was coming next.

Joe took a breath, his gaze meeting hers directly, a determined set to his jaw like he was facing down a defensive line rather than asking a simple question. "I was wondering if maybe you'd want to grab dinner sometime. While you're in town, I mean."

Riley blinked, caught off guard but pleasantly surprised by his directness. She'd expected more hesitation, maybe even a non-committal suggestion to "keep in touch." "Dinner?"

"Yeah," Joe said quickly, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets, his eyes searching her face for clues to her thoughts. "No pressure or anything. I just thought... if you're free, maybe we could—"

"I'd love that," Riley interrupted, her smile soft but genuine. The decision felt right, spontaneous in a way she'd been trying to embrace more lately.

Joe paused, clearly not expecting that answer, his eyes widening slightly. "Really?"

"Really," Riley said with a small laugh, amused by his surprise. Was it so hard to believe she'd want to have dinner with him?

Joe's face lit up, a smile spreading across his features that transformed him completely. Gone was the careful, controlled athlete from the interview; in his place was someone younger, more open, almost boyishly pleased. He pulled his phone from his pocket, unlocking it before handing it to her. "Here, put your number in?"

Riley took the phone with a nod, quickly typing in her number before handing it back to him. Their fingers brushed in the exchange, a brief moment of contact that shouldn't have registered but somehow did.

"There you go," she said, her tone teasing but kind.

Joe stared at the screen for a moment, her name now sitting there in his contacts, as if he couldn't quite believe what had just happened. "Thanks. I, uh... I'll text you soon. For real."

"I'll hold you to that," Riley said with a smile that felt more genuine than most she'd given that day.

Joe hesitated for a moment, a brief internal debate playing out in his eyes, before he leaned in and pressed a light kiss to her cheek. The gesture was sweet, unexpected, and over almost as soon as it began. "Goodnight, Riley."

The brief contact left a warm spot on her skin, and Riley found herself momentarily at a loss for words. "Goodnight, Joe," she managed, her voice warm despite her surprise.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Riley leaned back against it with a soft sigh, her lips curling into a smile she couldn't fight if she tried. Behind her, Jesse let out a gleeful squeal that Riley chose to ignore, too caught up in replaying the last few minutes in her head.

A talk show ambush, a mutual admission of attraction, and a dinner date—all in one night. Not at all how she'd expected her evening to go when she'd agreed to appear on The Tonight Show.

But as she touched her fingers lightly to the spot where Joe's lips had brushed her cheek, Riley found herself looking forward to what might come next.

#joe burrow #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fanfiction

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reinbouxsworld · 3 days ago

Note

Hey so like sorry if you're the wrong person to say this to but I love Jamil's character so much and it makes me so mad that the fandom takes Kalim's side in his ob when they're so much more sympathetic to everyone else's ob situation. Like all the ob's are caused by trauma so no olympics but Jamil was Kalim's slave??? He was literally fighting to stop being his slave? To the son of a rich merchant family that could decide the fate of his whole family?? The stakes were so fucking high. Kalim not knowing says everything about his relative privilege and nothing about his innocence. Kalim's saving grace was his willingness to change when he learned, but that slave-relationship was multigenerational and Jamil had no guarantee it would happen if he "asked for his freedom". I think the fandom has some real inner reckoning to consider about why Kalim crying is more upsetting than Jamil's (and his family's) life.

OKAY I HAVE A LOT TO SAY ON THIS ONE.

﹙𝑡𝑤𝑠𝑡.﹚ ─ WHY JAMIL TRAUMA IS (BUT SHOULDN'T BE) DOWNPLAYED

﹙ or why i support jamil viper rights and wrongs﹚

──────────────────────────────────────

٬٬ I think the most obvious reason is that Kalim, by being a very kind and often naïve person, wins people over quickly (myself included). He’s sweet, kind, and honest. He just wants to have a good time with his friends—he’s easy to be around and talk to. More often than not, a "happy person" is easier to forgive than someone you’re not as close to.

But what do I mean by that?

Jamil is not used to being himself. He always has to manage and calculate his every step to ensure he doesn’t overshadow Kalim’s presence, even though, by merit, he could be in the spotlight (which, at this point, I see as an unspoken Viper family tradition). And it’s not just when Kalim is around — even when Jamil is alone, he’s still under pressure to maintain his facade. We do see glimpses of him sometimes, especially after the overblot, where he's a little bit more acidic, smug and sincere, but the reality is that his entire life has been shaped around a forced role. The most frustrating part of his story is that when Jamil got to NRC, he had a brief moment of freedom—only for it to be taken away again by Kalim’s overwhelming presence. And the worst part? He wasn’t even chosen to be there. Kalim literally bought his way into NRC just to be with Jamil. I don’t think people fully realize how hopeless that must have made an already frustrated teenager feel. He had no choice but to start over, once again masking himself under Kalim’s shadow.

I won’t go into the nuances of his initial actions leading up to the overblot, but they clearly show his frustrations, especially when he hypnotized Kalim to do his own work as a housewarden.

And then, right after all the resentment and fight, we get Kalim crying over his friend. Of course, as you said, Kalim’s willingness to change is a big reason why the fandom takes his side. It makes sense— he genuinely wants to be a good friend. But the frustrating part is that people still reduce Jamil to just "the scheming servant" while ignoring everything else we see in the chapter. Kalim’s willingness to change is important, but it doesn’t undo the years of pressure, resentment, and lack of autonomy Jamil has endured. At the end of the day, Kalim can change, but Jamil? He’s still bound by the same expectations, the same role, the same system.

If you don’t look deeper into each chapter, it’s easy to sum up an overblot with a simple explanation: "Riddle is acting like his mom," "Leona is throwing a tantrum because he’s not king," and so on. I think we are often drawn more to the breaking point than to the underlying cause of it. But in Jamil’s case, the most obvious problem is also the one people tend to overlook: Jamil was — and, by definition, still is —Kalim’s servant. More than that, all Vipers still are.

The reason Jamil seems "fine" is because, unlike the others, he can’t change the very thing that made him feel this way in the first place. To be clear, I’m not downplaying any of the other boys' trauma—I’m speaking from a storytelling and borderline objective perspective. Most of the other characters could change their circumstances if they wanted to (again, i'm not saying it is easy or simple). Many of them have the resources and/or support networks to do so. But Jamil doesn’t. Even after his overblot, while Kalim gets to grow and change, Jamil is still stuck playing the same role. He may have a little more space to breathe, but his reality remains the same—his life is still controlled by the Al-Asim family.

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#this one came out of my chest i think #i love talking about the characters!!!#also I WENT ON A RAMPAGE WITH THIS DRAWING #dont worry hon i protect you #tho i feel i never do jamil justice #THANK YOU FOR THE ASK AND ITS OKAY!!!#twst chapter 4 #twisted wonderland #ask.txt #jamil viper #scarabia

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shadowsviper · 20 hours ago

Text

Thanos and Nam-Gyu as Cats Part 3

Part 1 - Part 2

Here's part 3! Team Thanos as cats

I'm thinking of making one more part of this and then ending it. I don't really have anything else for more parts.

Someone did ask about the reader as the cat and having Thanos and Nam-gyu take care of them. I'll definitely make that happen! I'll make that a different series. I don't know how many parts it'll be.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You spent the next month getting to know the two cats. You soon realized that they caused more trouble than anything else

First, you tried to get them to wear collars, which ended up with you trying to chase them down

Needless to say, they did not like the idea of collars. Knowing that you weren't going to win against them, you gave up trying

Buying them food was one of the hardest things. Sure, they usually ate whatever you gave them, but they had a preference for the expensive brands

Thanos preferred this one brand of food. It was probably the most expensive thing you've bought. He once refused to eat when you weren't able to buy it for a week

Thankfully, Nam-gyu wasn't as picky but he had a preference of specifically chicken. You blamed it on the fact that it was probably because of how you fed him when you first found them in the alleyway

Baths were the worst

You had to chase them down and fight them all the way to the bathroom. Not even food could bribe them

Thanos was convinced that you were trying to kill him. He would scream the whole time. He would claw your clothes, his eyes wide as he screamed at you, begging you to let him go

Nam-gyu wasn't any better. While he didn't scream as much as Thanos did, he still tried to scratch his way out

By the time you finished bathing them, the whole bathroom was flooded with water. Your clothes were also drenched

Other times, they were the best companions to have around. They did things that made you laugh, they always hung around you for attention

There was one time where you were watching Thanos play with his tail. He'd already spent the past 15 minutes trying to catch it, only for it to move out of the way at the last second

His last brain cell seemed to have vanished

You watched as he continued. You were surprised to see that he did end up catching his tail. He had an abnormally long tail, but that didn't stop him from contorting himself into the shape of a croissant

He ended up spinning around in circles, meowing in confusion

Nam-gyu watched from his box, his ears twitching as he judged Thanos

It's a wonder he survived as a stray

The biggest mistake you ever made was buying catnip for them

They had one sniff and they were addicted

They would meow around your legs, rubbing all over you, trying to convince you for more catnip. You tried so hard not to give in but they had the cutest eyes and the sweetest meows

They knew exactly how to manipulate you for catnip

You would only give them a small amount and tell them that was all they were getting

One day, while you were at work, they found the stash of catnip hidden in a drawer

"I don't know what this stuff is, but it's fucking crazy, man," Thanos said, tossing the bag of catnip onto the floor

"You're going to be the reason they put us back out on the streets," Nam-gyu sighed

When you returned, you found your two cats high as hell. Their pupils were completely blown and they were lazily sprawled out. The bag of catnip was completely ripped. You could see bits of catnip everywhere, the ground, the furniture, their fur

You sighed, rethinking your life choices

After that incident, you stopped buying catnip. You decided that you would only get it for special occasions

They weren't happy with your decision

Thanos started meowing by the door one day while staring at you. For the longest time, you couldn't figure out what he wanted until he tried to slip out the door when you left for work

"You're not coming with me," you said, pushing him back inside. Thanos meowed, protesting. After thinking for a second, you realized it probably wouldn't be a bad idea to let them outside, considering they used to be strays

"Fine, but you're both coming home before I do," you warned. The two cats meowed simultaneously as they walked out of your apartment and disappeared

While you worked, they had fun running around the streets again. You didn't mind having them outside of the apartment if it meant that they were happy

You found them both sitting by the door of the apartment when you returned. Thanos happily greeted you

Ever since then, you've been letting them out in the morning and letting them back in whenever they returned

You once again started to rethink your life when Thanos came in with a dead mouse. He meowed at you after dropping it off at your feet. He even dared to push it closer to you. You watched as he slowly blinked before walking away

"Why would you give them a dead mouse?" Nam-gyu asked, glancing at the rodent

"I'm showing my appreciation"

"That's not how humans work, Thanos"

One day, you opened the door for Thanos and Nam-gyu to come in. A new cat followed them in. You blinked. You only had two cats, who was this new one?

The tabby cat meowed at you as he walked in

Thanos meowed as well as if trying to convince you to keep the new friend they made

The new cat, Gyeong-su, made himself at home. He seemed pretty attached to Thanos and he was just as chatty

New cat acquired, I guess

Gyeong-su was a fan of everything. He was the least picky out of the three. He never complained when you gave him something or didn't give him attention

Nam-gyu wasn't a big fan but tolerated him since Thanos tolerated him

Thanos often forgot Gyeong-su existed

Having three cats around wasn't too bad, they were independent. It made your apartment seem more alive. You preferred this over anything else

You were just getting used to having three cats when you received a call from a friend. She explained that she was taking care of two cats but could no longer do so. She knew that you had cats of your own and asked if you would be able to look after them for a while

You agreed hesitantly. That's two more cats. Plus the three you have, that's five in total

You didn't really have time to think about it. Your friend dropped the two cats off at your place soon after the call.

You look inside the carrier to find the two cats huddled up in the back. You took the carrier into your room and closed the door. You opened the door and allowed them to move on their own

A pretty Russian blue cat stepped out, looking at her surroundings. She could tell that there were other cats around, but looking around the room, she couldn't find them

The other cat, a small munchkin cat, stepped out. He seemed more timid than the Russian blue. He looked at you before following after the other cat

You spent a few hours with them, getting them used to the new place. You dreaded the moment they had to meet your other cats

They were kept in your room for the next few days, occasionally let out when the former strays were gone

When you finally decided to let them meet, you sat between the door, acting as a barrier. Thanos was the most curious of them, he had already been sniffing around trying to get to them for days. He was the first to try and climb over you to meet them

You held him tightly, only allowing him to see the new cats. He immediately took a liking to them. You could tell Se-mi wasn't impressed based on her facial expression.

He seemed to like Min-su a lot. He struggled out of your grasp to reach him. Due to the size difference, Thanos had to lower himself to the ground to get a good sniff

Se-mi didn't like him, she tried to step in between him and Min-su whenever possible. She didn't try to do anything. It seemed like she would only attack if provoked

Nam-gyu was next. He immediately disliked Se-mi from the moment he caught her scent. As soon as he saw her, his ears went back

Se-mi's ears also went back.

Uh oh, they don't like each other

Nam-gyu hissed first, he was deeply upset with the new cat. He spared Min-su a glance and decided he also didn't like him

Sighing, you put Nam-gyu outside the room. You were going to keep an eye on them

Gyeong-su didn't seem to mind them. He stayed by your side most of the time as they all interacted with each other

You let them roam around the apartment after that. Thanos had taken a liking to Min-su, he would constantly be around him. Sometimes he forgot how much smaller Min-su was and accidentally knocked him over

If Se-mi was around and saw that, she would whack him into next week

Nam-gyu still didn't like them. He didn't seem to hate Min-su as much but he had something against Se-mi. If she got too close for his liking, he'll hiss. If she tried to do anything, he'll hiss

You tried to stop him but he wouldn't listen.

"Stop hissing at her, she didn't do anything to you," you said after hearing him hiss for the third time in one hour

"I don't understand why they had to bring her home," Nam-gyu complained to Thanos one day

"She's cool," Thanos said. "What's your issue with her?"

"Yeah," Se-mi agreed, appearing out of nowhere and scaring Nam-gyu. "What's your issue with me?"

"I just don't like you," Nam-gyu spat, his ears going backwards. He hissed at her again. "Fuck you, bitch"

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Keeping it real with Nam-gyu hating on Se-mi 😭 added in a couple references in this part lmao

Sorry for the wait, schools been kicking my ass. I hope you guys liked this part! I think part 4 might be the last one, unless I come up with more ideas in the future.

Taglist: @ilikedrinkingsoda

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yearofthesnape · 3 days ago

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Appendix: Grief or Guilt? Engaging with Lorrie Kim's Reading

@snapecentric first pointed out the similarities between my meta above and Lorrie Kim's reading of the same scene in her masterwork Snape (A Definitive Reading). Kim and I both argue that there is, in fact, more going on than Snape's dislike at being called a coward, citing the "long pause in the sentence" as evidence (Kim). We also refer to the panic of being inarticulately trapped in a catastrophic world (Kim, paraphrasing Hilary Kovar Justice). Both of us read the scene as Snape reacting to Dumbledore's death, not just James's. Both of us speak of Snape's pain communicated via Fang and of Snape's great isolation. After this, however, our interpretations begin to diverge.

Kim's work fleshes out aspects of the scene that my meta doesn't handle; for instance, she brings up Buckbeak's attack on Snape as evidence that Snape is so isolated that even the world of beasts is not a safe refuge for his emotions (a brilliant and heartwrenching point). Also, she reads Harry's words as Harry intending to reveal to Snape that he now knows Snape betrayed James. As far as Harry's concerned, I'm now inclined to agree and stand corrected; for Harry, the most impactful part of his statement probably is intended to be "like you killed him," as in primarily James (but partly Dumbledore), which causes fewer narrative complications about how Harry switched entirely from the topic of James in Snape's last line of dialogue.

I think, however, that Kim too readily assumes that Snape and Harry are on the same page. For Snape, the crux of Harry's statement is the moment Harry solidifies his similarity to Dumbledore — "Kill me, then," the same request Dumbledore made. Harry repeats it twice, cementing his role as Dumbledore in this situation, and by the second time around, I don't think Snape's emotional focus is on James at all.

Because I think that Snape is not dealing with James here (although Harry thinks he is), I can put forward a thesis that does not involve James: This scene is about Snape's grief. Kim does fleetingly bring up grief ("There is no time yet to grieve"), but she does not centralize that grief. Since she keeps James in Snape's mind, Kim promotes a thesis that more plausibly refers to James: This scene is about Snape's guilt.

I maintain, however, that looking at grief gives a more complete engagement with all aspects of this passage. Kim's reading provides no explanation for the adjectives inside the narrative pause. While my reading of "inhuman" could be seen as a stretch, I think "demented" does require an explanation at this point in our familiarity with Dementors — and if "demented" does, "inhuman" might not be so much of a stretch after all. Granted, Dementors likely prey on feelings of guilt as well as sadness, but the narrative has always presented Dementors as bringing up "the worst experiences of your life" (PoA ch. 10), not the worst things you did.

Guilt is certainly a pain-inducing emotion, and Kim ties Snape's emotions to Fang in this way; but if Fang is connected with guilt, we lose the connection to Fang's grief-motivated howling later in the same chapter, and I think the two instances are so close together that the connection is likely important. Reading Snape as primarily guilty here breaks off that connection, and it also jeopardizes the connection between the present scene and Snape's "DON'T!" in the Prince's Tale — the only other time in the series he shouts this word. In the Prince's Tale, also, Snape is described as sounding "like a wounded animal," a possible callback to Fang in the present scene. Yet Kim makes no comment, either in her reading of the Prince's Tale or this scene.

From a psychological perspective, also, I think it unlikely that Snape is feeling primarily guilty here. He had qualms about killing Dumbledore in the past, yes; but the Killing Curse requires certainty, and Snape delivered. He knows that what he did was at Dumbledore's (reiterated) request. He knows that Lily and James died despite his best efforts; he knows that endangering them had never been his intent. Snape does not seem the sort of person to shout "DON'T!" if what he means is "DON'T BRING UP MY GUILT!" — when faced with accusation, he generally responds to it in some way, even by denying it, rather than trying to get out of its existence. The "DON'T" scene in the Prince's Tale shows Dumbledore trying hard to make Snape's "DON'T" into guilt (an action-spurring emotion) rather than grief (an emotion to sit with), but we see that his "DON'T!" was provoked by Dumbledore describing Lily's eyes, and it is followed by "Gone... dead..." which seems far more grief-filled than guilty. Snape is not afraid to face and debate the possibility of his being guilty, but he is profoundly uncomfortable with the action-opposed emotion of grief. His "DON'T" here, I argue, means "DON'T MAKE ME REMEMBER HIM, I CAN'T STAND THE PAIN YET!"

If Snape is trying to keep Harry from bringing up his guilt, Kim herself states that this is clearly not something he can legitimately request in any circumstance, since he did do the things for which he is feeling guilty. It would be tantamount to saying, "Don't tell me the truth." Even if he were not a spy, then, he would have to reframe this statement to a more appropriate one, so he would end up still saying, "Don't call me coward." ("Don't call me coward" is also an indirect way of refuting his guilt; if he is sufficiently detached to give this indirect refutation, I would imagine him to also be sufficiently detached not to look inhuman at the very thought of his being guilty.)

If Snape is trying to keep Harry from making him experience grief-laden memories of Dumbledore, though, this would almost always be a legitimate request to make... just not here, not as a spy. Snape's cover as a spy is the only thing holding him back from saying what he means in this instance, which increases the stakes and the pathos of this scene.

To conclude, then, while Kim's explanation of Snape's reaction does more easily explain the presence of James in the conversation, I still think that grief, not guilt, best accounts for all the complexities at play.

Meta: "DON'T CALL ME COWARD!" as Grief Response

"Kill me then," panted Harry, who felt no fear at all, only rage and contempt. "Kill me like you killed him, you coward —" "DON'T —" screamed Snape, and his face was suddenly demented, inhuman, as though he was in as much pain as the yelping, howling dog stuck in the burning house behind them — "CALL ME COWARD!" -HBP ch. 28

This scene is not, primarily, about Snape's dislike for being named a coward.

I'm not saying there's less going on than that very real and warranted dislike. Many excellent metas have been written about why Snape doesn't like being called a coward, and that does make sense; he has just performed a feat of moral courage, after all, and it has to hurt to have that attributed to cowardice. He has also just been provoked by Harry's trauma-triggering attempt to use Levicorpus — but, interestingly, that isn't what tips him over the edge into uppercase instability. Nor is it, I argue, the term "coward." McGonagall and Harry both call Snape a coward in their canonical last words to Snape, but Snape doesn't react this way to McGonagall. Nor did Snape absolutely lose it the first time Harry called him a coward in this scene. While there is a cumulative effect from the repeated insult, the extremeness of Snape's reaction gives one pause. The most obvious conclusion is that something else is going on. In this case, I argue, that "something" is Snape grieving.

Snape is not usually permitted to openly grieve, and this scene is no exception. He is a double agent; he cannot let it show that he misses "those whom he could not save." Therefore, we have to read between the lines, avoiding Snape's careful misdirection of his feelings into allowable ground (upset over an insult) and away from dangerous territory (grief over people he isn't supposed to care about).

The dialogue is also party to some misdirection. If you read only the dialogue in this scene and the preceding pages, you might assume that the "him" that Harry is talking about is Harry's father. This makes no sense, as Snape didn't kill James. The narration, on the other hand, explicitly sets up Harry in this scene to look exactly like Dumbledore before he died, making it clearer that both Harry and Snape are thinking of Dumbledore now, not James, despite Snape's attempts to keep the conversation on the (ironically) safer ground of James Potter. (Snape was the first one to bring up James in this interaction, and I think that's intentional.)

The narration is also pointing us to a bigger picture in its use of reporting and interrupting speech. Snape's paragraph splits what could have been a straightforward sentence ("DON'T CALL ME COWARD!") into two parts, with so much narration in between that we are invited to speculate on what Snape doesn't want Harry to do. The effect gives Snape a little pause, a breath, so that he probably says "DON'T — CALL ME COWARD!" That breath in the middle gives Snape a hairbreadth space to change his initial reaction to something appropriate to his cover. This is the closest we ever see Snape to blowing his cover, but (eminently capable as he is) he salvages it regardless, so thoroughly that many fans can't see past it either. I didn't, until recently.

But the narrative does. We'll see confirmed in The Prince's Tale in the next book that "DON'T" is Snape's automatic grief response; he cannot bear to hear his loved ones spoken of:

"Her son lives. He has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and color of Lily Evans's eyes, I am sure?" "DON'T!" bellowed Snape. "Gone... dead..."

In the HBP scene, Harry has just mentioned Dumbledore's death; Snape is being confronted by someone else about it for the first time. Furthermore, Snape knows at this point that Harry must die, and we know that being told that by Dumbledore agitated him deeply. So the parallels between Harry and Dumbledore here are even more heartbreaking for Snape. Snape is actually having to work towards Harry's death for the same reason he had to kill Dumbledore. In this scene, he has to watch Lily's son looking up at him with her eyes, looking up the way Dumbledore just did, and he has to hear that son yelling at him about how he must bury every last vestige of everyone he most loved, while that son simultaneously reminds him that the whole world, including Lily's closest representative, will hate him for it. No wonder he's reacting with "DON'T." I would too.

Even without knowing what "DON'T" means in Snape code, however, we have other narrative clues. Snape's face is described as:

demented

an unusual word, linked in the Harry Potter universe to the Dementors, who prey on despair. Being demented could just mean being deranged or unstable... or it could mean being the subject of a Dementor-like sadness so crushing it threatens to take your very soul.

inhuman

This adjective recalls a scene from OotP, another case of all-caps shouting, where Harry is torn up by grief for Sirius:

"Harry, suffering like this proves you are still a man! This pain is part of being human —" "THEN — I — DON'T — WANT — TO — BE — HUMAN!" Harry roared, and he seized one of the delicate silver instruments from the spindle-legged table beside him and flung it across the room. -OotP, ch. 37

Lastly, the HBP scene compares Snape's pain to that of Fang stuck in Hagrid's burning hut:

as much pain as the yelping, howling dog stuck in the burning house behind them

Dogs are symbolic of loyalty, and Snape really is in a similar situation, trapped in an utter catastrophe in which he is collateral damage for his loyalty (in his case, to Dumbledore). The next time Fang howls, at the end of this chapter, is in grief for Dumbledore's death, drawing the parallels still closer:

Harry crumpled the parchment in his hand, and his eyes burned with tears as behind him Fang began to howl.

Unlike Fang, Snape is not allowed to express his true feelings. Even Dumbledore, the person who understood him most, redirects him to act and not lament, and Dumbledore is dead. A metaphorical tie to a nonhuman character who is able to grieve later is as close as Snape gets. He cannot go to the funeral, just as he could not for Lily; he cannot talk to anyone; he will later be confronted with a horrifying specter of Dumbledore at Grimmauld Place. In light of all this, when Snape gives Harry the memory of himself crying over Lily's letter, it's not just him giving Harry back the correspondence. It's Snape reclaiming: I, too, grieve.

#pro snape #snape meta #snape fandom #snapedom

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serapharua · 1 day ago

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୨୧ 一 &TEAM BEING DOWN BAD FOR YOU . . !

ot9 &team — GENRE : imagines headcanon fluff — PAIRING : gn.reader — WARNING : none — REQUESTED : yes :) ☆ — &t masterlist

note : most of these are before you and the members start dating ! i need to work on my intros for each members they get kinda repetitive but this scenario was so fun to work on ! i tried to make the younger members ones more cotton candy sweet :)

K :

K liked to think of himself as a composed and confident person. He was used to keeping his emotions in check, never one to be overly flustered or obvious about his feelings. But when it came to you, that composure was long gone.

He was so down bad for you, and the worst part? He wasn’t even subtle about it.

You could ask him for literally anything, and he’d do it without hesitation. Need his jacket? It’s already around your shoulders before you even finish your sentence. Want food? He’s buying whatever you like, no questions asked. You casually mention liking a certain song? It’s suddenly at the top of his playlist, and he might have memorized the lyrics just in case you ever bring it up again.

The teasing from the other members was relentless.

“K, do you realize you stare at them like they hung the moon?” Fuma pointed out one day, catching him red-handed as he zoned out while watching you talk.

K blinked, quickly looking away, trying to play it off. “I do not.”

Nicholas snorted. “Bro, you do. It’s embarrassing.”

But nothing was more embarrassing than when you unknowingly made it worse. Like when you flashed him that bright, happy smile, or when you casually touched his arm while laughing at one of his jokes. Every single time, his heart betrayed him, beating so fast it was ridiculous.

The biggest down bad moment, though? The time you absentmindedly called him cute.

“You’re kinda cute when you concentrate,” you had mused, watching him frown in focus while trying to fix something on his phone. You said it so casually, not thinking much of it, but K? Oh, he short-circuited.

He sat there, phone forgotten in his hands, staring at you like you had just told him the deepest secret of the universe. His ears turned red, and for the first time, he had no idea how to respond.

“Uh…” His brain scrambled for words, but they simply didn’t come.

You just laughed at his reaction, completely unaware of the absolute meltdown you had just caused in his head.

At this point, everyone—including the members—knew K was head over heels for you. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever work up the courage to confess, but one thing was certain: if you asked for the world, he’d find a way to give it to you.

FUMA :

Fuma liked to think he had a decent amount of self-control. He was calm, collected, the dad of the group—he wasn’t the type to get flustered easily.

Except when you’re around.

He was so smitten for you, and he knew it. The members knew it. You, however? Completely oblivious.

Fuma had a habit of spoiling you without even realizing it. If you so much as looked at something for too long, he was already making a mental note to get it for you later. You mentioned craving a certain snack? He’d somehow have it with him the next time you saw him. One time, you casually said you were cold, and before you could even register what was happening, Fuma was draping his jacket over your shoulders like it was second nature.

“You’re gonna spoil them,” Yuma teased, watching Fuma hand you your favorite drink—one he went way out of his way to get.

Fuma shrugged, like it was no big deal. “They deserve it.”

If that wasn’t down bad enough, the way he looked at you definitely was. He had this soft, almost fond gaze whenever you spoke, like he was memorizing every little detail about you. The way your eyes lit up when you talked about something you loved? The way you absentmindedly played with your hands when you were thinking? He noticed everything.

And then, of course, there were the moments where you unknowingly made it worse.

Like that one time you leaned against him while laughing, your head resting on his shoulder for just a second too long. He barely managed to keep his cool, but the other members? Oh, they noticed.

Nicholas smirked. “You good, man?”

Fuma cleared his throat, forcing himself to act normal. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

The truth? His brain was screaming.

But the moment that really took him out was the time you casually ran your fingers through his hair, brushing it out of his face while laughing at something dumb he said. You did it so naturally, like it was nothing, but Fuma? He froze.

“Your hair’s soft,” you had mused, completely unaware that he was actively trying not to combust on the spot.

From that day on, Fuma knew one thing for sure: if you ever asked him for the moon, he’d find a way to give it to you.

NICHOLAS :

Nicholas prided himself on being cool and composed, but when it came to you? Yeah, no. All logic went out the window. He was so obviously in love with you, it was almost painful to watch.

It started with the way he hovered around you. He was always nearby—never in an overbearing way, but enough that the members started pointing it out. If you moved, somehow Nicholas just ended up next to you. If you needed something, he was already handing it to you before you even asked. It was almost instinctual at this point.

“Nicholas, you do realize they have hands, right?” EJ teased after watching him open your drink for you.

Nicholas just shrugged, like it was no big deal. But the truth? He lived for those little moments. Any excuse to be close to you.

And then there was the staring. Oh, the staring.

He wasn’t even subtle about it. You’d be talking, completely in your own world, and Nicholas would be watching you with the softest, most lovestruck expression—like you were the most fascinating thing in the world.

The other members definitely noticed.

“Dude, blink,” Yuma muttered, nudging him when he caught Nicholas gazing at you again.

Nicholas snapped out of it, pretending he wasn’t just caught, but the smirk on Yuma’s face said otherwise.

You were completely oblivious to all of this.

Like that one time you playfully messed with his hair, ruffling it before grinning up at him. “You look cute like this.”

Nicholas blacked out.

His brain completely short-circuited, and all he could do was stare at you, mouth slightly open, while his soul ascended. Meanwhile, K, who had definitely witnessed the whole thing, was wheezing in the background.

And don’t even get started on the time you borrowed his hoodie because you were cold. You hadn’t even asked—just grabbed it off the couch and pulled it on like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Nicholas nearly malfunctioned.

“You—you can keep it,” he blurted out, voice slightly higher than usual.

You tilted your head. “Huh? But it’s yours.”

“It’s fine. Looks better on you anyway,” he muttered, pretending to be unbothered while actively fighting for his life.

Yeah. Nicholas was down bad, and at this rate, the only thing worse than his obvious crush was the fact that you still weren’t getting the hint.

EJ :

EJ wasn’t the type to wear his heart on his sleeve—at least, not this obviously.

It started with how attentive he was. He always seemed to notice the little things—if you liked a certain snack, he’d somehow have it on hand. If you were tired, he’d quietly adjust his pace to match yours. And if you so much as shivered, his jacket was already draped over your shoulders before you could even register the cold.

At first, you chalked it up to him just being considerate. EJ was naturally kind, after all. But the others? They knew better.

“Dude, just admit it,” K sighed one day as he watched EJ carefully set aside the last slice of cake for you.

EJ blinked, feigning innocence. “What?”

“You literally cut it perfectly and put it on a separate plate for them,” Nicholas deadpanned. “If that’s not down bad behavior, I don’t know what is.”

But nothing exposed him more than the hoodie incident.

One evening, you grabbed his hoodie off the couch, pulling it on without a second thought. “Hope you don’t mind,” you said, giving him a little smile as you adjusted the sleeves.

EJ forgot how to breathe.

Mind? Mind?! You were standing there, looking ridiculously good in his hoodie, and you were asking if he minded?

“You can keep it,” he blurted out, way too fast.

You blinked. “Wait, really?”

He nodded, trying to act cool despite the warmth creeping up his neck. “Yeah. Looks better on you anyway.”

Fuma nearly choked on his drink from how shameless that was. Meanwhile, Taki was staring in open disbelief.

At this point, everyone was just waiting for you to catch on. Because EJ? Yeah, he was too far gone.

YUMA :

Yuma liked to think he was subtle, that his feelings for you weren’t that obvious. But anyone with eyes—literally, anyone—could tell he was completely, hopelessly down bad.

It wasn’t even like he was trying to be obvious. It just happened. His feet automatically carried him to wherever you were, his hands moved before he could think to help you with the smallest things, and his brain? Completely shut down whenever you gave him even the slightest bit of attention.

“Yuma, are you even paying attention?”

Your voice snapped him out of his trance. You had been saying something—probably something important—but all he had been doing was staring at you, completely lost in his own world.

“Huh?” he blinked, trying to recover. “Yeah, totally.”

“You were staring again,” Harua snickered from beside him.

Yuma immediately kicked him under the table. “Shut up.”

And then there was the art museum incident.

You had offhandedly mentioned wanting to go, so naturally, Yuma casually suggested making a day out of it. But the second you stepped into the gallery, he realized his mistake. Because you? You looked way too pretty admiring the paintings, eyes full of wonder as you took everything in.

“Do you like this one?” you asked, pointing at a piece.

Yuma was about to respond, but then you turned to look at him, tilting your head just slightly—and suddenly, he forgot how words worked.

“It’s… yeah,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s nice.”

Nice? This was a work of historical significance, and that was the best he could come up with?

Meanwhile, Nicholas, who had been third-wheeling the entire trip, just sighed. “Dude, you’re so gone.”

Yuma knew that. And yet, every time you looked at him like that, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

JO :

Jo liked to think he was good at keeping his emotions in check. He wasn’t the type to wear his feelings on his sleeve—at least, that’s what he told himself. But everyone around him could see the way he completely melted whenever you were around.

It wasn’t just the way he stared at you like you hung the stars in the sky—it was the way he acted. The way he automatically saved a seat next to him no matter where you were. The way he’d subtly pass you the last piece of whatever you were eating together, pretending he wasn’t starving just so you could have it. The way he would get completely and utterly useless the second you did something even remotely affectionate.

Like now.

“Jo, can you hold this for me?” you asked, handing him something without a second thought.

Big mistake.

Because the second your fingers brushed against his, Jo felt his entire body malfunction. His brain short-circuited, his ears turned red, and suddenly, he forgot how to breathe.

“Jo?”

No response.

“Jo, are you okay?”

Still nothing.

Nicholas, watching from the side, sighed dramatically. “Yeah, he’s gone.”

And then there was the time you casually called him cute.

“You’re so cute, Jo,” you had laughed, nudging his arm.

Jo immediately stopped functioning. Like, physically froze on the spot. His soul might have left his body for a second.

“Cute?” he echoed, blinking rapidly as if his brain needed a reboot.

“Yeah,” you grinned. “It’s adorable how you always take care of me.”

At that moment, Jo had to actively fight for his life not to melt into a puddle on the floor. He turned away, covering his face with his sleeve, hoping you wouldn’t see just how red he had gotten.

“I—uh—thank you,” he mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.

Meanwhile, Taki, who had been watching the whole thing unfold, snickered. “Bro, you are down horrendous.”

And honestly? Jo couldn’t even deny it.

HARUA :

Harua had always been a little shy about his feelings, but it was so obvious that he was completely smitten with you. His eyes would light up whenever you entered a room, and you could practically feel the weight of his gaze when he thought you weren’t looking. He would try to act all cool and collected, but you could see through his little act.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he said one day, almost bashfully, when you caught him staring at you from across the room. He quickly turned his face away, but you could see the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Like what?” you asked innocently, enjoying how he got flustered.

“You know… like I’m the most interesting thing in the world,” he mumbled under his breath. He couldn’t help but laugh a little, shaking his head in disbelief. He knew he wasn’t hiding his feelings very well, but he didn’t care. You made him feel things he’d never felt before.

It wasn’t long before Harua started finding every excuse to be close to you, always lingering near you during group activities. He loved the way your laughter would fill the room and the way your presence made everything feel a little bit warmer. Even though he was a bit shy, he never wanted to leave your side. He would even playfully complain about it, but you could tell it was because he couldn’t stand being apart from you for too long.

“You really like me, don’t you?” you teased him one day, when he was once again standing a little too close.

“Is it that obvious?” he laughed nervously, brushing his hand through his hair. You could see the nervous smile on his face. “I guess I can’t hide it anymore.”

You smiled softly, enjoying the way his usual composed nature melted away around you.

Harua didn’t need to say much. His actions spoke louder than words. His lingering gaze, the way he was always looking for ways to help you, and the way he never wanted to be far from you were all clear indicators of just how much he adored you.

TAKI :

Taki had never been subtle when it came to you, but that didn’t mean he didn’t try to hide it. It was just impossible for him to keep it together when you were around. If there was one thing that was undeniably clear, it was that he was totally down bad for you, and he didn’t even try to hide it.

Whether it was in rehearsals or when the group was just hanging out, Taki was constantly looking for little ways to get your attention. It could be as simple as making sure you had a snack when you were a little hungry, or making a joke to make you laugh—whatever it took to make you smile.

One day, during a break between practice, you were all gathered around chatting. Taki had this soft, almost dreamy look on his face as he watched you talk with the others. But as soon as you turned to look his way, his expression snapped to one of sheer flustered panic.

“Are you okay, Taki?” you asked, catching him staring.

His eyes went wide, and his cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red. “H-huh? Me? Of course! I was just… thinking about something important,” he stammered, but it was clear to everyone that his “important” thoughts had nothing to do with anything other than you. He cleared his throat awkwardly, avoiding eye contact and pretending to focus on anything other than you.

But his little habit didn’t go unnoticed. When you got up to stretch, Taki was quick to move closer, making sure he was always within arm’s reach—like he needed to be near you. He’d “accidentally” bump into you, offering you a nervous smile when he did. It was so obvious to everyone else, but Taki? He was just doing his best to stay composed, even though his feelings were practically written all over his face.

Later, when you asked him to help you with something minor—like holding your water bottle for a moment—Taki’s hands nearly shook as he took it from you. “Of course! Anything for you!” His voice was a little too eager, and he immediately regretted sounding so desperate, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Thanks, Taki,” you smiled, completely unaware of how flustered you were making him. But for Taki, it was moments like these that made him feel like he was on cloud nine.

No matter how hard he tried to play it cool, his heart would skip a beat whenever you were around. Every time you smiled at him, or every time your hand brushed against his by accident, he could feel his feelings grow even more. It wasn’t just a little crush anymore—he was completely and utterly down bad for you.

And even though he was a little embarrassed, Taki didn’t mind one bit. As long as he could be near you, as long as you were happy, he was the happiest he’d ever been.

MAKI :

Maki always thought he was good at keeping his emotions in check. But then you came along, and suddenly, everything changed. He tried to stay cool, pretending to be his usual laid-back self, but the way you looked at him, talked to him, made his heart race in ways he couldn’t control.

At first, he tried to brush it off. He’d tell himself, “It’s fine, just don’t let it show,” but it was getting harder every day. He was down bad, and he knew it.

When you walked into the room, Maki’s attention would immediately snap to you. His smile would widen, and even though he tried to act casual, his heart would skip a beat. It was as if the entire room could disappear, and it would just be you and him.

One day, while everyone else was chatting about something, Maki found himself zoning out, his eyes trained on you. The way your lips curved when you smiled, the way your eyes sparkled with that quiet intensity—it drove him absolutely crazy. He tried to stay focused on the conversation, but his thoughts kept drifting back to you.

You caught his stare, and for a moment, you just looked at him, confused but also amused. “Maki,” you said, snapping him out of his trance, “you’re not even listening, are you?”

He blinked, a little flustered, but tried to play it off with a half-smile. “Of course I’m listening,” he said quickly, clearing his throat. “Just… thinking about how great everything is going.” But his voice cracked, and he cursed himself inwardly for it.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but Maki could feel the heat rushing to his face. He couldn’t figure out how to act normal around you anymore—everything was different. The way you made him feel was so intense, it almost overwhelmed him.

Later, when you and Maki were walking together, you casually mentioned wanting to grab some food. “I think I’ll grab something from that cafe down the street later. You want to come?”

Maki’s stomach flipped. He knew it wasn’t anything more than a casual invitation, but the thought of spending time alone with you made him feel like he couldn’t breathe. “Yeah, sure. I’ll come,” he replied, trying to act like it was no big deal, but his heart was already racing at the idea of just the two of you being together.

As the day went on, Maki found himself stumbling over his words more often, trying not to stare at you every chance he got. He’d tell himself, “You’ve got to be cool. You’ve got to be chill,” but his body just didn’t listen. Every time you laughed, every time your hand brushed his by accident, he felt like he was losing control.

When you both sat down for your meal, Maki tried his best to keep the conversation light. But every time you looked at him with that warm smile, his thoughts completely derailed. “You’re really cute when you’re not acting all serious,” you teased him at one point.

Maki felt his face heat up. “I’m not serious! Just… focus on eating,” he stammered, trying to brush it off like it wasn’t a big deal. But inside? He was a mess. He was so down bad, and he knew it was only a matter of time before you figured it out. Until then, though, he’d keep trying his best to act like he wasn’t completely and utterly in love with you.

Word count : 3531 | serapharua, 2025.

#‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ 𓂃 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎★‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ &TEAM .ᐟ #— ☆ requested #&team reactions #jo imagines #ej imagines #fuma imagines #jo x reader #k imagines #maki imagines #nicholas imagines #yuma imagines

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witchingwithscissors · 2 days ago

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inspired by a post by @scarletwidowaf + I’m 🍃

Agatha hadn’t been looking for anything. Not love, not romance, definitely not a cocky young chef with ink-stained fingers and a head full of wild ideas about seasonal cooking.

But then there was Rio.

Rio, who had commanded the kitchen at a friend’s dinner party like she was running a Michelin-starred restaurant. Who had set a plate of perfectly charred vegetables in front of Agatha and, without hesitation, said, “I promise you, this will change your life.”

Agatha had lifted an eyebrow. “Bold of you.”

Rio had smirked. “Bold of you to think I’m wrong.”

And then Agatha had taken a bite.

It was embarrassing, really. The way her body betrayed her with the tiniest, softest moan of approval. The way Rio had leaned on the counter, smug as hell, watching her with an expression that practically screamed, Oh yeah, she’s hooked.

And the worst part?

She was.

From that night forward, Agatha kept finding excuses to see her. To drop by the restaurant Rio worked at. To request entirely unnecessary cooking lessons that mostly consisted of Rio standing behind her, hands on her hips, murmuring, “No, my love, softer. Don’t bruise the basil.”

And somehow, between stolen kisses in restaurant turned apartment pantries and late-night conversations about whether soup counted as a meal (“Of course it does, Aggie, don’t be a coward”), they became something real.

Which led them to…

Then

“You can’t wear that.”

Rio, lying sideways on the hotel bed like she had no concept of time or urgency, barely glanced up from her phone. “Why not?”

Agatha stared at her. Then at the sweater. Then back at her.

“Babe.” Agatha exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose. “This is our first red carpet together. Do you really want to make headlines as ’mismatched lesbian couple stuns at premiere’?”

Rio smirked, finally sitting up. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Agatha gestured vaguely. “It’s not a bad thing, it’s just” She groaned, walking over and planting herself between Rio’s knees. “I am wearing custom designer couture, and you… you look like the world’s most chaotic Pride float.”

Rio grinned, looping her arms around Agatha’s waist and tugging her closer. “You love that about me.”

“I do,” Agatha admitted, pressing a kiss to her temple. “But I would also love to show you off in a way that doesn’t make me look like a very glamorous sugar daddy.”

“First of all,” Rio leaned back slightly, tilting her head, “if anyone is the sugar daddy here, it’s me.”

Agatha narrowed her eyes. “Oh?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Rio squeezed her waist. “I’m taller than you, I’m a better cook than you, and I give phenomenal back massages. That is peak sugar daddy energy.”

Agatha scoffed. “You are one inch taller than me. And that only counts when we’re standing.”

Rio smirked, leaning in. “I always count it.”

Agatha rolled her eyes, but her hands had already settled on Rio’s shoulders, fingers trailing absently along the fabric of that stupid sweater. She sighed dramatically. “Fine. Wear whatever you want.”

“That’s my girl.” Rio grinned and kissed her, slow and smug, like she’d just won something.

And when they stepped onto the red carpet, Agatha’s nerves briefly flared. She could feel the attention, the whispers, the unspoken questions about their age gap, about the fact that Rio was dressed like she accidentally ended up at a Hollywood premiere.

But then…

“Babe,” Rio murmured out the side of her mouth as they posed for photos. “Do you think people can tell that I’m taller than you?”

Agatha clenched her jaw. “I will step on your foot in these heels.”

Rio bit back a laugh, tightening her arm around Agatha’s waist. “Mmm. I’d like to see you try.”

And just like that, Agatha stopped worrying.

Because at the end of the day, Rio was hers.

And that was all that mattered.

Now

Years later, everything had changed.

Agatha had always been famous. But now Rio was, too.

Her restaurant had taken off. Food competitions had turned into TV appearances. She had become the badass lesbian chef—known for her love of herbs, for her dramatic disdain for bland food, for being the only person on earth who could make Agatha, the Mysterious Hollywood Actress, laugh like a lovesick idiot on live television. While accepting her first lead actress award.

And somewhere in the middle of it all, Agatha had taken her hand and said, “Marry me.”

And Rio had said, “Obviously.”

Which brought them here. Both now getting ready for another event, another red carpet, another night of letting the world stare at them.

“So,” Agatha said, watching Rio in the mirror. “Are you finally embracing the concept of matching?”

Rio, slipping off her jacket, smirked. “Babe, I agreed to wear the designer dress, even with my busted knee. That’s all you’re getting.”

Agatha walked over, looping her arms around Rio’s neck. “Mmm. Not all I’m getting.”

Rio exhaled slowly. “You are so fucking youthful in bed, and I will never argue about it.”

Agatha smirked, leaning in. “Good girl.”

“Take your pants off.”

“No, that’s cheating.” Agatha whispered, leaning in to kiss her, just because she could.

And when they stepped onto the red carpet, Agatha didn’t think about what people whispered about them years ago. Didn’t think about the age gap, or whether Rio had belonged in these spaces.

Because Rio wasn’t just her wife. She was Rio—powerful, chaotic, her own beautiful fucking sex goodness.

And as the cameras flashed, Rio leaned in and murmured, “Do I look mysterious and intriguing, or do I look like I’m just here for the hors d’oeuvres?”

Agatha burst out laughing, pulling her closer.

“Both, my love. Both.”

#No my love softer. Don’t bruise the basil.#modern domestic agathario makes me asdfghjkl #agatha all along #agathario #rio vidal #agatha harkness #agathario au #sorry if this is weird

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salisburyliam · 1 day ago

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Characters who are in the favorites section & I genuinely can't understand WHY (part II)

PART I

I'm SURE people are looking forward to ATHWTU's new episodes solely because of the appearance of this VERY nice man who definitely doesn't make you want to strangle him with your bare hands.

I- I honestly don't know who this guy is??? He's supposed to be in Elite Tag, but tbh that book has always felt like a fever dream. I don't remember much about it.

The worst thing about Aria is that the book (GOE) forces you to get along with her and the other minion (I don't remember her name and I don't even care tbh) to gain popularity, but in the end none of that matters because this woman is NEVER happy and blames you for aaaaall the problems. Climate change? Your fault. Wars? Of course they're your fault! Indeed, everything is your fault!

If there's an option at the end of the book for 1000 diamonds to tell her to go f*ck herself, I'll gladly pay for it.

?????????????????

Why. Just, why.

#romance club

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aylen-san · 2 days ago

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Finrod Felagund: Why Being the King of the Noldor Is NOT Boring (But Definitely Deadly)

Greetings, dear friends, enemies, potential conspirators, and those already preparing to comment, “But it was different for Turgon!” Today, I, Finrod Felagund—officially the King of Nargothrond, unofficially the chief psychiatrist of my people, and unfortunately born with royal blood—will explain why being the King of the Noldor is anything but boring.

That is, of course, if you consider constant wars, betrayals, political crises, family manipulation, visits from Dark Lords, and sudden death “not boring.”

Do you think being a king is an honorable and pleasant position? HA!

Oh, I see why you might have such illusions. You probably imagine a grand throne room where I sit in a golden crown, nod wisely, issue decrees, and my people love, respect, and build statues of me.

Allow me to disappoint you—this is absolute nonsense.

Being the King of the Noldor is like playing chess, fighting a wild warg, putting out a fire, and making sure no one stabs you in the back… all at the same time.

Let’s break it down.

1. Family Is the Worst Part of the Job

I don’t know who first came up with the phrase “family is everything,” but they clearly didn’t live among the Noldor.

My family consists of:

A father who wants me to always make the right decisions (meaning the ones he approves of).

An uncle who thinks he’s the smartest person alive but, coincidentally, crises always seem to happen around him.

Cousins with an unfortunate habit of killing people, seizing cities, and staging four-act tragedies.

And guess who has to deal with all of these problems? That’s right—the king.

2. Politics Is Just a Fancy Word for Hell

Every day, advisors, lords, and generals come to me with the same conversation:

“O wise king, the situation is dire!”

Sigh. “Who is it this time? Sauron? Morgoth? Your personal ambitions?”

“Well… possibly all of the above.”

As king, I have to balance the will of the people (who just want to live), the ambitions of the nobility (who want power), and reality (which wants to kill us all).

Any decision, no matter how simple, instantly creates a chain reaction of unintended consequences—like a spell gone horribly wrong. For example:

“Let’s not interfere in foreign wars.” → We look weak.

“Let’s help our allies.” → We get dragged into an unwinnable war.

“Let’s just build a fortress and stay quiet.” → The enemy finds it anyway because someone in town blabbed (Mortals, I’m looking at you).

3. War, War, and More War

Do you think I enjoy fighting? I’d much rather write poetry, play the harp, and discuss philosophy. But alas, if you’re a King of the Noldor, sooner or later you’re called to battle.

We are a people who have “If something goes wrong, grab a sword and start killing” written into our very genes. The “let’s solve this peacefully” option is considered an extreme experiment.

And if you’re a king, you must be at the frontlines.

Try staying back, and suddenly you’ll hear whispers:

“Our king is a coward! Maybe we should replace him?”

(Usually, the “better option” they choose gets eaten by a dragon, but who thinks that far ahead?)

4. Magical Artifacts Are Not Toys—Try Explaining That to the Noldor

The moment my people see something glowing, pulsating with magic, and promising power, I already know I’ll have a headache for the next several decades.

History has proven that the Noldor simply cannot resist magical artifacts:

The Silmarils? Great idea—let’s kill thousands over them.

Rings of Power? Of course, let’s forge them and then act shocked when things go wrong.

Enchanted crowns, swords, amulets? We’ll take them! And only later realize they’re cursed.

As king, I have to make sure my people don’t get entangled in yet another magical disaster. And, of course, I fail every time.

5. The Final Bonus: Death Included in the Package

Noldorin kings rarely die in bed.

Let’s take a look at history:

Maedhros? Suicide.

Fingon? Killed.

Turgon? Killed.

Gil-galad? Burned to death.

Me? Eaten by a werewolf.

(Honestly, compared to the others, my death sounds pretty original.)

But the funniest thing? Despite how terrible this job is, every second one of us still takes the crown, as if we lack any sense of self-preservation.

And do you know why?

Because being a King of the Noldor is a challenge. It’s a battle. It’s a passion.

We cannot simply sit back and enjoy life. We either overthrow, get overthrown, get killed, or kill.

And truth be told… I wouldn’t trade my fate for anything.

Though, if I had a choice, perhaps I’d pick a quiet life in Valinor, where the worst thing that could go wrong is gossip about who played the harp worst at the last feast.

But since I’m a Noldo… we fight to the bitter end.

Yours (already dead, but still sarcastic),

Finrod Felagund.

#lord of the rings #the silmarillion #tolkien #fanfic #silm fic #silmarillion #lort of the rings #lort #the silmarilion

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moody-alcoholic · 3 hours ago

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Inspired by: Service Dog Johnny by the amazing void-my-warranty. I had the idea of; what if the roles were slightly different. What if Johnny invited Simon to come and fuck his girl to get over his fears.

Anyway. I'm super nervous about this because I really don't think I can do SDJ justice but enjoy none the less. Also void if you're seeing this you're awesome thank you for gifting the world SDJ.❤️

Part 1

Summary: John MacTavish x reader x Simon Riley (kinda), WC: 3.2k

CW: +18 content MDNI, Voyeurism, exhibitionism, fingering, angst, implied past abuse.

Enjoy <3

---

It’s Friday when Johnny springs the news his friend is coming round that evening. He didn’t give you much time to prepare, or get the house clean but you do the best you can. Johnny does go to the store for you and picks up some beer for them both.

“You don’t need to do anything special.” Johnny says opening a beer.

“I don’t mind, it's not that big of a deal, I like cooking.” You say, he comes over and wraps his arm round your waist kissing your neck.

“What exactly does he need help with?” You asks stirring the food.

“Well, it’s.” He sighs, taking another sip of the beer. You turn to look at him, he seems nervous.

“Would you ever be up for a threesome?” He asks suddenly. The question shocks you a little, you reach over and pick up your glass of wine. You weren’t expecting that, not the most unusual thing Johnny has asked you about when it comes to sex though.

“I mean, would you?” You ask taking a sip to quell the nerves.

“Depends on who the other person is.” He says, running his hand through his hair. You take another sip and put the glass down.

“What has this got to do with Simon? Is he the person you would want to have a threesome with?” You ask frowning. He takes another swing of his beer.

“It’s not that simple.” Johnny says, you shake your head, now you’re even more confused.

“I want to help him have sex.” Johnny says, holding his hands out.

“Help him have sex by having a threesome?” You ask.

“There’s more to it than that. It’s not just a threesome.” Johnny says. “He’s, he’s been through alot. Being intimate, it’s something he’s not very used to.”

“Okay. Is he shy?” You’re not sure what to say, you've never even met him.

“Shy? No, not Simon, well-” Johnny’s sentence gets cut off by the ringing of the door.

“Just trust me, okay?” He says coming over to you and resting his free hand on your shoulder. You nod, you trust him. Now all of a sudden you feel nervous, you weren’t nervous before now, Johnny leaves the room to answer the door. So he’s invited Simon round for sex? Did Simon ask for this or is this one of Johnny’s master plans?

Or well, maybe he’s not here for sex because Simon has intimacy issues apparently. He should be talking to a therapist, what does Johnny expect to do? You have to keep a straight face though, you don’t want to make him more uncomfortable then he probably already is.

You turn off the stove hearing Johnny laugh as he comes in with Simon. You turn and smile at him, you put your hand out to shake it as Johnny introduces you. He’s not what you expect and he doesn’t seem shy.

He’s massive, bigger and taller than Johnny, he’s definitely good looking, fit, brown eyes and blonde hair. With the way he holds himself you can tell he’s a soldier, Johnny does the same when he’s nervous, he probably doesn’t even realise it.

“Thank you for cooking, you didn’t have to.” Simon says as you all walk over to the dining table.

“I told her the same,” Johnny says, nudging him.

“I don’t mind, besides when was the last time you had a home cooked meal?” You say going back into the kitchen while Johnny and Simon sit down. You finish your glass of wine swallowing the nerves, it’s going to be fine. What's the worst that could happen, you all have sex?

That wouldn’t be the worst thing.

…

Johnny and Simon seem to get on great, after a beer they both relax. You just enjoy listening to them talk about their last deployment. You don’t mind letting your second glass of wine mull you out. After everyone is finished and your stomach’s have settled Johnny insists on moving to the living room.

You all end up on the sofa, you find yourself relaxing against Johnny as he wraps his arms around you. Maybe Johnny won’t bring it up or maybe he’s waiting for Simon to bring it up. It’s not your job surly, you look up at Johnny, blinking at him, maybe he’ll get the idea.

He smiles and kisses your forehead. Maybe not. You sigh looking back over at the bottle of wine and unopened beer cans on the table.

“When was the last time you got laid LT?” Johnny asks suddenly. You snap your head back up to look at him. He’s got a cheeky grin on his face looking over at Simon. You hear him clear his throat, now you feel bad. Fucking epitome of subtle as always Johnny.

“Why do you want to know?” Simon replies, you look over at him. He’s resting the beer on his knee, he doesn’t seem nervous. More irritated that Johnny asked him.

“Just looking out for you Si. Need you to blow off some steam before we’re back to work and you’re busting my balls again.” Johnny chuckles, at least that makes Simon smile.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” You ask him trying to steer the conversion away from the awkwardness hanging in the air.

“No.” You swallow the lump forming in your throat. You let out a breath sitting up. Johnny frowns at you.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” You say, Johnny smiles his hand resting on your hip for as long as can.

When you make your way back down you hear Johnny talking. You hang back for a second and eavesdrop.

“I wanna help you Simon.” Johnny says.

“You don’t have to.” Simon replies.

“Well of course I don’t have to. I want to.” Johnny replies, Simon sighs and you hear a can open. “I think it would be good for you, if you want. We’ll take it slow, promise.”

You feel a lump rise in your throat at Johnny’s words, you always knew he was close with his unit but you didn’t know he was this close. You let out a breath and slowly walk back into the room. You see Johnny move his hand off Simon’s thigh and you go over to pick the empty cans off the table.

“Need anything?” You ask, trying to keep your voice level. Johnny and Simon both shake their heads. You go into the kitchen anyway to throw out the cans. You hear Johnny coming in, his hands slip round your waist. You smile at his touch and turn to face him.

“Do you mind doing this?” Johnny asks, his thumb comes up to brush your cheek.

“Do you?” You ask. He smiles, nodding his head. You smile back, reaching up and kissing him.

“We’ll take it slow. You want to stop at any time we will.” Johnny says his hand rubbing your arm.

“I don’t think it’s me you need to be worrying about.” You say.

“Sorry I sort of sprung this on you, I didn’t know if he would agree.” He says, you frown.

“Did you speak to him about this before tonight?”

“I hinted at the idea.”

“Hinted?” You scoff. “John MacTavish, you're the least subtle person I have ever met.” You wrap your arm around his waist pulling him against you. He hums with that cheeky grin on his face.

“What happened to the bra?” He asks. You smile.

“One less obstacle.” He kisses your forehead. You follow him back into the living room, Simon has moved onto the recliner. This time when you sit back on the sofa you don’t lean against Johnny.

Simon seems to be suddenly extremely interested in what’s going on on the news. Johnny’s hand lands on your thigh and rubs it. He turns and leans in to kiss you, he takes his time mapping your mouth out, you relax into the kiss forgetting Simon’s there for a second.

Johnny’s hand slips up your shirt groping your breast. You hum in his mouth and he pulls away from the kiss. He removes it, gripping the hem of your shirt. You raise an eyebrow at him, what you’re just going to fuck while he watches or maybe joins in.

Johnny tips his head to the side smiling. You swallow the nerves and hold your hands up so he can slip your top off. A satisfied noise leaves Johnny and before you can start to feel really embarrassed about anything he’s already locked his mouth round one of your nipples.

You can’t help moaning and running your hand through his hair. He had it cut while he was away, you want him to grow it out again so you have something to grip onto. Johnny’s tongue flicks your nipple and he gently nibbles it before he pulls his mouth off with an audible pop.

“What do you think, Si?” Johnny asks, looking over at him. You look over to see Simon press his lips together. “Pretty ain’t she?”

You feel heat rush to your cheeks as he nods, it doesn’t last long though. Johnny pulls you closer to him, planting his lips on yours and pressing his tongue in your mouth while his thumb rubs circles on your nipple still wet from his mouth.

He breaks from the kiss pressing his forehead on yours. “How ‘bout you go show Simon how good you are?” He says, it’s almost a whisper. You nod and he gives you one last quick kiss before you stand up.

Johnny's hand lingers on the small of your back for as long as he can as you step over to stand in front of Simon. He doesn’t look that nervous, you know he is though, the way his lips are pressed together avoiding your eye line. His hands gripping the chair arms. You’re not sure what to do, make sure you don’t freak him out is probably a good start.

“I’m not a virgin.” He says, you clench your jaw feeling awkward. “It’s just been a while, I'm out of practice.”

“How long?” You ask.

You bring his hand up and place it on your breast. “I like having my nipples played with.” You say letting go of his hand, encouraging him to squeeze. You smile at him, you need to keep yourself open and calm.

“Couple of years,” he says, like it's the most embarrassing fact in the world. Now you just feel bad for him, again. You reach down for the hand resting on the chair arm and pick it up. You can see the bulge in his pants, that's good, one less obstacle you need to worry about.

His hands are rougher than Johnny’s, his grip is tighter, you’re not sure if it’s out of nerves or not. If he relaxes it will be easier, you don’t think that's going to be happening any time soon. His thumb brushes over your nipple and you reward it with a hum, trying to make your body relax even more.

His other hand comes up to your other beast and before you know it he has both his thumbs running over your nipples. It feels good, if this were any other situation-or Johnny you might be able to cum just like this.

You feel Johnny step up behind you, his hands land on your waist as he pulls you back against him.

“Wanna see what else she likes?” He asks, resting his chin on your shoulder. Simon looks up at him and nods. Johnny leaves you and Simon drops his hand as you both watch Johnny move the coffee table out the way. When he’s done he goes over to the sofa and pulls the throw down on the floor, sitting down with his back against the sofa.

“Come.” He says gesturing at you, you raise an eyebrow and walk over anyway, he spreads his legs and pats on the floor between them.

“Pants off, back on my chest.” He says, you nod pulling them off. This time you don’t get embarrassed thinking about Simon seeing you. You sit down between his legs and rest up against his back. You look over at Simon who’s face has turned a light red. Maybe this is too much, too fast.

He hasn’t said stop though. Johnny reaches over and pulls your knees up so Simon has a perfect view of you spread out against him. You can feel his own cock pressing against your lower back, his hands run down your thighs eventually pressing on your clit.

You try not to squirm, keeping yourself still. You let out a breath as Johnny moves his fingers round soaking them in your juices before pressing them back on your clit. You moan this time at the new sensation, his fingers pressing little circles with ease.

That’s good though right? You should be looking like you’re enjoying yourself. This is a fun activity not something to be afraid off.

“She likes this too, Si. Wanna feel?” Johnny says then presses a kiss into your neck. You watch as he shifts in the chair, for a second he looks like he doesn’t know what to say. He lets out a sigh and stands up out of the chair, he steps over then kneels down in front of you. He watches for a second as Johnny changes his strokes.

You see Simon swallow before he reaches out. Johnny’s fingers are replaced with his. It’s a whole different sensation. His movements are slower, more unsure but the pressure is there and from having them both play with your nipples your body is slowly building up to that sweet release.

“Put your fingers in her.” Johnny says after a few seconds. Simon looks up at him then quickly to you, you smile and nod at him. He shuffles on his knees again taking his fingers off your clit almost like he’s unsure.

You watch his adam's apple bob then he presses a finger into you. You can’t help moaning, his finger stops, you smile at him and he continues to press it in until he can’t anymore. You feel Johnny’s cock twitch behind you. He’s enjoying this, he moves his fingers back to your clit.

“Feel good love?” Johnny asks in your ear, you nod. “Use your words darlin’ tell him how good you feel.”

“Your finger feels good Simon, you can use more if you want.” You say looking up at him. You think you see the faintest smile creep onto his lips. The next time he pulls his finger out he adds another. The new stretch makes you part your legs further, scooting your position slightly so his fingers rub against your g-spot with each thrust. You moan again, this time tipping your head slightly. You want to come but not until Simon’s ready, you don’t want to scare him.

“See not so scary after all.” Johnny says, you can hear the smile in his voice. You look up at Simon who seems like he’s in a world of his own, maybe that's where he needs to be to get through this. You wonder what happened to him, you didn’t bother asking Johnny. It must have been something horrible.

You let out a moan trying not to clench down on Simon’s fingers, you don’t want to spook him. Johnny hums in your neck, you know he’ll know you’re close, sometimes it feels like he can read your body better than you.

“What to make her cum?” Johnny asks, you almost want to nod and scream yes. Simon looks up again, he hesitates for a second, his fingers stopping in you. He nods and you smile at him.

“Just don’t take your fingers out okay?” Johnny asks, you swallow, you don’t want either of them to take their fingers off you. Simon nods again, his fingers start moving again, he makes sure to press in all the way. He speeds up too, you’re not in control anymore, maybe it’s for the best.

Johnny’s fingers on your clit are relentless, you’re focusing on not spooking Simon or clenching around his fingers until you cum. Johnny hums in your ear and it sends shivers down your spine. He can tell your close cock twitches behind you. You’re not sure if you need to give an audible warning to Simon though.

Your breathing increases as does your moaning, you’re close and you need to make your mind up.

“Johnny.” You call his name, it’s almost like you need to wait for his permission, you’re not sure what to do.

“Yeah baby, come for us.” His voice low in your ear. Christ, that's all the permission you need, you tip your head back and close your eyes moaning as you clench down on Simon’s fingers. He stops moving but you don’t care. Johnny rides you through the orgasm as Simon’s fingers leave you.

“See, not so bad.” You hear Johnny say. You open your eyes as you feel Simon get up to his feet.

“Si?” Johnny asks as he moves to leave the room. You sit up.

“Bathroom.” Is all he says as he leaves the living room.

“Is he okay?” You ask leaning forward between Johnny’s legs. You turn to look at him watching out the door. You both hear the downstairs toilet door close. Johnny looks back over at you and smiles, you can see the concern in his eyes though, he’s not as slick as he thinks he is.

“You did great.” He smiles, leaning forward to kiss you. You can’t help feeling like you’ve done something wrong though. Maybe it was all too much for him.

“I’ll go check on him.” Johnny says helping you to your feet. You smile at him and nod. Maybe he just needs a second. You feel bad all of a sudden. Johnny leaves and you shiver, the room suddenly feels cold. You’re just standing there naked, you’re not sure if things are going to continue.

You reach over pulling the other throw off the couch and wrap yourself up. At least this way if he wants to keep going you don’t have to go through the hassle of taking all your clothes off. You want to sit down but your curiosity gets the better of you and you head over to the living room door.

You hear the toilet door open. No one says anything, you make sure to keep out of sight of the hall, trying to focus on listening.

You hear Johnny sigh. “You did so well mate.” There’s a sniffle in response, is he crying? Now you really feel bad for eavesdropping.

“Wanna stay the night?” Johnny asks, there’s no response.

“Want a mask?” He asks, you frown, a mask? “Guest room, in the chest of drawers.” You hear movement and step back over to sit on the sofa. You’re still getting comfy as Johnny walks in. He smiles at you and comes over to sit next to you. His arm comes round your shoulders and he pulls you up against him.

“Simon’s going to stay the night.” He says kissing the top of your head. You nod trying to swallow the guilt of eavesdropping on their conversation. Johnny reaches over to pick up the remote and unmute the TV.

“Is he okay?” You ask.

“He’s fine. He just needs a minute.” Johnny says. You nod

“Thank you.” He says. “Really I mean it. You didn’t have to do this.” You look up at him and smile, it makes you feel all warm inside.

“I love you johnny.” You say.

“I love you too.”

---

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anne-bsd-bibliophile · 2 days ago

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I haven't read all of these series, because I want to wait until the series is complete in English before I read it, but this is my ranking of the books I've read:

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun (⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐): It's my favorite for so many reasons! I'm so attached to Mo Ran and Chu Wanning. Meatbun is an amazing writer. It's crazy how many emotions I felt while reading this series. I read fan and machine translations of the book first and am rereading it as the official translations come out. It's even better (and infinitely more painful) the second time around! The foreshadowing and big reveals are more impactful than any other book I've ever read. Also, I am so glad I got to read the whole thing without stopping, because if I had to wait for the next book to come out that would have been far too painful! 2ha destroyed me emotionally in ways nothing else ever has. I refuse to read any other series by Meatbun until all the books are out because I've heard they are also painful, but brilliant, books! I have a feeling that Remnants of Filth and Casefile Compendium are going to be high on my favorites list when I do read them.

2. Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐): My first danmei, and my favorite by MXTX. The drama and the anime are also wonderful, but because the adaptations had to be censored, the books are definitely the best! The relationship between Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji is absolutely perfect! The side characters are endearing, the humor is witty, and the action/suspense scenes are done very well. This book is also has my favorite confession scene of all time! I got into the series for the romance, and was blown away by the writing and the mystery plotline. However, it can be a little confusing when it comes to switching between timelines.

3. Thousand Autumns (⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐): The author basically thought, "What would happen if a man with no flaws and the worst man ever were to meet?" And then she wrote this book. Shen Qiao is the most perfect man ever. He's kind, gentle, beautiful, strong, intelligent, forgiving, and is basically the ideal Taoist priest. Yan Wushi is a demonic cultivator who is the exact opposite of Shen Qiao. Yan Wushi is arrogant, cynical, harsh, violent, mercurial, and is so strong that no one could oppose him if they wanted to. The book begins with Shen Qiao laying almost dead, blind, and amnesiac at the bottom of a cliff where he is found by Yan Wushi, who takes Shen Qiao home because he wants to try and influence him to become evil just for fun. As their paths meet and they travel together, Yan Wushi shows Shen Qiao parts of the world he had never known existed and they do end up influencing each other, just not in the way either of them expected. Yan Wushi is quite the character and Shen Qiao is absolutely perfect. They may not seem to be made for each other, at least not at first, but they were. I love the two main characters of course, but I also love how realistic the historical setting is and the power struggle between the three main Chinese philosophies, Taoism, Confucianism, and Buddhism. Thousand Autumns is thought provoking while also being exciting, suspenseful, fun, romantic, and downright silly at times. It isn't the most well known danmei series, but I think it is one of the best written.

4. Heaven Official's Blessing (⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐): This is probably the best writing from MXTX. It has beautiful symbolism, which helps to make the official artwork and donghua look spectacular. The whole series is like a work of art. Xie Lian is one of the most intriguing protagonists because he is as simple as he appears on the surface but is also equally complex deep down. He never changes throughout the series, either. You just learn and understand more about Xie Lian as his past is revealed. The same can be said about Hua Cheng; his character is straightforward and unchanging, but he is also an enigma. For me, Heaven Official's Blessing is amazing because of Xie Lian and Hua Cheng's relationship and how they have influenced each other. The other characters and side plots are interesting and well written, but the whole draw for me is Hualian. Even during the moments when they are not the main focus in the plot they are still my main focus, if that makes sense. The world of Heaven Official's Blessing and the entire cast of characters are well written, and with Hualian at the center of it all this series is spectacular.

5. Scum Villain Self-Saving System (⭐⭐⭐⭐): This series is so much fun. There are so many stories where the main character dies in real life only to wake up as the villain in a story, and I thought this would be more of the same. But SVSSS is very satirical and pokes fun at the overused genre cliches. It is so easy to relate to Shen Qingqiu and to love Lou Binghe. I really enjoyed how the series is so entertaining at first, but it becomes so dark and realistic despite being an over the top stallion novel setting. The whole book is a wild ride and I enjoyed every moment of it.

6. Guardian (⭐⭐⭐): I think it was a fun choice to choose a modern supernatural detective setting and include Chinese mythology. It made the cast of characters unique and fun. I also really enjoyed the humor in this series. The character development and plot weren't as deep and impactful as the other danmei in this list, and I think part of the reason is the author gave a lot of hints and help for the reader. As a result, it felt like this series was written for a younger audience. It's not bad, but it made the series a lot less engaging for me, even though I do love the two main characters.

7. Stars of Chaos (⭐⭐): I wasn't really a fan of this series. It had so much potential, but ultimately the plot boiled down to a paranoid emperor, greedy court officials, an underfunded military, and the two main characters who are so perfect that they turn literally every situation around and everything goes according to their plans. The politics and military issues were realistic, but they were explained so thoroughly that there were no surprises. The main characters are amazing, but their backstories aren't explained even half as well as the politics were so we don't really know much about how they got to be that way. In the first book the main character travels for four years and changes from a snotnosed kid to the impressive and skilled protagonist who can take on literally everything. His godfather/love interest is astonished and wonders what he was doing for those four years. I was also curious, but the author never told us. There was so much emphasis on world building, political intrigue, and military strategy that I felt the characters took a backseat to everything else. Which is a shame, because the characters are so cool! I actually enjoyed the extra chapters more than the main story because we got to see more of the characters and how they interact with each other. (Whenever I talk about Stars of Chaos I sound like Shen Yuan talking about PIDW from SVSSS. I know and I'm sorry, so please remember this is just my opinion. Please don't hunt me down for revenge.)

To Be Read:

Remnants of Filth

Casefile Compendium

Peerless

Ballad of Sword and Wine

The Disabled Tyrant's Beloved Pet Fish

You've Got Mail: The Perils of Pigeon Post

Danmei novels but they are Pokémon to collect so yeah. Show me your collections and favourite series I’ll show you mine

I’m loving these so much. Erha is my favourite at the moment, but I need vol 3-9 to complete the collection. And I’m super excited to get through the rest of tgcf since I watched the anime and read the comic so IM EXCITED FOR MORE MATERIALLLL

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