#and when hes not trying to kill you- hes trying to make you laugh by being the most silly guy ever

[skyrigel]

Simon “Domesticated” Riley is my favourite.

Yes, he would kill for you and he would die for you but his affections and undying love isn't limited to oaths. It's boundless and endless.

He will cook for you, learn because he wasn't taught very good and he wants everything to be good for you.

He will sing for you, because you'd heard him in the shower and couldn't get past to fall asleep without his husky songs to make you fall asleep on his chest.

He will wash the dishes, side by side you. Laughing along as you dry the plates and using his hands at work to your own advantage to play mischief on him.

He will hear you, as you would continue to talk about everything because nothing was out of field, and despite you being a very seducing distraction, he's always trying his best.

He's a “my girlfriend, my wife” guy despite the other Task force guys teasing him about it, he doesn't mind holding your purse, instead he prods on it, he's always on his knees to tie your shoelaces, to help you out from those pointy heels. He doesn't mind being whipped, as Soap christened it, or smitten as Gaz chortled, because he is, as he should.

He's not patronising, despite being raised up to be one. He's gentle and kind and soft for you, and he's working on becoming a better man everyday for you.

He doesn't let his anger that's so unforgiving and terrible get the better of him, he's not a monster despite the blood on his hands as you've always told him so, he would pace around the lawn, sit in the grass, wash his face but he wouldn't let his anger be something you should be scared off, he wouldn't let it get between this holy thing called love.

He talks things out, understands your opinion, values them openly. 

He expresses everything even so it'd become difficult after being told to be stoic for so long, but he tries, always for you. 

He's always startled and flushed when you compliment him and he's trying to learn that you mean every word of it.

Masterlist

[ellieputellas]

friendly competition | alexia putellas x mapi león x reader 🔞

Your best friends Alexia and Mapi were always naturally competitive, finding every opportunity to one up each other. You just never thought pleasuring you would be their next competition.

tags / warnings: MINORS DNI, strap r!receiving, fingering r!receiving, cunnilingus r!receiving, lots of making out and fondling, minimal usage of slut, pet names, overstimulation, drunk sex, just some nice friendly competition, unedited and no proofreading done at all so there will be some errors | wc: 4k+

masterlist | please do not repost or plagiarize.

After breaking up with your boyfriend of 5 years, your best friends from college decided that they would make it their agenda to make you happy.

"Mapi, enough with the drinks, she's going to throw up if you keep making her drunk." Alexia scolded the tattooed girl who was mixing you a suspicious cocktail of Jäger and soda. 

Mapi scoffed. "She's gonna end up getting sick first cause of all the sweets you're feeding her."

Alexia rolled her eyes at Mapi.

Mapi and Alexia were competitive ever since you first met as roommates for college. They didn't like to admit it but there was always something between the two of them — a sense of friendly competition. It started off with just football but it trickled down to other things — like grades in school and party games. 

At some point, the two even started a competition of who could get the most girl's numbers at a college party, much to your dismay. You hated being in between all of it; you weren't always a fan of how competitive and intense they could be.

But today, it was working in your favor because today, their competition was on who could make you feel better faster.

"Actually, I don't want anything to drink or eat right now." You groaned, rubbing your tummy. You were starting to feel full and tipsy. "I'd kill to get my feet massaged right now though."

"Got it," Alexia said, immediately getting up from the couch to settle on the floor and take one of your feet. 

Mapi furrowed her eyebrows. "Don't let Alexia do it. She just presses random spots and thinks that's good enough."

The two bantered, both obviously tipsy as well. You chuckled and shook your head. "How do you two even know who gives the better foot rubs? You two join some weird foot massaging tournament?”

Mapi smirked as she slinked beside Alexia, grabbing your other foot. "We both liked the same girl before and we both wanted to impress her and that somehow ended up kinda like this." She recounted.

You chuckled and shook your head at the anecdote. There wasn't a single thing your two best friends did not compete over. You were just glad it was going in your favor today.

You moaned out in delight as you felt them both try hard to massage your feet. "Mmm, that's good." You laid your head back, resting it on the couch cushion.

"Well, who's better?" Alexia asked impatiently.

You sighed. "You've been massaging me for 3 seconds and you already want me to decide already. Just keep at it."

The two laughed; they knew you were taking advantage of their competitiveness but fuck it, you were just  broken up with. The least you can get off it was a foot massage.

"So, be for real, are you still upset about him?" Mapi asked, tilting her head to the side. 

You hummed to think. "Yes... and no." You responded honestly. "Yes because we were together for a really long time and I just got used to being around him. He kind of became part of my life ritual so it will be hard to move past that."

"And no because?" Alexia pressed, looking at you with a curious look.

"Also no because these past years, I've always felt like the spark completely died out." You said honestly, taking a deep breath. "I hate him for cheating on me and leaving me for some random chick he met on Call of Duty but part of me blames myself. I rarely make out with him. We only ever have sex on his birthday or when he begs for it extra, extra hard. I just wasn't a good girlfriend physically and I guess, men need that physical aspect of a relationship."

You pressed a hand on your forehead as you sighed deeply. "At least I don't have to force myself to fake an orgasm anymore while having to choke down my own vomit." You said, shaking your head at the memory of the sweaty man grunting on top of you. Why did I even try to put up with that?

The two laughed at your candidness which was mostly brought by your inebriation. "Geez, I didn't know you two were having issues like that." Alexia commented with an amused expression."You guys always looked happy."

"I saw it coming. If you're observant enough, you could see they were mostly just friends these past years. The whole romance aspect died down basically during the second year of college." Mapi interjected. "You might not have noticed it much, Ale. Considering that you’re not that observant."

Alexia looked offended. "Excuse me? If anything, I'm more observant than you are. I literally am the best listener while you mostly just yap." She argued.

You grained, feeling your head throb with the banter. “Can you guys cut it out for a moment? I just want a good foot massage and not have to hear you two bicker about who's better at what."

The two continued to massage your feet, glancing at each other to see how well the other was doing. You rolled your eyes. I really got a bunch of childish losers for my best friends, you thought.

"Mmm," You said out loud as you felt Mapi press against a pressure point with the pad of her fingers. "Oh... that feels really good."

Mapi smiled. Alexia rolled her eyes but decided to emulate Mapi and press against the same pressure point on the opposite foot.

You moaned out. "Ohhh, that feels really good. Mmm." You closed my eyes, pressing your hands flat on the surface beside you.

"This massage is giving me more pleasure than all the sex I had with him all those years combined. I can't believe a foot massage may give me my first orgasm." You attempted a joke but realized no one was chuckling with you. You blinked your eyes open to see Alexia and Mapi looking at each other knowingly.

You cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

The two had a playful smirk that irked you and left you feeling uneasy. You felt like you were being purposefully left out of an inside joke. 

"Whaaaaat? Tell me."

"I don't even know if Alexia is thinking the same thing as me." Mapi shrugged with a small smile and a playful look on her face. She glanced at Alexia who was chuckling as she shook her head.

After a pause of contemplation, Alexia leaned in to whisper something in Mapi's ear, making her chuckle. "Okay, never mind, we were thinking the same thing." Mapi confirmed, not exactly shocked that they were thinking alike.

You groaned. "Can you just tell me? This is frustrating."

The two best friends looked at each other carefully, slowing down on their foot massaging. Alexia bit her lip before saying out loud. "We wanna see who can pleasure you more." Her tone was calculated but firm.

"Pleasure?" You furrowed your eyebrows.

Mapi nodded. "Yeah, we wanna see which one of us can fuck you better." She said more bluntly. 

You widened my eyes. "Are you guys insane?" You shouted, jolting back and taking back your feet away from them. You tucked them into an indian sit."You guys better be fucking around."

The two of them were quiet and unresponsive which made you a bit nervous. Were they actually being serious?

"Guys, don't fuck around with me please. I don't like it." You whined, feeling teased by your best friends. "It's really not funny."

"To be honest... Alexia and I have been interested in you since college." Mapi responded. "We just kept a healthy distance since, well, you had a boyfriend."

You turned your attention to Alexia who nodded. "Yeah, I've wanted to bend you over and go crazy ever since I saw you undress in front of me during our first night at our dorm." Her voice was too confident and loud, obviously tipsy but it still sounded honest.

You fell speechless, blinking and trying to process what the two had just confessed. Mapi stood up and leaned over you on the couch, propping her hand beside you. "Come on, don't tell us you haven't thought of us like that before?" She asked with a suggestive tone.

You gulped. You've always known your best friends were attractive; there was a good reason for them to be so popular amongst girls. All of your friends in college basically were always asking about at least one of them. It was no question that they were both hot and had such strong sex appeal in such different ways. But, you didn't really think about it until now...

Before you could say anything, Mapi's lips found its way to your neck. You gasped as you felt her kiss the side of your neck then slowly made her way to your jaw. You tensed up at first but immediately felt your eyes flutter.

"Uh," You  moaned as you let her suck on your neck. "Mapi, wait."

She pulled away. "Tell me stop if you don't want me to go on." She said before leaning in again to kiss your neck but with more force this time. You knew you should have stopped her but it just felt too damn good. You moaned out when you felt her nibble at a sensitive part of your collarbones. All hesitation melted away and you wrapped your arms around her and let her devour you. 

"Hey, I want a turn too." You opened your eyes to see Alexia standing, towering over the two of you. You don't know what came over you but you used your left hand to grab her hand and pull her close to you.

Mapi moved over to sit on your right and to kiss that side of my neck while moving her hands to gently cup your clothed breast as Alexia leaned over you, capturing your lips with hers.

You moaned, tasting the cocktail taste lingering in her tongue as it skillfully entered your mouth. Unlike kissing your ex-boyfriend, you didn't feel like puking yourself. You wanted to kiss Alexia deeper, taste more of her, and have her hands in your body. Her tongue and lips were already against yours but you wanted to be closer. You needed her inside you, craving to be filled by your best friend's fingers.

You yelped as you felt Mapi suddenly squeeze your chest hard with her hand.

"Alexia, don't hog her." She complained.

Alexia broke your kiss. "Not my fault she wants me more," She teased as she went back to kissing you.

You pulled away after a few lip locks, deciding you also wanted a taste of Mapi. You turned your head to her, grabbing her jaw and planting your eager lips on her.

Mapi was rougher. She liked to bite and nibble. Her tongue expertly slithering into your mouth with so much fervor that you were already practically moaning from her kisses. Mapi scooped you up from her side and guided you so you ended up straddling her lap as she kissed you deeply.

You felt her hands slithering under your shirt and then under your bra. You gasped in between her kisses as she took your nipples between her fingers, pinching and twirling them. You couldn't help but grind yourself against her lap as she kissed and fondled you.

"Mapi, now, you're the one being selfish." Alexia complained.

Mapi stopped kissing you. She looked into your eyes with darkened lust before looking at Alexia and nodding. Alexia took you off of Mapi's lap before sitting down on the spot beside her. She emulated Mapi's position, propping you on top of her.

Alexia hurriedly took off your shirt and your bra. She bit her lip as she looked at your breasts. "If I had known you had boobs as cute as this, I would have ravaged you earlier." She said as she looked hungrily at your bare chest.

Before you could roll your eyes or make a snide remark, her mouth captured your right nipple. She alternated between sucking and using her tongue to flick against it. Her other hand started with the other nipple, pinching and flicking before slowly moving down to rub your core from the outside. 

You just wanted so badly for her to rip off your shorts and undies but Alexia just kept teasing you by rubbing on the outside, alternating from grazing your core to running her hands along your inner thigh.

You broke our kiss. "Ale, Ale, I want it inside, please."

Alexia looked smug. "I thought you didn't want us to pleasure you, huh?"

You groaned as you felt her draw painstakingly slow circles around your core. "Quit it. I want it now."

"Then you'll get it."

Alexia kissed you briefly before making you stand up so she could take off your bottoms. The two looked like hungry animals with the way they stared at you undress, ready to pounce and devour every bit of flesh on you. It left you shivering and wanting them more.

Alexia gestured for you to sit down on her lap, facing the opposite direction. You followed suit, turning to have your back facing her before sitting on her lap. She grabbed your breasts, moving your body closer to her torso before parting your legs. You felt exposed this way. You were spread open for Alexia to touch and Mapi to watch. 

You couldn't see Alexia but you could hear her curse under her breath as her hands made its way from your inner thigh to your dripping wet core.

"Cariño, look how wet you are for us." She said as she slowly rubbed your clit. Mapi licked her lips as she watched Alexia tease her fingers around your entrance, feeling all the folds and contours of your core.

You moaned as you felt the tips of Alexia's fingers draw wide circles around your entire core, purposefully avoiding your clit. You tried to grind against her for more but her other hand was holding your hip steady.

Mapi excused herself to go to the next room and before you could ask why, Alexia's fingers found their way to your throbbing clit and began rubbing it in circles. You moaned out.

You were wriggling quite a bit due to the sudden bouts of pressure going through your body but Alexia was able to hold you steady with her hands. "Oh, our little slut likes getting her clit played with?" Alexia teased, suddenly upping the dirty talk which just made you feel more turned on. 

You ignored her teasing and continued to focus on the way her hands touched you. "Alexia, please," You moaned. "I want you."

"Mmm," She hummed as if to think. "I'll do it if you admit you're a slut for me."

You knitted your eyebrows together. "Alexia..."

"Say it."

"Fuck," You closed your eyes shut as you felt her fingers graze against the sensitive spot of your clit. Alexia had felt you react to it and decided to tease you by playfully flicking her fingers up and down the sensitive spot. "Alexia, I'm your slut."

"Good girl." Alexia spared no time before inserting two fingers in your cunt. Given her limited position, she was mostly curling her fingers instead of thrusting in and out which just made you moan out louder each time she grazed and hit against the most sensitive areas.

"You sound so good, cariño." Alexia grunted in your ear. "I think you're wet enough to take another."

Without much time to process her statement, she inserted a third finger inside you, eliciting a loud gasp. You gyrated your hips against Alexia's hand as she continued to fuck you. The three fingers inside you were stretching you out so much and yet it felt so satisfying feeling so full like that.

You were just about to reach orgasm when Mapi re-entered the room. "My turn, Alexia." She ordered.

Alexia removed her fingers from inside you abruptly. You groaned and were about to complain. But, when you opened your eyes, you saw that Mapi has now stripped completely except for a black sports bra and a strap-on wrapped around her waist with a black harness. She had her dyed blonde hair tied up in a sleek bun, showing just how serious she was about this.

"I knew you had it with you." Alexia responded with a chuckle. "That's why I stretched her out nice and good for you. Consider it a thank you for letting me play with her cute little pussy first."

Mapi chuckled as she positioned herself in front of you. "Did Alexia make you feel good, princesa?"

You bit your lip and nodded as you watched her put lube on to the translucent silicone member attached to her.

"Well, if Alexia made you feel good, I'll make you feel better." She said with a playful tone

Alexia, who was still underneath you, chuckled at the statement but held your thighs steadily apart for Mapi, spreading them apart to make sure you were completely exposed.

Mapi slowly positioned her hips to align the silicone member in front of your cunt. Alexia took one of her hands off your leg and continued to rub your clit. You felt incredibly exposed as you moaned out, feeling your cunt grow wetter.

Mapi slowly entered. You gasped as she slowly thrusted the entire length inside, gaping you wide open. Alexia kept rubbing your core to help you take Mapi's entire length better.

"Fuck, look at that pretty pussy stretch wide around my dick." Mapi commented before tucking her lower lip between her teeth.

After a few precautionary thrusts, Mapi increased her pace. She thrust in and out of, daring to thrust out the entire length up to the head before slamming back inside of you. Alexia was still rubbing you steadily while kissing your neck and playing with your breast.

You felt overstimulated in all your parts with Mapi filling you up entirely, Alexia touching you everywhere else and the warmth of both their bodies pressed against you.

"I-I'm almost there." You said in between shaky moans. "Ale, Mapi, faster please."

The two didn't hesitate and obeyed immediately. You felt the warmth fill your entirety. Your arms, legs and even your torso began shaking with an orgasm threatening to erupt. You were moaning out so loud that you were sure you were getting a strongly worded notice from the landlord about complaints from the neighbors the next day 

"Mapi!" You moaned as Mapi slammed her entirety into you.

With a few more intense thrusts, you were completely unraveled. Ripples of pleasure  passed through your body as you unraveled into an orgasm.

Your best friends helped ride out your orgasm before fully stopping. Mapi pulled out before grabbing your face and kissing you sloppily as you both tried to catch your breaths.

"Woah." It was all you could say.

You scooted off of Alexia's lap and rested on the space beside her, melting into a puddle of pleasure and exhaustion.

"Uh, Mapi, why did you have to wear her out?" Alexia complained. "I wasn't done with her yet."

Mapi smiled smugly. "Look at her. How can I resist? You try lusting over her for years."

"Estúpida, we're on the same boat." Alexia smacked Mapi's arm. "I wanted her for just as long."

Alexia leaned in closer to you, planting gentle kisses on your cheek before whispering. "Are you all rested up? Cause it's my turn to take the spotlight."

"I don't know if I can take it." You responded honestly, still catching your breath.

"You can take it, I promise." Alexia responded as she kneeled in front of you, grabbing your feet to place on the sofa on either side of you so that you were once again exposed to her.

"Alexia, wait, I'm still raw." You whimpered

Alexia groaned. "I'll be gentle, I promise."

Mapi, who was standing as she removed the harness, rolled her eyes. "No, she won't."

"No, I promise, cariño. I'll be good." Alexia said as she moved closer to you. She leaned her head into your cunt, giving it a gentle smooch. You gasped quietly at the gentle touch.

She gave your cunt another peck before taking it inside her mouth and using her tongue to lick the slickness of your core. You moaned as you felt the flat of Alexia's tongue clean the surface of your cunt.

"Uh, Alexia." You moaned as you felt her tongue play along the folds. "Suck on me, please."

Alexia obeyed and placed a suction around your clit. She sucked and you nearly jolted out of your position. "Fuck! That's good."

Alexia looked smug as she continued to eat you out. You were moaning and grunting, focused on your pleasure until Mapi grabbed your face and proceeded to kiss you.

You moaned sloppily into her mouth as she liplocked with you as you were getting eaten out by your other best friend. You moaned against Mapi's mouth when you felt the tip of Alexia's tongue play against the small part of your clit. You moved your hips towards her and parted your lips to breathe which didn't stop Mapi from taking that as an opportunity to stick her tongue in your mouth.

You were breathless and overstimulated. You felt like the two were overcompensating for the lost pleasure they could have had if it weren't due to you being tied down to the anchor that was your ex for all these years.

You continued to gyrate your hips as Alexia kept a firm suction of your core with her mouth, still kissing Mapi deeply. You moaned loudly against Mapi's mouth when you felt the climax building. At that point, Alexia removed her face from your cunt and promptly replaced it with her hand rubbing against your and the two fingers of the other hand swiftly placed inside you, curling against your sensitive part.

You couldn't even process what happened next. You turned into a concentration of mindless pleasure that eventually exploded into a shaking orgasm.

"Woah, Mapi." Alexia exclaimed with her fingers still pumping in and out of you. You fluttered your eyes open to see Alexia smiling playfully at Mapi. "She's squirting."

You looked down and as if on cue, you squirted again. You groaned as Alexia fingered you a few more times before fully pulling out. "I never would have guessed you're a squirter." She commented.

"I guessed it." Mapi responded.

Alexia just rolled her eyes. "That doesn't matter. I made her squirt without any of your help." She retorted.

"Please, she was only cumming after I already fucked her. That orgasm was merely an aftershock." Mapi answered. "I think I won."

Alexia exhaled exasperatedly. She turned towards you. "Go on and tell Mapi I won this time."

You paused as you tried to catch your breath, darting your eyes from one best friend to the other. Alexia was good with her hands and mouth. She loved to hit particular spots that just elicited the loudest and most embarrassing noises you have ever made. On the other hand, Mapi truly fucked yoy brains out with her strap. It was rough and indulgent which you never would have thought was the type of sex you would go insane for.

You hummed. "No winners."

Alexia and Mapi exclaimed in protest loudly. You hushed the two immediately. "No winners yet. I think I need another round to get to decide who wins."

They both smiled.

"Good," Alexia said. "I can go all night until you decide I win."

"I can go all night even after you decide I win." Mapi retorted. You shook your head and chuckled at them. It was going to be a long and sleepless night.

a/n: sorry this was completely unedited! i hope u guys still liked it! pls be nice <3 requests are open (but slow and not guaranteed lol)

[xinganhao]

✏️ seatmates joshua x reader.

prompt: "we sit next to each other every day, i lend you pencils, you share snacks with me, people are assuming we’re a couple, let’s go with that." ✶ part of my svt university milestone event

⤿ fluff, slight miscommunication, joshua is whipped, jeongcheol [if u squint!]. more content under the cut. ♡⸝⸝ prompt from anon!

It's not looking like a good start of the week for Seungcheol.

He had an insane bender the night before. He missed the morning bus to school and ended up walking the whole two-kilometer way. And now, the not-quite-a-couple duo who sat in front of him at class was back on their bullshit again.

With his fingers pressed to his temple, Seungcheol watches warily as the starry-eyed boy— Joshua, Seungcheol thinks his name is— places a canned coffee atop the edge of your desk. God, Seungcheol would kill for that right about now.

He's too far gone to make out anything the two of you are saying, but Seungcheol can fill in the blanks. It's probably something stupid, he thinks bitterly. Good morning, love. How was your weekend, love? I missed you, love.

Blegh.

There's only one thing he can think to do. Seungcheol whips out his phone and shoots out a quick slew of texts, trying to ignore the way that Joshua has begun to laugh a little too loud at something you just said.

Seungcheol it's a monday and i'm hungover and the pretty boy in front of me keeps making heart eyes at his seatmate he's laughing. i'm hungover to the heavens and he's laughing god what have i done to deserve this god when will it be my turn Jeonghan you think someone else is pretty? :( Seungcheol do NOT start with me rn

Seokmin doesn't think Joshua notices.

It's just like Joshua, really, to be a bit slow on the uptake when it comes to matters of the heart. And so Seokmin nods along, the perfect picture of indulgence, as you wheedle your way into Joshua's every day.

You don't even have to show up in the physical sense. Joshua fills in those gaps for you. I think they'll like this, Joshua (while holding a box of some obscure snack) tells Seokmin at the grocery store. They'll get a kick out of that, Joshua cackles as he snaps a photo of a silly eraser.

Seokmin knows he could, should probably ask his best friend what the hell is going on. The boy is in desperate need of a quick 'check-the-label' moment, honestly.

In the end, Seokmin decides: Not my circus, not my monkeys.

He figures the two of you will eventually hammer it out yourselves. It's a rite of passage, isn't it? The limbo of flirtation, confined in the four corners of a classroom. The happy crush that may or may not reciprocate.

As Joshua all but skips— honest-to-God skips!— to the Wednesday session of his class with you, Seokmin can't help the fond shake of his head at what Joshua has gotten himself into. Sharing snacks and stationery every M/W/F?

There are worse situationships to have, Seokmin concedes.

Professor Kang has been in the academe for nearly two decades.

He's watched relationships bloom, and last, and end. One or two students have even invited him to their weddings. There's no shortage of gossip in the faculty rooms; there's always a seating plan to orchestrate, a partnered project to use for a little drama.

He likes to think he has a sixth sense for this sort of thing, and that's why he initially believed that you and Joshua... aren't really a thing.

Sure, the two of you bend your heads together a little too close when discussing something. He notices, too, the exchanges— both the transactional and spoken ones. But he's unconvinced, for the most part of the semester, that there's not really anything worth reading into.

That is, until, you don't show up to class one day. On a whim, Professor Kang asks Joshua about your absence, and the boy fumbles with his phone for a couple of minutes.

"Doctor's appointment," Joshua eventually divulges, though there's a slightly worried crease in his eyebrows that has Professor Kang thinking, huh.

That huh gives way to an ah when, at the next class, the two of you slot right back into place. Professor Kang catches bits and pieces of your conversation with Joshua; how he eagerly inquires about your Friday plans, how he listens intently to your little rants.

As the two of you walk out the classroom, your shoulders brush. It's slight enough that anybody not really looking would miss it, would dismiss it, but Professor Kang can only watch with amusement. Joshua apologizes for crowding you— only to take an infinitesimal step closer as the two of you leave the classroom.

By the time the two of you are out in the hall, your shoulders are almost touching again.

Ah, Professor Kang thinks. He swears he's seen it all in the past twenty years, but he's not immune to making mistakes.

Perhaps they're a little bit in love, after all.

[mrsriddlenott]

~Teach Me, Please~

Bsf!JJ Maybank x Innocent!Reader

Warnings: oral(m&f receiving), bit of a handjob, praise kink, spit kink, innocent reader but she’s lowkey in control, reader kinda gets bullied in the beginning but not directly. Not proofread.

{masterlist}

————

“She’s like their little sister,” you heard the kook girl you didn’t recognize laugh as she spoke about you, “She follows them around like a groupie, JJ most of all. It’s like she doesn’t know what to do with what she has, I would be flirting non-stop if I was with him as much as she is. JJ is absolutely delicious.”

“I think they’ll always be just friends,” her equally annoying friend giggles, the pair clearly not noticing you behind them or simply not caring, “I mean look at how innocent she is, I doubt she would know how to please him if she had the chance. She has literally never had a boyfriend, she probably has never given head in her life and JJ gets around a lot he has plenty of better options. Hell he probably doesn’t pay enough attention to even notice her raging crush on him anyway. You should definitely go for it tonight, I’ve heard he’s good.”

You huffed, stomping off back towards the couch you had left JJ on. What annoyed you the most wasn’t the shit talking, you knew people talked, especially kooks who somehow had nothing better to do. What hurt was the accuracy. Despite being the same age as your fellow pogues, and knowing JJ and JB since the third grade, you were still very much innocent. Especially when compared to your ragtag group of friends.

You knew they didn’t mind, they all loved you no matter what. Kie helped you as much as she could but it was pointless, you just didn’t know how to be as laid back as them. You had fun and loved to party as much as they did, but you still preferred a nice night in with a movie. And while part of you used to worry you held them back, they made sure you knew you could always come to them. So when you saw JJ wave you back over with a questioning look in his eyes you knew you could ask him to help you with anything.

And your crush on him had totally and absolutely nothing to do with that decision.

“Will you teach me how to give a blowjob?” You blurt out, dropping onto the couch infront of JJ’s outstretched arm as though everything was normal. He gagged on the gulp of beer he’d just taken before looking to you with wide eyes, trying to decipher if he heard you properly.

“What’d you jus’ say?” His voice was breathless as he wiped his face of spilt beer, your eyes tracing the droplets that escaped down his neck.

“I want you to teach me how to give good head.” You stated, stretching the words to make your intentions clear. You watched JJ’s eyes bounce between your eyes and lips, the gears in his brain working overtime to decide if you were joking or not.

“Like- uh.” JJ starts, his voice strained while he needlessly wipes his mouth again, spreading his legs on the coach and making room for himself and letting his knee touch yours, “Like on what though.” He arches his eyebrow to look at you, not wanting to be presumptuous but wanting nothing more than to help you directly.

JJ would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about you like that a million times. He wanted you, he just never admitted it out loud because he thought you deserved better. He messed around and acted out while you and John B cleaned up after him but over the years he started to notice a distinct difference in his feelings for Jonh B compared to those he had for you. However, he decided long ago he wouldn’t act on any of them unless you did first, he couldn’t risk ruining you because you were just so good.

“On you Jay, come on don’t make me feel weird about it.” The whining tone of your voice makes JJ bite his lip, unsure if this was ethical. JB would surely frown upon this and Kie would probably kill him for corrupting you. But he was having a hard time fighting the urge now as you looked up to him with pleading eyes.

“Well I don’t wanna take advantage of you or anything, y’know?” He stutters over his words slightly as he fumbles to find anything to say, making you giggle in that way he loves so much. You had never once seen JJ flustered or worried about a girl asking to suck him off and you honestly couldn’t believe it was you who got that honor.

“But I asked you to show me JJ, I want you to teach me.” You beg him, turning your body on the couch to face him fully, placing a hand on his exposed bicep.

And his resolve snapped.

He tossed his half full beer can aside as he stood, not caring where it landed. His hand took your own hand, gently but assertively pulling you up with him. He held onto you tightly, not wanting to lose you while weaving through the crowd in the Chateau making the way to the bedroom he made his. You caught sight of the first kook girl in passing, noticing the way she tried to catch JJ’s eyes only to be ignored. Her face contorted in surprise and disgust while you laughed softly before JJ was yanking you into his room and locking the door behind you both.

“C’mere,” JJ instructed, waving two fingers towards him. When you turn to him he’s facing away from you, grabbing a pillow from the top of his bed and tossing it on the floor at his feet. The bed creeks from his weight flopping onto it, manspreading while watching your slightly shocked and confused face, unable to hide his smile. “Come on, y’wanna learn or not.”

Your legs carry you to him, anxiously messing with the hem of your dress now that you can make out the bulge in his shorts. “Are you sure you want to do this?” His voice draws your gaze back to his and you can see the excitement whirling behind his blue eyes dropping you to your knees carefully, leaning into the comfort of his pillow.

“Thanks for the pillow,” You whisper, locking eyes with him from between his legs, “I didn’t know guys did that, I’ve never seen it in the porn I watch.”

“You watch porn?! Oh my god this keeps gettin’ better.” JJ groans with a smile, knocking his head back and letting you watch his adam’s apple bob, “I’ve never done it before, I just didn’t want you to bruise your knees.”

“Good to know I’m special.” You laugh awkwardly, wiggling with excited and nervous energy where you leant before him. He released an airy laugh above you, looking down at you again, his pupils dilated.

“You have no idea,” JJ’s voice was breathless and his words caught in his throat slightly, “Do you wanna get started on our lesson Princess?” JJ asked teasingly, running his fingers down your warm cheek, stopping to lift your head up by your chin. You nodded, shell shocked as you stare up at him unable to force your mouth to form words.

“I need you to tell me,” He whispered, leaning forward slowly until his lips ghost against yours, “If I’m going to finally corrupt you I need you to ask Cupcake.” Your eyes fluttered shut, taking in his scent as your heart rapped against your ribcage.

“I want you Jay….T-to teach me, please.” Your eyes flick open just in time to catch a wicked grin spread across his face before your cheeks were cupped in his warm palms, tugging your lips into his in a heated kiss. Your sighs mingle together, finally exploring what you both silently desired for so long. His tongue danced across your bottom lip asking for entrance as you gasped letting his tongue fight yours, forcing a moan from you that vibrated against his lips. He pulled away slowly, spit connecting you for a second before you’re licking your lips subconsciously. JJ observes your furrowed eyebrows and the redness flooding over your skin as your eyes stay closed in obvious pleasure.

“Still with me Gorgeous?” JJ asks, tapping your cheeks lightly, smiling excitedly as he watches you look up at him. His painfully hard erection rubbed against the zipper of his shorts as he adjusts his hips. Leaning back and resting his weight on his forearms, his crotch looming in front of you, your wide eyes telling him you have no clue how to start this. “Put your hands on my knees,” He instructs, shivering under your touch when you listen immediately, your cool hands resting against his steadily warming skin, “Good girl, now I want you to slowly move them up, like you’re not sure you want to take my pants off yet, tease me y’know?”

Your breath hitches at his praise, and he notices. You whimper as you try and follow his instructions drifting your hands across his broad thighs and letting your fingers tease under the fabric of his shorts, “You like being my good girl don’t you?” He asks, his voice teasing only slightly, his breathy voice making your thighs clench, rubbing them together desperate for friction.

“Yes, I do,” His eyes immediately catch onto the movement of your thighs, biting his lip while he watches you wiggle in front of him. He twitches in his shorts at the thought of you getting off to his pleasure, moaning loudly when he takes your hand in his pressing your palm directly into his bulge. Using his larger hand to move yours to perfectly cup around him and uses your palm moving it against his shaft as he swallows, desperately trying to collect himself.

“K-keep doing that until you’re ready,” He sighs, letting you continue at your own pace, moving his hand up to your hair to fix it, not wanting it to fall into your face as he watched your features for signs of distress, “When you want to unbuckle my belt and-“ He gasps cutting off his sentence when your fingers immediately jump to hastily undo his belt. Your shaking hands struggle for a few awkward seconds before you’re tugging his shorts down his thighs exposing his black boxers. JJ lifts his hips to let you discard his shorts fully, tossing them aside as you stare into his eyes triumphantly, “Good girl.”

Your wide smile as your hands tease their way back up his naked thighs just as he taught you has him reeling, practically shaking with excitement. “You like being praised, don’t you Mama?” He asks, tugging his lip between his teeth when your fingers find his cock again. He tugs your hand upward, moaning when he presses your hand into his tip, stopping your movements entirely until you respond.

“Yes Jay.” You whine, your tone impatient as you wiggle your hand under his, making him release a breathy moan laced with a laugh as he releases your hand, letting it continue it’s excited exploration of him. Your free hand started to sneak it’s way up his body, making him jolt forward as your cold hand found it’s way into his shirt.

“Who do you wanna learn this for?” JJ blurts out, not entirely wanting to hear the answer as he tugs his shirt over his head impatiently. Closing his eyes as your nails dig their way back down his chest, part of him wondering how you knew he’d like that.

“Myself.” JJ feels the smile grow back on his face, relief flooding his body as he opens his eyes, locking onto your wide gaze looking up to him expectantly. You want his instructions, and he wants to draw this out.

“So there’s no one in that precious mind of yours right now?” He asks, letting his eyes fall down your face, gazing at your wet lips before eyeing your cleavage and wiggling hips. Trying to suppress that part of him that wants you to stay here like this forever.

“Well,” You giggle, palming him through his boxers just over his tip, loving the way his head falls back with a moan when you apply more pressure, “Right now I have you on my mind Jay.”

“Fuck, you have no idea what that does to me,” He smiles towards the ceiling, imagining all the times he came in his hand to this exact scenario, “I thought you were too good for me, why’d ya ask me?”

“Some girls at the party were talking about me, calling me your groupie and saying I wouldn’t know what to do with you if you ever gave me the chance, and I really wanted a chance.” You sigh, drifting your hand down his toned abs to tease the elastic of his underwear, letting it snap against his skin as your excited eyes find his again.

“Oh Princess,” he cooed caressing your cheek, “You have always had the chance. You were the first girl I ever imagined doing this for me.” His eyes went wide when he realized what he had said, almost backtracking before you interrupted him to speak.

“Good, because I can’t imagine anyone else teaching me, I trust you, I want it to be you.” You state simply, locking your eyes in his gaze and taking not of the hitch in his breath. In a spurt of confidence you’re tugging his boxers down his thighs, eyeing his thick, throbbing cock as it bounces free, eyes meeting his again in a beg, “Tell me what to do Jay.”

“First give the tip a kiss Baby,” You do as your told, touching your lips against his hot, red tip as it leaks precum onto your lips, “Mmm, fuck now get your tongue nice and wet and lick up the middle, when it feels right slide my tip against your tongue n’suck on it like those Cherry suckers you’re always begin’ me for.”

You laugh, suddenly feeling more and more confident as you watch him come undone above you. “Is that what you want Jay? Or are you goin’ easy on me?”

“If you think you can take me in one go do it Princess, but don’t think I’m pressuring you,” He sighed, watching your tongue wet the side of his pulsing cock, “I want you to go at the pace you’re comfortable with.”

You smile up at him as you separate from him, letting spit coat your tongue before moving to lick up the prominent vein popping out of the other side of his cock. He groans above you, subconsciously moving his hips closer to your mouth in uncontrollable excitement. As your lips caress against his red, leaking tip you slowly let spit drip from your lips onto him, watching as it drips down him and pools in the bit of trimmed hair at his base. His eyes pop from his head when you bring your hand up to spread your saliva over him, pumping your hand slowly and twisting it like you’d seen in videos. You watched his furrowed eyebrows, buying yourself time to work up enough spit in your mouth to take him fully. His lips tug into his teeth as his hips stutter upward into your hand.

“Where did you learn to do that?” JJ gasps, stuttering and twitching in your wet hand.

“Porn.” Your sickly sweet voice has him moaning and tugging at your hair, forcing you’re eyes up to his.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” He states before slamming his lips into yours, moving you back by your hair wrapped around his fist. You gape up at him wide mouthed, your hand speeding up when his eyes bounce between your open, drooling mouth and your blown out eyes as though asking for permission. You nod your head to him, not sure what he wanted to do but okay with it nonetheless. His free hand jumped to your chin, tugging your mouth open wider before leaning down and spitting directly onto your tongue. Rolling your eyes into the back of your head as you moan you shiver in front of him at the feeling of his spit mixing with yours, unknowingly helping you in your previous goal.

JJ chuckles at your reaction, moaning slightly when your hand speeds up again. You savior the feeling of his spit in your mouth for a second, your eyes latching onto his as you smile wickedly. JJ only takes a second’s pause before his eyed widen watching your mouth dip lower, his fingers subconsciously tightening in your hair, moving his other to grip the bed and ground himself. Breath fills your lungs from your nose, prepping yourself before teasing his tip with your tongue for only a second before you slowly slide him into your mouth. His hips jolt forward subconsciously, shuddering breathlessly when your eyes meet his over your lashes again. JJ curses under his breath, watching you take almost every inch of him in one go, sliding your head down his shaft, resting your hand at his base when you can’t fit anymore.

JJ moans loudly when you swallow around him, jerking his hips into you desperately trying to control himself, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you cut him off quickly, shoving your head as far down as you can go, feeling his tip twitching in the back of your throat as you gag around him. You pop your head up, dragging your tongue against the underside of his shaft, moaning at his taste and sending vibrations through him. You suckle on his tip, preparing yourself as you gasp for breath around him. You start to bob your head up and down him, swirling your tongue as you go dropping low enough to feel his pubes tickle your cheeks, his hands moving to the back of your head to tug your hair into his fingers.

“You’re a natural,” JJ sighs, “Feel like imma cum already Gorgeous, fuck.” Gazing up at him you watch his eyes try and stay open, try to maintain eye contact until they flutter shut when the tip of your tongue grazes his ballsack unintentionally. JJ subconsciously pushes your head down, pulling a moan from you as he groans into his bitten lip, hooded eyes watching you intently now as he tugs you off of him with a pop. His hand stays in your hair, his eyes watching the way your spit dribbles down your chin, mixing with your lipstick and contrasting the black mascara running down you cheeks.

“I want you to try something, but only if you’re comfortable okay?” You nod to him desperately, ignoring the fact that your hair’s probably a mess in his hand, “Flatten out your tongue f’me,” His voice was demanding but soft still, a side of him you had never seen before beginning to come forward, “Yea, good girl just like that,” He says as he watches you stick your tongue out for him, spit dripping down the middle and directly onto is erect cock, “Now lean down and suck on my balls Sweetheart.” Your eyes went wide watching how he bobbed infront of your face. “If you don’t want to that-“

A shiver runs down his spine and directly into his rock hard cock when your warm tongue drags against his heavy sack before you suck one into your mouth, his hand tugs into your hair harder instinctively as he shudders. His shaft twitches against your face, your tongue swirlly against his salty flesh, tugging off him with a pop. You look up to him, makeup dyed spit dripping off your chin and down your chest, “Like that?”

“Yes yes just like that,” He gasps, desperation laced in his tone, immediately making you drop your head back. Sucking his other tight ball into your mouth, swirling your tongue while he shakes you slowly move your hand that was supporting your weight on his knee under your dress, circling your clothed clit with two fingers. Moaning around him as your eyes flutter shut feeling the wet patch seeping through your underwear.

“Open your eyes and look at me,” JJ growls when he catches your hands movement, his hand caress your face gently contrasting his hard tone. Despite wanting to listen your eyes stay shut as you speed up your fingers movement, “Thought you said you liked being a good girl, now listen to me.”

Letting your eyes flicker open you feel your cheeks heating up even more when you catch his gaze. His blue eyes only egg you on further, your fingers speeding up subconsciously while he stares at you with a smile. Breathing through your nose you continue your mouths exploration of him, popping your mouth off of his flesh only to immediately suck his tip into your mouth again. JJ’s hand tugs your hair into a ponytail as you bob your mouth on him, his tip hitting your throat each time making you gag and moan on him. The vibrations of your noises make his hips jolt uncontrollably, his body and dick twitching together as your spit pools on his groin and slips down his thighs.

He releases a loud needy groan when you force your mouth off him, his hand falling from your hair and clutching the blanket below him, mumbling incoherently while trying to ask why you stopped. He whines loudly gasping and gripping the bed so hard his knuckles turn white when you drag your wet tongue from the middle of his ballsack directly to his tip. Moaning when he twitched against your face, sucking him into your mouth while you eye his adam’s apple bobbing. Sensing he was close you stop your fingers with a whine around him, moving in order to move your hands to support yourself on his knees as you suck your cheeks in. You drag your mouth down his shaft and JJ whimpers, shoving his hand into your hair and tugging as he cums down your throat, filling your mouth as you moan.

“Fuck I’m so sorry, I didn’t have time to warn you, do you need’ta spit?” He asks, trying to ignore the tingle running down his spine at the sight of his cum dribbling past your lips.

“It’s okay,” You state simply licking your lips clean, the sweet tone in your voice not changing despite the more than inappropriate circumstances, “Your cum tastes so good Jay, look I swallowed it already.” You stick your tongue out to him, showing what little residue remains as he groans above you again.

“If you need anymore lessons, you can always, and i mean always, come to Papa Jay.” His breathless voice makes you laugh as you hop up to sit next to him on the bed.

“Do you wanna take my virginity too.” The burst of confidence making him cum gave you almost wears off at the look of shock that grows onto JJ’s face.

“Damn Mama, you are so fucking bold tonight, you have no clue how many times I have imagined you asking me that.” He smiles at you, his large ring clad hand gripping your thigh as it sits beside him, “Wanna tell me how long you have been fantasizing about your best friend poppin’ your cherry?”

“Forever.”

“Mmmhmm, that’s what I wanted to hear.” JJ groans, pulling your thighs apart and shoving you backwards letting your dress ride up. He rolls over you, settling over you where you lay on his bed, framing your face with his arms. “I think it’s your turn right now though don’t you?” Shivers run down your spine at his tone, subconsciously trying to rub your thighs together earning a teasing laugh from JJ. You brace yourself on his waste, tugging him closer to you as his lips crash into yours, tongues immediately starting to fight for dominance only for him to win with a groan.

“We should save your first time until there’s not a dozen people right outside the door.” Lowering his voice to a whisper as he lightly digs his hips into you, “And I think we need to have a conversation before we….move forward.” Letting his lips graze your neck as he keeps going he smiles at your gasps of appreciation, “But don’t think I don’t really, really want to right now.”

JJ’s teeth tug at the spaghetti strap string of your dress as he crawls lower down your body, letting it snap back against your skin with a sigh, “You’re so fucking gorgeous, so perfect I can’t even look at you sometimes.” The warm feeling of his tongue against your collar bone has you bucking against him desperately, hissing when his teeth nip at the exposed flesh of your breast.

“I love when you wear this dress,” JJ moans against your skin, his head falling low enough to push his face into your chest for a few seconds, wiggling it around dramatically, making you laugh before be continues his decent, “I don’t wanna take it off.” He groans, biting at your flesh through the fabric.

“Then don’t.” You say breathlessly, smiling down to him as you tangle your fingers into his hair. He smiles back to you, quickly pushing himself down the bed the rest of the way so he was face to face with your exposed thighs. With a quick flick of his wrists he flips the hem of your dress up, exposing your damp matching underwear.

“You matched your underwear to your outfit? That’s so cute.” JJ groans, dipping his head to bite at the flesh of your thigh as his hands slowly work their way up your thighs. He pulls back, watching intently as he slips his fingers past the lace hem of your underwear, tugging them down as you lift your hips to help. You watch him as he tosses your underwear behind him, his eyes meeting yours for a second seeking consent as he shoves your thighs further apart, putting you completely on display for him. JJ licks his lips as he eyes you, moving his hands slowly under and around your thighs resting them on his shoulders before shoving your hips down with his large palms. He groans loudly as he bites into the flesh of your thigh beside him, slowly licking his way to your center and leaving a wet trail behind.

His hands hold your hips down hard as they jolt upward with your moan and laughs into you happily. Eyeing the way your head falls back, your chest rising and fallen he quickly speeds up his tongues pursuit of your clit. Watching you as one hand hangs above your head and the other plays with his hair, JJ can’t think of anything that looks better.

“Oh my god,” You yell, the feeling of his tongue flattening against you, slowly licking back and forth over your clit before quickly sucking it into his mouth. You scream a moan at the sensation, tugging at JJ’s hair aggressively not caring if anyone outside the door can hear your pleasure. “Do that again Jay.” JJ’s lips pop off of you into a smile, his lips glistening with your release before he drops his head back into you. Flicking his tongue aggressively against you as he licks up your slit, groaning at the feeling of your nails against his scalp when he sucks your clit into his mouth again. JJ can feel himself growing hard against the blanket at your taste, your shaking legs egging him on as your release quickly approaches.

The feeling of JJ’s tongue prodding at your entrance as you clench on nothing has the tightening feeling in your abdomen worsening, making you whine and wiggle your hips subconsciously. The grip of JJ’s hands on your hip tightens, his nails digging into your flesh as he grinds himself into the mattress at your excitement. He plunges his tongue into you, collecting your juices on his tongue with a desperate groan, his eyes flickering shut as he moves to flick his tongue against your puffy clit again. JJ pulls back quickly making you whine and tug at his hair, trying to shove him back into you and forcing a wicked laugh from him as he spits directly onto you and dives back in. You shudder when he starts to lap against you wildly, your hips jolting and your back arching, your hands tugs on his hair harder as you cum, the almost painful band in your abdomen breaking in a euphoric release. Moaning so loudly you know for sure anyone close enough to the door could hear but you didn’t care as you came undone on your best friend’s tongue, breath shaking as your body twitches.

JJ’s tongue slows, pushing himself up to get a better look at your post orgasm face, your eyes unfocused and your mouth open in gasping breaths. He slowly crawls up your body, smiling in your face and you smile back at him the best your can, he groans at the sight of your sweaty cheeks, your hair sticking to your forehead as he smash his lips into you. The taste of yourself lingers on his tongue as you both moan into each other.

——————

I might wanna do a part 2 of this for their first time, would anyone be interested in that?

Another Lesson? (Coming Soon)

[sukurarose92]

I wanted to turn this into a little crack fic but I don't have enough spoons to write it so here are the highlights. - i wanted crosshair to hide up in the vents and follow hunter around for most of the day, once in a while just giving a low hum on the kazoo then crawling away. - He's keeping right on the edge of hunter's hearing distance so he cant hear his heartbeat or catch his scent. - hunter keeps hearing this quiet little honking on and off all day and it's driving him fucking insane. wrecker's in on this prank. his job is to keep Hunter distracted and he is trying so hard not to laugh. - wrecker had his comm on so crosshair could hear when hunter would start talking.

]"the plan involves--"

"hoooooonk"

"--......... there's a series of--"

"hooooooonk"

"hunter?"

"do you hear that?"

"hear what?"

-several seconds of prolonged silence. hunter questioning his sanity. no sound so it must be in his head-

"--as i was saying; the plan involved a series of--"

"hooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooonk"

"WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT NOISE COMING FROM!?" - Hunter figures it out pretty quickly after that. He realizes he hadn't seen crosshair all day and he looks at wrecker. dead eyed stare and it's so awkward and then the kazoo honk and wrecker breaks. he snorts and it's all the confirmation he needs. - then Hunter pulls the grate off the vents and climbs up and wrecker pulls out his comm "he's onto you. get out of there, cross!" and you hear the echo of a scream in the vent as well as several panicked kazoo sounds. - this scuffle can be heard through the vents in random places as crosshair attempts to escape. -it ends up back in their person bunk, where Tech is hearing frantic kazoo sounds and simply staring into the distance like it's a camera and he's on the office. - crosshair has the kazoo in mouth and is hauling ass as fast as he can army crawl through those vents with hunter on his heels. because the kazoo is in his mouth every time he exhales it's making a pathetic little squawk.

he gets halfway out of the vent into the room, reaching out to wrecker for help and right before wrecker gets to him his ankles are grabbed and you get one long honk of terror before he's dragged back into the darkness.

the kazoo is taken and forcibly ejected from the vents. hunter is very grumpy with Crosshair and Wrecker for a couple days. crosshair still thinks it was worth it.

This event takes place before the batch adopts Echo

and there is a repeat performance later on.

one of Echo's first missions with the batch. crosshair comes across a kazoo in town and buys it. they all get back to the ship. they're settling in for a 6 hour flight.

crosshair leans back in his bunk, cleaning his rifle. waiting for the perfect moment to strike. everyone is comfortable.

hunter is relaxing in the pilot seat while echo is co-pilot.

hunter hears a quiet "oh no" from tech

that's all the warning he gets before there's a quiet "hooooooonk" in the stillness of the ship

echo about jumps out of his skin when hunter parkour flips himself out of the chair and races, full tilt out of the cockpit

cue one very high pitched scream from Crosshair and tussling happening in the back of the ship. wrecker's laughing his ass off.

"w-what was that?" -echo

"that was revenge for past transgressions" -tech.

i swear, hunter heard that kazoo and kill bill sirens happened in his brain.

he was up and after crosshair before he even realized he was moving.

that kazoo went right out the air lock.

Wrecker: Ugh I’m bored!

Crosshair: Same. There’s nothing to do.

Wrecker: …

Crosshair: …

Wrecker: Wanna go bother Hunter?

Crosshair, pulling a kazoo out of nowhere: I thought you’d never ask.

[reignpage]

Hi!! If you have the time- how would the jjk guys react to the reader giving them the silent treatment?

I hope you're having a wonderful day!

Gojo:

Would try to make you laugh at first When that doesn't work and he notices you're just getting more irritated, he'd start bribing you Buys you flowers, handbags, dresses, jewellery you name it If you're still silent, then he'll go deadly serious Would confront you in the dark, sitting on the sofa like he's been waiting for hours 'Is there nothing I can do? Are we done for good? Are you leaving me too?'

Geto:

Gets snarky Two can play that game He's not the calm and patient guy everyone thinks he is He just reacts in subtle ways Makes passive-aggressive comments But eventually will get tired, sighs and just asks you straight up what he did wrong 'Alright, what happened? Let me inside that head of yours.'

Choso:

Keeps asking you what's wrong Gets really sad and depressed Very much kicked puppy vibes Just follows you around everywhere Until you crack 'I didn't know what I did but I'm sorry. Please talk to me? I'm scared'

Toji:

LOL LMFAO ROFL This man would be soooo annoying He'd be smug as hell at first Says shit like 'It's nice to have peace and quiet here' 'You should get mad at me more often ma' BUT eventually realising you're not gonna crack He'll start to get nervous Starts cleaning up after himself Double checks to make sure the trash is out, he hasn't left any dishes in the sink, didn't miss any appointments or anniversaries etc etc Would send Megumi in to get a feel for your mood 'make yourself extra cute kid' 'ask her why she isn't speaking to me. no don't tell her I told you to. whose side are you on?'

Nanami:

Would ask you immediately if there's something wrong Is so mature and healthy it's irritating 'please communicate with me, darling. I can't apologise and fix whatever I ruined if you don't talk to me.' Eventually, he'll give you space But then you'll start feeling really bad because he'll assume that you hate him or something Like, he'll start buying sandwiches to take to work cause he thinks you won't make lunch for him like normal or sleeps on the couch eats dinner and watches shows by himself so you cave first and the smile he gives you is so worth it

Sukuna:

Doesn't notice a thing at first He isn't the type to be clingy, he's not the affectionate one, he mostly returns it So there'll just be a period of silence Until he begins to feel your absence in which case he'll seek you out and then becomes the clingy one 'it is a pleasant day out, would you care to join me for a stroll? gets sooo offended if you don't say anything 'no? would you prefer to stroll with someone else? tell me who and they will be killed. in fact, continue to remain in silence and everyone will be killed.'

Yuji:

Confused :0 asks Nobara for advice 'you're a girl, she's a girl. so tell me what's going on' 'is it the time of the month?' uses loads of different tricks to make you break performs dances and skits gets Gojo involved tries to get Megumi involved (no chance) he's so stupid you just have to cave and explain he's an idiot and he'll nod happily

Megumi:

yeahhhhhh you'll be having a silent off for days and weeks you'll both continue to co-exist in silence it's just not smart

Inumaki:

annoying as hell texts you shit like: 'when she copies you' 'ho is u good?' 'can you be original at least?' when that doesn't work he'll break into your social media or gaming accounts right in front of you and threatens to release a post pretending to be you like 'you know, hitler wasn't that bad' or an ugly picture of you then you'll have to cave and he gets so caught up in the victory, he'll accidentally post it yep, he's a dead man walking

[ahqkas]

Hello! ^^

First, just wanna say your blog is amazing. Second, what kind of shenanigans do you think would ensue with the batboys having a hyper physically clingy S/O? Like their S/O would get so excited they're home and just tackle hug them before they make it past the door kind of clingy.

♯ FRIDAY I’M IN LOVE . . . ( the batboys ! )

— gn!reader, fluff

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

BRUCE WAYNE

bruce wayne, the ever-composed patriarch of the family, would at first have no idea how to handle such enthusiasm. his s/o being hyper-physically affectionate would probably throw him completely off-balance at first—not because he doesn’t enjoy the affection but because he’s not used to being greeted like that.

( the door creaks open as bruce steps inside the manor, still half-lost in the grim report alfred had handed him earlier. before he even sets his briefcase down, a blur barrels toward him, arms wide, a gleeful shout of his name ringing through the grand hall.

he braces himself instinctively like he’s about to be tackled by a rogue metahuman. “wait—” is all he manages before you collide with him, wrapping him in a bear hug strong enough to make his muscles tense. for a second, bruce freezes like a deer in headlights.

“miss me?” you grin, cheek pressed to his chest as you sway him back and forth like a tree in a storm.

bruce glances down, trying to maintain the stoic facade, but his lips twitch, betraying the barest hint of amusement. “you know, most people say hello first.”

alfred passes by with an arched brow and a muttered, “at least you don’t end up unconscious, master wayne.”

he sighs, exasperated but secretly endeared. he knows by now resistance is futile. one hand rests awkwardly on your back, the other fumbling to steady the files tucked under his arm. “you’re going to sprain something one day,” he murmurs, though there’s a faint warmth in his tone. )

the first time you tackle-hugged him after patrol, bruises and all, bruce immediately went into “are you hurt?” mode despite being the one who should be resting. “you can’t just launch yourself at me like that—you could get hurt,” he’d chide, even as he gently pulls you closer to make sure you’re okay.

alfred would quietly revel in the sheer domestication of bruce’s typically aloof charge. “ah, nothing like unrestrained enthusiasm to balance out your brooding, sir.”

DICK GRAYSON

dick grayson would be all in for having a hyper-physically affectionate s/o. the guy thrives on connection, and someone who matches his energy—or even outpaces it—would not only make him laugh but also make him feel completely loved. if anything, your clingy antics would ignite a bit of playful competition as dick tries to out-affection you, though he’d absolutely let you win most of the time.

( the moment he unlocks the door after a patrol, the creak of the hinges is your signal to strike. without hesitation, you launch yourself at him like a projectile, arms wide and grinning ear to ear.

“dick!”

“whoa—!” he yelps, barely managing to catch you before you tackle him into the doorframe. one arm wraps around your waist while the other steadies both of you. “are you trying to kill me, or…?” he teases, his voice light with laughter.

“i’m just so happy you’re home!” you say, nuzzling into his neck.

“yeah? well, i love being tackled the moment i step inside,” he says sarcastically, but the grin splitting his face is entirely genuine. “i mean, forget taking off my boots or hanging up my jacket—this is exactly what i needed.” he spins you around for good measure, making you laugh as he carries you further inside. )

dick would absolutely take your clinginess as a challenge to see who could be more over-the-top. you tackle-hug him at the door? he’ll scoop you up and spin you. you randomly leap on his back during a walk? he’ll carry you piggyback all the way home. it’s basically a constant competition to outdo each other.

one time, you caught him mid-workout and tried to climb on his back during push-ups. he pretended to be annoyed but ended up laughing so hard he couldn’t finish his reps. “you’re impossible,” he’d say between laughs, letting you sit on his back as he fake-struggled to keep going.

JASON TODD

jason todd would act like he didn’t know how to handle having such a clingy and affectionate s/o, but deep down, he’d secretly live for it. the guy has been through hell and back, so having someone who’s so unapologetically excited to see him would catch him off-guard at first—but it would also heal a part of him he didn’t know was still raw. he might grumble, roll his eyes, and mutter sarcastic quips, but the way he’d instinctively hold onto you would give away just how much he craves your affection.

( jason walks through the apartment door, shoulders tense from a long night of patrol, his helmet tucked under one arm. he barely gets two steps inside before the sound of your excited yell fills the air.

“jay!”

before he can react, you’re barreling toward him, all wild energy and open arms. “oh, shi—” the rest of his curse is cut off as you launch yourself at him, practically climbing him like a tree. he stumbles back a step, caught off-guard but reflexively wrapping his arms around you to keep you both steady.

“missed me?” you ask with a grin, nuzzling into his neck as your legs wrap around his waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

jason sighs, trying to sound exasperated but failing miserably. “miss you? you act like i’ve been gone for months. i was literally out for, what, five hours?”

“too long,” you mumble into his shoulder, squeezing him tighter.

despite his words, you feel his shoulders relax as he hugs you back. “you’re ridiculous, you know that?” he says softly, his voice a little rough around the edges but warm. )

jason would never stop pretending to grumble about your antics. “do you have to tackle me every time i walk through the door? my ribs aren’t exactly indestructible.” but if you ever didn’t tackle him, he’d immediately notice. “what, no welcome-home ambush? you mad at me or something?”

he would absolutely start using your clinginess against you. if he wanted your attention, he’d dramatically throw himself onto the couch and groan, “i can’t go on. i need one of your hugs to survive.”

TIM DRAKE

tim drake would initially be overwhelmed by having such a physically clingy s/o, mostly because he’s used to people respecting his personal bubble—or just not being that excited to see him. but once he got past the initial shock, he’d secretly love it, even if he was absolutely terrible at expressing that in words. your affectionate antics would constantly fluster him, but he’d quickly become addicted to the way you made him feel wanted and cared for.

( if you interrupted tim in the middle of one of his all-nighters, the results would be like this: imagine him sitting at his desk, surrounded by coffee cups and glowing monitors, so hyper-focused that he doesn’t even hear you sneaking up behind him.

suddenly, your arms wrap around his shoulders, and you rest your chin on top of his head. “hi,” you whisper, making him jump so hard he almost knocks over his coffee.

“[name]!” he hisses, spinning around to glare at you, his heart racing.

“sorry, couldn’t resist,” you say with a cheeky grin, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple.

tim sighs, trying to look annoyed, but the light blush creeping up his neck gives him away. “you’re ridiculous,” he mutters, but instead of pushing you away, he pulls you into his lap, his arms wrapping securely around your waist. “if i let you stay, will you let me finish his report?”

“no promises.” )

your ambushes would frequently catch tim off-guard, leading to spilled coffee, toppled stacks of paperwork, and at least one destroyed keyboard. “[name], i love you, but you’re going to bankrupt me in tech replacements,” he’d grumble while cleaning up the latest mess.

he would eventually start using your affection as an excuse to take breaks. if you tackled him while he was working, he’d let out a long-suffering sigh and say, “fine. five minutes. but only because you’re so insistent.” cue you dragging him to the couch for cuddles while he pretends to be annoyed.

ADDITIONAL NOTE! if you like my work , please consider reblogging and / or commenting ! thank you if you do 🤍

[moonselune]

Bg3 companions and a reader who is ridiculously into them? like can't be around them without blushing, stuttering over words, etc.

Love your writing ♥️♥️♥️

ahhhhh thank you so much, this was a pleasure to write !

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

Breakfast in camp had become a small but daily ordeal. Sitting across from Karlach was as thrilling as it was nerve-wracking. She always looked so effortlessly radiant—her wide smile lighting up her face, her hair messy from sleep, and that laugh that came from deep within her chest. You, meanwhile, were a nervous mess, barely able to lift a spoon without fumbling it in her presence.

This morning, you were attempting to slice an apple while also trying to sneak glances at her, as usual. But, distracted as you were, you barely noticed when she caught you looking. She grinned, that flash of teeth making your heart skip about five beats.

“Hey, you want some?” she asked, holding out a plate piled high with a variety of fresh fruits. You stammered, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

“Uh—y-yes! I mean, no! I mean—” You fumbled for the right words, your voice a bit too loud in your panic. Karlach looked at you, mildly confused but amused.

“Alright then, you let me know if you change your mind,” she said, winking, before going back to her breakfast. The little wink nearly killed you on the spot, and you dropped your apple, which rolled dramatically across the table and plopped off the other side.

Wyll, sitting beside you, tried to hide a snicker behind his hand. He’d been noticing your flustered behavior around Karlach for days and had clearly reached his breaking point. As Karlach turned away, Wyll leaned in close to you, smirking.

“Oh, this is painful to watch,” he muttered, barely containing his laughter. “When are you going to do something about it?”

You gave him a quick, desperate glare, feeling the blood drain from your face.

“Do something?” you whispered, panic lacing your voice. “Wyll, I can’t even string a proper sentence together around her without sounding like a fool!”

Wyll rolled his eyes, still grinning.

“Trust me, I can see that,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “But if you keep this up, it’s going to get unbearable for both of us. You’re absolutely lovesick, and she’s completely oblivious.”

“Lovesick?” you whispered, trying to keep your voice low but also scandalized by the word. “That’s… that’s not…”

Wyll arched an eyebrow, giving you a pointed look that read, Really?

You sighed, knowing he was right. Every time Karlach entered the room, you either found an excuse to leave or wound up a blushing, stumbling mess. Just this morning, she’d brushed a crumb off your shoulder, and you had nearly collapsed on the spot.

Wyll laughed, patting you on the back a little harder than you would have liked. “Look, if you don’t do something soon, I will. Maybe I’ll tell her for you—‘oh, by the way, did you know you’ve got someone so smitten with you, they can’t even eat breakfast right?’”

Your eyes went wide. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” he smirked, raising an eyebrow with challenge.

“Fine,” you whispered, heart racing at the thought of actually doing something about it. “What do I… say?”

Wyll shrugged, his expression softening a bit. “Just talk to her. Be honest. If there’s one thing Karlach respects, it’s bravery. And if there’s one thing she loves, it’s someone who cares as much as she does.”

But as you mulled it over, you looked across the table and saw Karlach laughing at something Astarion was saying, her eyes bright with amusement, her entire face aglow with the life and warmth she carried effortlessly. You swallowed, trying to imagine how you’d ever muster up the courage to tell her anything.

The rest of breakfast went by with your heart hammering and Wyll occasionally sending you smirking looks. You felt like you were on fire, thoughts racing as you considered his words.

Finally, as camp was beginning to break up and everyone was scattering to their daily tasks, you decided to follow Wyll’s advice. Taking a deep breath, you gathered every bit of courage you could find and made your way over to Karlach, who was busy folding up her bedroll. She looked up, surprised, as you approached.

“Oh, hey! Need something?” she asked, her grin warm as always.

You cleared your throat, feeling the words get caught. “I… um…”

Karlach tilted her head, watching you patiently. “Everything okay?”

And there it was, the opening. The chance to say something. Be brave, you reminded yourself. You took a deep breath and tried again.

“I just… wanted to say…” you stumbled, unable to look her in the eye. “I really… enjoy spending time with you.”

The corners of her mouth turned up in a soft smile, her eyes studying your face, but still, she seemed blissfully unaware. “Well, good! Same here! You’re a lot of fun, you know. Brave in your own way, even if a bit shy,” she teased lightly, giving your arm a light squeeze.

You couldn’t help but laugh nervously, feeling your cheeks burn. Maybe Wyll had a point—Karlach appreciated bravery, and here you were, looking like a fool again. But as her hand lingered just a moment longer on your arm, you felt a surge of determination. This was only the beginning.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

You’d found Minthara’s sword on the outskirts of camp that morning, half-buried beneath some tangled roots. It was unmistakably hers—dark metal with a wicked curve, and elegant engravings tracing the hilt. You’d only seen her use it from afar, but even then, there was something mesmerizing about the way she wielded it, about the way her gaze sharpened whenever she held a blade. You were already a bundle of nerves at the thought of returning it to her, and that only got worse the closer you got to her tent.

She was sharpening a dagger when you approached, her expression focused, so much so that for a moment, you thought about turning back. But then she noticed you, her eyes snapping up to meet yours with a glint of curiosity.

“You’re looking rather… tense.” Her eyebrow arched slightly as she took you in.

Your heart thudded painfully, and you swallowed, forcing yourself to hold up the sword without dropping it. “Uh, I… found this for you. Your sword, I mean. It was… um, outside camp, and I thought you might want it back?”

Her gaze softened, a small smirk playing on her lips as she reached for the sword, her fingers brushing against yours. You nearly jumped at the contact, face burning, feeling like you might explode from embarrassment. You tried to say something else, but the words came out as a strangled squeak, and you practically forced yourself to look at the ground to avoid those piercing eyes of hers.

“Hmm,” she murmured, glancing over the sword, and then back at you. “Thank you. It's… refreshing to see someone with a sense of respect.” She held your gaze for a moment longer, and then, with an amused nod, she went back to her sharpening.

You quickly walked away, all but stumbling as you escaped, only to find yourself practically nose-to-nose with Shadowheart, who looked far too amused.

"Gods above," she snorted, crossing her arms. "I've never seen someone turn so red while returning a weapon."

You stammered, looking anywhere but at her. "I was just… trying to be polite!"

"Polite? If that's your version of polite, then I’d hate to see you actually try flirting," she teased, unable to hide her grin.

“Oh, please,” you huffed, looking away and trying to calm the blush still heating your face. “It's just… I don’t know. I like her, alright? Even if she’s… well, she could probably kill me without a second thought.”

Shadowheart raised an eyebrow. "Good to know you’re aware. And yet you still act like a lovesick fool around her, it's almost like you want her to kill you."

“I would die happy!” you blurted out, throwing your hands up. “Minthara could do anything she wants to me—absolutely anything at all—and I’d thank her. She could stomp me into the dirt, call me a fool, hex me, curse me, make my life a living hell, and I'd still probably thank her with my last breath!”

Shadowheart laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. "You’re hopeless."

But you were too caught up in your rant. "I’d let her do anything—anything at all! She could make me fetch her supplies every morning, have me clean her sword every night, stand guard for her at dawn and dusk, and I’d still think it was the best thing to ever happen to me!”

"Ahem."

You froze, mid-rant, and turned slowly to find Minthara standing directly behind you. She looked deeply amused, one eyebrow raised, her eyes glittering with dark humor. Her smirk was even more wicked than usual, and her gaze held you captive as she stepped closer.

“Good to know,” she said, her voice smooth and cool, her smirk only growing. “I may have to test that loyalty sometime.”

She winked at you, and then, just as easily as she’d come, she turned and sauntered away, leaving you standing there completely speechless, your face redder than ever.

Shadowheart burst out laughing, clutching her side as she watched you sway in shock. “You really have a gift for making a fool of yourself, you know that?”

You sank to your knees, stunned, still processing that Minthara had heard every single word. Shadowheart’s laughter rang in your ears, but you were simply too dazed to care. Perhaps that death would come quicker than expected - if your own heart didn't give out first.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

Every time Lae’zel looked your way, you felt like a live wire, a rush of heat filling your face. She seemed to command every space she entered, her presence sharp, unapologetic, and utterly captivating. But whenever you were around her, every sentence became a tangle of stammered nonsense, and all you could do was blush helplessly. Today was no different.

You were fumbling with your supplies near the fire when Lae’zel walked over, her gaze scrutinizing as always.

"You’ve been acting strange,” she declared, crossing her arms and eyeing you critically. “Weakness of any sort is unacceptable. Are you unwell?"

Her bluntness only made you more flustered, words tripping over each other as you tried to respond. "No, I… I mean, yes, but not in that way. I mean, I'm fine. Completely fine.”

Lae’zel’s eyes narrowed, unconvinced. “You are not fine. You stammer, you lose color and gain it again. See Halsin or Shadowheart—this weakness needs mending.”

Desperate to reassure her, you tried to explain further, but each attempt seemed to make it worse. “I’m not… it’s not that kind of weakness, I just—well, around you, I—uh…”

She fixed you with a glare, her frown deepening. "Enough. Your words make less sense with every second. Perhaps you’re more ill than you realize.”

Your cheeks burned as she turned sharply to fetch Halsin, all but barking his name across camp. He arrived quickly, taking in the scene with a look of amused understanding.

“She is in poor health,” she said, gesturing at you. “They are losing control over their words and show clear signs of a fever. You will attend to them.”

Halsin’s brows lifted slightly, and with a knowing look, he glanced from you to Lae’zel. He gave a slow, considering nod. “Yes, I believe I see the trouble. An ailment, certainly… though it appears to be more of the heart than of the body.”

Lae’zel scowled, gripping her weapon as if ready for battle. “Explain this ‘heart ailment.’ What creature has inflicted it upon them?”

Halsin chuckled softly. “They’ve been bitten by a lovebug, Lae’zel. That’s all.”

Lae'zel let out a string of sharp Gith curses, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "A lovebug. Where does it lurk, this creature? If it is preying upon our camp, I’ll hunt it down myself and crush it beneath my blade."

Her fierce determination, though absurd, only made your heart race more. Halsin stifled a laugh, giving you a sidelong look of utter amusement.

“I think you’ll find that hunting it will be… difficult,” he said, barely hiding his grin. “The lovebug often prefers stealth, hiding within feelings rather than form.”

“Feelings, a psychic offender,” she repeated, her brow creasing in thought. After a moment, she nodded decisively. “It is trickier prey, then. But I will find it nonetheless.”

And with that, she strode off, muttering to herself about unknown threats to the camp. As soon as she was out of earshot, Halsin let out a laugh, clapping you on the shoulder. “You know, I think you may have just made a miraculous recovery.”

You let out a groan, pressing a hand to your flushed face. “Do you think she’ll ever realize?”

“Not any time soon, I’d wager,” he chuckled. “But watching her hunt for a creature that doesn’t exist… that’s something we’ll all enjoy.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

Shadowheart’s approach had been so unassuming, yet it immediately set your heart racing. You’d been minding your own business by the campfire, trying not to glance her way too much, when she’d walked over, looking perfectly calm and utterly oblivious to the effect she had on you. She needed help with a spell—one that apparently you could explain better than anyone else at camp. You tried to play it cool, managing a quick, slightly-too-high “Sure!” and hoping your pulse wasn’t visibly hammering in your throat.

Standing beside her, you began explaining the spell, hands trembling ever so slightly as you demonstrated the incantation.

“So…uh…you’ll want to focus your energy here, at the core…” you muttered, gesturing to the focus stone. You held it out for her to see, only to have her fingers brush yours, sending a jolt through you that nearly made you drop the thing.

“Like this?” Shadowheart asked, her gaze flicking up to meet yours. Her dark eyes held that same thoughtful curiosity, and your voice caught in your throat. It was hard enough trying to form sentences with her this close, let alone explain a complex spell.

“Y-yes. Like that,” you managed, each word coming out slightly unsteady. “And, uh, then you just…channel it gently, but with intention.” She tilted her head, leaning closer, following along with perfect focus.

Meanwhile, just behind her, Karlach was all but dying, barely containing her laughter as she watched you fumble. Her amusement was clearly at your expense, and it took every ounce of willpower not to glare at her. Your attention drifted back to Shadowheart just as she turned her attention to the final gesture of the spell.

Her hand rested over yours for a second too long, her voice soft as she asked, “Does this look right?”

You nodded dumbly, your brain too overloaded to form a coherent reply, and somehow muttered, “It’s, uh…very…graceful.” Internally, you cringed. Graceful?

Shadowheart, apparently too engrossed in the spell to notice your red cheeks, gave a small, content nod. She released your hand, oblivious to the way you quickly hid your trembling fingers.

“Thank you,” she said with a rare smile, her voice calm and warm. “I think I understand it now.”

She turned to leave, casting one last glance over her shoulder, which made you feel simultaneously light-headed and weak in the knees. You stared after her, still processing, trying to shake off the ridiculous butterflies. You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until she was already out of earshot.

The second she was gone, Karlach burst out laughing, dropping her head back in utter delight.

“Gods! If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were spellbound yourself,” she teased, unable to wipe the grin off her face. “That was one of the best things I’ve ever seen. Hopeless,” she declared, shaking her head at you with a mischievous gleam.

Heat flooded your face all over again as you groaned, rubbing the back of your neck.

“I know, okay? It’s…utterly hopeless,” you admitted, voice thick with defeat. Before you could second-guess yourself, you grabbed her mug of beer straight from her hand and downed it in a few quick gulps, hoping it would somehow wash away the mortification you felt. Setting the empty mug down, you sighed deeply. “She didn’t even notice anything.”

“Oh, that’s where you’re very, very wrong,” Karlach countered, her smile twisting into something sly and secretive. She crossed her arms, leaning in as if sharing a precious secret. “Because she was definitely checking you out while you were showing her that spell.”

You froze, turning slowly to look at her, heart skipping a beat.

“You’re joking,” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper. There was a spark of hope, ridiculous but undeniable, blooming somewhere deep in your chest.

Karlach grinned wider, shaking her head. “Oh, no. She was stealing glances at you the entire time,” she said, sounding far too pleased with herself. “She’d peek up at you just when you weren’t looking, trying to act all serious, but she couldn’t quite pull it off. You might be as oblivious, but I’ve got eyes.” She winked, patting your shoulder in encouragement.

Your mind raced, playing the whole interaction back. You remembered how Shadowheart’s gaze had lingered, her voice soft, her questions coming slower, almost careful… Could Karlach really be right? Was it possible that Shadowheart had actually been…interested?

“Maybe there’s hope after all…” you mumbled, feeling that glimmer of excitement grow.

Karlach clapped you on the back with a laugh, nearly knocking the air out of you. “There you go! Just keep stuttering and blushing—seems to be working like a charm.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Guess I’ll just have to keep embarrassing myself, then,” you said, grinning despite yourself.

Karlach’s laughter echoed across the camp, but her eyes held a genuine warmth as she said, “Well at least it’s a start. You’ll get there.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

Jaheira's gaze was focused, unrelenting as she adjusted your grip on the scimitar. Her hands, warm and confident, guided yours over the hilt, showing you the correct angle, the precise strength you should use. Every time her hand brushed yours, you felt your heart stammer. You hoped she didn’t notice your flushed cheeks or the way your breath caught every time she leaned closer.

“Here,” she said, her voice calm but commanding. She moved to your side, adjusting the angle of your stance with the barest brush of her hand along your back. “It’s not about brute force,” she murmured, her voice so close it felt like a whisper. “It’s about control, understanding where the balance lies in every movement.”

You nodded, barely able to find your voice, managing only a stuttered, “Y-yes, of course.” But you were far more focused on her proximity than any of her advice.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Astarion lounging a few paces away, arms crossed and a devilish grin spreading across his face. He had noticed, of course—there was no hiding it from his all-too-keen gaze. Before you could silently beg him to go easy on you, he stepped closer, feigning a helpful tone.

“Stick your rear out more,” he suggested, his voice laced with amusement. “Helps with balance. And I’m sure Jaheira would agree.” He flashed you a wicked grin, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

Your face flamed, and you shot him a withering look.

“Thanks, Astarion,” you muttered under your breath, attempting to ignore him. But his smirk only widened, and he continued to watch, pleased with himself.

Jaheira, still adjusting your stance, gave you a quick nod, oblivious to your flustered state and Astarion’s antics.

“There you go,” she said, stepping back just enough to observe your form. “Much better.” She gave a satisfied nod and went on to demonstrate a quick series of strikes, her movements fluid and sure, each slash a picture of precision and elegance.

You could barely pay attention, completely distracted by the grace with which she wielded her weapon, the easy strength in her every move. As she looked back at you, catching you gawking, you fumbled to regain focus.

“Uh—yes! Right, like that!” you stammered, hurriedly attempting to mimic her motions.

Jaheira gave a small, amused smile before nodding approvingly. “Keep practicing that sequence. It’ll help build your control.”

As she left the clearing, giving you one last nod of encouragement, you could hardly breathe. You waited until she was out of sight before collapsing against Astarion, running a hand through your hair with a groan.

“I’m hopeless,” you muttered, shaking your head. “She probably thinks I’m a complete mess.”

“Oh, she definitely does,” Astarion said, his grin impossibly smug as he gave you a playful shove. “But she won’t have to wonder about it for long.”

You shot him a look, eyebrow raised in confusion. “What do you mean by that?”

Astarion’s smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I may have left your journal in her tent. You know, the one with the little poems in the margins?” He waggled his eyebrows, feigning innocence.

Your eyes went wide, horror settling over you as you gaped at him.

“You didn’t,” you whispered, dread turning your stomach. The journal held every embarrassing thought, every scribbled confession, every starry-eyed rant about Jaheira that you hadn’t dared speak aloud.

“Oh, but I did.” Astarion’s voice was light, mocking even, but his eyes held a teasing warmth. “Look on the bright side. At least now she’ll know how much you ‘admire her scimitar technique.’ among other things..”

You shrieked in exasperation, though a traitorous part of you couldn’t help but feel the faintest spark of excitement at the idea. You shoved Astarion, who merely laughed, delighted with himself, as you stood there in helpless anticipation, wondering how you’d ever face Jaheira again.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

Trying to stay composed around Gale was becoming increasingly impossible. You could barely string together a coherent sentence whenever he was nearby, your cheeks burning and your heart racing so loudly you were sure he could hear it. It had gotten to the point that, during one of his magic lessons, you’d accidentally projected a very vivid thought about kissing him far into the Weave—and while he hadn’t directly addressed it, you had felt your face go scarlet the moment it happened.

Yet, despite that blunder and all your clumsy attempts to communicate the depths of your affection, Gale remained completely oblivious. And this state of suspended longing, this fruitless crush, was starting to drive you mad.

After another awkward lesson with Gale where you stumbled over your words and blushed at the mere brush of his hand over yours, you found yourself venting to Minthara, though you knew her to be an unlikely confidante. Her eyes held little sympathy, her arms crossed as she gave you a hard, skeptical look.

“Just grab the wizard and use him for your pleasure,” she suggested bluntly, as if it were the obvious solution. Her gaze was sharp and impatient. “You’re a warrior, not a blubbering fool.”

You shook your head quickly, horrified. “No, no, it’s not like that! I don’t just want him in some shallow way.” You sighed, your heart feeling tight. “I want to… to adore him. To look after him. To treasure everything about him, every small thing, every story he tells and every spell he casts. I want to worship him like he deserves.” You leaned into your words, almost forgetting who you were talking to in the rapture of your lovesick confession. “I want to make him feel like he’s the most cherished person in the world.”

Minthara recoiled as if you’d offended her sensibilities with such sentimentality, looking visibly revolted by your romantic ramblings. Her lips curled in distaste.

“By the darkness, are you even listening to yourself?” She gave an exasperated huff, then, with a roll of her eyes, she called across the camp, her voice clear as a bell. “Wizard!” she yelled, her tone commanding and fierce. “They want to go on their knees for you—are you going to do something about it, or will I have to rip out their tongue to stop their endless lovesick whining?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, and before you could process the horror, Gale turned, an expression of curiosity mixed with surprise crossing his face as he started to walk over. You immediately whacked Minthara on the arm, panic rising as you whispered, “What are you doing?!”

Minthara looked at you with a smug indifference, ignoring your frantic scolding as if she’d done you the greatest favor.

“A strange way to show your gratitude,” she remarked drily, “given how much assistance I just rendered.”

By then, Gale had reached you both, his brows lifted in confusion, a hint of pink on his cheeks.

“What’s all this about… someone going on their knees?” he asked, looking between you and Minthara, though his gaze lingered on you. His voice was gentle, though you could see the glimmer of curiosity—and something else—in his eyes.

You shot Minthara a glare, your face flaming, then took a steadying breath, turning to Gale.

“I—um,” you stammered, realizing there was no dignified way to explain this away. “I think… what Minthara was so eloquently trying to say is that I… might, uh, harbor feelings for you.” You paused, swallowing. “Quite a few of them, actually.”

Gale’s face softened, and a warm smile played at his lips, his hand reaching to touch yours with a tenderness that made your heart flutter.

“Well,” he murmured, his voice dipping low, “it’s wonderful to know I’m not the only one who’s felt that spark.”

Minthara turned away, clearly satisfied, muttering something about lesser beings and their foolish emotions, but you hardly noticed her departure as your heart beat out of your touch, your greatest fantasies finally coming true.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

Dinner had been an ordeal. Astarion sat beside you, closer than usual, his presence a tangible, almost overwhelming warmth. Every time he reached for something or murmured a comment, you felt yourself freeze, stumbling over your responses, blushing so furiously you’d started to worry it was noticeable. You could barely bring yourself to eat, much less speak, and by the end of the meal, you were sure you’d only embarrassed yourself.

That might have been manageable if it ended there. But just hours later, as the party approached a fortress with heavy guards stationed at the gates, Astarion took the lead, slipping into his charming, roguish element. He approached the security with a smooth, confident swagger, flashing that insouciant smile of his, every word a practiced melody of flattery and wit. He left them captivated, helpless to deny him as he led the party in with ease, his charm so intoxicating it almost felt like magic.

And while the others chuckled at his skillful maneuvering, you felt an unexpected ache in your chest. Watching him sway them so effortlessly stirred a pang of jealousy you hadn’t expected. Did he even notice the way you pined for him? The way every stray touch or knowing look from him seemed to linger long after he’d moved on?

Caught in your thoughts, you didn’t realize Gale was watching you with a raised brow. He leaned over, studying your expression with mild amusement and maybe a bit of pity.

“You look,” he began in a soft murmur, “like someone just killed a displacer kitten right in front of you.”

Startled, you forced a tight smile, trying to wave him off. “It’s nothing, Gale.”

“Nothing?” He crossed his arms, unimpressed. “Please, you’ve been fawning over Astarion for ages now, your heart practically on display.”

There was a pause as you grappled with the admission, your face heating up, but at last, the dam broke, and you began to pour out your feelings in a quiet, hushed ramble.

“It’s just… my heart beats for him, Gale. Every time he speaks, I hang on his every word. I want nothing more than to just reach over, brush his hair back, and listen to him talk about all his little grievances—his so-called ‘inconveniences,’ his charms, all of it.”

Gale nodded, looking thoughtful for a moment. And then his lips curled into a wry smile as he leaned in conspiratorially. “Well, I suppose your dilemma is solved, then.”

Confused, you blinked, feeling a twist of dread. “What do you mean?”

“Oh,” he said, chuckling, “just that you happened to be projecting that over the tadpole connection. Quite eloquently, I might add. The entire party heard every word by my predictions.”

You froze, horror dawning as you processed what Gale had just said. Every word, you realized, echoing faintly through the magical thread you shared. You dared a glance at the others, only to see Karlach giving you an encouraging thumbs-up and Shadowheart hiding a smirk behind her hand.

Then, to your ultimate mortification, Astarion strolled past, pausing just long enough to catch your eye. A sly grin played on his lips as he gave you a long, lingering look, his gaze glinting with amusement.

“Not to worry, darling,” he murmured, a teasing warmth in his voice, “I have plenty of inconveniences—and a few conveniences—to tell you all about. Shall we start tonight?”

His words sent a rush of heat up your spine, leaving you speechless as he gave a little wave, disappearing down the hallway. Gale patted your shoulder with a grin.

“See?” he said cheerfully. “All handled.”

You were left rooted to the spot, barely able to breathe, knowing that somehow you’d been caught, exposed—and that Astarion was, indeed, fully aware of the fact that your heart belonged to him.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

Wyll’s presence seemed to have a gravitational pull all its own. Every time he smiled at you, every chivalrous gesture—offering his hand to help you up a steep path, or casually brushing a stray lock of hair out of your face—felt like a dream. A warmth filled your chest, so intense you could hardly look him in the eye, your words dissolving into stammered half-thoughts that trailed into silence. Each interaction left you breathless, embarrassed, and wondering if maybe, just maybe, he noticed how flustered he made you.

Training, however, was another story. Lae’zel was as intense as ever, barely giving you time to catch your breath between strikes. She was quick, sharp, and relentless, and it would have been more manageable—if you could actually focus. But each time she demanded your attention, your eyes kept wandering back to Wyll, who was a few feet away, talking to Shadowheart as he polished his sword. The way he moved, the way he spoke, that disarmingly warm smile…

It was only a matter of time before Lae'zel had enough.

She stepped back, arms crossed, leveling you with a look that could freeze lava.

“You’re distracted. Useless,” she declared, throwing down her sword with an exasperated sigh. “You pine like a hatchling, and it disrupts our sparring.”

You flushed, scrambling to come up with an excuse, but Lae’zel was already stomping off toward Wyll. You moved to intercept her, knowing she was the absolute last person who should reveal any of this. “Wait—Lae’zel, don’t!”

Lae’zel ignored you, her voice booming as she closed in on a bewildered Wyll.

“You,” she pointed at him, “this one wants to share their body with you.”

Wyll blinked, his eyes widening as he looked between you and Lae’zel, clearly trying to make sense of what she’d just said.

“I—what?” He looked at you, a blush rising to his cheeks as he fumbled for words. “I mean, I didn’t—wasn’t aware—”

Mortified, you didn’t think, you just acted, flinging yourself at Lae’zel with a force you hadn’t known you possessed. You tackled her to the ground, landing with a clumsy thud, and slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Not…what I meant!” you stammered, trying to laugh it off to Wyll, who was still looking down at the both of you in complete bafflement. “What she means is—uh, we’re just, um, sparring partners! She’s…dramatic.”

Lae’zel raised an eyebrow, and with her typical stoicism, she bit down—hard—on the hand you’d used to cover her mouth. You yelped, jerking your hand back, and Lae’zel smirked, a silent satisfaction in her gaze as she sat up, looking entirely unapologetic.

Wyll was still staring, one eyebrow raised, lips quirking slightly in what looked like a restrained grin.

“I’m… not entirely sure I understand what’s going on here,” he said, his eyes bright with amusement. “But whatever it is, I’m flattered.”

You scrambled to your feet, rubbing your bitten hand, and tried to put together a coherent explanation, but every time you met his gaze, words seemed to fail you.

“Well… right,” you mumbled, feeling heat rise to your face as you threw a quick glare at Lae’zel, who simply shrugged, as if completely innocent of any wrongdoing.

Wyll’s expression softened as he watched you struggle to speak, and he smiled gently.

“It’s alright,” he said, stepping closer. “I didn’t mean to make things difficult for you and Lae'zel.”

That simple gesture—his kindness, the warmth in his voice—made you feel as if you’d forgotten how to breathe. You managed a nod, barely holding onto your composure, while he looked at you with that disarming sincerity that always left you reeling.

Lae’zel, watching the exchange with an air of smug victory, dusted herself off. “There. See? Problem solved. Now maybe you’ll stop sparring like a weakling.”

You shot her a glare, but Wyll chuckled softly, meeting your eyes with a spark of curiosity.

“If you ever want to train together,” he said, his voice low and warm, “you need only ask.”

And with that, he gave you a wink, leaving you in a breathless, heart-pounding daze as he walked back to his gear.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

Every time you were around Halsin, it was like the ground slipped out from beneath you. His voice, that low, warm rumble, made your heart pound, and every casual touch seemed to ignite sparks across your skin. He was utterly unaware, of course; his gentle smiles and steady hands never betrayed a hint of understanding that he sent you reeling. You were sure that was the only reason you hadn’t completely given yourself away.

So when you returned to camp with an injury—a jagged cut on your arm from a goblin's arrow—you hoped it might go unnoticed. Shadowheart was busy, deep in her meditation as she restored her energy, and you thought you could handle the wound alone. But Jaheira spotted the blood trailing down your arm almost immediately. She arched a brow, her eyes flashing with a mix of annoyance and amusement as she approached.

“Let’s have a look,” she said, but as she examined your arm, she shook her head with a soft sigh. “This needs a proper healer. Come on.”

Before you could protest, she’d already begun steering you toward Halsin’s corner of camp. Your heart dropped to your stomach, and a familiar warmth crept up your face. “Jaheira, no, really, I’m fine. It’s not even that deep. You could probably just—”

“Are you afraid of a little attention from the First Druid?” she teased, smirking as you stammered. “If you’re so sure you can handle it alone, why is your face turning as red as a blood hawk?”

You barely managed a protest before she’d called out to Halsin, who looked up from his work, his eyes sharpening with concern the moment he saw the blood seeping through your sleeve.

“Come here,” he said, his voice a blend of calm authority and quiet worry. He rose to meet you, his eyes never leaving the wound as he reached out, guiding you to sit down on a low stool beside him. His hands were warm, gentle but firm, and you felt heat flush up your neck and into your cheeks as he examined the wound.

Jaheira, leaning against a tent post with her arms crossed, watched the scene unfold with an amused glint in her eyes, a smile curving her lips as you struggled to steady your breathing. But Halsin didn’t notice; his focus was fully on your arm, his brow furrowed with concentration as his fingers brushed softly along the edges of the wound, checking its depth.

“It isn’t too deep,” he murmured in his gentle, rumbling voice. “But we don’t want to risk infection. I’ll clean it and make a poultice to help it heal.”

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure, but the feeling of his hands—steady, reassuring, and just a little too close—sent your mind reeling. “Y-yes, of course. Whatever you think is best.”

Halsin gave you a soft smile, the kind that seemed to reach into your chest and make your heart skip.

“Are you feeling alright otherwise? You look a bit flushed.” His eyes studied your face, brow creased in genuine concern. “Are you feverish?”

You blinked, thrown off by the question, and felt your face grow impossibly hotter. “No! No, not at all. I’m… I’m perfectly fine. Really. Just, um… It’s just… the wound.”

Jaheira couldn’t contain her amusement any longer; she snorted softly and rolled her eyes, muttering, “It’s certainly not the wound that has you blushing.”

You shot her a quick, desperate glare, but she only smirked, clearly enjoying your struggle.

“A shame that our healer here clearly can’t see that particular ailment,” she added, just loud enough for you to hear.

Halsin looked between you and Jaheira, a slight confusion flickering in his eyes before he turned back to you with a gentle, almost affectionate smile. “Well, you should rest nonetheless. Even a small wound can bring on a fever if not treated with care.”

He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his thumb tracing light circles just above your collarbone as if to soothe you. It was a simple, instinctive gesture, but it sent a wave of warmth through you, and you fought the urge to lean into his touch, to linger in the quiet strength he offered.

“Let me just…” His voice was soft, his attention focused on preparing the poultice as he worked with deft hands. But every so often, he’d glance up, catching your gaze with that calm, reassuring smile that made your heart race all over again.

Beside you, Jaheira leaned in close, her voice dropping to a whisper. “He truly has no idea, does he?”

You felt a flicker of panic, but there was no use hiding it now. You muttered, barely audible, “Not the faintest clue.”

She chuckled, shaking her head with a mix of sympathy and sarcasm. “To be fair, you’re not making it particularly obvious.”

Before you could retort, Halsin returned with the poultice, carefully applying it to your wound with practiced gentleness. The sensation of his fingers brushing against your skin, his hands steady and warm, sent another wave of nervous energy through you. He worked in silence for a moment, his gaze focused, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.

“There,” he said softly, finishing the bandage. “That should hold for now. And I’ll make more of the poultice tonight to ensure it heals properly.”

You managed a shaky nod, trying to form words but only managing a faint, “Th-thank you.”

Halsin’s smile deepened, and he placed a final, reassuring hand on your arm. “It’s my pleasure to help. But if you do start feeling feverish, promise you’ll come to me immediately.”

“Yes. Of course,” you stammered, hardly able to meet his gaze. Jaheira watched you, her smile widening as she shook her head in mock exasperation.

“I think it’s safe to say you’re sick with something,” she muttered, just loud enough for Halsin to hear.

Halsin’s brow furrowed in mild concern, and he tilted his head toward her, curious. “Sick with what, precisely?”

You shot Jaheira a desperate look, but she only shrugged, that teasing glint in her eye.

“Nothing a nice cold dip in the river can't fix.,” she said, her voice laced with amusement as she turned to walk away, leaving you to face Halsin’s warm, questioning gaze.

“If you’re certain you’re well…” he said, his thumb brushing lightly along your hand in a final gesture of reassurance before he let go. “But do take it easy tonight. I’ll check in on you later, just to be sure.”

As he stood and walked away, you sat there, still reeling, the warmth of his touch lingering on your skin. You wanted to stay in that moment forever. Perhaps during his check in later, you would actually do something about it.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This was actually so cute to write aha, I hope you guys enjoyed this ! - Seluney xox

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[dubina-dawkins]

WINCHESTER'S PICKUP, INJURIES AND CLUMSY KISSES

~1k words

>you get hurt while hunting with your uncle, John Winchester and his son. Dean can't help but help.

pairing:teen! dean winchester x teen! reader

warnings/notes: basically a really tooth rotting fluff, first love and first kiss trope, vague descriptions of reader's past (like death of their family), few but subtle descriptions of injuries, john winchester mentioned (and i mean he's a real trigger so that's important), gn reader, no usage of y/n

REPOSTS WILL BE APPRECIATED

Minnesota. A werewolf hunt. Ordinary case-- boring, in a way. Just had to catch the bastard and shoot it through the heart with silver.

It seemed normal even to you, even though you weren't even an adult yet. Had to grow up early, huh? God, you hated that phrase. It sounded like you were feeling sorry for yourself. And self-pity is weak, very weak! At least that's what your uncle, the hunter who raised you since your family died in a vampire attack taught you.

And besides, you and your uncle weren't alone on this case, but with "family friends" - the Winchesters. Were they considered family friends if every time John needed help hunting and Dean was busy, your youngest son, Sam, was left at your and your uncle's house? Hell if I know! But at least you got a good memory of that family. And the older son's face, his cocky grin, his brilliant green eyes, his perfect nose and distinct freckles...it was all getting to your throat.

But damn it, it had to be some old, abandoned house. Protruding nails, scattered things, wood that left splinters in fingers - it would be dangerous here, even in daylight, without the risk of having your heart eaten...and when there was that risk, every step was tense.

Especially when the "hunted object" - you tried not to think of them as people, or else it became too hard to hunt - had run right into your path. The rumble of falling things, the pop of missed shots. This werewolf was physically strong and dexterous, so it was hard.

Like when he threw you into the wall and some protruding, crooked, rusty nail pierced your shoulder. It's okay, we've been through worse injuries, you'd think. Until Dean ran up to you, completely ignoring his father's scolding.

"Hey, are you okay? Ooh..." He seemed to swear, but it was quiet, a whisper he didn't want his father to hear. Dean sharply threw your arm, whose shoulder wasn't injured, over his neck and lifted you up, not listening to any of your complaints about not needing help.

"Dad's gonna kill you- sshhiit..." You hissed as he pressed his shirt, previously hanging over his black T-shirt, against your shoulder, treating the wound. The fabric was soaked with whiskey.

Hearing your sounds of pain, Dean lifts his emerald eyes from your wound to your face. His gaze is piteous, concerned, and his thick lashes glisten in the moonlight.

He was too handsome. Objectively, of course.

"Like the first time I'm going to get a punch from him... All right?" He squeezes your healthy shoulder in the palm of his hand, then puts his hand on the collar of your t-shirt, and...stops. "I... Can you slip your arm out of your sleeve?"

All his arrogance evaporated, there wasn't a particle of it in the air. And it was cute.

"You want me to take my clothes off? Pervert," you laugh, but your face immediately frowns as you raise your arm. Dean doesn't waste a second and starts helping you.

And God, the touch of his somehow warm fingers - there was a cool breeze outside, by the way - send shivers down your spine, making you dizzy. But you don't think about it. At least you're trying.

A low whimper escaped your lips as he tightened a piece of cloth, torn from your shirt and soaked in alcohol, on your wound. Maybe it wasn't unusual, but it still hurt.

"You're gonna stay here, you hear me? There's no way in hell you're going to go fight that big guy again right now. I won't let you," Dean said, glancing outside his dad's pickup window. His dad and your uncle were still in the house with a werewolf, apparently. You two could have been alone...for a little while. But of course that didn't excite you at all. You and Dean were just friends, right? Hunting bros. Nothing more.

And the fact that your gaze fell to his lips, then to his cheeks, covered with freckles, sharp cheekbones, ash-black long lashes, brilliant green eyes.... It meant nothing. At all.

"Whatever you say, sir," you quipped, rubbing the wound under the piece of cloth with your hand. Dean just gently pulled your hand away, "Don't make it worse for yourself, buddy." And oh, his tone is so gravelly. You're absolutely done.

But he won't let go of your hand. And you don't want to pull away.

His green eyes came up to your face, and he suddenly just froze, as if he couldn't look away. Dean stared at you as if you were the most brilliant and expensive gem, as if you were a living angel he hadn't believed in for a long time.... Like something unearthly. It would be foolish not to admit that you looked at him the same way.

Dean squeezed your hand lightly, and slowly - yes, very unusual for Dean Winchester to do something slowly - moved closer, but in a friendly way for now. In the same second, however, he remembered who he was, and his hand went up to your neck - still tentatively, of course... "Listen, buddy-..."

"Dean, please..."

And that did it. Dean's one word was enough for him to press his lips lightly against yours. He wasn't pushy, he wasn't rough, he didn't even let himself try to deepen the kiss. His lips only phantomly touched yours, guiding you, somehow even mentoring you, gently (still unusual for Dean Winchester himself!). His lips were matte, a little dry, but damn it, you liked it better than the sweetest meals of your life.

He pulls back, takes a deep breath and leans into you again. You're so cooked.

Dean can't help but marvel at your ineptitude at kissing- God, he could have sworn it made it the best kiss of his life. His lips move hotter, feistier, more needy, but still tentative, dipping down a little to leave a few quick nibbles on your chin and on your jaw--

Until you start hearing John and your uncle's voices outside. Oh, God, not now!

"Sorry, baby, sorry-" the nickname slides off his tongue so tenderly, lovingly, as he quickly pulls moves away from you.

Because after today, the chance of Winchester allowing you to see Dean earlier than after few months was close to zero.

a/n: i needed to think about little dean that haven't experienced hell already (on s4 currently yaaay). young jensen on header only because i can't think of teen dean looking as original cast actor for this role. and because i love young jensen. like really much. think im starting to get a lil' bit too much obsessed with dean

[silent-stories]

I'm thinking about random lazy days with noah

-He never wants to get out of bed in the morning and tries in every way to grab you and hold you tight to his body so you can't leave. (you both know that one arm around your waist is enough to pin you to the mattress)

-When you finally manage to get out of bed he huffs and sinks his head into the pillow like a child mad at you. After some moments, you usually leave a kiss on his bare tattooed shoulder as an apology and go to make breakfast for both of you.

-When he smells food, he decides to finally get out of bed.

-You realize he is not in bed anymore when you feel his arms around your waist.

-You and Noah often try to bake a cake or cook something and always end up turning the kitchen into a mess.

-You usually always insist on deciding what music to play in the background while you try not to burn down the house. He usually lets you decide. He can never say no to you.

-He often tries to teach you how to play some video game he's into at the moment but you always end up getting killed in the first three minutes of the game. So you both agree that he'll be the one playing, but with his arms around you and your back pressed against his chest, holding you while he fights some monster on the screen.

-You always pretend to be annoyed when the whole band arrives unexpectedly but in reality you love feeling part of their weird family. Of course, you're less fond of having to clean up the mess that three (if not more) other men can cause in your house, but hearing the laughs that echoes through the rooms is worth it.

-You usually fall asleep watching a movie, gently playing with noah's tattooed hand on your lap, your head resting on his shoulder.

-When this happens, Noah picks you up and carries you to bed, being careful not to wake you.

-Other times he's the first to fall asleep, his head on your lap while you let your fingers run through his hair, gently scratching his scalp.

-Then you turn off the TV and the light, placing the blanket around him and curling up next to him. During the night, his arm will wrap around your waist to push you against him anyway.

[kizzer55555]

Now I’m just imagining him taking the Joker.

Joker is in the middle of a scheme with the bats watching and maybe he’s doing pretty well. He’s got half the bats down with injuries, and he had just finished a magnificent monologue. And then suddenly this slow clapping fills the area. They look and see a figure leaning against the wall.

“impressive” He says.

The room is suddenly 30 degrees colder. Like worse than Dr Freeze cold, and a shiver runs down everyone’s spine. The person clapping is a glowing humanoid figure with white hair and piercing green eyes that glowed where they were obscured in shadow. And despite looking so young, it’s almost like his mere presence sucked the light out of everything. The shadows on the walls grew larger and even the surrounding colors seemed to dull.

Batman is the first to recover but it was a struggle to move. He questions who this person is and what he wants. The guy says that he’s here for his job. The bats get ready for a fight but the unsettling figure just ignores them and pulls out a glowing green list. “Jack Oswald White.” And everyone freezes, including the Joker who hadn’t heard his full name in decades. “You are herby under arrest for the senseless sloughter of over 5,907 human souls, the personal torturing of 565 of those souls, the second hand torturing of 1,524 of those souls, targeting the loved ones of 4,438 of those souls after death, as well as the desecration of their gravesites. You are also arrested for an accidental killing of an additional 4,729 souls and then forgetting their names. You are sentenced to over 500,000 years of imprisonment with the inclusion of torture, obsession denial after death, isolation, and stripped of the protection of the zone until your term ends.”

By now everyone was starring as the kid almost seemed to be reading through the list in a bored tone, yet the sheer power that radiated off of him had even the bats on edge. Of course, the Joker ignored the danger signs and just laughed it off as a Joke.

He tried shooting the kid and the bats lunged but were too far away. They needn’t have worried though as the bullet sailed straight through and the only reaction the teen gave was an annoyed eyebrow raise as he continued reading through his list, flipping through a few pages. Ignoring every attempt at harm the Joker tried. And trust me. He tried. Finally the guy finished and asked if the Joker had any questions before his arrest.

This just made the joker laugh harder. “You think you can arrest me?! I’m way above your pay grade kid. If the bats can’t do it, what makes you think you can?”

The teen just gave a tired sigh.

Then it’s like the shadows themselves reach out and grab the Joker, pulling him close until the kid had a firm grip on his collar before they released him.

Despite his situation, he continues to laugh. Saying that it won’t matter. arresting him won’t matter. He’ll just escape any jail he comes across. “That’s the problem with all you vigilante types. Can’t get the job done now can you? And when I gets out, I’ll find you, and I’ll make sure you scream.” His cackles filled the air. But the white haired guy just stares at him. Deadpan.

“I think you’re misunderstanding something.” The figure crouches down so that he’s on Joker’s level. “I’m not taking you to a human prison.”

The clown’s laughter doesn't stop. “Ooooh, trying something new I see? Well what’ll it be? High secure facility for metas? Maybe an alien spacecraft? Ooh! ooh! oooh! And I being held by Leprechauns? Well at least my hair‘ll fit right in!” He continued to cackle.

“I still don’t think you understand.” The figure says. And then suddenly the very air itself cracks. It’s as if the space is being warped and broken apart to reveal a swirling glowing portal that opens right behind the glowing human. Casting his face in shadow, all except those eyes, filled with complete disregard for the one before him.

That unsettling presence just grew 100 fold and everyone present knew they were not looking at something human. Every instinct in them screamed danger. This was a predator, and they were the prey.

“I am not a meta. I am not an alien. And I’m most certainly not a leprechaun.”

He leaned in close until his face was mere inches from the jokers, and the clown could clearly see his fangs.

“I’m the one the dead call to bring in those who break its laws. Those who break the balance, upset the fabrics of reality, cause dimensional rifts. I have hunted demons, gods, immortals, and things your puny brain can’t even imagine. Point is, you’ve made a lot of mistakes in life and the souls of your victims have cried out loud enough that the afterlife is going to do something about it. I’m here to collect.”

The joker gulps, starting to realize his situation. “Are you….are you the grim reaper?”

The teen laughs.

“Nah, I’m worse.” Then he smiled and clapped his hand. “Alright then! Let’s go to Hell!”

“No…no no no no no NO!”

“Yes… yes yes yes yes!” The creature mocked back.

Now Joker starts struggling for real. The boy just grabs him by the collar though and starts dragging him towards the glowing green portal, the cheerful grin still on his face. The clown couldn’t get loose no matter what he tried and started threatening the kid, then threatening his family, when that didn’t work he tried bargaining, willing to get anything, do anything, kill anyone, if the guy let him go. When that didn’t pan out he tried begging for his life.

“Wait! You arrest murderers right?! Then why aren’t you taking Red Hood?!” He points to the area where the bats still were. They hadn’t moved an inch, frozen by Danny’s intense presence. “That guys killed tons of people! In fact, I think he’s died before too but he came back! Isn’t that a ‘crime’?”

The figure froze and all the bats collectively felt their hearts drop. They could feel the power oozing from this guy and even more so from the portal. It took everything Batman had just to speak in its presence. How were they suppose to fight it? If that thing went after Jason…could they stop it? They watched in horror as the humanoid creature gave a gentle hum and pulled out its glowing list again, flipping through more pages before stopping at one.

“Nah, he’s good. Says here his paperwork was filed for him by a….Thomas and Martha Wayne? He’s got a permit.”

The batfamily has so many questions. Unfortunately Joker took the being’s moment of inattention and finally managed to break free from its grip. He made a mad dash for the road, grabbed a car, and drove down the street like his life depended on it, which it kinda did.

The teen just looked so affronted by the action. He sighed again and yelled at the speeding car “You’re just making this harder on yourself!” But the car didn’t stop. The figure looked at the bats as if saying, ‘can you believe that guy?’ When the bats didn’t give a response the teen just rolled his eyes. Then he put two fingers in his mouth and gave a loud whistle. Not 10 second later, another being rose up from the ground and revealed itself to be a gigantic dog about the size of a tank, with razor sharp teeth and glowing red eyes.

“Cujo. Fetch.”

Danny has to work off his Sentence

So! Danny isn't the King of the Infinite Realms. And he is not above the Law.

Sure, he has many friends in high places, and he did defeat the King in single combat, but that doesn't mean he is above the Law in the way The King would be.

And unfortunately for him, Walkers Laws do actually have some backing.

Not all of them. Some are just laws he placed over his Lair and surrounding Territory, which he is really nitpicky about, but the Big ones he touts are the Laws of the entire Zone set by the First King. Don't Tresspass on Lairs without an official challenge, don't End a Realms Being without permission, Don't bring Humans into the Zone without permission, etc.

And Danny has broken quite a few of them, meaning Walker is entirely in his rights to put him away for a few Thousand Years. Thankfully, there is an alternative.

Since Danny wasn't wanted for any major crimes, Walker offered a different path for him. Danny was still one of the Strongest Ghosts in the Zone, and as the Portal was technically his Grave he had full authority to use it however he liked, so if he ran a couple of errands for Walker, he could consider his Sentence served.

All he has to do was round up a few of the Trouble Makers that had escaped his grasp by virtue of being in the Living Realm, and he would forgive his previous crimes.

So, Danny took him up on the offer. It was better than being constantly hounded by Walkers Guards. The fact that he could beat them easily was moot, it was extremely annoying and he wanted it to stop.

So he was given his First list of targets, and went on his way.

Ra's "The Demons Head" Al Ghul, for Tresspassing on Ghost Zone Waste Dumping Grounds

Solomon Grundy, for continued use of copyrighted poem, requested by copyright holder post mortem

Vandal Savage, for failure to notify the proper authorities about his absence on the day of his intended death

Jack "The Joker" Napier, Special Request by 1000+ Ghosts for purposes of Vengeance, Torture, and general Catharsis.

...interesting list...maybe he should have this through a bit more...

[dissapointu]

you are so QUICKK 😧😧!! this is real talent! may you please do arcane characters reacting to their partner with a love for singing??

OKAY OKAY, ipersonally love this one Mamas.

Jinx

“WAIT. YOU CAN SING?!” Jinx immediately demands a private concert. She’ll sit crisscross on the floor, eyes wide like a kid, yelling, “DO THE HIGH NOTE! DO IT!” And if you’re shy? Oh, she’ll fix that real quick. She’ll grab your hands and start twirling you around like, “C’mon, babe, we’re making a musical!”

Also, she absolutely wants you to sing during her chaotic explosions. “Nothing says boom like a ballad, right?”

Vi

Vi finds out you can sing, and she’s floored. Like, totally stunned. “Wait, you never told me you were this good.” She’ll act all cool about it, but the second you start singing, her cheeks turn pink, and she’s just like, “Oh, okay, so I’m dating an angel now?”

She’ll tease you sometimes, though, like, “Not bad, babe, but I can definitely do better,” and then she belts out the worst off-key note you’ve ever heard.

Sevika

Sevika is the definition of lowkey obsessed. She pretends it’s no big deal, but you catch her watching you with this soft little smirk whenever you sing. “Not bad,” she says, but the way her eyes stay glued to you? Yeah, she’s in love.

Also, she’ll tell anyone who’ll listen. “Oh, yeah, my partner? Killer voice. Better than any of those Piltie performers.” If you ever sing her to sleep, she’s done for. Total simp mode unlocked.

Silco

Silco is SHOCKED. Like, he didn’t expect this at all. He’ll raise an eyebrow and say something like, “A hidden talent, hmm? Fascinating.” But deep down, he’s super impressed and maybe a little emotional.

If you’re singing in private, he’ll quietly sit and listen, his sharp features softening ever so slightly. He won’t admit it, but he loves the peace your voice brings to his otherwise stressful life.

Vander

Vander is SO proud. “You’ve got a voice that could stop a fight in its tracks,” he says with a grin. He’ll encourage you to sing whenever you feel like it, even if it’s just humming while you’re both cooking.

He’s also the type to suggest performing at The Last Drop, like, “C’mon, they’d love you!” And if you do? He’s in the front row, cheering louder than anyone else.

Ekko

Ekko is IN AWE. “Yo, how did I not know you could sing like this?!” He’ll immediately start making plans for you to perform at one of his Firelight gatherings. “You’d totally kill it on stage.”

If you’re shy, he’s super supportive. “Okay, okay, what if you just sing for me? No one else, promise.” And if you sing to him while he works on his gadgets? He’s melting on the spot.

Jayce

Jayce is your #1 fan. “Babe, your voice is incredible!” He’s the type to hype you up SO MUCH it’s almost embarrassing. He’ll make sure everyone knows you’re talented. “Yeah, my partner? Total rockstar. No big deal.”

He’ll also 100% try to duet with you. Spoiler: he’s terrible, but he doesn’t care because you’re laughing, and that’s all that matters to him.

Viktor

Viktor is absolutely enchanted. The first time he hears you sing, he just stares, blinking like, “That was… beautiful.” He’s not one for grand gestures, but he’ll quietly hum your songs while he’s working, and if you catch him, he’ll blush and be like, “You’re contagious.”

On tough days, he’ll ask you to sing to him, his head resting on your shoulder as he murmurs, “You make everything feel lighter.”

Caitlyn

Caitlyn is blown away. “Darling, your voice is stunning,” she says, completely captivated. She’ll encourage you to sing whenever you feel like it, even suggesting you try performing in Piltover. “I could arrange something, you know.”

She also LOVES when you sing to her while she’s relaxing. “You’re my personal lullaby,” she says with a soft smile.

Mel Medarda

Mel isn’t even surprised. “Of course, you’re a talented singer. Why wouldn’t you be?” But when you actually sing for her, she’s completely mesmerized. She’ll sip her wine, eyes fixed on you, and murmur, “You should perform for the entire council.”

She’ll commission a full orchestra just so you can sing with them. “You deserve the finest accompaniment, my love.”

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa is so nonchalant about it, but you KNOW she’s impressed. “You’ve got a nice voice,” she says, as if it’s no big deal. But the next time you sing, she’s sitting up straighter, arms crossed, totally focused.

She’ll casually mention it in conversation, like, “Yes, my partner is a singer. No, you can’t book them. They’re mine.”

Cecil B. Heimerdinger

Heimerdinger finds your singing fascinating. “The human vocal range is truly remarkable!” He’s full of weirdly specific compliments, like, “Your pitch is mathematically perfect in the upper registers.”

He’ll hum along with you in his adorable, squeaky way, and if you sing while he’s working, he’ll call it “a most delightful soundtrack.”

Salo

Salo plays it cool, but he’s secretly super impressed. “You’ve got some pipes, huh?” He won’t say much, but the soft smile on his face while you sing says everything.

He’ll also tease you sometimes, like, “I should start charging people just to hear you.”

Scar

Scar is HYPED. “You’re a singer?! That’s so badass!” She’ll demand a private concert and cheer like a maniac after every song. “Encore! Encore!”

If you ever sing while she’s working, she’ll totally get distracted and start singing along, turning the whole thing into a random jam session.

Maddie Nolen

Maddie is your BIGGEST FAN. She’s recording videos of you singing, posting them everywhere, and hyping you up like, “Look at my babe absolutely KILLING IT.”

She’ll also try to harmonize with you, even if she’s awful, just because she wants to join in the fun. “Okay, I’m bad, but I’m here for the vibes.”

Lest

Lest is quietly enchanted. She doesn’t say much, but the way her eyes soften when you sing says it all. “Your voice suits you,” she murmurs, his tone full of quiet admiration.

She loves listening to you sing while you’re doing everyday things, like cooking or cleaning. “It makes the world feel a little brighter,” she says softly.

TL;DR: They’re ALL obsessed with your voice. Whether they’re cheering, bragging, or blushing quietly. you’re THEIR star.

[magnificentstrawberryomen]

scariness & comfort of feeling (noah sebastian x reader one shot)

For everyone who goes through rough times rn, with also extra smily Noah. <3

“It feels like i haven’t seen you in ages.”

Noah’s words makes my head snap up from my phone, meeting his gaze. The small smile that is curled around his lips is warm, but his dark brown eyes look at me worried. I sigh, putting my phone inside the pocket of my hoodie in front and shrug.

“Yeah, sorry. Been busy,” I mumble, my eyes flicking down to his soft sheets of his bed that I’m sitting on. He joins me, sitting close next to me, his body turned just enough to face me well, feeling him studying my facial expressions—and I hate it, making my cheeks flush by shame, awkwardness and fluttery.

He knows me long enough to know that something is going on.

“Busy with what?” Noah asks me, his voice still gentle yet also letting me know that he sees right through me. I sigh once again, just deeper this time, more frustrated, feeling myself heat up more and more by his stare undressing my every secret and emotion.

“Just… my head. I guess. Thinking. Surviving.”

He nods slowly, pursing his lips a bit, his eyes then ranking down to my oversized hoodie, hiding my small body. I begin to tug at the sleeves a bit, feeling exposed underneath his gaze—and he knows that.

“I’m sorry things are going backwards for you again, y/n.”

I slightly frown, trying to brush off the truth with a small, soft laugh, as if he is overreacting. He is not. “What? Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah?” he taunts me, his voice now sounding less warm, more worried, but also frustrated with worries for his best friend. “Y/n, you’re almost drowning in that hoodie.”

“You know I like oversized clothes, especially hoodies.”

“Yes, but this is insane.”

“What do you mean, insane?!” I snap, my brows furrowing deeper, my nostrils flaring as anger, but mostly defeat frustration comes up, going all the way to my throat to slightly squeeze it by sad emotion as well. I know he’s right. “I’ll be fine, Noah. Always made it through.”

“Yeah, but for how long though?” he then fires back, his voice slightly rising, his face now dropping in raw emotions of worry, sadness, and anger for the current situation I can’t seem to get out of. “It kills me to see you like this, and that you don’t get the help you need, you deserve. It’s insane that you have to do this all on your own, and I get the energy that gets pulled out of you by that, and not being able to handle almost anything or anyone—but pushing me away won’t get you anywhere, ‘cause I actually want to help you. Please, y/n, stop resisting me and tell me how I can help!”

Noah’s loud words echo around through his bedroom walls, bouncing right into my ears, making their way into my mind and leaving me speechless for a moment. I blink, a shuddering breath escaping my lips for a moment as my heart pounds louder into my chest, a knot of shame, anger and sadness appearing into my stomach and chest. But most of all, the feeling of helplessness and loneliness, being pulled out of the depths of my soul and getting unlocked by Noah just like that, after successfully being able to hide it away for so long.

And then, I just start sobbing, hiding my face in my trembling hand in shame, my cheeks flushing even more. I hate crying, showing emotion and being vulnerable, but Noah pulls me into a tight hug right away, making me wrap my arms around his strong but warm body—feeling safe yet terrified at the same time, as my deepest emotions flush out my squeezed shut eyes, my forehead leaning on one of his shoulders, my cries muffled by his own hoodie he is wearing.

His tattooed hand gently rubs my back, his chin placed on my hair, and when I then feel him press a loving, soft kiss on it my chest gets replaced by a tight tug of warmth and flutters, the knot in my stomach slowly loosening.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, his hand then going up to my hair being held together in a low bun, his fingers caressing though my roots in a gentle way, “let it out. It’s insane that you hold it in so much for such a long time. It’s healthy and much more relieving to let it be there, to progress it all, both for your mind and body.”

“It’s scary,” I sniff in response, knowing his words are true, but sounding like a terrifying taks for me. “Letting it in, letting the emotions be there, be real, overwhelming me… it’s horrifying. I have no control and it’s horrifying.”

“I know,” Noah softly whispers, pressing yet another gentle kiss on my head before we then slowly let go, and he brushes a loose strand of hair out of my face and behind my ear as his eyes look at me comfortably, lovingly and calm—easing the storm inside of me much more than anything else could the past months. Having someone in front of you, caring for you on such a deep level, immediately makes a difference for me, making it easier for me to breathe again, the rope around my neck that got tighter and tighter with each day passing slowly loosening up.

“And if you want to, and if you tell me how, I can try to make it less complicated and scary for you. Make it comfortable and easier. And I came prepared, actually.” His lips slowly curl up, as he then stands up and leaves the room for a moment, the twinkle in his eyes promising me that everything is okay and he’ll be right back.

After a minute of two curiously fidgeting with the ends of the sleeves of my hoodie, Noah comes back again with two ice cream cups of my favorite Ben & Jerry’s flavor, making my face instantly light up as a breathless, surprised laugh escapes my lips.

“Told you,” he grins, as he then hands me a spoon and sits down as well. “You praise this flavor so much that I of course have to try as well.”

I warmly and thankfully smile at him, and for the first time since months things indeed feel less scary and dark—the two of us together like this warming my scarred heart.

[justwinginglife]

At The End Of Life

Having a boyfriend is great. Unless he has a huge bounty on his head and you're just trying to enjoy one date without him getting killed.

“Baby, I love you. I really, really do love you. But next time you slam a guy’s head through the table, could you at least move the dessert out of the way first?” 

Rafayel rolled his eyes in mock annoyance, but a grin was tugging at the edge of his lips. “Hey- I bought you another slice of cake, didn’t I?”

With the tip of your shoe, you nudged the unconscious man off of the splattered remains of your dessert. “And what if I wanted that slice of cake in particular?” 

Rafayel tilted his head to examine his handiwork before smirking at you. “That slice is occupied. Besides, I bought you a bigger slice to make up for it, so hurry up and forgive me already.” 

You sighed dramatically. “Unfortunately, Mr. Rafayel, the girlfriend bylaws clearly state that no forgiveness shall be issued until a satisfactory date has been had, and so far, the aforementioned date has not been on par with company standards.”

He snorted in response. “Thought I hired a bodyguard, not a lawyer. Alright, I’ll see your ‘company standards’ and raise you one ‘romantic boat ride’ across the lake, how’s that sound, cutie?”

You beamed at his suggestion, clapping your hands excitedly. Then you cleared your throat, reassuming your professional demeanor. “After careful consideration, your proposal has been accepted by the council. You are free to proceed with date activities immediately following this approval.” 

Rafayel chuckled, shaking his head slightly, before holding his hand out to you. “Then would the invited party please accompany me to the docks?”

After paying the bill, paying for the broken table, and boxing up your leftover dessert -still paying no mind to the unconscious hitman lying on the restaurant floor- Rafayel was finally ready to lead you to the next part of your date. 

As you made your way down the dock, you giggled to yourself, thinking about the last time the two of you had been in a row boat together. You were honestly surprised he’d proposed a boat ride after he almost didn’t survive the last one. But maybe this time he’d learned how to properly work a boat, maybe this time you wouldn’t have to swim your way back to shore. Either way, you were sure to have a lively time. 

When he paused in front of a yacht, holding his hand out to help you up the steps, you froze. “What happened to ‘romantic boat ride on the lake’?”

He gave you a sly grin, tilting his head teasingly. “But isn’t the ocean just like a really big lake? And a yacht is just a really big boat.” 

You laughed and took his hand, letting him lead you aboard. “I see you learned from your past mistakes.” 

He straightened defensively, lips pursed into a slight pout. “I have no idea what you’re talking about; I just wanted to take my girlfriend for a ride on my newly acquired yacht, that’s all.” 

“No puking this time,” You teased, poking him on the nose as you settled beside him on a lounge chair. 

“I would never puke! I’m not a puker.” He whined, crossing his arms. 

You pinched his cheeks. “No, no, you’re right. Not a puker. Just a really big baby.” 

He swatted you away as his ears tinged red. “Hey, cut it out! Besides, doesn’t today’s date make up for that… incident?” He looked over at you hopefully. 

You curled up against him and watched the city shrink from view. “It does, baby. It really does. This is lovely, thank you.”

For a moment, he just held you in silence, enjoying the warmth of your body against him, as you drifted further out to sea together. The sunlight danced on the waters, and the fluttering breeze gave you an excuse to hold him tighter. With one hand, he played with your hair, and with the other, he fed you a plate full of chocolate covered strawberries. It was the perfect date. 

And then he set the deckhand’s hair on fire.

It wasn’t until the man dove head first into the ocean in a crazed attempt to put out the fire, screaming bloody murder the whole way, that you noticed the gun he had been holding, having clattered to the deck amidst all the chaos. 

You sighed. Is everyone trying to kill us today?

Rafayel simply munched on a strawberry as he watched the scene before him play out like he was doing nothing more than snacking on popcorn at a movie theater. He even had the audacity to call out his score of the man’s dive like he was some judge in the Olympics, “Boo, poor form. 4/10! Try arching your back more next time!” He waved at the man bobbing in the water as the boat took you further and further away. 

“Another strawberry, cutie?” He thumbed at your lip to get you to open wide.

You waved him away. “I don’t know how you can think about food at a time like this, I mean, what in the hell is going on today? This is the third person to attack us in, like, the last two hours. Are we even going to survive a full date?”

He shrugged and popped the strawberry that was meant for you into his mouth. “We’ll be fine, cutie. Besides, the bounty on me is so little, I highly doubt it’s enough to tempt anyone else to give it a shot, I mean really, only 24 million, that’s all I’m worth? What lousy, cheap-”

“I’m sorry, DID YOU SAY BOUNTY??” 

He scratched the back of his neck. “Did I say bounty? Is that what I said? It’s so warm out here, I think I may be getting heat stroke.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Rafayel-” You warned.

“-And the waves are loud, the birds are loud, the breeze is loud, can you even be sure you heard me right?”

You pinched his arm. “Rafayel!”

“Yeah, okay, alright! So what if I have a bounty on my head? Can’t help it if I’m in high demand.”

You flicked him in the forehead. “No, your corpse is in high demand.”

He feigned injury, bringing his hand up to shield his wounded forehead. “Yeah well, corpse or no corpse, it’s still me they want. Your boyfriend is a high value target, I’ll have you know.” He straightened in his seat, almost sounding proud. No, not almost. He was proud.

“You know what I highly value-” Another man approached from behind but you’d already shoved the last strawberry into Rafayel’s startled mouth before smashing the metal fruit tray down on the man’s head. He crumpled to the floor with a thud and Rafayel smirked at his unconscious figure as he licked chocolate off his lips. He’d never been more in love with you in his entire life than he was right now. “-I value my life. I value your life,” You continued to lecture Rafayel as you handcuffed the man to the railing, “-And I value someone who knows how to hire legitimate staff. I mean seriously, when you were picking employees to man the yacht, was it a prerequisite for them to have murderous intent on their resumes? How did you hire nothing but mercenaries?”

He shrugged. “Blame the economy- do you know how hard it is to find good boating staff on such short notice?”

You face palmed. “Rafayel, honey, you can’t blame the economy when you’re literally rich.”

“Global warming then?”

“It’s a good thing I love you.”

He grinned from ear to ear. “Try to remember that, yeah?”

He didn’t make it easy for you. 

When you had to literally hold the Captain of the ship at gunpoint to turn around and take you back to the city because, surprise surprise, he was also a hitman who was hired to send Rafayel to his watery grave out in international waters, you muttered to yourself over and over again, “I love my boyfriend, I love my boyfriend.” When you finally docked in the harbor, called for a cab, and then had to beg said cab driver to wait just a moment longer because your boyfriend got distracted by a person selling flowers on the sidewalk and wanted to buy you a bouquet as an apology, you rolled your eyes and shook your head laughing to yourself, “I love my boyfriend, I love my boyfriend.” When you picked through the flowers in the car ride home and noticed a strange gadget tucked in between the stems just in time for the three of you to jump out of the cab before it blew up, you explained to the cop who took your statement, “You see, I love my boyfriend, I love him, but-”

12 assassination attempts later, after swerving buses, after poisoned glasses, after clumsy sniping, the two of you finally made it back to Rafayel’s house with almost all your limbs intact. Almost. Rafayel claimed he sprained his wrist during one of the scuffles so badly that you were now required to hold his hand for “support.”

You wanted to call him on his BS.

But there was just something about 12 assassination attempts, on your boyfriend’s life that put things into perspective. You were expecting to grow old with him. You were expecting to wake up to him whining about where he last put his dentures or hear him whizzing by in his wheelchair and race after him in your walker. You were expecting rings and wrinkles, cradles and coffins, all with him. So it could’ve been 12 assassins after him, could’ve been 13, could’ve been 100, could’ve been 1000- didn’t matter the number; you weren’t letting anyone take him from you, not when he still owed you a lifetime. If the Grim Reaper himself knocked at the door, you’d kick him to the curb. Try again in another 80 years. 

So if Rafayel wanted to fake injury just to hold your hand, you'd hold his damn hand. If he wanted to run into the line of fire, you'd keep pace.

At the end of the day, Rafayel was still yours, and at the end of his life (his very, very long life), you’d still be his: that was your prophecy and that was your promise.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The End! Thanks For Reading!

Author’s Note: I have a headcanon that Rafayel totally knew he hired hitmen to man his yacht but he was like, "But the chef makes the best food though. I can only hire the best for my baby, who cares if he tries to kill me on the way? And the captain is the best at navigating the waters, what if a storm comes on? Who cares if he’s an assassin, he’s a damn good driver." Rafayel isn’t worried in the least, he knows he’s stronger than all of them and could take them down in an instant if needed. He’s just surprised that you’re the one taking them down. With a fruit tray, no less. And it was hot. Maybe he wandered into trouble 12 more times just to see you jump in to protect him. So hot. 

Taglist: @pixelcafe-network @minasfwoopyponytail @tbaluver @ouiouimochi

[seitmai]

Linda leaned forward, her eyes never leaving yours. "I'm prepared to offer you a book deal. A three-book contract, to be precise. The advance is generous, and the royalties - well, let's just say they're enough to make even my father's ghost smile."

Making Harlan's ghost smile? That must be a good deal 😌

"The condition," she explained, her voice taking on a steely edge, "is that you convincingly pose as his sweet-as-a-peach fiancé for two years.”

Oh 😬

Linda leaned back in her chair, taking another sip of whiskey. "It's quite simple, really. You play the role of Ransom's devoted fiancée, help rehabilitate his image, and in return, you get your book deal. Three books, a substantial advance, and the backing of one of the most prestigious publishing houses in the industry.” "But... Ransom... he tried to kill someone. He went to prison. How could I possibly-" "Details," Linda waved her hand dismissively. "The public has a short memory. With the right narrative, we can reshape Ransom's image. A reformed bad boy, humbled by his time in prison, now devoted to his charming fiancée and ready to contribute positively to society. We both know the power of a well-crafted story. People will believe anything."

Pff just some measly details, absolutely o big deal lol

"I understand your hesitation," Linda said, her voice softening slightly. "But consider this: you'd have unprecedented access to our family. Think of the material for your future novels. The inside scoop on one of America's most infamous families. Isn't that what every mystery writer dreams of?" You had to admit, she had a point. The Thrombey-Drysdale saga was the stuff of legend in literary circles. To be on the inside, to see how they really lived and interacted? That alone could draw readers in if they thought there was any chance you’d pull threads and weave it into your future novels.

Ngl that sounds really good, even not being a writer, but with that inspo I would maybe become one 😅

You took a deep breath, your mind reeling from the enormity of what you had just agreed to. Six books. A multi-million dollar deal. And all you had to do was pretend to be engaged to a convicted criminal for two years. It seemed surreal, like something out of one of - well not one of Harlan's novels, but whatever romance author was currently trending.

But I would expect that the chances of Ransom murdering might be slimmer with all the eyes on him and his fiancée 🤔🤷🏻‍♀️

He was taller than you expected, his presence filling the doorway. His piercing blue eyes scanned you from head to toe, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "So, you're the lucky lady my mother's picked out for me," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. You bristled at his tone but forced a smile. "And you must be the charming ex-convict I've agreed to shackle myself to," you replied, matching his sarcasm with your own. "Can we consider the awkward introductions done now?"

They have similar humor, a good start

"Nice place," you commented, setting your bags down. "I half expected to see crime scene tape and chalk outlines." Ransom's laugh was sharp and humorless. "Sorry to disappoint. I save all my murdering for the family estate. This is my sanctuary."

This actually cracked me up 😅

“You can relax. I’m not likely to try to murder you - the memory of the inconvenience of being incarcerated will probably last for twenty-four to thirty-six months, putting you in the clear.”

That at least something 🤷🏻‍♀️😅

"Speaking of, all your stuff was delivered safe and sound, but I took the liberty of having some clothes delivered for you. Can't have my fiancée looking like a struggling writer when we're out in public." You bristled at his comment. "What's wrong with my clothes?" Ransom's eyes raked over you, his gaze lingering a bit too long for comfort. "Let's just say they don't exactly scream 'trophy wife of a reformed bad boy billionaire.'"

I wouldn't say no to a little shopping spree

"It's... stunning," you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. Ransom's expression softened for a moment, a flicker of something - pride? nostalgia? - passing across his face. "It is, isn't it?" he said, his the sarcastic tone momentarily abandoned again. "My great-grandfather proposed with that ring after returning from the war. It's seen its fair share of family drama." "Are you sure about this?" you asked cautiously. "Shouldn't a family heirloom go to someone real?" Ransom's expression hardened slightly.

I loved this moment between them 🥰

Excited to read more of these two 🤗

Between the Lines

Characters/Pairings: Ransom Drysdale x curvy female!Reader Word Count: 4.4k Summary: When presented with a deal you can't resist, you agree to to create an illusion so you can achieve your actual dreams.

Content/Warnings: masturbation, slow burn, forced proximity, fake engagement, annoyed/disgusted to lovers

Notes: This takes place after the events of Knives Out. Yes, all of the movie. No exclusions. Dividers by @vesearartistry and @saradika. My humble offering for week seven of my Countdown to Chris-mas. Thank you @stargazingfangirl18 and @biteofcherry for both indulging some of my plot-talking for this fic!

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You sat nervously in the lobby of Blood Like Wine Publishing watching the gears behind the glass display on the elegant clock above the reception desk.

Up until the death of Harlan Thrombey, the publishing house had published his works exclusively with a new murder mystery being produced and translated into dozens of languages each year like clockwork, the gears and cogs a well-tested as the antique clock on display.

With no Harlan, the publishing house had opened to submissions and you and your agent had made it through the initial rounds of querying and contract negotiations.

But now, only a year and a half after the prolific genius’s death and transfer of ownership to his nurse and friend Marta Cabrera, Marta had sold to a new owner - yet to go public in name, and they had asked for a meeting before finalizing the contract.

You tried not to fidget as you gripped the leather armrests of the chair, willing the minutes to pass faster. The lobby was eerily quiet, save for the soft ticking of the clock and the occasional rustle of papers and the soft clacking of the keyboard from the receptionist's desk. The walls were adorned with framed book covers, each one a testament to Harlan Thrombey's literary legacy. You couldn't help but wonder if your own work would ever grace these halls.

As you waited, your mind raced with possibilities. Who was this mysterious new owner? What did they want? Your agent had assured you that this was just a formality, but the knot in your stomach suggested otherwise. You found yourself studying the intricate patterns in the marble floor, tracing the veins of gold and silver that snaked through the stone like the plot twists in one of Thrombey's novels.

Just as the clock struck ten, the elevator dinged, and a tall woman with perfectly coiffed short white hair strode out, her heels clicking authoritatively on the polished marble floor. She paused at the receptionist's desk, speaking in hushed tones before turning her piercing gaze towards you.

"I assume you’re my ten o’clock?" she questioned, her voice sharp and commanding.

You suppressed a gasp and abruptly stood, smoothing your clothes nervously as you approached none other than Linda Drysdale - the legendary daughter of Harlan.

"Yes, that's me.”

She gave you a once-over, then nodded. “Come with me.”

You followed Linda into the elevator, your heart pounding in your chest. The mirrored walls reflected your nervous expression back at you, and you tried to school your features into something more confident. Linda stood beside you, her posture perfect. In contrast to you, she seemed entirely at ease, tapping away at her phone with manicured nails.

When the doors opened, you stepped out into a hallway lined with dark wood paneling and more framed book covers. Linda's office was at the end, a massive space with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline. The room was dominated by an imposing desk made of rich mahogany, its surface neat and organized.

"Please, sit," Linda said, gesturing to one of the leather chairs in front of her desk. As you settled in, she moved to a small bar cart in the corner. "Can I offer you a drink? Perhaps some whiskey? A gin and tonic? Coffee? Tea?"

You shook your head, politely declining. "No, thank you. I'm fine."

Linda shrugged, pouring herself a generous measure of amber liquid into a crystal tumbler. "Suit yourself," she said, returning to her desk and settling into her high-backed leather chair. She took a sip, savoring the whiskey before fixing you with her piercing gaze once more.

"I've read your manuscript," she began, her fingers drumming lightly on the desk's polished surface. "It's intriguing. You have potential, there's no denying that."

Your heart swelled with pride at her words, but you remained silent, sensing there was more to come.

Linda leaned forward, her eyes never leaving yours. "I'm prepared to offer you a book deal. A three-book contract, to be precise. The advance is generous, and the royalties - well, let's just say they're enough to make even my father's ghost smile."

You felt a surge of excitement, but something in Linda's tone made you hesitate. There was a glint in her eye, a slight curl to her lip that suggested there was more to this offer than met the eye.

"However," she continued, swirling the whiskey in her glass, "there is one small condition."

The word hung in the air between you, heavy with implication. You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry. "What kind of condition?" you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Linda smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "You see, my father liked to play games. In his will, he left us with one final trick. I don’t know how much of this you heard or followed in the news, but he left us nothing - his cash and assets, our home, and this publishing house all went to Marta Cabrera, his nurse at the time of his death.”

You would have been hard-pressed to have missed the news because it had spilled over into scandal.

“I don’t expect to see the sixty million, and that’s tough, but I can live with that - I’ve made my own fortune, and neither Walt and his family nor my sister-in-law and her daughter need to continue suckling off the teat of dad’s treasury. The house still hurts, but I’ll get it back - I can bide my time. But this? It only took me eighteen months of patience and strategy, working through subsidiaries and intermediaries, to close the deal on getting Blood Like Wine back in the family where it belongs.”

“I will go public with my ownership by the end of the week,” she continued, “but for better and for worse, the acquisition has ended up coinciding with my son’s pending release from prison.”

“Ransom?”

Linda nodded, a flicker of emotion crossing her face before disappearing behind her composed facade. "Yes, Ransom. As you can imagine, his... indiscretions have caused quite a stir in our family and social circles."

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, unsure where this was leading.

"My son made mistakes, grievous ones. But he's served enough time, and now he needs a chance to redeem himself. That's where you come in."

Your brow furrowed in confusion. "I'm not sure I understand, Mrs. Drysdale. What does this have to do with my book deal?"

"The condition," she explained, her voice taking on a steely edge, "is that you convincingly pose as his sweet-as-a-peach fiancé for two years.”

Your mouth fell open in shock. Ransom Drysdale, the man who had attempted to murder Marta Cabrera and frame her for Harlan's death, and she expected you to agree to this? You stared at Linda in disbelief, and the silence stretched between you, broken only by the soft ticking of an antique clock on the bookshelf behind her.

"I... I don't know what to say," you finally managed, voice a little weak in your shock.

Linda leaned back in her chair, taking another sip of whiskey. "It's quite simple, really. You play the role of Ransom's devoted fiancée, help rehabilitate his image, and in return, you get your book deal. Three books, a substantial advance, and the backing of one of the most prestigious publishing houses in the industry.”

"But... Ransom... he tried to kill someone. He went to prison. How could I possibly-"

"Details," Linda waved her hand dismissively. "The public has a short memory. With the right narrative, we can reshape Ransom's image. A reformed bad boy, humbled by his time in prison, now devoted to his charming fiancée and ready to contribute positively to society. We both know the power of a well-crafted story. People will believe anything."

You felt your head spinning. This was so far beyond what you had expected when you'd nervously entered the building this morning. "And what does Ransom think about this plan?" you asked, grasping for any semblance of normalcy in this surreal situation.

Linda's lips curved into a tight smile. "Ransom will do as he's told if he wants to maintain his lifestyle and eventually inherit his share of the family fortune. He knows the stakes."

You sat there, stunned. The offer was tempting - a three-book deal with Blood Like Wine Publishing was beyond your wildest dreams. But to fake an engagement with a convicted criminal? It seemed insane.

"I understand your hesitation," Linda said, her voice softening slightly. "But consider this: you'd have unprecedented access to our family. Think of the material for your future novels. The inside scoop on one of America's most infamous families. Isn't that what every mystery writer dreams of?"

You had to admit, she had a point. The Thrombey-Drysdale saga was the stuff of legend in literary circles. To be on the inside, to see how they really lived and interacted? That alone could draw readers in if they thought there was any chance you’d pull threads and weave it into your future novels.

And besides, this was your dream: a multi-book deal with a prestigious publisher, the chance to see your work in print, and to potentially become not only a published author but one who with Blood Like Wine’s name and marketing department could be a truly successful author. How could you pass it all up?

“What would you say to four books?”

You blinked, taken aback by Linda's sudden offer. "Four books?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

Linda nodded, a sly smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Four books. And we'll double the advance. Consider it... hazard pay." She chuckled softly at her own joke.

Your breath caught in your throat. Four books? The offer was even more tempting now, dangling before you like a golden carrot. You found yourself leaning in, drawn into Linda's web despite your better judgment.

"I... I don't know," you stammered, your mind racing. "This is all so sudden. What exactly would be expected of me?"

Linda's smile widened, sensing your wavering resolve. "Nothing too taxing, I assure you. Attend some charity galas, be seen at upscale restaurants, perhaps a carefully orchestrated paparazzi shot or two. We'll craft a beautiful love story for the press - how Ransom found redemption through your unwavering support and love."

You nodded slowly, uncertainty swirling more strongly, gut churning because you were actually considering this. You could do public appearances…

“A year and a half,” you countered.

Linda shook her head firmly. “No, I won’t budge on the time commitment. Two years is a bankable amount of time to make sure we turn enough pages to fully close this chapter. But I’ll give you six books.”

Your heart leapt at that, and even though your gut was uneasy, your brain was shouting that this kind of deal was something you could not refuse. “Six books, and the first two released before the engagement period is over.”

“Deal,” Linda agreed.

You took a deep breath, your mind reeling from the enormity of what you had just agreed to. Six books. A multi-million dollar deal. And all you had to do was pretend to be engaged to a convicted criminal for two years. It seemed surreal, like something out of one of - well not one of Harlan's novels, but whatever romance author was currently trending.

"I think I will have that drink now," you said, your voice sounding distant to your own ears.

Linda's smile widened, a predatory gleam in her eyes. "I find a good whiskey helps smooth over even the most unusual of business deals."

You nodded, watching as she selected a crystal decanter filled with amber liquid. The soft clink of glass on glass filled the room as she poured a generous measure into a tumbler. The rich, peaty aroma of the whiskey wafted towards you, promising warmth and liquid courage.

Linda returned, extending the glass to you. Your fingers wrapped around the cool crystal and your eyes met Linda's. There was a moment of silent understanding between you - a recognition of the Faustian bargain you had just crafted and agreed to.

As you raised the glass to your lips, Linda's voice cut through the silence. "One more thing," she said, her tone casual but her gaze intense. "I'll up the advance to five million if you agree to move in with Ransom."

Your GPS led you to the top of a cul-de-sac in the Brown’s Wood neighborhood of Lincoln, Massachusetts. Beautiful trees and a typical New England landscape ushered you up the drive to the midcentury modern home owned by Hugh Ransom Drysdale. It didn’t scream home, but there was no denying it was a stunning feat of architecture - white walls and black roofing framing a structure of mostly floor-to-ceiling windows.

You sat in your car for a moment, gathering your courage. The enormity of what you had agreed to in Linda’s office had been sinking in all week, but this was it. Five million dollars. Six books. And two years of your life pretending to be engaged to - and now living with - a man who had attempted murder.

Maybe approaching all of this as if it was one big plot so of course it had to all work out was a ridiculous coping strategy, but it’s the one you had adopted.

But when the seven-figure advance had appeared in your bank account, giving you more money than you had earned in your entire life, you didn’t have it in you to back out.

If he murdered you, at least you would have paid off your student loans, credit card debts, provided for your parents’ retirement, and put away enough money in a trust for your nephew’s college fund.

The house loomed before you, a monument to wealth and taste that felt utterly alien. With a deep breath, you grabbed your bags from the passenger seat and made your way to the front door.

Before you could even ring the bell, the door swung open, revealing Ransom Drysdale himself.

He was taller than you expected, his presence filling the doorway. His piercing blue eyes scanned you from head to toe, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "So, you're the lucky lady my mother's picked out for me," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You bristled at his tone but forced a smile. "And you must be the charming ex-convict I've agreed to shackle myself to," you replied, matching his sarcasm with your own. "Can we consider the awkward introductions done now?"

Ransom's smirk widened into a grin, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Oh, I like you already. Come on in, darling," he said, stepping aside to let you in. "Welcome to Hill House Drysdale. Try not to get too attached - I hear it's only a two-year lease."

You stepped into the house, immediately struck by the minimalist decor and open floor plan. The entire back wall was glass, offering a stunning view of the surrounding woods. It was beautiful, but cold - much like its owner, you mused.

The house was a stark contrast to the warmth of the Thrombey mansion you'd seen in news reports. This place was all clean lines, minimalist furniture, and an abundance of glass and steel.

"Nice place," you commented, setting your bags down. "I half expected to see crime scene tape and chalk outlines."

Ransom's laugh was sharp and humorless. "Sorry to disappoint. I save all my murdering for the family estate. This is my sanctuary."

You couldn't help but chuckle bitterly at his dark humor. At least he wasn't trying to pretend this was anything other than what it was - a business arrangement.

"So, where should I put my things?" you asked, gesturing to your bags. Some of your things had been sent off to a storage unit, but the things a moving consultant had determined would come here with you had been packed up and moved earlier in the day.

"The master suite is upstairs," Ransom said, closing the door behind you. "Stay out unless you’re embarking on a conjugal visit.”

You scoffed. “Charming.”

He winked at you, then began to take you through the house. “Other than that, you’re free to roam the house, and I’ll stay out of your space. Living room here,” he gestured around, then walked to the right, and you followed him into a sleek, modern kitchen. “Two Bosch ovens, a six-burner range, your choice of pretty much any appliance in one of these cupboards.”

“You cook?”

It was his turn to scoff. “God, no.”

He walked you through the length of it, coming out on the other end of the living room, and then walking through a dining room with a long black table and another two walls of floor-to-ceiling windows.

Ransom didn’t strike you as one for entertaining dinner parties, making this more of a feature room than anything else.

At the other end, you came to a new wing of the house.

“This is you,” he said simply. “First door office, second is your bedroom and bathroom.”

You hesitated at the transition point from the dining room to the other side of the house.

“What is it?” Ransom asked, turning and putting his hands on his hips impatiently.

“Linda said a contractor would be brought in to install a door and security system.”

“She said could, and you’ve got locks installed, but I own this house, installing a wall and door here is more invasive than I was willing to agree to, and since she’s a real estate mogul she conceded it would altar the property value.”

“I…”

“You can relax. I’m not likely to try to murder you - the memory of the inconvenience of being incarcerated will probably last for twenty-four to thirty-six months, putting you in the clear.”

You frowned.

“They’re nice rooms, state of the art locks, you’ll be fine,” he reiterated, rolling his eyes. “Digital reinforced with an analog component that you’ll have the only keys to.”

He tossed you a keychain with three keys, which you were quick to catch.

“Downstairs there’s another living room that’ll be for you exclusively and a laundry room.”

“So, you’ll be coming through here to do laundry then?” you asked.

“Cute of you to think I do my own laundry.”

Now it was you who had an eye roll to give.

"Speaking of, all your stuff was delivered safe and sound, but I took the liberty of having some clothes delivered for you. Can't have my fiancée looking like a struggling writer when we're out in public."

You bristled at his comment. "What's wrong with my clothes?"

Ransom's eyes raked over you, his gaze lingering a bit too long for comfort. "Let's just say they don't exactly scream 'trophy wife of a reformed bad boy billionaire.'"

You gritted your teeth, reminding yourself of the substantial paycheck waiting for you at the end of this charade. "Fine. When is the first public outing?"

Ransom checked his watch, a sleek, expensive-looking timepiece that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe. "We have a charity gala tomorrow night. My dear mother thought it would be the perfect opportunity to debut our 'relationship' to society."

Your stomach twisted with anxiety. Tomorrow night? That was so soon. You weren't prepared for this.

“Last thing,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “Here’s your ring.”

Ransom reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, black velvet box. As he opened it, your breath caught in your throat. Nestled inside was a ring that could only be described as breathtaking.

The center stone was a flawless oval-cut diamond, easily 3 carats, that seemed to capture and refract every bit of light in the room. It was held in place by a delicate setting adorned with two smaller diamonds on either side. Each facet of the ring sparkled with an intensity that was almost hypnotic.

"This," Ransom said, his voice uncharacteristically warm, "is a family heirloom. It belonged to my great-grandmother, passed down through the generations. My mother insisted I give it to you."

He carefully removed the ring from its velvet nest and held it out.

You reached for it, holding it delicately and studying it more closely.

“And I am going to insist that you wear it continually,” he added, tone back to its normal bite, “none of this on and off business. We’re engaged and there’s no reason to risk a slip up forgetting to put it on before you leave the house.”

The weight of it in your hand felt significant, both physically and metaphorically. This wasn't just any engagement ring - it was a piece of Thrombey family history.

"It's... stunning," you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ransom's expression softened for a moment, a flicker of something - pride? nostalgia? - passing across his face. "It is, isn't it?" he said, his the sarcastic tone momentarily abandoned again. "My great-grandfather proposed with that ring after returning from the war. It's seen its fair share of family drama."

You couldn't help but chuckle at that. "I bet it has."

Ransom cleared his throat, his mask of indifference sliding back into place. "Well, go on then. Put it on.”

"Are you sure about this?" you asked cautiously. "Shouldn't a family heirloom go to someone real?"

Ransom's expression hardened slightly. "I’m hardly that sentimental. This arrangement is real enough for my mother, and it's real enough for me. Besides," he added with a sardonic smile, "you're as close to family as I'm likely to get these days."

With a deep breath, you slipped it onto your left ring finger. The final symbol of the elaborate charade you had chosen to undertake.

It was near midnight, and you were worn out and nearly ready to collapse into your bed. The movers had done most of the work, but you still had had some unpacking to take care of and moved the furniture around in your bedroom and the room that would be your office. After giving you the engagement ring, Ransom had left you alone the rest of the day.

You padded quietly through the dining room that connected the two halves of the house to the kitchen to fill up your water bottle before bed.

The house was eerily quiet as you made your way through the darkened rooms. Moonlight filtered through the expansive windows, casting long shadows across the polished floors. You tried to move silently, not wanting to disturb the stillness of the night or alert Ransom to your presence.

As you entered the kitchen, the cool tile against your bare feet sent a small shiver up your spine. You fumbled for a moment, searching for the light switch, but decided against it. Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and the soft glow from the windows was enough to navigate by.

You had just placed your water bottle under the refrigerator's filtered, letting the cool water splash into your bottle, when another sound caught your attention.

At first, it was barely perceptible - a faint, rhythmic creaking from upstairs. You froze, straining your ears. The sound grew clearer: a low, guttural groan, followed by the unmistakable sound of skin moving over skin.

Frozen in place, your cheeks flushed hot as realization dawned. Ransom was fisting his cock and unabashedly enjoying it.

Part of you wanted to flee back to your room immediately, but you were paralyzed, afraid any sound of movement might alert him to your presence.

Your breath caught in your throat as Ransom's moans intensified, echoing through the quiet house. The rhythmic creaking of his bed frame quickened, punctuated by deep, guttural groans that sent shivers down your spine. You stood frozen in the kitchen, your water bottle forgotten as you listened, captivated against your will.

Your body betrayed you, responding to the primal sounds drifting down from above. Heat bloomed in your core, your skin tingling with unwanted arousal. You could almost picture him - his muscular body taut with tension, head thrown back in ecstasy, those piercing blue eyes half-lidded with pleasure. Your imagination filled in the details - the flex of his biceps as he stroked himself, the sheen of sweat on his chest, the way his abs would clench with each thrust into his fist.

You pressed your thighs together, trying to quell the ache building between them.

"Fuck," Ransom's voice drifted down, rough with need.

The raw intensity in his voice sent a jolt through you. Your breath quickened, matching the frantic pace of his movements above. You knew you should leave, retreat to the safety of your room, but your feet remained rooted to the spot.

The sounds grew more urgent, building to a crescendo. Ransom's groans became deeper, more primal. You could hear the desperation in his voice, the need for release. Your own body thrummed with sympathetic tension, your nipples hardening beneath your thin sleep shirt.

Suddenly, Ransom let out a long, guttural moan. The sound of it vibrated through you, igniting every nerve ending. You imagined him arching off the bed, his body taut as a bowstring as he found his release.

The house fell silent once more, save for the pounding of your heart in your ears.

Realizing you were still clutching your water bottle, you turned and tip-toed back to your room as quickly as possible.

You slipped quietly back into your room, closing and locking the door behind you with trembling hands. Your heart was still racing, your body flushed with unwanted arousal. You leaned against the door, trying to steady your breathing.

What had just happened? You'd come to get water and ended up an unwitting eavesdropper to your fake fiancé's private moment. The memory of Ransom's deep groans echoed in your mind, sending another shiver through you.

You shook your head, trying to clear the vivid mental images. This was ridiculous. Ransom was arrogant, infuriating, and had literally tried to murder someone. You shouldn't be affected by him like this.

And yet, the memory of his moans lingered, making your skin tingle and your core ache with need.

When you crawled into bed, you brought a book with you instead of your vibrator, refusing to sate the lust that had been kindled because you didn’t want to risk thinking of him. If you couldn’t resist him the first night living under the same roof, there would be no hope for you to make it two years.

And so you read until your eyes drooped and you were finally succumbed to sleep.

HAPPY KNIVES OUT NOVEMBER! It seemed like an appropriate point during the Countdown to Chris-mas to finally buckle down and write my first Ransom fic!

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[hauntedjellyfishwitch-blog]

Ok I have a request that’s been brewing in my brain, what if Daryl and reader were out on a run and reader finds a mixtape in the car and plays it, and one of the songs is Creep by Radiohead and she starts singing along and he’s never heard her sing before and he’s like totally enamored by it. But when he starts to listen to the lyrics it maybe hits too close to home and he starts to get insecure and think he’s not good enough for her and he’s kinda standoffish for a bit and when he finally tells her what’s wrong she shows him how much he means to her and how special he is to her AHHHH

Ps ur writing is amazing I love it sm 🫶🫶

Creep

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader (No use of Y/N)

TW: Anxious!Daryl. Alexandria Era. Allusions to sex.

A/N: I cannot tell you how much I LOVE this request, thank you Anon! I'm sorry its taken me a while I have been ill as hell, but I'm hoping to get a few bits uploaded today when my heating kicks in and my fingers start moving again!

-

The dashboard is dusty. The kind of dust that seeps up your nose and makes you smell damp. The car is cramped and the road is bumpy as all hell, but he’s content, almost peaceful as she smiles over at him. He quirks a corner of his mouth upwards in response, knowing he’ll get lost in her smile if he lets himself, and the last thing he wants to do is crash the car when its so full of wares.

It’s not new, not really, their….relationship. It’s the culmination of the electricity that’s been thrumming underneath the surface for a while. So it’s not new, not really, but it is tentative. Everything with Daryl is tentative except killing walkers and hunting; there’s a sick sense of irony that it took the world ending for him to be confident in something. He’s not confident when it comes to her, even now. Even now she’s sitting there holding his hand as he drives back to Alexandria. He could have initiated the hand holding, probably, maybe, she’d like that, but the fear that he’s going to be rejected for trying is always overwhelming.

This run was simple, thank god, neither of them are bruised and battered though Daryl did smack the side of his head rather painfully against a door trying to block a walker. They’re taking three boxes of canned goods, some jumpers for the colder weather and a large handful or seven of treats back to Alexandria. He feels good. Better than he has in a long time; he can almost forget that his shoulder hurts every morning and his brother is dead and the dead are, you know, eating people.

He glances at her out of the corner of his eye, fighting the quirk of his lip that tries to sneak up on him again and failing miserably. She clocks it anyway, picking his hand up to her lips to press a kiss to it before dropping it out of reach in a way that’s so very her. She’s careful with him, never overstepping the boundaries she guesses he has because he hasn’t actually told her, but she offers affection like most people offer hellos. She never pulls away without reassurance.

“Can I see what’s on this?” her voice breaks him out of his thoughts, holding up a crappy mix-tape she’d found atop one of the boxes. She doesn’t even know if it will work, but she’s trying to be appreciative of the small mercies that come with this impossible life and by a stroke of luck they’re driving a car old enough to still have a damn tape slot. She doesn’t expect words to accompany his nod.

And suddenly she’s blaring out the words to a song he vaguely remembers from before, dancing in her seat whilst she lowers her voice for comic effect.

She can sing, he knows she can so she’s doing this for his benefit, to make him laugh. He’s heard her voice in the shower, echoing through their new home, melodic and soft and beautiful. His whole body is warm, bursting at the seams with affection, with the knowledge that she thinks of him even in the tiny moments; that even when she’s doing something she’ll enjoy she’s still trying to entertain him.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here

Maybe it’s the words that set his brain off. Maybe its that the dust reminds him of a home that had never been a home. He thinks back to all the times he’s watched her from a distance, the times he was too afraid to talk to her but wanted to keep her safe, following her from behind like a fucking stalker. He flinches as the memories of the kids in the playground flood him, the ones who’d called him weird and creepy, the voice of his father saying nobody would ever love him, the southern twang of his brother saying the same, ‘nobody is ever gonna love ya except me, baby brother’. But she does, doesn’t she? Or at least something close, she’d made that clear.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here

Hadn’t she made that clear? Hadn’t she kissed him of her own volition? Had he stayed too close until she had no other choice? Had he made his feelings too obvious? Had he been weird and creepy? Had he forced his affection on her until she’d just given in? Maybe people in his previous life had been right about him.

He pulls through the gates on autopilot, doesn’t even remember who was on guard duty but someone had to have let them in. He unloads the car, mind simultaneously numb and in overdrive, hands the boxes to…someone and slams the door shut hard enough he makes himself flinch.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Her soft voice barely registers through the muddled thoughts, she sounds far away and out of reach.

“Nothin’”

He shakes off the warm fingers against his arm, turns to trudge back to their shared house, ignoring the way her footsteps follow in time with his, trying to ignore that he knows she’s got shorter legs than he does and he knows she’s trying to catch up.

“You’re a terrible liar”

“I ain’t”

“Daryl-“

“I can’t do this” he pauses, doesn’t dare to look her in the eye as he scuffs his toe against the asphalt. He hasn’t thought far enough ahead to realise she has to follow him home as she lives there, he just needs to flee “Us” he clarifies as if she hadn’t worked it out already.

“You were fine five minutes ago, I don’t-”

“I ain’t good at this shit. I dun’ want it” he lies through his teeth.  He’s never wanted anything more in his life.

Her footsteps don’t resume as his do, and he takes her not following as acceptance, as proof his brain is right, as confirmation she never wanted him in the first place. Kicking off his boots as he seeks sanctuary inside their home he leaves the front door open for her. He’s never been inconsiderate on purpose.

Body freezing momentarily when he finally hears the front door click shut, he breaths a small sigh of relief that she’s home before guilt gnaws at him. Chewing his fingernails, he half expects her to come to his room, but he hears her upstairs closing the door to hers before the boiler kicks in to tell him she’s taking a shower. His head throbs at him, but the painkillers are in the bathroom upstairs and he avoids taking them unless he really has to.

It’s a testament to how fucking awkward he is that he hides in his basement bedroom until the sun has set, as if he hasn’t wanted a cigarette for the past two hours. Carol won’t let him smoke in the house, a rule implemented months ago, before she’d left for her own smaller house. He’s yet to break it out of respect and if he’s honest, fear. If anyone could sense something wrong from buildings away it would be Carol, and he doesn’t trust his partner housemate not to tell Carol just for a laugh. Daryl both loves and hates how close the two women are, by which he means that it’s lovely until he is the target of their anger or humour and then it is significantly less so.

“Thought you might want some company” her voice startles him out of his thoughts as she sits gracefully next to him on the front step of the porch.

“Don’t need ya pity”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not pitying you” She tries to keep the anger out of her tone. She doesn’t know what’s going on but if she’s confident about one thing its that Daryl wants her and she’s not about to let him sabotage his own happiness by being hard on himself “How’s the head?”

“Sore”

She shakes the small bottle of aspirin at him, pulled from the pocket of her pyjama pants.

“Take a painkiller”

“Better spent on someone else”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Mo’ important people ‘ere than me, I ain’t ever been worth nothin’”

“Daryl-“

“Nah, I ain’t, I weren’t worth shit before, didn’t even have a fuckin’ job, ain’t worth shit now”

“Don’t do that, don’t act like you’re not important, just fucking don’t”

There’s such fierce disappointment under the ire in her tone that it stops him for a beat. He raises his gaze from the smooth wooden steps to look at her face, takes her in properly since he’d walked off earlier in the day. He catches the worry in her eyes, the wobble in her bottom lip she’s trying to bite away, chewing nervously.

“Why? I dun’ deserve ya, dun’ deserve any of this” voice cracking, splintering at the edges around the emotions he’s so used to burying. He can’t bury them when she’s looking at him like this.

“I’d die for you and you don’t even think you matter” she laughs sadly, but its wet, squishy, it doesn’t sit right on her face through the water that’s leaving her eyes. He wonders if she’s aware of the magnitude of what she just said, but she isn’t done, doesn’t show a sign that he can interrupt to point it out “What did I do wrong? How have I failed to show you that? I don’t understand”

Daryl has spent his whole life thinking he is in the way, that he’s a burden no matter how much he tries to prove his worth. He’s never been anyone’s first choice, but here she is crying at the thought of losing him, taking his ridiculous issues as a way she’s failed and he can’t have it, he just can’t. He reaches over, linking his fingers with hers, looking down to watch the way her thumb rubs over his fingers.

“Did I push this on ya?”

“Daryl no”

“What if I didn’t give ya a choice?”

“Daryl, look at me” she waits patiently until he turns his head to her “I chose this, I chose you” she keeps her hand in his as she eases up off the porch steps, tugging his hand until he complies, stubbing out his cigarette on the way up “Come inside”

She looks the door behind them, dims the lights before letting her hand drop and standing facing him in the middle of the room. He stands stock still, lost and confused as she strips her clothes off, purposeful but not rushed. He feels the heat that floods his cheeks.

Finally, when she’s completely naked she locks her eyes on his

“This scar, the one on my side? When I was seven I fell out of a tree, had a stick go right through, it was gross. This one on my shoulder? Argued back once with the wrong man, put me through a door. This one? See it? Put my arm through a window three sheets to the wind on bad tequila, think I wanted to end it all”

He swallows hard, never having had the stories behind the scars he’s seen. They’ve been intimate, a handful of times since this thing started, but she’s hidden almost as much as he has so this bravery is new. Astonishing.

“Do you see me, Daryl?”

“Yea-“ the crackle in his own voice cuts him off.

“Look at me and tell me I don’t look like I have a choice right now. Tell me you made me do this”

“I can’t”

He doesn’t realise he’s stopped closer until her fingers are toying with the collar of his button down.

“Please take it off”

He wants to protest, shifting on his feet in discomfort but the look on her face is so fucking soft, so open and vulnerable as she stands bare in front of him and he tries to keep his eyes on her face. He’d never deny her anything, so he undoes the buttons with shaking fingers. Hers follow, easing the shirt off his shoulders.

He shudders as she traces her fingers over the scars that litter his torso, reaching forward to place his hands around her waist, grounding and solid. Her skin is warm under his touch.

“I wish you could see yourself how I do”

“What d’ya see?” He whispers, kneading the flesh under his palms absentmindedly. He’ll deny himself the pleasure of his base urges as he’s done throughout the years, but even he’s not strong enough not to trail his hands up and down her skin, knuckles grazing the underside of her breasts with each upward stroke.

“Strong, kind, decent. You’re beautiful, Daryl Dixon”

He sucks in a sharp breath as she continues.

“Blue eyes, the way they look at me" she didn't need to look up to his gaze to know it was there, but she does anyway, sees the admiration, the pleading that's always behind his eyes "Look at your hands on me” she lays her hands over his, marvels at how much space they take up on her ribcage “Big, warm hands, safest hands I’ve ever known”

He clenches his eyes shut, shaking his head in disagreement, opening them again when he feels her palm against the stubble on his cheek.

“They’re safe, Daryl, I don’t know what’s happening in here right now” she taps his forehead with a finger “But I see you. Let me love you”

“Ya love me?”

“Yes” makes sure she looks at him when she says it, simply and firmly, no room for argument “Eyes wide open, knowing who you are, knowing what you’ve done, seeing you. Yes. I love you. Let me show you”