#maybe? this is almost 1k words so I might as well turn it into a oneshot lol

[jasmines-library]

Would it be too much to request a batsis oneshot, about her knowing how to cook😆 like whenever Alfred is not available he leaves her in charge to help ensure the other family members are eating without buring down the house🤭 also a lil thing u could add is she often visits the manor just to cook cuz Alfred always keeps the kitchen fully stocked with ingredients which means she can cook pretty much anything she desires💜 I just thought it'd be cute to have Bruce be envious of his daughters cooking skills whereas he lacks them🤭

Kitchen Antics

Thanks for requesting! This was cute to write!

Word Count: 1k

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

“I still don’t think this is very fair.” Bruce pouted as you slid the plate in front of him.

“Hm?”

“This.” He gestured to the plate that you had served to him, piled to the brim. It had taken you hours to prepare, especially without Alfred’s help, but it was well worth it. “How come Alfred lets you cook and not me. I’m a fully grown adult. I should be allowed to cook a meal for my family.”

“Maybe it’s because you can’t actually cook.” You threw over your shoulder with a smug grin. 

That earnt a snort from Damian which he hid poorly behind a hand. Bruce shot him an unamused look. 

“Can too.” Bruce said. This time you raised a brow as you slid into your seat.

“Oh yeah, because the last time you cooked it turned out great.” Jason rolled his eyes. 

You remember it distinctly. It was one of the first times Alfred was away and had reluctantly let Bruce use the kitchen. He had regretted it the moment he returned because his kitchen was hardly recognisable. And the food Bruce had cooked was less so. If you could even count it as food. It was the furthest thing from edible. Somehow undercooked and burnt to a crisp around the edges at the same time. Even Alfred wasn’t sure how he managed to do that, and he had seen almost everything when baking with the rest of your brothers. It was safe to say that Bruce was no longer allowed in the kitchen after that. So, the responsibility turned to you. 

Alfred had always said you had a natural talent for cooking, though you swore it was because you had the best teacher: You had spent countless hours helping him when you were younger and you were the only person he didn’t seem to physically wince at when you walked into the kitchen. So, naturally when he announced he was leaving this week he entrusted you to make sure the family were fed without the entire manor being burnt down, or being filled with takeout boxes.

Your brothers had tried countless times to worm their way into the kitchen, but you ushered them out every time. They were just as bad as Bruce when it came to cooking. There was one time Damian and Dick had tried to bake a cake to surprise Bruce on his birthday. And it did…when the fire they had started nearly set the whole kitchen alight. Luckily Alfred had smelt it before any real damage could happen, but the pair of adults were far from happy. Jason had never shown much interest in cooking. He would usually just grab himself a snack from one of the cupboards instead of actually cooking himself something, so he had never really been an issue to keep out. Though, often he would try to sabotage your work just to wind you up. As for Tim, he was the best out of the four boys. By no means a master at work, it was often slightly bland but he was the only one who hadn’t tried to kill everyone with his cooking so he got bonus points for that. 

“That was one time.” Bruce turned his head away, pouting like a small child.

“Tt. Father, I think you’ve tried to poison us every time you’ve gone near the kitchen.” Damian jested through a mouthful of food. “Perhaps you should ask Joker to try it. Might take a villain off of our hands.”

Tim stifled a laugh. “This is lovely, Y/N. Thank you.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

The six of you fell into a comfortable silence as you ate, before Bruce finally spoke up again. Cutting through the sound of cutlery scraping against china plates.

“Is my cooking really that bad?”

He was answered with silence. And a lot of smirks.

“...Are you jealous of Y/N, Father?” Dick grinned.

“Psh…No.”

Bruce was a terrible liar. 

~

“Do you need any assistance, Miss Y/N?” Alfred poked his head around the kitchen door. He had returned from his trip not too long ago, glad to see that everyone had been well fed and that the house was still in one piece. 

Glancing up from the bowl of ingredients you were whisking, you met Alfred’s proud glance. “No thank you, Alfred. You already have everything I need.”

Alfred smiled up at you. It was nice for you to stop by once in a while to see them. He enjoyed seeing you cook. Better yet he enjoyed tasting your new creations each week so he kept everything stocked, even if he knew he wouldn’t need it himself. The shelves were lined with all sorts of spices, flours, sugars and ingredients for you to create something new so that if you ever decided to stop by (which you liked to do at least once a week) he would have everything  you could ever need.

Your brothers loved it when you would bring over food to them too. Most of it would be gone in minutes and they would turn to you asking for more. Bruce would do the same too, although he would still have that look of teasing jealousy on his face. But he was proud really. And glad that at least one of his children had enough common sense to not set the entire manor alight when baking a cake. 

BATFAM TAGLIST:

@aestheticdaisies

@hell-o-kittys

@xxrougefangxx

@mamapucket

@hearts4robs

@harleycao

[moonlightspencie]

Meet-Cute

Description: It's all in the title, isn't it?

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!Reader

Warnings: none :)

Word Count: 1k

On a Saturday morning after a night of drinking, the last thing you personally cared for was to be awoken by the loudest noise on earth. Some terrible creaking sound, mixed with thuds that seemed to resound in your apartment every thirty seconds had you practically developing a stress-induced twitch as you laid in bed.

To put it nicely: you were at the end of your rope.

You begrudgingly got out of bed, roughly washed your face, angrily brushed your teeth, and stomped to your door. You may not usually be prone to dramatics, but you felt it necessary for your well-being this time. You opened your door, about to confront your terribly noisy neighbor, when you realized that it was someone moving in.

You wanted to be angry. You really did. But…

“Hello,” said a man who you could only describe as genuinely tall, dark, and handsome. He also looked a little surprised.

You wiped the scowl off your face. “Hi.”

He looked around, as if the answer for you standing in your doorway in pajamas, looking quite annoyed, would appear out of thin air. It didn’t. You realized as much about thirty seconds later as you finally started speaking.

“Sorry. Are you moving in?”

"Oh! Yeah," he breathed out a small laugh. God he was handsome. "I apologize for the noise.”

You shake your head. “No! No, that’s okay. Just… curious.”

He smiled a little and you tried not to melt on the spot. He reached his hand out in greeting.

“I’m Aaron.”

You shook his hand, trying not to stare at him as you gave him your name.

“Nice to meet you,” you said softly.

“You, too. Uh… I’m just gonna…” he trailed off, nodding at the box under his arm.

“Of course!” you nod quickly. “Right. Um… I’ll see you around, Aaron.”

You went back to your apartment, shutting the door behind you with a little grin. So much for staying determined to be grumpy and less than pleasant today.

It was, unfortunately, two weeks later before you saw him again. This time as you were checking your mailbox in the lobby. As you heard someone clear their throat, you muttered a small apology, stepping out of the way as you looked through the letters in your hand.

“Um… hi,” he offered as a greeting that made you jump a little bit. "Sorry, I didn't mean to... Just wanted to say hello."

You looked up at the voice that was irritatingly smooth, finding yourself getting a bit warm in the cheeks when you noticed him giving you almost a shy smile. You turned towards him more to give him your full attention.

"Oh, gosh. Uh, sorry," you chuckled softly, returning his smile. "Guess I'm not very good at being neighborly, am I?"

"You're doing just fine. I'm sure it might be a little... maybe off-putting to have a strange man approach you in the lobby, now that I think of it."

You shook your head. “It’s not that at all. I’m just… not used to people approaching me here at all.”

“Not exactly social?”

“More like nobody else here is. I don’t mind a little company,” you replied, a little more flirty than you were intending. 

Clearly he didn’t mind.

“Good to know,” he nodded once with a growing smirk.

“Uh…” you clammed up a tiny bit. “So… Um, are you, like, new around here?”

“Only to this building. I’ve been in D.C. for too many years to count,” his smirk melted into a softer smile. “Just needed someplace new, I guess. My old apartment… I just needed a change of scenery.”

“Yeah. Yeah, no, I’ve been there,” you nodded softly. “How are you liking it so far?”

“It’s great. My son loves it here.”

Your brows raised a little. “You have a son?”

“I’m shocked you didn’t file a complaint last night with the tantrum he threw,” he chuckled a tiny bit. 

“I was out last night, so no worries here.”

“Oh? With friends, or…?”

You couldn’t help but smile a little more. “Yeah. Just a couple of girlfriends.”

“That sounds fun.”

“Maybe too much fun.”

“You get up to a lot with them?” he asked casually, though not without humor, crossing his arms over his chest.

You smiled. “Only on occasion. I don’t think I could really handle the way they go out practically every single night. I only agree to go out like that with them once a month.”

“Now you’re sounding a little too much like me for someone so young and pretty.”

You find your cheeks warm at that, though you try not to react outwardly. You could tell that he knew just how much he had affected you, though. If you didn’t know any better, you might guess he was a mindreader. 

“I think you make yourself out to be too boring for someone so friendly and handsome.”

He laughed a little at that. Then a comfortable silence falls over the both of you for a moment. Maybe two moments. Eventually, you shift your weight, and look back up at him again. He really is horribly handsome. A guy shouldn’t be able to look like that, and… God, he smelled good, too. You shuffled the mail in your hands a little bit before speaking again.

“Uh… Well, it was nice chatting with you, but unfortunately I do have to go clean my apartment. Family is coming over tomorrow,” you said softly. “I’ll see you around, though, yeah?”

“Yes, that sounds… sounds good. Maybe if you end up wanting some of that company you were talking about, we could get dinner some time?”

You couldn’t help a giddy smile sneaking onto your face. You nodded easily, glancing at his hand as he shut your mailbox for you near your head. 

“I could come knock on your door some time soon and invite you properly, if you’d be alright with that,” he said, that little smirk sneaking back onto his face.

“I’d like that.”

[pretzel-box]

Requests are currently closed, but oh please consider this for the future

Reader is an individual that asked Urbanshade, ON PURPOSE, to make experiments on them so they can adapt to the underwater ambient better. They are someone on a life sentence, they will spend their whole life at prison no matter what, might as well keep coming back to the Hadal Blacksite as the only thing that kinda makes them have freedom again. Sebastian absolutely HATES this particular Expendable, because how they’re even willing to do that to themself?!?!

Would love something a long the lines of them physically fighting, and in the heat of the moment that they’re both too tired to keep going, they have a heart to heart conversation

Tags: Body modification, GN!reader, Sebastian hates on Reader

Words: 1k

The walls of the Hadal Blacksite were oppressively cold, the weight of the deep ocean pressing down on every inch of the facility. The air inside was sterile, a sharp contrast to the dark, muddy waters that surrounded the place. You were back again, your body feeling heavier with each visit, the effects of the latest round of experiments settling in. It was a habit, instead of trying to stay human you let yourself fall deeper and deeper to adjust yourself more to this new home.

Every time you returned, the scientists ran more tests, pushing your body further, breaking you down and building you back up in the hopes of making you a better tool for underwater missions. You’d asked for this—no, demanded it. After all, what did you have to lose? A life sentence, shackled in chains above the surface, or the faint glimmer of freedom deep beneath the waves?

The experiments were brutal, yes, but they gave you something. A purpose. A chance to adapt, to become more than just a prisoner. In a way, the deep black of the ocean felt like the only place where you were free, no bars holding you back, only the crushing pressure of the water and the endless darkness that felt almost… liberating.

But to Sebastian Solace, you were a walking nightmare.

He stood in the dimly lit control room, glaring at the monitor that displayed your current location at the submarine docks. You had just returned from your latest visit to Urbanshade, almost befriending them, and the realization was coming in—You sold yourself to the devil in human disguise. The scientists were pleased. Sebastian, however, was not.

He turned sharply as you entered the room, taking in your changed appearance as the many times before. You looked at him, tired but satisfied. You’d survived again, adapted even more to the hostile environment outside. You were becoming something else, something that could thrive where no one else could.

“Back for more, huh?” Sebastian’s voice was ice-cold, his eyes burning with barely concealed anger. “How many times are you going to keep doing this to yourself?”

You shrugged, unbothered by his hostility. “As many as it takes.”

He scoffed, stepping closer, his tall frame towering over you. “Do you even hear yourself? You’re turning into a freak just so you can get a few more hours outside. Do you actually want to die down there?”

You met his gaze, your expression calm, though your heart pounded harder in your chest. “Better than rotting in a cell for the rest of my life.”

“That’s your excuse?” His voice rose, the anger boiling over. “You let them break you apart and stitch you back together because you’d rather drown in the ocean than live like a normal human being?”

You stood your ground, your voice steady. “I’m already dead up there, Sebastian. This,” you gestured to the facility, the dark waters just beyond the thick windows, “this is the closest thing I have to freedom. The ocean doesn’t care about my sentence. It doesn’t care about who I was. It just… exists. And so do I when I’m out there.”

His face twisted into a scowl, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You’re a fool.”

“Maybe,” you admitted, shrugging again. “But what’s the alternative? Stay locked up, waiting for a death that’ll never come? At least down there, I’m not just a prisoner. I’m something more.”

Sebastian shook his head, stepping back, disgust flashing in his eyes. “Something l less you mean. You’re letting them tear you apart like you’re nothing. You’re just another expendable to them, another tool. And you’re fine with that?”

“I’m alive, aren’t I?” You shot back, your tone sharper now. “I know what I signed up for. I asked for this. I made the choice.”

“And that’s what pisses me off!” He snapped, his voice echoing in the cold room. He usually kept his tone normal despite his sassy behaviour, but now it feels like all his nerves died off and the strings teared. He was furious. “You chose this. You could’ve fought back, could’ve tried to escape like everyone else. But you just let them do it. You’re so willing to let them destroy you for a few more dives, for what?”

You stared at him, something tightening in your chest. You knew Sebastian hated you for it—hated the way you willingly threw yourself into the experiments, how you seemed so eager to be used by Urbanshade. He couldn’t understand. To him, it was madness. But to you, it was the only way out, the only path that made sense in the twisted mess that had become your life.

“I’m not like you, Sebastian,” you said quietly, your voice cutting through the tension. “I don’t have anyone waiting for me. No life to go back to. All I have is this. And if that makes me a monster in your eyes, fine. But I’m not going to sit around and do nothing while I have the chance to live, even if it’s like this.”

He stared at you, his jaw clenched tight, the anger still simmering just beneath the surface. For a moment, you thought he might say something else, might lash out at you again. But instead, he just shook his head, the frustration rolling off him in waves.

“You’re already gone,” he muttered, turning away from you. “And you don’t even see it.”

You watched as he stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him. The sound echoed in the empty space, leaving you standing alone, soaked and exhausted.

Maybe he was right. Maybe you were already gone. But you couldn’t stop now. You wouldn’t stop.

The ocean called to you, its dark depths promising freedom that no surface world could ever offer. Even if it meant breaking apart, even if it meant becoming something unrecognizable, you would keep going back. Because, in the end, it was the only place you truly felt alive.

And if Sebastian couldn’t understand that, then that was his problem—not yours.

[endless-ineffabilities]

of perilous desire

chapter one - se mōris (the end)

vampire!Aemond x f!reader (modern AU)

story synopsis: the reader works the night shift as a receptionist at the local hospital. Someone comes in one night to drop off a patient, and she subsequently suspects that this person is pursuing her. Why is there no real trace of him anywhere? Why does she see him in her dreams? Here begins a craving that may be never be satiated, a desire so perilous it might cost her everything...

word count: <1k ▪︎ masterlist

The night is young.

You've just made your third trip to the personnel break room, filling up on a much-needed caffeine fix, slumping back in your swivel chair in a bored huff.

It's 3 in the morning, which means you have four more hours to go. Oh joy.

Working in the hospital is decent enough; it pays the bills, it keeps you from being unemployed. But it feels like it's supposed to be a transitioning - a jumping off point into bigger and better things. When you were a child, your dream certainly was not to be a night receptionist at a hospital. But it's been a year, and you are still here for some reason.

Were you stuck? Perhaps you have grown complacent? You're meant to be doing something else, something worthwhile, and you know this. Granted, you do help people to some extent, but nurses and doctors are the true heroes.

Anyone with a semi-decent high school education can do your job.

The coffee is stale, and it suspiciously tastes of the antiseptic that is always in the air. You drink it anyway, grimacing with every sip.

The tap tap tapping of your pen against the desk distracts you, and it must have kept you from noticing the new arrival.

"Excuse me."

You snap up, half in a daze, the coffee doing nothing for your alertness.

And you see him. Clad in all black - leather overcoat, leather shoes, well-pressed trousers. Long white-blonde hair flowing smoothly down his back, neatly kept away from his face. One eye a blazing purple, the other a ghostly white. He looked like something out of the gothic romance novels you used to read in middle school.

Unusual. Poised. Beautiful.

You have to swallow hard in order to find the strength to speak."How... how can I help you, sir?"

"My... friend," he says, coolly maintaining eye contact that it's almost unnerving. Or maybe it's the effect he has on people, looking the way he does. "She needs some assistance."

"Oh," you stand up, looking behind him and seeing the woman slumped on the bench in the waiting area. Leaning against one arm, with her black hair partially obscuring her face. She blinks as if in a stupor when the man glances at her, smiling goofily despite her state. "Is she alright?" you ask him, and he doesn't answer, only continuing to stare at you. You press on the paging system, calling on a nurse to come her aid.

You come over and crouch down in front of her. "What's happened? Can you tell me your name?"

She giggles wildly, like you just cracked the funniest joke. "My name is Alys," she says. "At least I think so." You notice her pallid complexion, her lips taking on a bluish tint. She appears to be awake but not truly aware of her surroundings.

The nurse on duty is taking a while, so you turn back to the man. "What happened to her? Does she have a concussion? Are you her husband or a relative?"

Seconds pass. You look at him expectantly, but he gives you nothing. He tilts his head at you, eyes narrowing, like a predator sizing up his prey.

"Hmm," he finally makes a sound, though it isn't really a response.

Growing impatient, you stride behind your desk and recover the necessary forms. "I'm going to need you to fill these - "

When you turn to address him, he's gone.

One of the nurses, Patrick, arrives to assist the woman called Alys.

He goes through the motions, flashing a penlight in her eyes, checking her pulse, asking her simple questions to keep her conscious.

"She came in alone?" he asks you, as he waves another nurse to come help.

"No," you shake your head, "her companion was just here. A man - "

"What man? Did he run away or something?"

Did he? He had seemingly vanished in a split second, and you were sure you didn't hear him rushing out the front doors. You didn't hear anything at all.

"I don't know," you shrug, confused. "He didn't even fill in a form or anything."

The nurses manage to situate Alys in a wheelchair, the dark-haired woman still smiling and mumbling to herself. Just as they wheel her away, you hear her soft voice crooning, "Ae-mond, oh, my Aemond!"

"Well, shit," you mutter, the momentary commotion had come and gone. The coffee still sits on your desk, now cold. The air still smelled of sickening sterility.

You were still, as dramatic as it sounds, lost and adrift. You snort to yourself. What a thought.

If only you could have your head in the clouds, all blissed out, like the Alys woman. Though her state was likely brought on by hard drugs.

Or was it him?

Everything is the same. Except that the stranger has become ingrained your mind.

Who was he?

An hour later, you stand outside in the portico, cigarette balanced between your fingers. It's a nasty habit, sure, but people would probably be shocked at how common it is among the hospital staff. The nurses, even.

You're supposed to feel terrible about it, working at an establishment that champions health, but you justify it in that you're just a receptionist. Weren't the medical professionals the real hypocrites? How else will you keep awake?

The smoke billows out of your lips. You watch their shapes dissipating in the cold morning air, entranced.

Suddenly, you sense something shuffle from the corner of your eye. Shivers erupt all over your arms, your mind immediately grasping at the worst possible scenario.

"Hello?" This is how the side characters die in horror movies, quickly and unceremoniously, forgotten before the main act actually begins. Your shaking hand squashes the cigarette down on the wall-mounted ashtray.

It was probably nothing, likely one of the stray kittens running around. Despite that, you determinedly walk back to the entrance, fists bunched in your pockets.

Then there's something again. A gust of wind. A flash of pale blonde hair. A feeling like you're being watched.

Is the entrance so far? You're going to get kidnapped, you're sure of it.

The doors are in sight, those lifeless glass windows within reach, when you're spun around swiftly that you don't have time to think of anything at all.

You're floating, your feet had left the ground.

Pushed into something smooth, cocooned around your paralysed form. Leather.

He hushes you, brushing his lips against your cheek, featherlike, careful not to make full contact. You want to fight, you should fight, but you can't.

Something coaxes you into accepting this, so you do.

The painful prick against your neck is momentary. Followed by complete and utter bliss.

Your final thought is the word Alys was singing so sweetly. That strange name, which now exits your lips like a prayer.

"Aemond."

taglist*: @gwaynehightowerswhore @kravitzwhore @litchifaerie @g-cf2020 @sprinklesprinkle888 @noxytopy @fan-goddess @m00n5t0n3 @diannnnsss @nsr-15 @the-awkward-barbie @rockstwrsz @yellowstonebaby @urdeftonesgrrrl @eddieslut69 @callsigncrushx @starwarsdinosaur @qweq-6802 @tulips2715 @hotdismylife @itseunaimonia @just-mj-or-not @crystal-siren @zaldrizzes @all-for-aemond @ajantanijhum @angel6776 @different-tale-student @world-of-bitchcraft @teasweeter @raging-panda @rhaenys-nyra @gelacat0413 @simplymurdock @yariany02 @barnes70stark @stupid--person @lonan-hane @thescooponsof @donalesaa

*refer here to be tagged in hotd works; comment below to be tagged in only this fic.

a/n: me 🤝 running with new ideas before even finishing my ongoing series works!!! I've always wanted to do a vampire Aemond fic. Call this a tester/taster (literally, in Aemond's case). Let me know what yous think, and we'll see how it goes!

[weirdkpopgirl]

A Little Help | Jaemin Imagine #14

Title: A Little Help

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: mentions of kissing -- light makeout session, suggestive dialogue (but nothing crazy)

Word Count: ~1k

Author's Note: This imagine was an idea I had for a very long time, but I just never got to writing it. For awhile, I went back and forth as to which member to give this story to. Ultimately, I'm weak for Na Jaemin, so I chose him. I know you guys like this sort of stuff too, so I hope you enjoy it (not too much though lol). Please look forward to my future works as well. Thank you for reading ^ ^

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Jaemin made his way into your cozy living room with a steaming mug of lemon tea in hand. His eyes quickly found you seated on the floor near the coffee table. Despite the dim lighting in the room, your face was illuminated by the soft glow of the laptop in front of you. Jaemin started to smile, observing how focused you were on writing the story you’d been working on for months. However, his smile froze when he noticed you nibbling your lower lip and sighing in frustration.

Quietly, he shuffled over to sit beside you on the carpet and carefully set down the drink on the table. You picked up on his presence immediately and glanced up at him with a small smile.

“Thank you,” you said, curling your fingers around the handle of the mug before taking a long sip of the warm beverage.

He instinctively reached a hand to tenderly brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Everything okay?” he asked in the calm, low-toned voice he typically used during late-night conversations with you.

You hummed in response, holding back from sighing again. “Yeah. I’m just stuck on this certain part of my story.”

“What’s it supposed to be?” Jaemin tilted his head, his dark brown eyes filled with a blend of curiosity and concern. His innocent question unintentionally made you hesitate, your eyes flickering back to the screen before meeting his gaze once more. 

“Well, this is when my main characters are supposed to have their first kiss,” you explained, already feeling the heat rushing to your cheeks. “And for some reason, I’m struggling with the technicalities of it. It’s just frustrating because usually I don’t have much of a problem with these scenes.”

Although you felt silly admitting this to your boyfriend (of all people), your frustration outweighed your embarrassment. Jaemin was the type of person who never seemed fazed by anything, but you still expected him to tease you.

Instead, Jaemin wore a thoughtful expression, arms crossed over his knees. “Why don’t you try acting out the kiss with me? It might help you get a better feel for it.”

Eyes widening in surprise at his suggestion, you began to protest. “I-I don’t know, Nana. I mean, that’s a bit…” you trailed off, shyness instinctively taking over. 

But then you paused, considering his idea for a moment. It wasn’t actually that bad and might help you with this little dilemma. After all, he was your boyfriend, so being close to each other wasn’t out of the norm. Certainly when you were dating Na Jaemin, possibly the most affectionate man you knew.

“Hm, I guess it can’t hurt to try,” you conceded, moving your hands away from your laptop. 

Taking a deep breath, you turned to face Jaemin properly and he scooted closer with a warm smile. “You said it’s their first kiss, right?” he asked, recalling the brief context you gave him earlier.

You nodded. “Yeah…um. It’s supposed to start off slow and hesitant. But it becomes more passionate since the characters have been pining for each other practically forever.”

“Okay. Show me what you’re thinking, princess,” he said. Both the pet name and his soothing voice sent a shiver down your spine.

At first, you hesitated, before tentatively reaching out to take his hand, bringing it to your cheek. “Maybe it could start with him cupping her face like this,” you spoke in almost a whisper. “And then her hands could just be on his shoulders?”

Your initial unease wore off fairly quickly, and Jaemin felt his heart skip a beat as you continued to test different hand placements with him. He couldn’t help but find how your brows furrowed in concentration and the way you quietly mumbled to yourself, incredibly endearing.

“Then when things start to get more intense, his hands should go here,” you murmured, guiding his other hand to your waist. He suppressed a laugh, noticing how you were too focused to be flustered by the intimacy of the gesture.

Yet, as minutes passed without your lips coming in contact with his, Jaemin’s frustration simmered. He couldn’t stop his eyes from being drawn to your soft, pink lips. Though your touches remained innocent, they only made the temptation increasingly difficult to resist. Growing tired of waiting, he gave into the impulse and leaned into capture your lips with his own. 

Immediately caught off guard, a soft gasp escaped you from the sudden kiss. You felt his hand on your back, pressing possessively, while his lips moved hungrily against yours. Midway into the kiss, you realize how unintentionally teasing you must have been when you were trying to work out the characters’ kiss in your mind. But before you could fully process what was happening, he pulled away. Seeing the light shade of red painted across your cheeks, Jaemin smiled in satisfaction.

“You need to know how the kiss feels so you can describe it in your story,” he reasoned, his voice teasing but earnest.

Despite being a blushy mess, you understood what he meant and smiled back. “You’re right. But I think we should do it again…you know, so I can be more prepared this time.” 

Your words made his grin widen as your arms wrapped around his neck. His lips met yours in a passionate dance, the story temporarily forgotten. Jaemin pulled you closer, his fingers delicately tracing your jawline. He could taste a hint of lemon tea on your lips, and a smile formed as you lightly tugged at his hair. It took all his self-control not to get too carried away, savoring the moment while keeping his desire in check.

 Even though Jaemin has kissed you dozens of times, each one reminded you of how insanely in love you were with one another. And in that moment, the characters and their story faded into the background, leaving only the warmth and connection between you two.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

previous masterlist -> current masterlist

[rainychaoloveshack]

Can you do Boom!Sonic x reader with an angsty scenario? Maybe Sonic says something about the reader and they take it the wrong way which leads to internal conflict? Canonically in the boom universe he tends to be rather cocky and says things that come out wrong. Thank you so much, please take care of yourself.

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟ 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲? 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐠.

sonic’s arrogant behavior is becoming too much to bear.

synopsis. boom!sonic x gn!reader, light angst, sonic thinks he's too cool for help... (he doesn't wanna admit he's worried for you)

☂︎ wc. 1k ☂︎ a/n. im so sorry this took so long anon!!! ;( i had to do some of my own research for his character. i went through a small writing stump while writing this one. if you'd like a rewrite, just let me know! might just end up doing one anyway...

likes, reblogs, and especially comments are extremely appreciated!!!

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

┊ ⋆ ┊   .   ┊   ┊

┊    ┊⋆     ┊   .

┊    ┊       ⋆˚              

✧. ┊         

⋆｡˚ 🌨 ˚｡⋆｡🌩˚☽˚｡⋆ 

☂︎

“It’s just Egghead back up to his schemes again. His robots have been popping up around town more often.” Sonic stretched his arms up high, taking in the golden-hour sunshine cast on the two of you. “It’ll be way too easy to just knock him down a peg!”

You copy his movement, grinning at the thought of going on another adventure with Sonic, despite going on one with him yesterday and having to get patched up a bit because of it by Amy. It happens so often, but you really can’t seem to get enough of it, letting the sunshine almost blind you as you turn your head to Sonic, feeling the warmth cast on every part of your body.

Shame that Eggman’s up to his dumb plans. If he wasn’t, maybe you and Sonic could’ve relaxed at the beach together, cuddled up on a beach towel while you two sipped on some coconut milk. Pity.

Sonic notices you mimicking him, and a grin spreads wide onto his face. “Oh look, I’ve got myself my very own mini-me, huh?” 

If you could hush him up right now, you would. But you shake your head and stick your tongue out teasingly, rolling your eyes over at him. No wonder Eggman’s always out to get him, this annoying little idiot. But it’d be best if you both got a move on now before it gets too dark.

Sonic’s smile falters at you bringing up Eggman’s name, causing his body to tense up ever so slightly.

“... Yeah, come on.” Sonic beckons you over, but it’s not hard to notice the lack of energy in his voice, so suddenly at that. You open your mouth to ask about it, but shut it rather quickly. Would asking him that make him feel more uneasy? You’d rather not find out, so you walk towards him, and continue on. 

Sonic starts at a fast-paced jog, but slows down almost instantly, his ear twitching with uncertainty. You stop a bit away from him, noticing the sudden shift in demeanor.

“Hey, uh, [Name].” Sonic says softly, looking at you from over his shoulder. “How about I handle this one by myself, yeah?”

… What? You tilt your head at his proposition, clearly confused. Who else could he go with right now? Everyone else is busy, running errands in their daily lives, or fixing their own issues, and since it’s just you and Sonic here, why not? What gives?

“I don’t want you to-” Sonic scowls, shaking his head at his blabbering words, before backtracking. “I got it. I can handle this easy-peasy, so… You can just stay here, okay?”

What the hell is he talking about? Well, you understand it, at least the smallest bit. You’re hurt, but it's not as though you can’t fight. A gash in your arm will do you no harm in combat.

Sonic sees the dissatisfaction on your face, and shifts onto one leg, stretching it out before switching to the other one.

"You-" He starts, but changes his words rather quickly. “I don’t want you to slow me down.” He mutters, smoothing out his quills behind him as he taps the tip of his shoe onto the ground in a rhythm that drives you crazy. “‘Think I’ll do just fine on my own.”

What?

You scowl, crossing your arms and tilting your head at him. How much longer is he going to do this act of his? It’s all an act, you know it is.

“Act?” Sonic glares at you for a couple of beats, the silence ringing out between you two only disturbed by the swaying of palm trees, and the waves of water hitting the glittering shore in the sunset. He seemed offended at your accusation, tensing his muscles as his ear twitched downward, an irritated expression reflected on him. “What kind of act are you talking about? I can’t worry about my friend anymore, huh?”

What? Does he think you’re too weak? Pathetic? Does he think you need to be handheld every second of every hour? Coddled?

You grit your teeth, almost with enough strength to bite your tongue off if you really wanted to, brows furrowing as you glare at him. You’re so sick of his antics. Sick of that cocky attitude of his. It sucks, it sucks, it sucks.

Why can’t he drop his pride and that little ‘cool’ act of his for even a second? It’s so infuriating. It makes you sick.

His eyes meet yours, and you can almost see his demeanor falter for a moment right before his body tenses up, and his ears flick down, a growl growing upon his lips. “I mean it.” He snaps. “You’ll see just how fast I get it done without you lagging behind me the whole time. I don’t need you anyway…”

Is that so? You turn on your heel, rage fuelling every step you take on the hot sand as you try to get as far away from him as possible, the thought of even being around him making you nauseous within the moment.

“Huh?” Sonic says softly, clearly surprised as he tries to gather his thoughts quickly enough to form a sentence. “[Name].” Sonic says, remorse lacing his voice, but you don’t want to hear it. Not at all. 

He takes a few steps towards you, reaching out to your wrist as his fingers wrap around it. “[Name], c’mon, wa-”

With a fair bit of rough force, you tug your hand away from him, smacking his gloved hand away as you keep your stride going, refusing even to take a glimpse his way.

You leave Sonic standing there, left to fidget with the brown bandana set around his neck in impatience, tapping his foot repeatedly on the ground anxiously. Despite his irritation, he still has the words still bubbling inside his throat, threatening to come out.

“[Name],” Sonic says under his breath, even if he knows that you’re already far gone. Too far away to hear him.

“I’m sorry, [Name].”

[lewsnumerounofan]

interrogation tactics (rafe cameron x reader)

summary: you and rafe are trapped in singh’s mansion. rafe needs to know where the diary is, and he’s willing to do just about anything to find out.

notes: nsfw, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), consent is a bit like mmm (??), idk the obx plot well so factual details might be wrong…., maybe a bit of fluff like so little, ~1k words

+ check out other works here

“Tell me,” Rafe says, and your eyes roll back as his fingers press into you harder, stretching you until you’re gasping. Under his ringed hand your hips buck and twist, burning from the way his tongue moves over you, inside you.

“Rafe please I don’t know anything-“ you try, but he’s locking your hips down harder and fitting another finger into you. The strong band of his nose keeps nudging into your clit, his tongue passing over your folds. He’s like a man starved as he devours you, grunting as you buck against him.

The shaking legs around his head are already bruised with hickeys. He’d spent long minutes marking you, nursing out the dark blooms of purple and red on the soft, private skin of your thighs. In case you forget, he’d mumbled as he’d nipped softly your hip bone, who you belong to.

“Rafe please,” you say and your voice cracks as he meets your eyes. From between your legs his gaze is dark, drowsy off the taste of you. The tan arm banded over your hips flexes as you grind against him, shameless now in your pursuit of another orgasm.

Rafe only bares you open further, drawing back to watch your abused cunt flutter in his absence. It’s almost impossible to breathe as he lets his thumb drag down from your bellybutton. Brazen as he pushes over your swollen clit, you whimper at the oversensitivity, at the arrogant, semi-sadistic smirk that tugs at Rafe’s swollen lips. He loves you like this. The snarky, sarcastic mouth you usually reserve just for him is long gone. Now he’s got you begging—begging—beneath him, body marked and abused by his tongue and teeth and crying out at every touch of his fingers. For the very first time he feels the heady rush of power at owning you, at owning your body and your pleasure.

“Tell me about the diary baby. Tell me or we just keep doing this,” Rafe murmurs, voice low and hot on your skin.

The diary —the diary. You’re supposed to know something about the diary, about where it is and who has it (do you have it?). But Rafe is so strong over you, the smell of his cologne so strong that you can’t think. Can’t form the words to tell him.

He clicks his tongue and leans back from you, just far enough that he can grind onto your core at an aching, lazy pace. The friction of his rough dress pants has your head tipping back, hands desperately finding purchase in the thick linen sheets. Rafe repeats the action again, his eyes dropping down to watch where you connect. It feels so good—the heavy weight of him over your center, the bruising grip of his hands on your waist, the exhale of breathe over your neck as he groans out your name. Even the thick shape of him through his pants has you keening, writhing against the bed.

“Rafe, Rafe.”

It was his turn to moan at your desperate babbling. He shook his head, eyes closed and jaw locked as he fought to control himself. With his shirt halfway unbuttoned and his pretty lips and jaw decorated with smudges of your lipstick, Rafe looked a mess. Something about it, something about how ruined he just from touching you, had you shuddering and whimpering anew.

“I know. I know baby,” he said. His voice was ragged as he shifted down again, folding you open and putting his mouth over you.

You could barely speak now, barely think past the warm, rough tongue lapping at the hot skin between your legs. You ached from the orgasms Rafe had already forced from you, ached from the way he was moaning into your slick legs. It was too much, but still he didn’t let up, shoulders broad as they kept your legs from closing.

“Rafe please I can’t,” you begged.

When he spoke his words hummed into your skin.

“Tell me you have the diary.”

You couldn’t help the tears the gathered in your eyes at his demand. There was no way you could take much more of this. But still Rafe’s fingers worked you, his tongue pushing into you as you writhed and begged. It was so close—your stomach was tight with it, eyes shut hard against the dizzying proximity of another orgasm. You needed it. And then Rafe’s ringed hand was moving, brazenly passing over nipple and closing around your throat. You were a goner.

“Mr. Sunn. John B gave him a copy, please Rafe please, please.”

You were incoherent. Delirious off the both the possession and lack of oxygen bestowed by Rafe’s hand. Below you, Rafe smirked into your skin. His eyes were almost wholly black as he gazed at you.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he murmured. And then he was pressing harder at your neck, his large hand sure to leave you with a necklace of bruises. Doubling down, his tongue worked you harder, fingers sure as they circled your clit. Everything went hot as you looked at him. The strong breadth of his shoulders and his tan golden skin. The glint of his rings and you on his fingers. His pretty swollen lips, still grinning at you. And then your vision went and you were bowing into him, desperately clutching at his hand, at his fingers as he slid them into yours.

“That’s good baby. Did so good for me,” Rafe panted as he held your reeling body, shifting up beside you. Rings glinting as they cupped your flushed cheeks.

“So good,” he murmured again, letting his lips press over your brow.

[junipers-archive]

And They Were Roommates

Word Count: 1k

Includes: Fluff, fluff, some more fluff and a kiss? You confront Spencer about your relationship status after Penelope informs you of everyone's belief of you being more than roommates :)

(Prompt from this challenged by @imagining-in-the-margins)

You were at the coffee shop nearest to the apartment, desperately trying to find a pick me up. It was 6:30am...a new record for you. Seeing as your roommate and best-friend Spencer hadn't alerted you that you guys ran out of coffee at home, you were now standing in what you deem the longest line in the world you'd ever seen for coffee.

Then again it was one of the first times you'd been up this early to see people who actually got up early. It'd only been 10 minutes but you swore if you didn't get your daily caffeine boost soon you'd start to shut down.

The line was moving at snail pace so you decided to see what the problem was, only to catch a Penelope Garcia with 8 coffees in her arms, trying to balance her way out of the crowd.

Fortunately for her, Spencer had introduced you to the team a few months ago after they'd wanted to see where he lived and he was essentially peer-pressured in showing them by Derek. You'd been given a 5-minute notice at the late hour of 11pm and to this day are still making him pay on movie-nights where you got to choose the film.

You were torn between helping Penelope and staying in your spot in line, but seeing as you remembered how kind she had been and she was about to drop all that coffee, you took pity. Rushing over and calling her name,

"Penelope, you need some help there?"

"ah!-oh hi Y/n, sorry you scared me for a moment! And yes please."

You took one of the trays of coffee from her, holding her purse around your other arm. "Not that I mind helping, but why all the coffee?"

"Well" She was now wobbling over to a table that was just freed up by a couple, talking to you while placing her many belongings on it,

"Sometimes, I like to get up really early and get coffee for the team, cause you know the coffee at work sucks and I'm sure Spencer's already alerted you, but someone's been stealing the curate cups from the kitchen!"

You now placed the tray you had been carrying on the table as well,

"No...uh Spencer doesn't exactly talk about his job much, we usually just talk about other stuff"

She looked surprised at this, "Really? I thought he'd be more open about what he does with his girlfriend. But I guess thats just Spencer."

Now it was your turn to be surprised. "I-I'm sorry, did you say girlfriend?"

"Well, I mean yeah, you live together, he talks about you all the time, and when we went over you two just had so much chemistry we all just assumed-" she stopped talking as she saw the growing disbelief on your face, "I-I just- I'm sorry are you not dating?"

You were speechless. Absolutely speechless.

I mean sure you liked Spencer, he was one of your best-friends and you did live together and yea maybe you had feelings for him. But could other people see it too?

I mean, it made sense, now that you thought about it, you two were practically never seen apart, having roomate-movie-nights, going on consistent 'friend-dates', eating almost every meal together and getting each other gifts for holidays, even sometimes falling asleep in each others beds when you both got black-out drunk on occasion...

Were you dating?

Penelope had taken your silence as her cue to leave, gathering her things, but you had another idea, one that wouldn't leave you overthinking for the rest of the day.

"Wait- I- I'll help you! I mean you can't carry this all yourself!"

"Thank you" she smiled " but you're sure you don't have anywhere to be?"

"Not a place in the world." You would just call in sick today, you thought.

On the drive to the BAU as you talked to Penelope who you found was alluringly talkative, you also realized you might not even be able to get into the building. When you asked she waved her hand, shooing away your worries it seemed as she explained that as long as you weren't a spy you'd be fine for staying a couple minutes since she had clearence.

The topic of Spencer didn't come up again.

Once you got there and helped Penelope up to the office you caught sight of your roommate sitting at his desk. Excusing yourself, you began walking over, It was more decorated than you assumed, containing his adorable action figure favorites and small trinkets you'd given him over the years. And as you got closer you even found he had a picture of the two of you posing at a theme park you'd forced him to go to with you.

He saw you before you were closer, standing himself up as well.

"Y/n? What-What're you doing here?"

"Are we dating?"god you needed to get a filter, but you were really curious.

He sputtered at that, which admittedly made you smile, "I-uh-Who-did Garcia?-What?"

By pure instinct you grabbed his face so he had to look at you now, as he had a habit of looking down when nervous.

You asked him once more,

"Doctor Spencer Reid Are you dating me?"

You could feel him blush against your palms as he answered,

"Uhm...do you want me to be dating you?"

You don't know what had gotten into you that morning, but the next thing you did surprised both of you, pulling him closer as his hands circled your waist hesitantly and you kissed him.

It was soft at first, almost gentle in the way the both of you were nervous, but eventually he deepened it, grabbing one side of your face, the other circling your waist completely now as you arms came to rest around his shoulders.

When you both had to finally come up for air you breathed out your more than obvious response, "yes."

And while you both grinning like idiots at one another, Penelope was adamantly taking photos of the two of you for your wedding which she had already informed Spencer was to be on October 31 of next year.

You never even noticed you didn't get your coffee, knowing you were now with the Dr.Spencer Reid was enough of a pick-me-up to last you a lifetime.

Reblogs and Comments appreciated!!

Update: Part 2

[nomazee]

Greetings! Would it be okay if I request bodyguard!Dan Heng x celebrity!Reader with a 19:58 timestamp? I hope it's okay, thanks in advance.

i think my dan heng favoritism is showing because this is the longest drabble i've written for this event so far,,, i love dan hen hsr,,, THANK U FOR UR REQUEST :**

my 1k event!

—°+..｡ﾟ｡ﾟ+.*.｡.—

The airport is much too bright for Dan Heng’s taste. The reflectiveness of the linoleum floor tiles and the beaming LED lights make him squint as he guides you towards the baggage terminal. 

“That was fun!” your enthusiasm is almost painful compared to how exhausted Dan Heng feels. There’s no hint of a drag in your steps or a lull in your words as you head towards the carousels, on the lookout for a sky blue and neon green striped suitcase—courtesy of you, of course. You asked Dan Heng for his opinion when you were first buying it, claiming that it would be easy to recognize among the sea of plain, typical suitcases. Truthfully, it was an eyesore, but you looked so happy about it, so he just nodded along. 

“Fun? You’re not tired?” he asks. Your atrocity of a suitcase is, in fact, easily spotted, and Dan Heng goes to pick it up for you. Luckily, his is on the same carousel, and he takes up both in his hands before turning back to you. “It was a long flight. You’ll be jet-lagged for a bit.”

“Oh, I’m definitely tired,” you admit, engaging in a wordless struggle with Dan Heng as he fights against your attempt to take your own suitcase from him. He has yet to engage in an actual fight as a bodyguard (or do much at all, really), so he might as well help out by being your glorified bag-carrier. It makes him feel less guilty about the paycheck he gets every two weeks. “But being in first-class was so exciting! You didn't think so?” 

Exciting is certainly a way to describe it. For most of the ten-hour flight, Dan Heng was trying to not puke in a paper bag in front of you in fear that he’d embarrass himself, and then get fired. He hadn’t been on a flight in years, and sitting through one that’s that long was not the best way to ease back into it. It would be embarrassing to admit out loud, but you have a way of reading through him, so he divulges as much of the truth as he can stomach.

“There was… it was shakier than I thought. But it wasn’t loud, which was good.” 

“I meant, like, the food and stuff! And the hot towels that they gave us.” 

Of course you’d be excited over something like a hot towel. He tries not to look down at the (objectively) ugly suitcase that he’s successfully torn from your hands, but it’s all very you and he can’t help but be reminded of every single one of your habits. 

“Are you hungry?” he asks, instead of talking more about the plane, because he’ll seriously be sick if he keeps replaying the turbulence in his head. “The portions were small on the plane. We can check into the hotel first and then find somewhere to eat.” 

A sigh escapes you, lighthearted as you swat Dan Heng’s arm with your hand. You both walk through the confusing maze of the airport and eventually find the exit, stepping into fresh air for the first time in a while. “I’ll get you dramamine on the flight back, Dan Heng. Maybe then you’ll be clear-headed enough to understand how nice the hot towels were.” 

You’ve clocked him, saw right through him and pried your incessant way in and offered him a motion sickness pill while you were at it. He tries to ignore the flush of his cheeks as he watches you smile from his peripheral, but it’s hard to ignore when it’s all that he can feel right now. 

“The— food,” he stutters, because he’s a fool and would like to lay down already. “What would you like to get? It’s a little late, but you should get some dinner.” 

“Whatever you want, Dan Heng,” and he looks to his side to see you smiling at him, so warm and familiar and he’s really, really trying not to puke on the sidewalk right now for a variety of reasons. He ignores you again, because that’s his best way to cope, and hails a taxi before cramming in both your suitcases in a flustered haste. 

In the backseat of the car, you lean against Dan Heng’s side and open up Google Maps, scrolling through all the restaurants near your hotel. The line of your arm presses into Dan Heng’s, and his attention is flitting between that feeling and the bright icons on your screen, different foreign names and descriptions of food popping up. 

“I don’t feel like sitting down for a full dinner,” you admit, mercilessly skipping any restaurant that has things like tablecloths and candles and small plates. “Something to take back to the hotel would be nice. Oh—” you bring your phone closer to his face as if he can’t already see it crystal clear, “—the menu for this looks good! They have some of your favorites.” 

Dan Heng skims through it and finds that they do, in fact, have a suspicious amount of his favorites. There’s a prideful look on your face, hiding the fact that you likely spent an hour researching local restaurants to find something Dan Heng likes. It embarrasses him and makes him have hopes, like a fool. You treat him less like a bodyguard, more like a close assistant—a position that you’ve never actually had filled, which makes his suspicions (and hopes) grow day by day. Really, it’s more like a close friend, a partner, and he likes that thought more than he’s comfortable admitting. 

He mumbles something like okay, looks good, and the grin on your face only grows brighter and cheesier. He’s forced to look away from you and stare out the car window instead, watching the passing city lights against the dark background of the autumn night, in a country that he covertly learned the language of, so that he could guide you around a little better—in a country that you spent an hour looking up restaurants in, so that Dan Heng would have something to eat.

—°+..｡*ﾟ｡*ﾟ+.*.｡.—

gen taglist: @tragedy-of-commons @lasiancunin

fill out my event taglist (pinned) or general taglist (navi) to be tagged in upcoming works!

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 | Part 23

You're just so frustrating.

Tags/Warnings: Game Designer!Jungkook, Non Idol AU, established relationship, fluff

Length: 1k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

Callob with @euphoricfilter !

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Fuck this.

Jungkook refuses to believe that that was how he proposed to you- he won’t aknowledge it, eating his breakfast cereal with a pout on his face.

„Jungkook, come on.“ You laugh, sitting across from him. „I told you it was perfect-„ you say, though he shakes his head, beginning to talk before he can properly swallow- which makes him choke, and you laugh as he coughs up the stray bits of food that entered the wrong tube.

„I don’t care, it sucked.“ He denies, tears on the edges of his eyes as he drinks some water.

„I mean I did suck you-„ you start, causing him to send a glare your way, but you just sigh. „Jungkook come on. It doesn’t matter to me how you asked me- the fact that you did makes me happy already!“ you tell him, before you tap his bowl. „Now eat your cereal or it’ll get soggy.“

He does- but that still doesn’t lift his mood at all.

He doesn’t really have time to figure out another masterplan like last time, since he’ll have to get back to work soon to not make anybody mad enough to slap some god awful project onto his table to be done before the new year- but maybe he can still come up with something memorable. There’s still some money in the bank, and he’s soon to get his december bonus for the holidays, so maybe a fancy date? Now that he thinks about it, you never went to one together. He doesn’t even really own a suit.

He should get one. And you a pretty dress. But not one that’s too expensive, because he’ll surely break it later back home.

Searching online for a fitting suit and dress for you both during his break, he doesn’t even notice you entering the room- quietly, thinking he might still be working, to put a plate of warm food down for his late lunch, and only now does he notice he’s been working for hours on end again without a proper break. And before he can even thank you properly, you’ve exited his office room again, door clicking into the hinge, as he looks on his plate.

Dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets, and ketchup squirted down in the shape of a heart.

That's it. That's the last straw.

He exits his office with his plate in hand, setting it down on the coffee table next to yours as you were just about to turn on the TV, looking at him all surprised. “Everything ok-“

“You’re doing it again!” He complains, standing there like some upset Sims character, pouting and brows all frowned.

“I’m.. what?” You ask, confused. “..but you love dinosaurs when you’re upset-“

“I do!” He whines out, and you’re halfway expecting him to stomp his leg like a rabbit any second now, as he stands there with his hands clenched to fists. “I really do, and I also love it when you put my ketchup in a little heart there.” He says.

“…okay?” You chuckle, unsure. What’s he getting at?

He sits down next to you, and begins to eat, quietly. You’re not sure what’s wrong with him, but he’s sometimes like this, sometimes he doesn’t make a lot of sense. Or maybe he does, and he just can’t properly explain it well.

“You do-“ he starts, taking a sip of some water to wash down his food, as he shakes his head at his plate. “-You always do so many things for me.” He rants, almost angrily. “like now. You always know how to pick me up when I’m down, or you just-“ he picks one of the dinosaurs up to dip its tail into the ketchup, “-or you just do stuff like this randomly, and it’s the sweetest shit ever!” He exclaims, glaring at his food. “ridiculous.!” He shakes his head again, biting the tail off.

“Yeah cause, I love you?” You giggle, not quite sure what he’s getting at, still.

“Bu’ I ‘ove u ‘oo!” He responds agitated with a whine, before he almost chokes on his unswallowed bite, making you push the glass of water closer that he eagerly takes to help push down his food so he can talk properly. “I love you too, but you’re so good at it, it’s unfair!” He complains, making you laugh.

“How can someone be good at loving someone else?” You snort, pushing his shoulder when he looks at you with his brows wiggling suggestively.

“No but, in all honesty.” He says, sighing as he stares at the last dinosaur waiting to be eaten. “You’re so good at like.. Doing stuff for me. Everything you do is always so special.” He mumbles.

“...so you feel bad now because your proposal wasn’t special enough?” You wonder, and he shrugs, defeated, and nods. “Jungkook, you do know that the way you proposed is literally.. The most uniquely Jungkook-thing you could’ve done? Everyone goes on fancy vacations to propose!” You tell him, and he only hesitantly moves his face to look at you, back arched as he sits with no tension in his body. “Jungkookie, baby, it really doesn’t matter to me.” You press, hand on his thigh-

And it’s then that he notices, and jumps up to run into the bedroom, roaming in one of the drawers for something. “What is it now?” You laugh, as he stubbornly tugs at your hand before he stops.

“Wait which hand goes the ring on again?” He wonders to himself. “And which finger..?” He says, making you giggle, before you tell him where it goes. And the moment it’s on, he stares at it for a good while, just.. Letting it happen.

He’s really doing this. He’s going to marry you.

“We’re gonna have to kind of.. Talk about how we wanna marry.” You say, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Can’t we marry here at home? With bowser?” He wonders, and you laugh at him, pulling him closer to hold his cheeks as you kiss him.

“Like I said.” You giggle, lovestruck. “It really doesn’t matter to me, as long as I’m marrying you.”

[cry4mina]

Supernatural

(Dahyun x gn!reader)

Word count: 1k

Fluff!

TW: Kinda suggestive?

A/N: Hello everyone! I’ve decided I’m going to start putting out shorter stories as well! Just a little something to keep putting out content and keep my brain going while I write the longer one shots/series fics I have planned! :) I hope you enjoy! 🖤

As always, DMs and Feedback are always welcome and appreciated! Have a great day/night!

—

The skies are clear, stars shining brightly down on you through the light breeze. It’s perfect sweater weather, leaves are browning and threatening to fall on the trees around you. Crickets play their symphonies in the distance to the tune of the calmness around you.

Sitting with the driver's seat leaned all the way back and your legs stretched out, you glance over at your crush who’s in a similar position but with her hands underneath the back of her head. Seat belts off, top down on the convertible that’s parked in a secluded area up on a mountain side.

Dahyun is just…everything. Hair so sleek and perfect, eyes always reflecting purity. A smile that could knock the wind out of anyone who got the chance to be graced by it, and a personality that would make even the blandest person fall in love with her.

The butterflies in your stomach never cease when she’s near. Even without many words shared between you two in the last hour, she had such a way of making you feel so comfortable. You could tell her anything without fear.

“Do you think aliens do the same thing?” Dahyun breaks the silence with a strange question.

“What?” giggling at her random inquiry.

“Well, we are laying here” she looks over at you with those eyes…god, her eyes just make you want to protect her from everything.

“And I’m just thinking…do you think that life forms on another planet do this too? Stare into the sky and think about life…or whatever it is they think about?”

A tight lipped smile on your face slowly creeps into a smile as bright as the moon, chuckling softly and turning on your side to face her.

“What parts of life are you thinking about?” curiosity getting a hold of you.

She halfway crosses her arms, not ready to share her thoughts. She’s always been private about certain things and you never pushed her to speak before she wanted to. Noticing the shift, you change the subject.

“You know, I think they might…what type of tv shows do you think they watch?” playfully lobbed back at her.

Dahyun mirrors your position in her own seat now, making eye contact, causing the stir in your stomach to swell rapidly. Even if she never says it, she’s always so grateful for your patience.

“I’d love to watch an alien sitcom some day!” joyfully expressed with more enthusiasm than you expected.

“Or maybe like one of those competition shows…like Survivor or something? Wouldn’t it be so cool to see what the atmosphere looks like?” eye wide with excitement and wonder.

“How many moons do you think they have?” enjoying her responses too much to let it fall back into comfortable silence while also keeping her mind off whatever it was that made her uneasy.

“Well if they have more than one moon, wouldn’t it be hard to see the stars?…the moon and the stars need each other…” she’s toying with her fingers but keeping her soft eyes on you, watching your movements.

“Kind of like…how I need you…” biting her lip in nervousness, unsure of how you’ll reply to what she’s just said.

Truthfully, you’re completely shocked. You knew your chemistry was immaculate, the friendship you had made was one people only write stories about…you had no idea the emotions you felt for her were reciprocated. Especially with a heavy word, like need.

Without hesitation, you reach your hand over and intertwine your fingers. Even in the chilled air, the gesture radiates warmth. Her grip tightens, almost out of pure disbelief. Her eyes match her body language in that same regard.

“That was corny as hell…but” pulling her hand lightly, faces now mere centimeters apart.

Dahyun’s breath hitches, processing how close you are to each other. Your hand slips underneath her hair and lays on the back of her neck, guiding her through the last bit of space right onto your lips.

Sparks fly from the contact, both of you slowly familiarizing yourself with each other's lips. Fingers interlocking, the soft sound of sweet small pecks that slowly turn into long, more passionate kisses.

You rest your forehead on hers and try to catch your breath, it seems that sentiment is shared between the two of you.

“So, do you want to get dinner sometime?” Sitting up, keeping hold of her hand as you sit more comfortably.

“Like…like a date?” Dahyun is completely overwhelmed with happiness, it’s refracting off her cheeks in a way that was contagious.

“Yes…absolutely a date.” confidently stated.

All she can do is smile at you.

“Sooooo…can I have more of those?” smirking as she asked to be close to you again.

“More of…these?” Laying your lips lovingly across her knuckles.

“Yes, but…uhm, maybe a little higher?” flustered by your lips on her skin, in any regard.

Laying your lips further up her arms, just to get a laugh before leaning over and passionately kissing her. She maneuvers you so your back is against the door, practically climbing into your lap.

The windows could’ve steamed up in the intensity. Dahyun reaches for the hem of the shirt you were wearing and pulls it up a little, dragging her finger up your stomach in the process.

“Wait, wait, wait” you say between your lips meeting over and over again.

“Let’s not rush” cupping her cheeks, both almost breathless as she lets go of your shirt.

Dahyun just nods her head at you, unable to speak but absolutely happy about what was transpiring and the proximity of your faces.

“Let’s start with that date…and see where it all goes.”

“You know, there is a cafe down the street that might still be open…if you wanted a late dinner…” suggested coyly, crawling back to the passenger seat and plopping down in it.

“Someone’s impatient…put your seatbelt on” leaning to kiss the tip of her nose.

You adjust your seat back into a comfortable position for driving, start the car and look over, Dahyun is lost in you. Memorizing every part of you.

“Everything okay?” grabbing her hand again and giving a little squeeze.

“Yes. Very much so. I’ve just…never been able to take you in without it being a secret.” winking at you as she readies her GPS to that cafe.

“Ready for our first date?” Dahyun asks, excited was an understatement.

“And ready for every date after.”

[icallhimjoey]

I can just imagine joe being a sleep talker but the kind where he seems kind of awake and you can talk to him. I imagine him just loopy and happy, all dreamy just talking about the person he loves whilst cuddling a pillow.

ugh fuck OFF! ok so, this is an extremely short little thing, so sorry, but, how could I not write this request ????? i had to Wordcount: 1K

---

Mine

It was rare for you to wake up in the middle of the night, to be awoken by a full bladder in need of relief. This is why it took you a second to realise why you'd even woken up at 3 in the morning to begin with.

It was dark.

Quiet.

Well, there wasn't any noise that should've woken you up. Joe didn't snore, but would randomly mumble things in his sleep sometimes. He seemed sound asleep, however, so that couldn't have been what had pulled you from your slumber.

There were no pains, no cramps. You didn't feel too hot or too cold, were actually really comfortable... so then, why? Why were you up?

The little zing in your lower stomach gave it away. It was dull, but definitely there.

You had to pee.

You did everything with your eyes closed in an attempt to stay as asleep as possible.

Silly, but effective.

You peed in the dark and decided you'd flush in the morning. Didn't want to wake Joe any more than getting out of the bed might have already done.

When you slid back into the bedroom, there was rustling of covers as you saw through squinty eyes how Joe turned over in his sleep.

You were quick to dive back under the covers where it was warm and cosy, finding instant comfort where you left in a minute earlier. Without trying to turn too much, you settled into your favourite sleep position, on your stomach with one knee hiked up, ready to drift back off.

But then,

"No, that's mine."

Joe.

He spoke in his normal speaking voice, enunciating each word as if he was awake.

For a second, you thought that maybe he was.

"What?" you whispered into the dark. "What's yours?" you hadn't taken anything. Your head was on your pillow and if anyone was hogging covers, it was him. Not you.

"Stop it, that's mine, you're..." Joe stopped to yawn, then finished, "You're not allowed."

You leant up onto your elbows and tried to find Joe's face in the dark.

"Joe?"

Nothing. Just heavy slow breaths.

"Baby?"

Silence.

Yea, he was definitely asleep. You let your breath audibly escape you as you let yourself fall back down into your pillow. You'd ask him tomorrow if he'd remember what he'd dreamt about.

Just when you were on the verge of falling back asleep, Joe let out a loud, annoyed groan. It woke you right back up.

"Stop looking! I told you, that is mine."

"Joe," you used a heavy, tired arm to find his to grab. Shook him a little. A futile attempt to wake him, as it did nothing.

"You can't look and you can't touch."

You were tired and mustered up the energy to go, "Okay, I won't look or touch."

"Good."

And for a little bit, it was quiet and you foolishly thought you'd be able to fall back asleep if you were quick enough.

"Listen, I get it." Joe suddenly said again, and it almost felt like you were snoozing. Brought back into consciousness every couple of minutes by Joe's voice.

"I get it," Joe repeated on the back end of a sigh. "But, she's mine, so..."

That piqued your interest enough to lift yourself back onto your elbows again.

"What?"

"Mine." Joe repeated, and you saw how he was definitely 100 per cent asleep still.

"Who is yours?"

"She is."

"Who is she?"

If he was going to say any name other than yours, you'd smack him right awake. Softly, of course, nothing to actually hurt him. But still.

"She is..."

Yes?

Yeesss?

"She is gorgeous, isn't she? Look at her."

A grin grew on your face despite the sleep that was trying its best to tug your eyelids down. Made you blink very slowly.

"You said I wasn't allowed to look."

"No." A beat, and then, "I have to leave."

You could never make much sense of the sleep-talking conversations Joe tried to rope you into sometimes. Which made sense. He was asleep. Dreaming.

Dreams were always weird hallucinations where you were in one place and then without warning in the next, and the person you were hanging out with was actually a giraffe and you were always missing half your teeth which was always traumatising, yet none of it would be questioned at all, not until you woke up, anyway.

The fact that this chat seemed quite coherent was unusual.

"Where you going?" you plopped back down again, but kept facing Joe. You were able to just make out the outline of his face in the dark as he laid on his back, and even like this, barely able to see any of his features, he looked nice.

He had a good profile.

Pretty.

Hair a right mess, but, pretty still.

"I don't want to go."

"Mhmm... then stay."

"Okay. Will you tell them I won't go?"

"Fine."

Another silence fell, and you were so sleepy. You thought maybe you'd just have to learn how to keep this chat going whilst you slept too. Joe stirred on his side of the bed and you felt how a hand searched across until it found your waist.

It didn't grab onto anything, but had found what it was looking for and just laid there by your side.

"Can't go if she won't come."

A tiny gasp escaped you.

"Why... why won't she come?"

Joe sighed deeply, turned and nuzzled into his pillow, said, "Work."

You fucking knew exactly who she was.

"That's not her fault though, is it?"

It wasn't as if you had enjoyed telling Joe there were no gaps in your agenda to come and visit him whilst he worked overseas. Telling Joe no could definitely bring you great joy, because he really needed to hear it sometimes, but, it was no fun when it came to things like this.

"No," Joe mumbled, voice softer now, and you knew he'd be quiet again soon.

You decided to try again, just to know for sure.

"Hey," you whispered. "Who is she, again?"

"Mhmm," Joe hummed, hand springing back to life, now finding its way around your waist, hooking just enough to pull you into him. You gladly let him, curled into his chest as he curled around.

"Mine," he whispered, took a big whiff with his nose stuck in your hair.

"She's mine."

the end

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @notverywise, @paola-carter, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[samcarpentersgirlfriend]

Wes getting attacked (but living) and being comforted by gn reader

found this in the drafts, sorry it took so long </3

summary: above

includes: gn!reader, swearing, maybe some light angst?? (no mention of judy or her death idk pretend it doesn’t happen here if you want to)

word count: 1k

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

“Wes! Wes! I came as soon as I- Oh my God,”

It’s like seeing your boyfriend laying here all bandaged and bruise makes the situation sickeningly real instead of just some twisted nightmare. “Wes,” is all you can bring yourself to breathe out.

You think you’re going to be sick.

“Hey,” Wes croaks out, and God, he sounds so much worse than he looks - if that’s even possible. His skin is an eeriely translucent, and white and tubes jut out from his body from all sorts of unnatural angles. You can practically feel your heart sink to the floor.

“Oh my God,” you repeat once more, stumbling over to his side. You know you should do more - offer your boyfriend some stupid semblance of comfort and security, but you need a minute to pull yourself together - for both of your sakes. Wes wasn’t exactly frail, and the idea that one day you might see him this vulnerable, this bare, hadn’t ever crossed your mind.

You reach out to cup his face, running a finger over his cheek tentatively. It’s one of the only places you can touch, one of the only that isn’t dressed or stitched up somehow. Wes leans into the touch as his eyes flicker closed, letting out a pained sigh.

“What happened?” You urge, voice barely above a whisper. It can’t be any worst than the nightmarish images you’ve conjured up in your mind - visions of your boyfriend screaming for help, a knife tearing through his beautiful skin like paper as he bleeds out all alone.

“Fucking Ghostface,” he breathes out, attempting a hollow laugh but wincing when the effort is evidently too painful for him. “He got in the house, took me by surprise. I tried to fight him off but he was stronger than me. I coul- I couldn’t-“

Telltale tears well in his eyes, and you notice the way he attempts to rapidly blink them away.

“Hey, it’s okay. I got you.” You clasp his fingers in yours as you press a soft kiss to his temple, and that’s all it takes for Wes to burst into tears. You don’t push him to speak or even stop crying; you simply sit besides him, grasping onto his hand as if it’s a lifeline. God, you feel so damn useless, but what is there for you to do? What do you say to your boyfriend who almost got stabbed to death? How do you even start to fix this?

The two of you sit like that for a while - Wes shaking from the effort of his tears, your hands still interlocked. You can’t help but think just how close you were to loosing him- loosing all of this. How you’d never see that stupid grin and bleach blonde hair ever again. How you’d be forced to live, expected to go on in darkness after the blinding light that was Wes had flickered out. It’s enough to make you want to scream.

But you can’t. Not now. And not in front of Wes.

“I’m sorry,” he says, low and strained. His red eyes meet yours, and all of a sudden, you’re angry. Angrier than you think you’ve ever felt before. Not at Wes - never at Wes - but just at how damn unfair this all is. Why was Wes - your Wes- falling apart and barely alive when the monster who did this to him was still out there? How was it fair that he feels like he has to apologise for you for daring to cry about almost dying?

“No,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. Your ire must seep deep into your tone though, because Wes glances back up at you before turning his head away once more. Gently, you turn his chin so his eyes are back on you, and you repeat yourself again - this time, much more softly.

“No. Don’t you dare apologise, you hear me? You’ve got nothing to be sorry about. And I’m not angry at you, baby. It’s just-“ you sigh before you speak again. “It’s just that… I hate whoever did this to you. When we find out who it is, I swear, I’m gonna fucking kill them myself. “

Wes smiles. “Didn’t know I had my own personal bodyguard.” The fact that he still has the ability to crack jokes after all that’s happened, you realise, makes you want to smile and sob - preferably at the same time. Wes really is the most resilient person you know, but goddamn it, he shouldn’t have to be.

“I wish I was your body guard,” you reply, lips quirked upwards. “Then I could be with you all the time. Means you wouldn’t have been by yourself when it happened.”

At that, Wes’s gaze snaps up, all traces of his grin gone in an instant. “And have you lying here next to me - fuck, instead of me? Have you dead? No way in hell.” His tone leaves no room for argument, so you you simply keep quiet. Neither you nor Wes speak, the two of you presumably both lost in your own racing thoughts. It strangely borders on comfortable, and more importantly, it’s enough.

After a while, you shuffle closer to your boyfriend, carefully resting your head in the crook of his neck as he places his head on top of yours. It’s the best thing you can think of right now - you can’t wrap Wes up and tell him everything’s okay because it’s not. None of this is okay.

“I love you,” you murmur into the silence, because you need Wes to know. Need him to know how grateful you are to have him, how grateful you are that he’s alive. Because honestly? You have no idea what you’d do without him - you dread to even think. “And I’ll be here for you every single step of the way. Promise.” You hold out your pinky with the last word - it’s childish, you know that, but after everything, maybe that’s exactly what you need right now.

“Love you too,” he echoes, interlocking his finger with yours before squeezing it tight. “More than you’ll ever know.”

[bg-brainrot]

Day four of Astarion x Rogue!Tav winter fluff for the BG3 Winter Holiday Challenge!

Prompt: Mulled Wine

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Premise: Astarion walks into you making mulled wine. He doesn’t understand why you must ruin wine for the sake of winter. When he refuses to see your point, you find another way to show him.

Tags: POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Holidays, Alcohol, Kisses, post-cannon

Word count: ~1k

“Darling, what are you doing to that red wine?” Astarion walks into the kitchen, turning his nose up at the concoction you’re stirring.

“I’m making mulled wine,” you say, turning to smile at him. “What do you think I’m doing?”

He gives a single sniff and turns his lips down into a grimace. “My nose tells me that you’re ruining a perfectly good bottle of wine.” You drop the smile and give him a glare.

“What do you mean ruining?” you ask, incredulous. “I’m following the instructions that Gale gave me to the letter. Though I guess I am skipping over some of his longer-winded tangents…” A quick glance over at the notes on the counter confirms your accuracy.

The vampire shakes his head at you and walks up to the stove where you’re still stirring. “I have no doubt that you’re executing it perfectly, dear. You’ve made poisons that require more finesse than this. However, adding all of those spices– and oranges? What was wrong with the original wine?”

“Nothing was wrong. I just wanted to make something seasonal,” you say, feeling the need to defend your creation. You look down at your mixture, at the various pieces of seasonal flavors swirling as you stir, and you’re almost positive that it will taste perfect on a cold winter’s day like today.

“Why not a nice buttered rum? I don’t mind if you torment the rum.”

You roll your eyes at this, knowing full well now that this line of questioning was meant to be entertainment for Astarion. He was likely just bored and wondering why you were spending so much time in the kitchen. “I don’t want buttered rum. Why are you so against mulled wine– when was the last time you even had mulled wine?”

A moment of silence passes between you, and you turn away from your pot to look at him, suddenly fearful that you accidentally struck a nerve you hadn’t meant to. However, he just looks pensive, a single finger tapping his chin thoughtfully. When his answer finally comes, he just says it with a sense of awe, “You know, it’s likely been over 200 years.”

“Oh,” you respond, pursing your lips. You gesture at him with the spoon you’re holding. “Maybe it would be like a brand new experience?”

“It could be,” he responds, and while there’s some hesitation to his tone, he does sound more amenable to the idea now. He wafts the steam from the pot toward his nose, as if a better sniff might change his mind. Instead your lover physically recoils and places a hand over his face. “Gods, what are these spices?”

“Let’s see... cardamom, cinnamon, and star anise,” you recite, looking back at the paper Gale wrote you.

Your lover makes a face at you before he chokes out, “Star anise? That’s where the pungent smell is coming from. Darling, as the resident connoisseur of scents, you should have asked me for your spices.”

“Ah,” you breathe out, understanding dawning on you. You point the spoon at him excitedly, “I got it!”

“Got what?” he says, staring at you blankly. You can feel his assurance in your ability to make mulled wine deteriorating by the second. No matter– you know how to fix this.

Scooping up a bit of your brew in the stirring spoon, you blow gently on it to cool it down and hold it out to him. “Try it.”

“Oh no,” he immediately says, taking a step back. “I refuse to be your test subject.”

“Fine then, let me try it first.” You sip the mulled wine out of the spoon, savoring it on your tongue. It’s sweet, it’s spiced, and it tastes just like cozying up to a fireplace– your face breaks into a wide grin at its rich flavor. As you suspected, the star anise only gives it a subtle note, none of that strong licorice smell it typically has. Astarion wouldn't remember that after hundreds of years away from drinks like this. “Mmm, it’s perfect.”

Astarion looks at you for a second, as if waiting for your composure to crack, your body to convulse with disgust. When nothing happens, he only asks, “What does it taste like?”

“Would you like to try it?” You’re beaming at him now, absolutely certain that this will change his mind about mulled wine.

He still seems cautious, probably wondering if this is all some ruse devised by you and Gale.

Sensing his worries, you scoop another spoonful for yourself, take a drink, and close the distance between you. “Mmm mm,” you say to him, behind closed lips.

“What?” the man asks, raising a single eyebrow at you.

“Mmm mm!” you repeat, pointing to your lips, which you’re emphatically puckering at him.

Your request clicks in his head a moment later and he can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “My love, have I told you that you’re utterly ridiculous lately? Because I feel like you’re overdue.” Nevertheless, he takes a step forward, placing his hands on your waist and pulling you close as he meets your pursed lips with his.

The kiss, much like the mulled wine, starts off sweet but quickly comes with a kick of spice. Astarion’s tongue traces your bottom lip and you open your mouth to allow him in. One of his hands finds your face and angles it to deepen the kiss, locking his mouth with yours to try to keep the wine from spilling.

You feel a few trickles of liquid fall down your chin, but you find that you don’t mind– in fact, the only thing on your mind is the way Astarion’s tongue is relishing the mulled wine. The vampire gives a low hum as his tongue circles yours, tasting the liquid fully. He has yet to run away in revulsion, so you’re pretty sure he likes it. Or at the very least likes kissing you.

When he finally pulls away, a bit short of breath, his lips stained with wine, he gives you a smirk. “I think I finally understand the appeal of mulled wine.”

“So does that mean you liked it?” you ask him, equally breathless.

Astarion swipes his thumb down your chin, wiping away the wine that dribbled down before bringing it to mouth. He gives you a dark, lidded look as he licks it off and gives a rumbling hmm. “I’m not sure yet. You’ll have to give me another taste.”

It’s slow going, but you enthusiastically ensure that your lover gets his fill of mulled wine.

[writeforfandoms]

Shadows 2

Find the John Price masterlist

For @glitterypirateduck O, Captain! Challenge. I used #18 for this chapter.

Trying to find a new normal after everything is hard, but Price makes things a little easier. A late-night conversation helps you both.

Warnings: Swearing, mention of past events, scars, past injuries, nightmares, unsettled emotions.

Word count: 1k

The town was amazing. You hadn't seen anything like it in a year, at least. 

Probably, anyway. Time had been a little hard to track while you'd been with the men. 

But the world had ended almost a year and a half ago, you were assured. 

The four who'd rescued you, albeit unknowingly, seemed to be the center of the town. The protectors. Everyone knew Gaz and Soap, the two most friendly of the four. (And also both taken, as you discovered on your first night there, a boisterous kind of family dinner with both of their significant others. That inspired a kind of ache that you pushed down out of long habit.) 

Ghost was quiet and watchful, probably the least trusting of the group. But in those first days, you saw how gently he treated the two women, voice gruff but sincere in his thanks. The single wandering sheep that meandered up to the house got gently but firmly redirected back to where it belonged. You'd known men like him before. Gruff, grumpy, soft as a marshmallow deep down. 

But Price… Price was something else. He made you feel safe. Probably just because he'd been the one to find you and cut you free, but still. He never raised his voice to you, never minded when you settled near him to read. 

That wasn't a feeling you were so willing to give up. 

Price had told you that you'd stay with them for a few days at most, until they found a better spot for you. You understood why - the house was a little crowded, with Gaz and his significant other, Ghost, and Price there full time. Soap seemed to bounce between the house and his parents’. 

But you didn't want to go. 

Oh, everyone in town was nice. Welcoming. Word got around that you were a nurse, and it didn't take long for people to start showing up asking your opinion, or asking you to look at something. 

Price just huffed and dragged the furniture around in the main room, giving you a corner with some privacy. 

A few days turned into a week, turned into two. Price didn't push about finding you another place to stay, and you never asked. 

You thought maybe he understood. Maybe he was being kind, giving you time to settle in, before bringing it up again. 

Three weeks into your stay, you woke from a nightmare, the lingering cruel laughter and screams still echoing in your ears. You sat up, hands shaking as you pushed the blanket off yourself, hunching over to try to breathe more normally. 

You hadn't had a nightmare in… a long time. You'd have been happy not to have another. Ever. 

Well. Might as well put the kettle on. 

You shuffled into the kitchen, simultaneously tired and vigilant, moving as quietly as you could. Tea was a calming ritual you'd gone without for a long time, but the muscle memory and timing hadn't left you. (And if you were oddly proud of the fact that you made the only cuppa the American would drink, well, nobody else had to know.) 

You'd just sat with your tea when you heard a stair creak. You tensed automatically, shifting your weight, fingers clenched around your mug. 

Price stepped into the kitchen, nodding to you. You returned the nod, shoulders uncoiling. 

“Still hot water left?” He asked, voice hushed.

“Plenty,” you agreed, waving a hand for him to help himself. “Shouldn't need to be reheated yet.” 

He got down his own mug, the soft sounds of him making tea helping soothe you fully back into the present. The warmth of your tea seeped into your hands, just on the verge between comforting and too hot. 

Somehow, you were still surprised when he sat across from you, gaze far too alert for the middle of the night. 

“Trouble sleeping?” 

“Mm.” You dropped your gaze to your mug, fingers tracing the handle. “You?”

He just shrugged, taking a sip of his tea. In the low light, a flash of color on his wrist caught your attention. You moved without conscious thought, one hand gently catching his. 

Both of you froze. 

“Sorry.” You started to pull your hand back. 

Price just switched his mug to his other hand and placed his hand back in yours. “Nothing to apologize for.”

You blew out a slow breath, looking into his eyes briefly before lifting your linked hands, just enough to get a better look at the scar near the heel of his hand. “What happened there?” 

He tipped your linked hands to look and then chuckled. “Burned myself on accident as a kid,” he said, shooting you an amused little smile. “Surprised you saw it.” 

You shrugged. “Must have been the lighting,” You dismissed, giving his hand one gentle squeeze before you released him. 

The two of you sat in comfortable silence together, drinking your tea. It was odd, how comfortable it was. You hadn't felt so at ease with anyone else since… before. Not all the way before, before the world ended, but before the men. Before the fire and the screaming. 

He was just… easy to be with. For you. 

“Alright there?” He kept his voice low, hand touching yours again briefly. “Look like you're about to nod off into your tea.” 

“Hm?” You blinked rapidly and looked at him. “Oh, I'm okay. Just thinking.” 

“Anything you want to share?” He kept the question mild, gentle. A clear invitation. 

You bit your lip, gaze refocusing on him. He held up steadily, unmoving, at ease. “Just… thinking that this is… comfortable.” Face burning, you dropped your gaze again, chewing lightly on your lip. 

You startled, just a little, when he took your hand again, warm fingers curling around yours. You looked back at him to find him smiling, just a little. 

“I'm glad,” he murmured, low and rougher than usual. “You deserve a safe place, and I'm happy to provide that for you. Here, or anywhere in town.” 

Your lips parted, eyes going wide, fingers clamping around his. 

He just smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and let you keep hold of his hand as he finished his tea.

[lmaopuli]

Tattoos and Tequila

— a fluffy Mason Mount blurb

Warnings: just brief mentions of alcohol?

Word count: ~1k

—

“I didn’t know you had all these.” Mason mumbled in your ear behind you, fingers grazing the tiny tattoos on the back of your arms.

“Well that’s because you’ve only seen me in my work uniform, genius.” You smirked, trying to play it cool as you turned around from the bar. But the glint in your eyes gave it away, you were so excited to finally see Mason outside of Carrington.

All the United team and staff were out celebrating the end of a successful season. The evening started out with a proper awards night, with the women in gowns and heels and the men in suits. Of course, the boys didn’t want to end the night there. Thus you, and some of the other younger staff members were invited to the club as well. Going out and getting wasted wasn’t your usual thing, but after seeing Mase in that fitted, grey suit, you needed to see what he looked like in the club—you wanted to see him let loose a bit after a tough but rewarding season. And you know what? After a season of tending to injuries and performing god knows how many physical exams, you deserved a night out too.

So here you were, in your best clubbing outfit, waiting at the bar for at least half an hour alone. You’ve been sipping away at your tequila soda, impatiently waiting for the man you’ve been crushing on this whole year. Checking the time on your phone for the millionth time that night, you were so close to leaving. But low and behold, Mason just had to be fashionably late. Luckily he found you just in time, before you decided to leave for good—and thank god he did. There he was, in a simple white shirt, jeans, and his signature black sunglasses. He always looked good to you, but something about the way he looked tonight, his touches and comment about your tattoos, and the tequila in your system made your heart pick up and your mouth go all dry.

“Has anyone told you how silly your sunglasses look at night?” You cheekily questioned, trying your best to not make it obvious the effect he had on you in that moment.

“Really?” He chuckled, sliding his sunglasses off, “you might be right.” But instead of keeping them on his shirt or at the bar behind you, he slid them on you, slowly going up the bridge of your nose. “I think they might actually look better on you, love,” he mumbled, his hand now resting on your jaw. And while your vision was now much darker because of his sunnies, you swore his charming smile was still the brightest thing in the room.

Oh, you were in for a long night.

“Let’s take a shot,” you quickly blurted out, unable to look at him anymore. The liquid courage from your tequila soda was dwindling, and you needed more immediately.

Mason, on the other hand, loved seeing you this flustered. At work, you always kept it professional, but almost too much so for his liking. Initially, he couldn’t even tell where he stood with you. You’d been hired only a few weeks after he joined the team. The first day he saw you in the physio room, he had become so flustered himself. To be fair, he wasn’t used to a girl physio, and a gorgeous one at that. When you flashed your pretty smile at him saying goodbye at the end of his physical, he couldn’t help but wonder if you flashed that smile to all of his teammates. Maybe you were just this kind to everyone?

His thoughts changed a few months later, though. He had picked up a slight shoulder injury during training and the coaching staff urged him to the physio room right away. For some reason, you'd been the only staff member in the room that afternoon. Your eyes went wide at Mason telling you what happened, immediately helping him remove his shirt so you could take a better look at his shoulder. You weren’t prepared to see what was underneath, however, and Mason definitely noticed your gaze on him, trailing down his abs and on the various tattoos he had scattered around his upper body. At that moment, he knew you felt something too.

Mason wasn’t big on taking shots, but if the girl he’d been thinking about all season asked to take one with him, he was gonna do it. He removed the hand cupping your face, reaching to grab his wallet to pay the bartender, but his eyes never left your frame.

—

“You got any more of those?” Mason asked later in the night, “tattoos, I mean.” His fingers started absentmindedly grazing the ones on your arms again.

“Yeah,” you answered, “I have a few more you can’t see.”

“Well,” Mason followed, “when can I see them?” His face dropped and immediately went red, just now realizing how suggestive he sounded. Why did I just say that?

Yeah, he wanted to see more of you, but he didn’t want to scare you off. He was internally freaking out, worried that he ruined his chances at being more just “colleagues” with you. He wished he hadn’t given you his sunglasses before, so you couldn’t see the embarrassment in his eyes.

Noticing his cockiness slipping away, you just giggled. Of course, you’d let him see the rest of your tattoos one day. The ones no one else has ever seen. But you also had standards, and your feelings for Mase went beyond the physical. You didn’t want to rush into anything and jeopardize that.

“How about we start off with you taking me out on a date, Mount?” You asked, sliding off his sunglasses you had on to look him in the eyes.

His shoulders relaxed in relief. “Deal. What are you doing this Sunday?”

————

So this is a different vibe than my first fic? Idk how I feel about it tbh, part of it’s loosely based on a real life experience I would’ve much rather wanted to have with Mase 😭 I’ll prob go back to soft fluffy fluff after this 🤷🏻‍♀️ Feedback, reblogs, and likes are so appreciated :)