#anyhow the idea sounded good in my head

[oneirataxia-girl]

oc halloween challenge 2023 ⇝ day one

Life In Plastic ft. the girls of Sullied Reflections (of a soldier's mind)

Barbie Raon is an oddity! Barbie Delphi has odd nightmares! Barbie Wren has an odd relationship with the cold! Barbie Faith is the pretty yet odd class princess!

x, x

the enabler's call: @arrthurpendragon @hiya-itsamber @carmens-garden @shrinkthisviolet @slytherindisaster @daughter-of-melpomene -- want to be added? shoot me an ask!!

[mariasont]

Spoiled - A.H

a/n: felt feral writing this hope y'all enjoy it as much as i did

think im ovulating or something YALL IDK

anyhow happy reading let me know what yall think 🤭

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: in which hotch overhears your conversation with penelope and decides to do something about it

warnings: 18+ MDNI, phone sex!, sex toy!, fem solo masturbation, penelope being a little instigator lmao, dirty talk, soft dom!hotch, established relationship, honestly a little bit of angst whoops, reader is slightly dramatic like hotch has been gone for prob 5 hours STAND UP!

wc: 3.3k

"Penelope Grace Garcia!"

Her comment earned her the full government name, igniting a burst of laughter that you attempt to smother behind your hand. Sinking deeper into the couch, you dismiss the absurdity with a shake of your head. You even find yourself glancing over your shoulder even though you know no one is home.

"You know, I really shouldn't be telling you this, but trust me, that's the least of our worries in this relationship."

"Look, whatever floats your love boat or rocks your bed frame is strictly your business," she comments as if that were the most casual thing to say.

You giggle, a warmth spreading through you as you tread across the kitchen tiles, the phone pressed against your ear. 

"Oh my god, Pen," you let out a laugh, feeling a soft crimson spread across your cheeks, while your thighs swell with the thoughts of your doting boyfriend. "No, no, like I said we're more than okay in that department. It just gets, well, lonely when he's away."

Your hand curls around the neck of your favorite bottle of red, easing the cork free with a satisfying pop. The liquid swirls into the glass, a little more than probably necessary, as the gentle hiss of water beginning to simmer breaks through the kitchen. 

"You, my dear, are a saint among mortals."

"Well, he makes it easy," you shrug, pouring the rice into the bubbling pot, a cloud of steam rising to paint the windows.

"Honestly, I don't know how you manage. I'd be itching for it, especially if it's as good as you say," Penelope admits with a dramatic sigh.

You laugh, propping the phone against the backsplash, its speaker projecting the conversation into the room. Aaron stands just out of sight, unnoticed, taking in your every syllable.

"When he gets back, trust me, every second apart seems like a small price to pay."

"Ever thought about getting yourself a toy? You know, for those long nights?" Penelope hints not (at all) so slyly. 

The wine almost sprays from your mouth as you stifle a surprised splutter. Aaron, still unseen, raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, um, no, I haven't really considered... a toy," you murmur, cheeks burning. You clear your throat, pretending to be engrossed in the simmering pot. "Aaron might have an opinion on that, I guess."

Your attempt at nonchalance was failing, you definitely knew that.

Aaron rested casually against the door frame, a soft smile touching his lips at the sound of your bashful laughter. He'd always had a soft spot for the way your cheeks bloom with color--a sight he wasn't afraid to go great lengths to witness. The idea of a toy seemed to pique his curiosity, drawing a pensive frown as his attention stayed fixed on you for a moment longer.

He slips away silently, his steps carrying him to the front door as you continue your conversation with Penelope.

The call disconnects with a soft click, and you're left in the quiet of the kitchen, unwittingly promising to keep Penelope updated. Turning back to the stove, you stir the sauce with a distracted hand, your lips downturned. Aaron should have been home by now.

The dining table is set, candles flickering, their glow falling on the chair he's yet to fill. You let out a sigh, stealing another look at the ticking clock. The food is ready, but with each passing minute, it grows cooler, just the unfamiliar feeling of disappointment settling in your chest. 

The audible twist of the key catches your attention, and you can't help but glance over your shoulder. Aaron walks in, his lips curving into a smile upon seeing you.

"Hi, my gorgeous girl," he greets, his voice a familiar sound that kindles a familiar flutter into your heart.

He places his briefcase down, the sound muted, and as he approaches, his lips brush a tender kiss against your temple. The annoyance that had been bubbling inside you melts away with his touch. Damn him.

You turn to him, a sheepish "Hi" fluttering out, your cheeks tinged with heat. It's a feeling that's always fresh, the way he still makes you feel like you're back in high school, hearts doodled in the margins of your notebook.

Aaron settles into his chair, the soft scrape of wood against the tile following his movements.

"Sorry 'M late," he offers, his tone warm, appreciative. "Everything looks and smells wonderful, honey. Thank you."

His fingers gently sweep a loose strand of hair from your face, his smile softening you, disarming you. He's so beautiful.

"You're welcome," you reply, your cheeks growing warmer with each word. "And, um, I hope it's okay. It might be a bit cold. I thought...I guess I assumed you'd be home sooner."

You voice trails off, leaving behind a trail of embarrassed concern, wondering if perhaps you'd somehow overstepped. 

Aaron looks at you, his eyes turning kind as he discerns the unease on your face.

"I'm sorry, baby, got held up with a little errand." He bites into the food, and a gratified hum indicates his approval. "This is delicious."

You find yourself beaming at the praise. He had a talent for that--praising you, almost as if he'd made it his life mission. This was a first for you in a relationship, and it's exactly why the late nights and time spent alone didn't weigh so heavily. 

After dinner, you're rinsing off the plates when Aaron's hands draw you close, his hands claiming your waist, the heat of his palms radiating through the fabric of your shirt. He plants a soft kiss on your shoulder.

"Let me help with that. You're spoiling me," he insists, his words spoken into your damp skin.

You lean back into his embrace, his chest flush against your back.

"I like taking care of you," you admit, heart skipping a beat under the weight of his gaze, the softness in his eyes dissolving your concentration on the task at hand. 

A deep, affectionate groan escapes Aaron as he pulls you even closer. But all good things come to an end, and the ringing of his phone seems like an icy intrusion, like a sudden draft into the kitchen.

"Hotchner," he answers, and even though the word leaves his lips, his fingers gently sketch patterns across your hip. 

You feel your heart sink. When he hangs up, his eyes lock with yours, brimming with an apology he doesn't voice. It's unnecessary, you already know.

"A case?" You hate how small your voice sounds, dipped in an understanding you wish you didn't have.

He nods, a simple stupid gesture that sends a lump of disappointment soaring up your throat, which you desperately try to swallow down. 

"Okay... just, be careful, okay? I'll miss you."

"And I'll miss you, angel. Be good for me."

There's a hollowness in the house that follows you through each room. You were well aware of Aaron's demanding job when you started dating--the unpredictable schedule, the sudden departures, the cases that required his immediate attention. Still, this awareness did nothing to soften to sting of his absence. At all. 

You found yourself wandering aimlessly, picking up a book only to set it down unread, starting a movie but not really watching. Eventually, you ended up in the bedroom, his bedroom, where the subtle scent of his cologne lingers. It's both comforting and heart-wrenching. God, you felt like you were being so dramatic.

You climb into the bed, the sheets cool against your skin, too big and empty without him. Your eyes darts to the phone resting on the nightstand. You've always been careful not to disturb him while he's working, but tonight felt different.

With a trembling hand, you pick up the phone, your thumb hovering indecisively over the screen. Reluctantly, you returned it to its place. There was no point in bothering him.

A sudden draft sent a shiver up your spine, reminding you of the blanket Hotch had bought for you a couple months ago. You sighed, rising from the bed and moving to the closet.

But your eyes skipped over the blanket, instead fixating on a shiny pink bag tucked away in a secluded corner. Compelled by a spike of curiosity, you grabbed the bag and pulled it open. Your eyes widened, cheeks burning with a sudden flush as you placed it on the bed. How long had this been hiding here? And the timing--just after your conversation with Penelope--felt almost too uncanny. 

You went back to your phone.

Hi

The message was simple. You hit send before you can second-guess yourself.

Almost immediately, your phone vibrated--Aaron's name illuminated the screen. You answer, and his voice was there, infused with immediate concern.

"Hi honey. You okay?" His question was straightforward, cutting through the noise.

You nodded, forgetting for a moment he couldn't see you. Shifting on the bed, you said softly, "Um, yeah, I'm fine. I didn't mean to bother you. Is it a bad time?"

His response is quick. "You could never bother me."

A blush flares on your cheeks, and a smile instinctively forms. You fidget on the bed, the sheets sighing with your movements, sounds that don't escape Aaron's attentive detection.

"Can't seem to find the right spot without me there, huh?"

"I can't seem to do a lot of things without you here," you grumble under your breath, intended more for yourself than for him. The bed emits a soft creak as you turn again, your breath hitching in a pout that he can almost see through the phone. "Aaron, I found something in the closet..."

You lost your words, fingertips tracing the toy's edge, as you fumbled with the strings of your shorts.

"Hmm? Care to enlighten me."

"You know."

You weren't in the mood for his teasing, because you knew he knew. You could sense his smugness, his voice dripping into that familiar, velvety register that prompted your lips to purse.

"I don't know, sweetheart."

Once again, you found yourself stirring against the linen, nibbling on your lip as a wave of exasperation washed over you, your eyes rolling into their sockets.

"Where are you?"

"Just got to my hotel room." You could hear the subtle movements in the background, accompanied by the soft groans of the mattress under his weight. "What did you find in the closet that was so urgent you needed to text me in the middle of my case?"

Your face was warm. "You said it wasn't a bother."

"And I meant it, now spell it out for me."

Your hands cautiously pushed over the toy, examining its buttons and sides. Subconsciously, your tongue swept over your top teeth. You lowered your voice as though someone else might overhear.

"The toy...is it for me? I mean, I would hope so. If not, well, we'd have a rather awkward issue."

"Yes, it's for you, baby."

You stifled a grin. How could he have known? That profiling business was really no joke.

"Why?"

His muffled chuckle filtered through, and you could almost see the flash of his pearly whites. You really missed him, so much so that you were conjuring vision of his mouth of his on places that should not be said aloud. 

"I just want to make sure my best girl is taken care of when I'm not home." You could practically hear the smirk on his lips.

You were deep in your fantasy now, your free hand sliding down your shorts as you envisioned him propped against the headboard of his hotel bed, tie hanging loosely, hair tousled just so.

"I'm always taken care of by you, Aaron," you said quietly.

You didn't know how to go about this, whatever this even was. You were treading into unknown territory; never having had phone sex with Aaron--or anyone for that matter.  It was a far cry from the occasional suggestive text.

"That's right." His voice flowed like honey in your ear, causing a shiver as your finger skimmed over your underwear, your breathing momentarily faltering. "You're going to be well taken care of for the rest of your life, yeah?"

"Yeah."

You could hardly breathe, squirming against your own touch, glancing over at the toy that sat beside your hip.

"I want you to know how much I appreciate your patience. You're a good girl, honey. Far too good for me." You weren't. It was the other way around; you didn't deserve him. You told yourself that every day. "I know you get lonely, and I know it's something you'd never admit to."

"Aaron..."

He didn't let you finish. "Why don't you tell me what you're doing right now?"

Your actions came to an abrupt standstill, thumb suspended above your clothed clit. You entertained the thought that this FBI gig might have been a front for a psychic, maybe one of those fortune teller types.

You were mumbling into your sleeve, a private conversation with the threads. "Just...um, well it's hardly worth mentioning, honestly."

Wow you're sure you fooled him.

"I'm not fond of dishonesty." The low rumble of his voice sent a tremor through your core. "I'm giving you a final chance. Tell me what you're doing, sweetheart."

A hard swallow passed your throat, your thumb rubbing idle circles into the band of flesh on your hip. 

"Well, I, uh, was touching myself." The words felt as awkward as they sounded, an internal wince accompanying each syllable at how unsexy you were speaking.

"Where, sweetheart?"

You exhaled sharply at the question, heavy with exasperation at his insistence on drawing this out. But the slickness between your legs was undeniable. Your hand slid back to the delicate skin between your thighs.

"Aaron, please," you breathed out so faintly it was almost inaudible.

He was playing a cruel game, and he knew it. You hardly cussed let alone talk about your lady parts so openly.

"I hope I've never given you a reason to feel judged, honey." There was a sweetness in his voice that masked his darker intentions. "Just tell me where. I want to help."

Your tongue flicked nervously across your lip, your finger dipping into the valley of your folds as you mulled over his offer. You were wet, far more than you had anticipated, practically coating your thighs in the process.

"No, 'course not," you said softly, biting back a sigh as your thumb worked slowly against your inflamed clit. "It's just, you're so far, Aaron."

"Why do you think I got you that toy?" Your gaze darted to the pink thing, resting against your hip. "I want you to use it. I'll walk you through it, just like I would in person."

You could melt. You could liquefy into nothingness on the spot. Your fingers pressed more urgently against yourself, a deep-seated wish for him to be here surfacing, knowing all the while it was a baseless hope.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"There you go, that's my girl."

You couldn't hold back the whimper that fell from your lips as you arched against the bed, fingers diving into your cunt.

"My needy girl," he repeated, his laughter resonating with a patronizing tone that oddly egged you on. "Alright, can you pick up the toy for me?"

You wedged the phone snugly between your shoulder and ear, your hand closing around the pink, curved object, scrutinizing its every detail with careful eyes.

"Okay."

It was big, not as big as Aaron, but its dimensions were nonetheless imposing. You felt your chest heave in anticipation, waiting for his instructions.

His silence was stretching your patience thin. You turned it on, and it came to life, watching as it vibrated, the soft buzz permeating the space. You let it trail over your stomach, fabric gathering as your shirt rode up. Nearing your clit, you braced, taking in a quick breath.

But that breath was released in a strangled moan as you pushed the toy firmly into your sopping hole, legs spreading expansively as a taut sensation gripped your center.

"Did I say you could use it already?" he questioned, his tongue clicking in disapproval as you strained against the device, the second prong vibrations coursing against your nub, your whole-body jerking in response.

"N-No, 'M sorry," you panted, your focus narrowing as you pushed to toy in and out, your lips rounding into an 'o'. "It feels really good, Aar."

"I'm sure it does, baby," he teased, his voice carrying a certainty that your own lacked. "Let me hear you fuck yourself with it.

You loved hearing him curse, it was rare, and usually reserved for intimate moments like this. It fueled your actions, your wrist quickening, driving the device deeper, your stomach twisting in tight knots, a loud moan escaping unrestrained, suddenly you were thankful for the distance between Aaron's house and the next.

It felt so good, and yet somehow still not comparable to how it was with Aaron. Weren't you spoiled?

"Miss you so much," you slurred, your movements stuttering as the device worked your body in ways you didn't know were possible.

"Miss you too, angel. You're doing so good."

"Can you, ah, come home, p-please?"

You weren't even sure of what you were saying, all your thoughts on chasing your high and pretending the toy was Aaron's cock. Thinking about how he'd fill you up right now, how he'd press you to the mattress, how his body would cover yours.

"Your present isn't enough?" His tone was taunting, your eyes welling with tears, clouding your vision as your hips bucked against the toy. "That's a shame, sweetheart, think maybe you've been a little spoiled. You can't have my cock all the time."

You were completely dazed, his sentences barely making their way through the fog as you'd like them to. You were crying, you think, hot and relentless tears carving a path down your face as you fucked yourself harder against the toy.

The noises coming from your pussy were obscene, soaked and squishing as you tried to respond to Aaron, but nothing but small hiccups were escaping your mouth.

"It's okay, baby, I know. You're doing so good for me. I can hear it."

Your cheeks and ears flared with a heat that spelled out your shame, but it was the least of your concerns. Your walls tightened against the device, the pressure on your clit suddenly all too much and not enough at the same time. Gasping for air, your breaths came out in uneven bursts. When you tried to call out Aaron's name, it emerged as nothing more than a choked sob.

"C-Can I? Please, need to so bad." You weren't entirely convinced you were speaking English, but Aaron understood. 

"Go ahead, sweetheart."

That was all you needed. Your cunt contracted again before vaulting over the edge, nearly losing consciousness in the process, a string of moans and half-said words pouring out of your lips.

You could hear the sound of his voice, but the words were just out of reach, not fully making sense. You felt your body twitch, and you blinked deliberately, once, twice, three times, in an effort to reconnect your body to your mind.

"You're so good, baby. So good. Miss you so much."

You pulled the toy, now soaked, from yourself, cringing at the lewd sound as you laid it beside you, making a mental note to wash the sheets later. Although if Aaron had his way that wouldn't happen.

"I miss you." You hated the way your voice betrayed ever emotion you had.

"Need you to go pee for me, sweetheart."

He sounded so soft and tired, but somehow still present. You let out a soft snicker as you curled onto your side. 

"Can't move my legs," you mumbled, the sound muffled by the way your cheek was squished into the pillow. "Need you to come carry me."

His laugh was something you wished you could bottle up. "Spoiled."

"And who's to blame for that?" You were ready for his witty retort, but it was cut short by the sudden flash of your phone. You squinted at the caller ID. "Sorry, Penelope is calling me, can I call you back in a second?"

"Course, honey. Thank her for the idea, yeah?" Your mouth fell open as you scrambled for the right words. Of course he had heard. "Also, I plan on spending a few solid hours fucking you when I get home, so I suggest you get some rest."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[bookshelf-dust]

you’ll find it in a dresser drawer

billy hargrove x fem!reader

gif by @suledins

word count: 2,550

warnings: mainly fluff and romantic stuff, a little bit of suggestiveness at the start, playful banter/swearing/name-calling (it’s all out of love)

synopsis: on a journey to declutter your little home, you and billy find lots of memories on the past and sit down to reminisce.

a/n: my bestie girl @clovermunson put this idea into my head actual ages ago, and i finally managed to get it done!! besides, we could all use a little love and care right about now <33

————

��BILLY!”

The shower cuts off, leaving only the sound of water dripping from your loofah, down the ends of your hair. 

“Huh!” Billy shouts, already making his way towards the bathroom. He doesn’t need a verbal cue—the tone of your voice is enough. Each lilt you take on tells him what he’s walking into.

You’ve hastily wrapped a towel around your midsection, and he walks in on you waving your leg around in his direction. “I shaved my legs.”

Billy laughs heartily. He leans down, cupping the back of your calf with one hand so he can kiss the skin of your shin. “That’s what you were doin’ in here all this time? Thought maybe you were rubbin’ one out or something.” He winks, dragging his hand up your now very smooth leg. 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and let him lift you over the rim of the tub, setting you down securely on the bath mat. “You know I’m too loyal to the fancy shower head for all that manual labor.” You smack a sweet, slightly damp kiss on Billy’s lips. “But seriously, aren’t you impressed? I don’t remember the last time I shaved them.”

He drags his hand up your knee. “I’m so impressed. Even more that you managed to go without a nick.”

Your eyes crinkle up with the biggest smile, reserved just for him. “I know, right?” You lean your head back, allowing Billy to kiss at your shoulder where he’s been nosing at you this entire time. 

“Smell good,” he mumbles. 

“I used the same things as always, pretty.”

Billy’s thumb presses gently under your chin, molding you so he can kiss right where your collar bones meet. “Always smell good. Could eat you right up.”

“Maybe later?” you quip, sneaking out from his hold. He drags his gaze up your legs as you go. Six years in and he still looks at every part of you like it’s the first time. 

“No doubt, pretty girl. When you’re dressed you wanna help me with this box?”

“‘Course! I’ll just be a minute.”

The both of you have made it your mission to sort through every room in your little house. It’s not much, but there’s plenty of room and you take good care of it. Billy’s had more fun painting than he’d ever admit, and he helped you set up flower boxes so you had something to take care of. 

The lone hallway closet, the bane of your existence, was your last task. The one you’d been avoiding. A small, dark hell of clutter. Tubs full of trinkets and memories from you or Billy or both. Extra blankets, board games. Anything that didn’t have a home, or that you’d just rather not deal with on any given day. 

You slip on an oversized sweatshirt you’re sure you’ve had since college and a pair of Billy’s boxer shorts. He never wears this pair anyhow, and who are you to leave them gathering dust in the back of a dresser drawer.

Billy hears your bare feet pad against the hardwoods. You reach for a pillow, meaning to prop yourself up on it. 

Billy grunts. You look up, where he’s motioning towards his lap with his free hand. The one not flipping through what looks like a smaller box full of pictures. You comply, walking over to him. He reaches upward, big hands holding onto your hips as he coaxes you down between his legs, your back resting against his chest. 

“Hair smells good,” he mumbles, kissing the nape of your neck. He always tells you how good you smell. You never tell him that you always use the same things and, therefore, always smell the same. 

“Thank you,” you say. He pushes the thick cotton of your sweatshirt aside, the pilling fabric catching on his calloused fingertips. He presses a kiss to your shoulder and sets the material back where it was. 

Your teeth close around the inside of your cheek, hiding the giddy smile that threatens to appear. You lean forward just a bit, your gaze catching on a pile of photographs that look like they got developed and then set away, their finishes as pristine as if you’d just pulled them out of the paper envelope. 

You suck in a breath. Billy’s hand drags up and down your freshly shaved and moisturized knee fondly. 

“Are these the ones from the disposables?”

Billy grabs a handful of the glossy paper. “Think so. Remember you asked me to get them developed when we moved? So we didn’t take shit we didn’t need.”

“Yeah. I meant to buy an album for ‘em. Thought it seemed very grown up of us to have a photo book.” 

“Even more grown up to leave it disassembled.”

You gaze over your shoulder and lock eyes with Billy. He’s got his bottom lip between his teeth, the first signs of a laugh at the corners of his eyes. You snort.

You grab the photos from his hand, along with the rest, and shift so you can spread them out on the floor between you. The first thought that comes to mind is how your living room floor desperately needs a rug. But then you catch a glimpse of someone’s tummy against a bright, summer sky. 

Your index finger and thumb press against the corner of the paper, lifting it closer. It’s a picture of Billy and you at the beach, the date scrawled messily in his chicken scratch writing along the back: 07/26/91

In the photo, Billy stands under a tilted umbrella, one hand shielding his eyes from the sun, the other pointing at the camera. You remember now that he’d been trying to get you to look at Robin, because she was trying to take your picture. There’s a cocky smirk on his face and a smear of sunscreen on his neck. 

You’re wearing a pair of overalls, but one of the straps is falling down since they’re two sizes too big, your one piece swimsuit showing from underneath. The bottle in your hand and cream on your fingers all act as evidence towards your attempt to protect your boyfriend from the sun.

“I don’t remember Robin taking this,” you laugh, grinning up at Billy, more than pleased to know you have this moment captured forever. 

“I do,” Billy says, flipping the image over to look at the date he saw you glance at seconds before. “She took about a thousand pictures that day. I’m surprised there aren’t more. And I remember writing this when it got printed.”

He turns it toward you once again, pointing out a small line of script at the bottom you’d failed to see before. My pretty girl, it reads. 

You lean forward and kiss him, squeezing his cheeks between your hands because you know he hates it when you do but he looks too damn cute to resist.

There’s a couple of photos mixed in that are older—some from high school, a few baby pictures. You snag one of Billy from prom.

“This Billy would never have been such a sap.” 

He glances at the picture. He’d rented a tux. Worn a red button up underneath it. No tie, no corsage or anything. He wasn’t going to go, but he got in his car about half an hour after it started and drove himself there because you’d mentioned you were going with a couple of friends. 

“That’s because he also kinda had a stick up his ass,” Billy mumbles, rubbing the back of his hand across his mouth. 

“Even a cute ass like that couldn’t repel that big ‘ol stick.” You wink, looking at the other prom pictures. Billy pinches your thigh but it only makes you chuckle.

There’s a strip of you and Robin from the photo booth, her hair all frizzy, your forehead glistening with sweat. One awkward picture of you and Billy in front of the pitiful backdrop the student council had put together. Both of your smiles are soft, but it’s obvious neither of you were really comfortable with one another yet. What with the way his hand sits on your rib cage, one of yours on his hip and the other hidden in the tulle of your dress. 

“You know I bought my first push-up bra for that night?”

Billy’s trademark cocky grin appears. “What?”

“I had Robin help me pick out a push-up bra because I was hoping to impress you. I thought maybe if my boobs looked good you’d think I was hot and we could be more than classroom friends. The bra ended up leaving my ribs sore for days after, but my boobs did look good.”

Billy looks pointedly at your boobs in the photo. “They really did. But I already thought you were hot. Why else would I have come in the first place?”

You blink at him. “I dunno, to do like, anything else?” He laughs at your remark. “I figured you wanted to party afterwards or that maybe there was a girl you wanted to see afterwards.”

Billy holds up a photo of you at your college graduation. He cried that day, watching you walk. He thinks you don’t know, but you could tell. 

“I did. She’s right in front of me.”

He passes you a picture from Halloween two years ago. You were Tiffany Valentine and he was Charles Lee Ray. It was much easier to convince Billy to wear a trench coat and go without shaving for a few days than to even attempt putting him in a Chucky costume. 

“Quit fuckin’ with me, baby. You did not want me when we were in high school. Don’t you remember how awkward I was every time we worked on something together?”

Billy leans forward, his lips hovering inches from yours. “You weren’t awkward. I just saw a girl I would’ve sold my soul for because she was so perfect.” He laughs when you try to pull away from his kiss, a result of that cheesy line. You kiss him back all the same.

“You realize we’re not sorting through this box at all?” You say, that matter of fact tone in your voice. “We’re reminiscing. Let’s set the photos aside and finish, yeah? Then we can put them into albums.”

Billy gives you a two finger salute. “Yes ma’am.”

The both of you spend the next few minutes sorting. There’s receipts from years past, piles of number two pencils left from college, stray earring backs, a couple scraps of fabric from when you’d tried to take up sewing. You even find a couple of textbooks—some possibly stolen from the library of Hawkins High School—Billy’s birth certificate, a spare key to his car. 

Just when you reach the bottom, you spot a little wooden box. You’re not sure what it is, but based on the size you’d guess it might be for trinkets or it could have had Billy’s college ring in it. 

You glance over your shoulder at him where he’s sorting through a stack of papers, every once in a while scratching the tip of a pen against a spare piece to see if it’s got ink in it. You don’t think he’s paying you any mind. 

You place your thumb nail under the ledge of the box where it has the smallest groove in it where it’s meant to be opened. You open it haphazardly, with a sharp snap as the hinge widens. 

Your breath catches when your thumb grazes velvet and you realize there’s something inside. You’re too curious, too focused, to notice that Billy has moved closer to you, that he’s now watching your face for any emotion you might show, his own heart smacking against his ribcage. 

He thought this was a clever way to do it. The least stressful one he could think of, anyhow. He knows you don’t like much spectacle and figured keeping it intimate like this would be best for both of you, really.

The box opens with a small click and your eyes start to go all teary, despite the fact that you haven’t registered what’s happening or even looked at Billy or even looked at the damn thing you’re holding. 

The ring is simple: it’s thin silver, with a small, diamond shaped emerald front and center, the prongs and basket twisting gently so that it almost looks like they’re hugging the stone. It’s not too much, but it’s gorgeous. It’s you. Unmistakably. 

You turn to look at Billy. He smiles at you, his eyes all gentle.

“You fucking dickhead,” you say, your voice thick with emotion. He laughs. 

His hand comes to rest on your cheek, thumb caressing away any stray tears. He’s doing his best not to cry himself. “What do you think, huh?” 

You look down at the ring and back at him. Down and back at him. “It’s so pretty.”

“Fitting for such a pretty girl,” Billy says. You’d smack him if you weren’t so busy crying. He gently removes it from your hand, holding it out to you. 

“So, babydoll, how’d you feel about marrying me?”

Your eyes flick back and forth between his. You let out a giggle. “You’re not on one knee, Billy.”

He shifts awkwardly into the “proper” position and you both stare at each other, the beginnings of a hysterical laughing fit on either of your faces. You’d think someone had just made a “your mom” joke—not that you were being proposed to. 

A tear chooses that moment to escape your lash line. 

“I bought this for you about a week ago,” Billy starts. “I couldn’t have it too long because I knew I’d have a panic attack. I went to four different jewelry stores until I saw this one. I remembered, when Robin proposed to her girlfriend, that you said you’d always loved emeralds. Thought diamonds were overrated. And you always gravitate towards that color stuff in the store, y’know?”

“Like that dress you bought on sale for your birthday or the blanket for the couch. I’m hoping you’ll like this one.” He looks down at the ring and back up at you. “I love you, you know that? I know you know that. And I think lately I’ve just realized that I shouldn’t wait for good shit to go down. I don’t need to, especially when I can make it happen.”

“I want you for the rest of forever. Me and you. So really, what do you think? You wanna marry me?”

You blink at him. “Dunno. Jury’s out. Could take a while to reach a verdict.” 

He laughs into your hair, one arm wrapping around the small of your back, the other cradling your head. This feeling right here, of being held, is something you’ll never get over. The way his body feels wrapped around yours. A lifetime of this safety? Duh. 

You slide your hand under his shirt and gently scratch his back. His skin is always so warm. 

“Of course I do, you fucking dumbass,” you mutter, watery eyes overtaking your every sense. Then you kiss him on the cheek and whisper into his ear, “Honestly kinda felt like we were married already anyhow. Now I just have a pretty token of your affection, too.”

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

rb banner by @steph-speaks

[billzbling]

@billzbling ‘s …

𝐏𝟏 ❝ 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 ❞ ™

❝ 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐲/𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞. 𝐎𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐭, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞. 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢��𝐞𝐫. ❞

|| ⚠︎ series warnings || manipulation ? smut, cursing, flirting, arguing, idk?

|| part 2 here!

I’m currently sitting uncomfortably in a chair across from billie. She’s sitting in a gaming chair for some reason, scooting it back and forth as she sips on her water bottle. She’s looking at me, I’m looking back at her, but she’s not saying anything. The silence is starting to get to me, and I’m just about to ask if she’s okay when she finally speaks up.

“So” she clears her throat and turns to me, finally giving me her undivided attention. “You’re moving in today, I just wanted to talk about some rules and boundaries we’re gonna have, okay?” I nod, gripping my knees nervously. I had no idea what to expect from living with Billie, I’ve seen her on campus, but we’ve never spoken.

“You seem tense, relax pretty, I don’t bite.” She says with a little smirk. I laugh nervously, trying to ease my nerves. “Okay, sorry.” Billie leans back in her chair, stretching her legs out in front of her.

“Well, I’m pretty laid back, so there’s not too many rules. Just keep the place clean, don’t play loud ass music at unreasonable hours, and don’t throw a rager or something with out telling me, y’know?”

“Yeah, no problem. I’m pretty quiet anyway, I don’t throw parties or anything like that.” I reply, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible.

“Cool, cool. Also, if you’re ever in need of anything, I’m here for you, okay?” She says. “Anyhow, do you want some help moving in later, I’ll help if you need.” She says innocently. This would be the kindest offer if she weren’t so blatantly checking me out. “No it’s alright, my parents are helping.” Billie nods, seemingly disappointed.

“Okay, cool. Well if you need anything, my room is right there.” She points to the door next to hers. “Don’t be shy, I’m pretty cool, I promise.” I nod, smiling slightly. She seems nice enough, very flirty, though I’m sure she’s just joking. Or maybe being nice and I’m reading to much into it, who knows?

I spend the next few hours getting everything set up in my new room. It’s pretty sparse, just a bed, a desk, a chair, and a bookshelf. But it’s a good size, and the lighting is pretty good. I set up my computer and unpack my books, arranging them neatly on the shelf. I hang up some posters of my favorite bands and set up my desk with all my school supplies. It’s starting to feel a little more like home.

Later on, my stomach starts to growl. I check the time and realize it’s dinner. I don’t know if Billie had any food, so I decide to just grab something from the dining hall. I grab my wallet and head out, hoping I don’t run into anyone on the way. But, of course, as soon as I step out into the hall, I hear the door to Billie’s room open.

“Hey, pretty, where are you off to?” She says, popping her head out of her room. “Oh, just going to grab some dinner. You?” I ask, trying to keep my cool. “I was actually just about to head out too, want some company?” She offers, a hopeful look on her face. “Sure, that would be great!” I reply, maybe a little too eagerly. She grins and we walk down to the dining hall together, making small talk about our classes and what we’re studying.

The dining hall is pretty crowded, but we manage to find a table in the corner. We grab our food and sit down. I get a tray of chicken and rice, while Billie has a salad and some kind of smoothie. She’s dressed in a simple t-shirt and shorts, but she still looks amazing. Her hair is up in a messy bun, and she’s got a smudge of eyeliner on her cheek. It’s adorable. We sit across from each other, eating in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before she speaks up again.

“So, do you have any hobbies or anything?” She asks, popping a cherry tomato into her mouth. “Yeah, I like to read and write, I also like movies and stuff of that nature.” I reply. “Cool, cool. I’m into music,” she says, playing with her salad. “What do you play?” I ask. “I play the guitar, and I like to sing, mostly just for myself, though.” She says. “You seeing anyone?” She says, nonchalantly. “No, not anymore.” I reply, my cheeks heating up a bit.

“What about you?” She shakes her head. “Nah, I’m pretty busy with school, don’t have much time for that sort of thing. Plus, I’m kind of picky.” She smiles at me and my heart skips a beat. “But who knows what could happen in the future, right?”

[thetriumphantpanda]

freedom felt like summer | joel miller

Summary | Weeks of flirting back and forth with your neighbour Joel all comes to a head when he makes sure every inch of you in covered in suncream.

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count | 2.6K

Warnings | Explicit - reader wears a bikini and uses sun cream but is otherwise a blank slate. Alcohol consumption. Swearing, flirting, and dirty talk. Explicit smut - oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected PiV smut, creampie. No outbreak au and no use of y/n.

Authors Note | We've had a slither of sun in the UK and this is what happens. Big thanks to @undercoverpena for the shorts idea ;) I hope you enjoy! If you do, please consider reblogging, leaving comments or leaving a tip via my Ko-Fi.

Divider by the wonderful @saradika

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

There’s nothing quite like an Austin summer. Hot sun beating down, but with the new pool your parents had built when you’d moved out and their fully stocked fridge of soda and ice, it wasn’t too bad at all.

They’d gone on their annual holiday, two weeks in Mexico, which meant you had two weeks of lounging by the pool, soaking up the sun and bleeding them for their food and drinks. No responsibilities, is what you’d told yourself, laptop shut and job applications waiting, whilst you soaked the sun into your skin and made margaritas too strong once the clock struck 1pm.

The heat across your skin had dried the chlorine water quickly, coconut scented suncream slathered across every inch you could reach, not worrying about your back because it was pressed against the back of the lounger. You’re just started to drift off, eyes closing behind your sunglasses, when a voice jolts you.

“You manage to reach your back with that?”

There’s a small smirk that flashes across your mouth, quickly bitten away by your teeth as you sit up and turn around a little, looking over to the fence where Joel Miller is leaning over, pointing to the bottle of suncream on the small table next to you.

“Hard to reach there when it’s just me,” You shrug, “But it’s okay, it’s not getting any of the sun anyhow.”

He shakes his head and makes a tsk sound with his tongue against his teeth, “Don’t mean you shouldn’t try and cover it,” He says, sounding more like your dad than you’d care to admit, “The sun ain’t gonna look at that lounger and think it can’t burn you.”

“Well, I'm here on my own,” You offer, “Unless you’re gonna volunteer to smear it on my back, Miller, I'm gonna have to risk it.”

You can see him thinking over the fence, wondering if this is a good idea, much like he’s been thinking since you came home - degree done, jobs waiting - he’d flirted with you at your dad’s cookout in honour of you graduating, swapped numbers with you the day your parents left for vacation ‘in case you needed him’, and has spent the last week making any excuse to peek his head over the fence and talk to you, specifically when you’re out in your bikini, mostly when you’re dripping wet from coming out of the pool.

He holds his finger up and then disappears from view, only to come back seconds later through the gate at the bottom of your garden that connects your land with his. Your dad had been weary of it at first, but as soon as he’d met Joel, they’d hit it off, and now the gate is used more than the front door when they want to drink together.

He’s dressed simply, a pair of jeans and a worn t-shirt. Too stifling for you, you think, but you know he’s spent most of his life on building sites, so he must be used to the heat of the sun on his skin. Joel comes to a stop near the small table, but instead of picking up the bottle of cream, he opts for the half-empty glass of margarita you’d made not too long ago. He takes a sip and makes a face, which makes you laugh.

“Never understand how you women like this stuff.”

Setting the glass down, he picks up the bottle of cream and flips the lid, motioning for you to sit up, which you do, turning on the lounger so your back is facing him. The bottle of cream is really on its last legs, coming to the very end, so you can hear the bottle express more air than cream the first time he squeezes it. You hear him rubbing his hands together and then feel him step a little closer to your back.

“Ready?” He asks, voice low, to which you nod your head.

Then his hands are on you and it’s better than you ever had thought. They’re rough against your skin, but the way they’re gliding across your back is gentle. His hands drag the cream down your spine to the band of your bikini top, before he’s working it into your skin, all the way up to the nape of your neck. You can feel your head tipping forward, struggling to stifle a groan when you feel him gently shift one of the straps of your top down so he can bring the cream up and over your shoulders, his hand big enough that his fingers brush your collarbone. He repeats his actions on the other side, making sure to bring the straps back up when he’s done, then he gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“All done.”

“You’re a professional at that, Miller,” You praise, “Spend a lot of time rubbing suncream into girls backs, do you?”

“All the time.” Is his dry response as you move to lay back down.

When you turn your head, he’s already walking away.

“You can stay,” You offer, “If you’ve got nothing else to do.”

He stands still for a second before he turns over his shoulder, “Let me change and then I’ll come back.”

He’s doing this on purpose, you think, as you watch him glide under the water again, head dipping up as his arms work him down the pool where he comes to a stop, taking wet hands to slick his hair back from his forehead.

“You ever thought of having your own built?” You ask, sipping from the fresh margarita you’d made.

He shakes his head, “Thought about it a fair bit when Sarah was younger but now it would be wasted on me,” He explains, “Besides, I can always come and use yours,” You watch him bend his knees a little in the water so his chest is submerged, “Kinda hot out there, why don’t you come in a cool off.”

Joel has a point, even though it’s mid-afternoon now, the heat is still just as strong as it was when it was midday, so you drag yourself as carefully as you can manage off the lounger and plop yourself down on the side of the pool, dipping your legs in as Joel swims over. You expect him to stop, but he doesn’t, just puts his big palms on your upper thighs and spreads your legs wide, settling himself between them. You lean back, palms against the warm stone behind you, and push your sunglasses onto your head so he can see your eyes.

“Finally gonna make your move, huh?” You ask, eyebrow raised.

“Somethin’ like that.”

His palms are dragging up your thighs, resting on the band of your bikini bottoms, looking up at you like he’s waiting for permission, which you gladly give with a nod of your head. His fingers are hooking into the waistband and dragging down, you lift your hips to make it easier for him, and watch as he steps back in the water to drag them down your legs, leaving them forgotten on the side of the pool as he spreads your thighs wide. You’re not even think about the neighbours on the other side as you watch him, eyes focused on your bare cunt in front of him.

“Like what you see, Miller?” You ask, with a smirk, reaching your hand down your body, using two fingers to gently spread your folds in front of his face, dragging one up the length of your pussy to play with your clit.

You swear he growls at you, big hand gripping your wrist to drag your hand away from your core. He steps back between your thighs and uses the hand not gripping your wrist to push you back a little. Then his mouth is pressing hot kisses to your thighs, working up and across your tummy, back down the other side until you’re squirming and ready to beg.

You can feel the back of his knuckles drag up and down the folds of your cunt, “You gonna be wet if I touch you?” He asks, tone low.

“Why don’t you find out.”

So he does, using a single finger to dip between your folds, dragging down gently until he’s pressing it into your cunt, easy because you are in fact already dripping for him. You feel him work his finger in and out of you, before he’s adding a second and curling them up inside you at just the right angle to have your head tipping back and a moan dropping from your mouth.

“Gotta be quiet, Darlin’,” Joel speaks, “Do you want next door knowin’ what you’re up to?”

You’re about to come back with some smart retort when he leans forward and uses the tip of his tongue to flick gently against your clit, making it all the more harder to keep your moans at bay. Joel continues the light flick of his tongue against you whilst his fingers more in and out of your cunt, until he switches things up and wraps his lips around your clit, suckling it into his mouth whilst his fingers remain buried deep inside you, curling up in a ‘come hither’ motion to caress that perfect spot inside you.

Your hands fly to his hair, tangling deep in his chocolate curls, keeping his face flush to where he’s working you towards the edge.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Joel,” You breathe out, “Don’t stop, please, I’m gonna come.”

At your words, he doubles down, moving his fingers faster inside of you, sucking at your clit with more vigour. He pushes you over the edge easily, easier than anyone ever has before, legs shaking, skin alight, a silent scream sent forth to the sky as his mouth works you through it. Your body feels like jelly when he finally pulls away from you, but there’s enough energy left through your body that you can pull your legs from the water and get up onto your knees.

“Get out of the water, cowboy,” You murmur, bending down to press your lips to Joel’s, tasting yourself on his mouth, “I wanna fuck.”

You push yourself back from him, shuffling back to let him pull himself out of the water. His swim shorts are wet, rivulets of water dripping into pools at his feet, but all your eyes can really focus on is the outline of his cock through his wet shorts. He’s hard and from what you can tell, he’s big. It makes your mouth water, makes you want to wrap your lips around it, but it seems like he has other ideas for you. He’s dragging you up from your knees, walking you over to the low patio chairs, where he sits himself down on one and promptly drags you onto his lap, your thighs wide as they straddle him in the chair.

Your naked pussy is dragging against the wet bulge of his jeans, his hands moving your hips as you lean down again to kiss him, the endless flirting and build up over the last few weeks finally coming to a head as you let your tongue run against his, his hands lifting your hips a little so he can reach between the two of you to pull his shorts down just enough to free his cock.

You can feel the thick line of him running through your folds, wide head of his cock brushing against your clit as he moves, making you moan into his mouth just as he pulls away.

“You wanna sit on it?” He asks lowly, hands moving back to grip your bare ass, spreading you wide.

“I do.”

“Go on then, darlin’,” He speaks, “Show me what you’re made of.”

He helps raise your hips, letting you reach between the two of you to grip his cock, lining him up with your seeping entrance, sinking down just enough to let the tip of his cock notch into you. You lean your forehead against his, both damp with sweat, and revel in the fact that his mouth drops open in a sigh of pleasure just at the same time as yours does. You ease yourself down onto his cock a little more, letting the slight burn and stretch of him easing in, inch by inch, set your skin aflame.

You still once you’ve sunk down fully onto him, letting yourself get used to his length nestled inside you. You feel your cunt fluttering around him, and you know he can feel it too, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip when you start lifting yourself off him and sink back down.

“Shit, baby,” He breathes, leaning up to catch your mouth with his briefly, “You’re so fuckin’ tight.”

He makes you smile when he says things like that, it makes you bold, makes you lift up on him, almost all the way, and then sink back down, but harder and faster than before. As you move, Joel lets go of his grip on your ass and brings them to your bikini top, slipping the straps down, then pulling the material over your tits. He leans down, sucking a nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue against it until it’s a stiff peak, switching sides to give the same attention to the other.

Once he’s given enough attention to your tits, he takes your hips in his hands, guiding your movements from bouncing to grinding, his cock sitting right within the depths of you as you move backwards and forwards on him. Joel brings a hand between you, using his thumb to draw rough circles over your clit.

“I need to feel you,” He breathes against your skin, “Need to feel you come on my cock.”

“Just…” You breathe right back, “Don’t stop, keep doing that, I’m right there.”

Joel leans up, mouth hot against the skin of your neck as he starts to suck at your skin, tip of his cock brushing just perfectly against that spot inside you as the familiar feeling at your spine builds and builds until it’s crashing over you. You bury your head in his neck, damp with sweat and the remnants of pool water, letting out the quietest moan you can manage as your pussy pulls tight around his length and you feel yourself gush against him, his thumb continuing to work you through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“You gotta tell me where,” He mutters urgently, “I’m close baby, where do you want me.”

“Inside,” You beg against his skin, realising it was muffled, you turn your head and speak again, “Inside me Joel, please.”

It only takes a few more deep grinds of your hips before he’s gripping your hips tight to keep you still, spilling inside you, warmth spreading through your cunt and as groans your name quietly, so as not to alert the neighbours as to what they just missed in your backyard.

He pulls you close, arms wrapping around your lower back, both of you catching your breath for a moment. You press a kiss to his chest, nuzzling your face into his warm skin as his softening cock slips from your tight heats. You can feel the trickle of his cum down your inner thigh, but make no effort to move, enjoying the feeling of his arms around you.

“Same time tomorrow?” You mumble against his skin.

“Same time tomorrow, baby.”

[luveline]

anything bombshell reader I would adore!!!

Oh my god, Spencer thinks desperately, could she give me a break? 

You waltz into the conference room wearing a smile (your smile, as heartbreakingly perfect as always) and a motorcycle jacket buttoned to the chin. There's something about it. Spencer doesn't know what it is, just that it makes you even more attractive than usual. He toys with the word sexy, and sure, you are when you want to be, but he thinks about it long and hard. You're a fucking bombshell, and you're going to kill him one day. 

“What's with the outfit?” Morgan asks immediately. 

“You can't wear that to the precinct,” Hotch says, though he sounds curious rather than annoyed. 

“You called us in unexpectedly,” you defend, holding up two perfect hands. Calluses from shooting practice line the palm of your dominant hand and you've a cut down the side of the other, and they're still perfect. Everything about you compliments everything else. “I was out.” 

“What, on your motorcycle?” JJ asks. 

“Your motorcycle?” Emily asks. 

“I didn't know you had a motorcycle,” Garcia says.

“You're ganging up on me. Spencer, honey, would you save me?” you ask, though the tone you use doesn't express much urgency as you unzip your thick jacket and toss it aside, its logos and sponsorships crumpling over the back of your chair. “You're the only one who looks pleased to see me.” 

“I am pleased to see you,” he says honestly. 

You don't make it to cases every time; you're on a different type of leasing, you always say. He doesn't have the subtlety to pretend he isn't happy you're here. You flirt with him, sure, and he enjoys it even while being out of his depths, but he likes you. You're fun and smart and good to be around. You listen. 

“They couldn't keep me away from you if they tried,” you say, head dipped gently to one side, smile far from teasing.. 

“Since when do you ride a motorcycle?” Emily asks. 

“If we could get back to the case at hand,” Hotch says, and for a moment everyone looks rightly chastised, until he adds, “we can discuss Y/N's choices afterwards.” 

What's worse than your jacket is the quickness of your brain, the connections you make, your endless suggestions. You're so good at your job it makes Spencer feel funny. Rossi, who'd been mostly silent during the exchange, sends Spencer a pitying look. 

When the case has been introduced and everyone sent to make preparations for another trip, you and Spencer remain in the conference room. You, because your go bag is already here and you don't have much to do, and Spencer, because you're here.

“Do you really have a motorcycle?” 

You tap your nose. “Need to know, babe.” 

“I sort of do need to know. If you have a motorcycle, I should probably be spending more time worrying about you.”

“Well, it's not mine.” 

He feels a crushing wave of rejection descend on him. “Right,” he says. He knew this would happen. He knew you were just being nice—

“I'm borrowing it from a friend. Mostly to see if I still knew how.” You put your chin in your hand, smiling knowingly. “Who's did you think it was, Dr. Reid?” 

“Don't do that,” he says. 

“Or what?” You ease up anyhow. “If you don't like being flirted with, Spence, I won't do it.” 

“I didn't say that, just don't– don't look at me like that.” 

You sigh morosely, but your dramatics are unconvincing, and a smile plays on your painted lips. “Alright, I won't. But it's how you were looking at me, you realise? How's that fair?” 

Spencer is about to say you know how, but do you really? Why is it fair for him to ogle you (albeit without meaning to) when you walk in, but when you make your soft googly eyes at him, he tells you to stop? Maybe because his are real, and yours are… questionable in authenticity. 

You're smart enough to see that debate before it forms. “I have less choice over it all than you think, you know?” you ask, softer than before. 

“I know,” he says. He doesn't, obviously, because the idea that you flirt with him accidentally is hard to accept, because who is Spencer to you? Your nerdy, socially clueless coworker who very clearly has a crush on you. Why would you like that? So he doesn't know about that, but he knows about having little choice in the manner; he sees you and he trips over himself trying to get you to see him. 

“I say it every time, but I've missed you, handsome. How have you been?” you ask. 

Spencer forgets the depth of his crush in the face of a friend. “I'm good, I've been reading all this Russian existentialist literature–” 

“Yeah? Anything good?” 

Spencer beams. “Actually, yeah. There's this one writer, you've probably read him already, Dostoevsky…”

[demon-at-peace]

Dick was tired, the nighttime patrol had been long, and today was insane. he was an officer of the law, and had gotten called into work today damn his people pleasing self for saying yes. Now he was dealing with shutting down protesters.

he hated this part of his job, exspecially because he agreed with them. but it was his job, and he didn't want to be depentent on Bruce again.

most people cleared out pretty quick at the sight of police but the riled up ones stayed. He was forever glad for the shield as the thrown objects didn' hit him

The major protesters were poison ivy, because it was for environmental purposes. and then a goth girl with a whole group with her. Her group consisted of a boy ina red beanie.

Three of them looked almost identical except for their proportions and gender. One was tall and skinny a guy, but they may have been a girl. A young girl, and a tall buff dude. All three of them had blue eyes and wild black hair with pale skin. With them there was a tall girl with striking red hair,

"Ewww cops!" he hears the one in the beanie exclaim looking at him with so much distaste it was almost insulting. \

"Leave it Tucker," The red head rolls her eyes dramatically, "We should probably go, cops really smell bad, and their supiroty complexes might be contagious," she purses her lips.

"Ooh sassy Jazz I like it," The skinny guy smiles teasingly before waving his hand in front of his nose. "Your right though, they do stink." Dick feels rather insulted, if he weren't more insulted by the young girl, who directly infround of cops is graftitiing the acronym ACAB on the wall.

"Cops?" The goth girl spins around and holy shit Dick recognizes her. It was Samantha mason, he remembers her at the last gala, she'd worn a gorgeous black dress, with lovely goth makeup, and walked out in the middle of the night barefoot after throwing her shoes at a guy who flirted with her girlfriend.

"Oh it's Dickie boy," she grins her eyes glinting, "How you doing away from your rich Daddy?"

"Oooh!" a girl laughs practically appearing from nowhere, she's a pink fashionista and drop dead gorgous, and if Dick remembers right she's Paulina, Sam's girlfriend.

"Unfortunatly we have proof of you commiting crimes, " another officer speaks up. "Please don't cause trouble?" he sounds hopeful, Dick knows not to be, there's no way this won't be a messy arrest.

"Sorry dude, I'm meeting my boyfriend 's family! I have to make a good impression," the buff guy shrugs.

"As if you'd obey the law regardless," The little girl prances up, grining.

"True, anyhow unfortunately we gotta dip," He waves half heartedly.

The skinny dude rolls his eyes and then a green portal apears, like it's utterly normal they step into it. And in the matter of seconds they are gone, the grafiti remains but when he checks the camera's later there is no sign of the group. He rules it of as a hallucination.

Five hours later, utterly exhausted he drags himself to the manor. Only to be met with the skinny guy from earlier, he looks put together now, less reckless but at least Dick knows they weren't a hallucination.

"Your the cop!" he glares.

"Danny, that's my brother, though unfortunatl y is a cop," Jaosn sighs, "wait the cop?"

"Your boyfriend avoided arrest!" Dick stars at jason.

"Ellie wanted to spray paint, plus sam dragged me to the protest with tucker!" Danny pouts.

"Yeah I'm on his side," Jason shrugs.

"He could be lying, what if he killed someone!" Dick protests.

"He wouldn't!" Jason sounds so insulted, and dick sighs as Jason goes over to greet Tim. Danny smirks at him evilly.

---

so this was gonna be ACAB!Danny/Cop!Dick, but it just didn't work, I'm gonna probably give it another shot but here's this DeadOnMAin piece? also my ideas are fr running dry, writers block is lame as fuck. I think I'm gonna tackle my drafts, see which ones are usable... but yeah!

Bye :)

[virahaus]

I've got several ideas rolling around in my brain rn, so bear with me okay. I'm gonna do one now, and another one maybe tomorrow if y'all can stand my yapping two days in a row and are interested on hearing more😂

Anyhow! If you don't know, I'm what you could call a sleuth girly. I LOVE murder mysteries. I basically grew up with milk and detectives. I've got them all: Sherlock, Detective Conan, murder she wrote, Maigret, Miss Marple... But my all time favourite is, and probably always be, Poirot. There's just something about that funny and arrogant yet brilliant and lovable little guy that just has me rewatching the show with Suchet so many times I know the plots of every episodes. Yes, I'm aware there's 13 seasons. You must understand I cannot remember a time where I wasn't watching a murder mystery with Poirot. Literally.

All this to say, I'm a sucker for a good old murder mystery and I'm dying (pun intended) for a GFFA murder mystery Obikin style.

There's so many possibilities!!!! I'm going insane over here. (Not to sound like a bloodthirsty gal. But. I need a murder with obikin involved in some type of way.)

Just to further my propaganda, if you look at AOTC it's kind of a murder mystery too. Obikin is trying to prevent Padme's murder and also fell face first into a bigger intrigue. But! Not enough for my tastes.

I have multiple ideas about this concept.

There's a murder in the Temple.

This is such a delicious idea. I'm so upset nobody wrote this kind of thing yet. Imagine:

In the middle of the night, 18 y/o padawan Anakin is working on a ship in the hangar cause he can't sleep, and, suddenly, he gets a strange feeling in the force. He goes to investigate and...

He finds a body.

The man is dead, throat slashed, blood everywhere. Anakin doesn't yell out loud but he screams so strongly in the force he wakes up half the temple, including the Council and Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan finds Anakin standing paralysed over the corpse, just looking at it with a vacant expression. Anakin is ushered away immediately and Obi-Wan is the only one who gets him to speak again and asks if he saw anyone else or if he heard anything while working. Anakin doesn't remember anything in particular and doesn't say much. The council is in an uproar. The identity of the man murdered is unknown. He wasn't a jedi, but he was dressed in jedi robes. Nobody knows him. Nobody saw him entering the temple. Nobody heard anything. Which is per se super suspicious. How did this man enter the temple? Why was he wearing jedi robes? Why was he murdered and the body left there for someone to discover? Did Anakin spook the killer and he bolted? Was the killer going to move the body? But if he planned this, why choose the Jedi Temple to kill someone when Coruscant has many shady allies where murder goes undetected?

The council is fumbling, people are getting suspicious of everyone and Anakin, being the one who discovered the body, is getting the brunt of it. Because of this, Anakin (once he overcame the shock) is determined to uncover the mystery, much to Obi-Wan's displeasure. Obi-Wan doesn't want Anakin anywhere near this. For Obi-Wan, Anakin was already way too close to this. Hyper protective, suspicious AND angry (cause how dare!!!! people suspect his baby boy???!!!); Obi-Wan is in overdrive rn. He's worried about his fellow Jedi, yes, but the horror of finding Anakin standing over a corpse, trembling from head to toe? Anakin being terrified to go around the temple alone, when before he relished sneaking in those halls to be alone? Anakin getting shunned by most of peers? Unacceptable. Obi-Wan will find the killer just so he can present his head (ahem, metaphorically ofc) to Anakin in a Grand gesture of love and everlasting commitment,,, of completely normal and equilibrated jedi behaviour towards their padawan. Right.

Anyway, the pathos gets higher when Anakin almost get killed and everyone realises Anakin really did see/heard something that implicated the killer and is then the new intended victim. Obi-Wan is foaming at the mouth. The Council literally has to plead him not to interrogate/threaten every single jedi, including younglings, into a confession and to leave it to the proper authorities. Obi-wan is like "respectfully, eat shit" and stalks off. Never he has been so close to kidnap Anakin and elope ahem leave the order as he has rn. Why he hasn't? cause Anakin doesn't want to leave without catching the killer and Obi-Wan is down bad for his pout. He does kidnap Anakin into sleeping in his bed tho. for safety reasons. of course.

In the end, Anakin figures out what exactly did see/heard that incriminated the killer and Obi-Wan tells him he'll talk to the authorities about it, dear one, no need for you to go anywhere near that scum = READ: Obi-Wan goes on the murder spree himself. Picture this: Obi-Wan bursting into the council meeting, Anakin there cause Yoda wanted him "close" (READ= Obi-Wan's doing, cause no way in hell was Obi-Wan leaving Anakin unsupervised while he was hunting dead meat ahem the killer) and here comes Obi-Wan, dragging the beat up killer in front of everyone and his mother and doing the most obvious speech of unending devotion towards Anakin who figured out the killer's identity. Obi-Wan is being bestowed the most "fuck me" eyes by Anakin ever. Which he's totally down for, dear one, let's wait for your knighthood tho.

(Spoiler alert. They did not wait. Anakin was bouncing on it that night, asap.)

And there's one! I'm having so much fun ehehehe

If anyone is interested tomorrow we'll get to:

There's a murder in the Senate.

[all-with-angel]

Tumblr BETTER NOT DELETE THIS AGAIN.

Anyhow, here are some smut prompts that have been rotting my brain so now I'm sharing them with all of you:

MDNI. NSFW under the cut

Magical girl!Gojo x injured civilian!reader

Uh oh! After getting hit by one of the villains attacks, you're left corrupted with a brain that'll turn into mush without the proper treatment! Making you one of the villains braindead lackeys! Lucky for you, Magical Girl!Gojo will heal you right up with his super rainbow healing cum beam 😍!!

Demon King!Sukuna x Hero's Sidekick!Reader

The 'hero' left you to die after months of not ever appreciating the work you put in for the entire party, with your life in the hands of the infamous demon king, he gives your life purpose again. With all the love, respect and mindblowing sex you deserve 👍

Sold off!Gojo x Mafia boss!Reader

Now hear me out. Hear me out. The classic "I was sold off to a mafia boss to pay my fathers debts" except the roles are reversed and your Gojo is WAYYYY too into it. Maybe not as smutty and maybe more on the rom-com way of things but hes a desperate guy and will pound you into the mattress till daylight comes (as a thank you for taking such great care of him)

Kraken!Toji x Lighthouse keeper!Reader

It's lonely being stuck in a lighthouse everyday, but it's honest work to lead every kind of ship to safety. One night, you seem to lure something that isn't a ship to your lighthouse. (And yeah this one is for the tentacles. What about it.)

Ghostface!Gojo + Ghostface!Geto x Detective!Reader

You're close to finding out who the killer is, only to find out that there were two all along. And they want to pay you back for being such a good detective and finding their hideout.. In a secluded area.. with no one around for miles.. with no signal.. Did I mention your radio was broken?

Dilf!Sukuna + Milf!Yorozu x Reader

Imagine bagging a (RICH) married couple by being a broke and stressed out uni student 🤩 What a dream. Anyway, you come over to your best friend's house while they're out and spend some time getting to know their parents. Personally.

Also theres not alot of Yorozu content and I kinda want to change that

Nerdjo x Playboy/Jock!Reader

Your parents signed you up for tutoring lessons you didn't really care about, but hey, at least your tutor was cute. But the usually timid and bashful guy was getting fed up with your dismissive and lazy attitude, deciding that this session, he'd teach you a lesson you wouldn't forget.

Sentient Robot!Uraume x Creator!Reader

You demonstrate to the board of directors just how efficient your creation can be- Cooking, cleaning, fucking and laundry, they can just about do anything! (Yes, you two fuck in front of a crowd. They're very impressed after so it's fine!!)

Scientist!Shoko x Creation!Reader

She's keeping you, much to the chagrin of the board who want you gone. But how could she get rid of you? Her perfect little creation, always at her beck and call, always ready to help her relieve some stress by putting your head between her legs <3

Clones!Sukuna x Reader

Idk much about this one, all I know is that all three of them fuck you silly

Puppyboy!Toji x Kitty!Reader

Not much to say either, mostly thought about this because i KNEW what title I'd give it if I ever did write it. But I'm thinking stray pup that you took in and showed sweet love n care to, now hes big and grown thanks to you. Hes at that phase where hes just so needy and doesnt know where else to go to feel good except you, so when you finally relent and help him release all that pent up frustration, he cant get enough.

Had to rewrite this so it's way shorter than what i first wrote but thats ok 🫶 (think 2-3 paragraphs condensed into 1)

These are all nasty smh 😔 If anyone at all likes the sound of these do tell me your thoughts 👀 if any of them gives you inspiration to write something, please tag me!!

I give you all FULL permission to take these ideas and roll with them🙏

[bumblehoneybee]

Dogday and Angel deserve a happy ending!!!! What's your idea on their dynamic once angel brings dogday to her home finally?? I'm sobbing I love them sm

Sweet Tea on a Sunny Day

"My love," Dogday shivered as your hand ran over the fur of his back, "I know it's nice outside, but I made sandwiches for lunch. Aren't you hungry?"

Dogday peels his eyes open, shifting his head back to look up at you. The sun frames your visage, a golden glow that just warms him further. He doesn't want to move, doesn't want to leave this moment of peace. But sandwiches sound yummy, and he is getting hungry.

You chuckle at his sleepy blinks. "How 'bout this, handsome: I'll bring the sandwiches out here. It's a nice day to eat outside. I'll even make you some sweet tea to drink."

"Angel. . ." Dogday said, barely a rumble in his chest.

You press a warm kiss to his forehead. "Relax, big guy. I'll be right back."

Dogday gives a halfhearted whine when you eventually stand up and head back into the house. He wants you to stay with him, but he's feeling far too lazy to get up and chase after you. You're coming back anyhow. You always came back for him, ever since the very start.

It's almost strange, the peacefulness of this new life. Dogday expected to die in a dark, damp hold in the cursed ground of a slaughterhouse. Instead, he lies in the crisp grass, the blades poking his cheeks, as he bathes in the sun, the real sun. His days are lazy and safe, full of food and good company.

It's heaven, and Dogday sometimes wonders if he deserves it. Does he deserve your smiles, Poppy's laughter, Kissy's playful paps to his head? Does he deserve a full tummy, a warm bed, and safety?

"Hungry, honeybun?"

Does he deserve sugary sweet nicknames and kind hands? Maybe, or maybe he doesn't. But Dogday doesn't care.

He takes your hand from the plate, and kisses it. Your giggles are like music against the calls of the cicadas. Dogday could listen to it forever.

[weirdkpopgirl]

Drunk Kisses | Mark Imagine #8

Title: Drunk Kisses

Genre: College AU, friends to lovers

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, drinking, making out

Word Count: ~2.6k

Author's Note: I am very sorry for how long it's been since I've last posted something. Lately, I've just been very uninspired to the point that I think my career of writing fanfic is coming to an end. Anyhow, I hope you guys enjoy this. I'm sorry if it's not that good. Thank you for reading ^ ^

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Anyone who knew you even a little was well aware that you were not a party person. You were the type of college student who attended all your classes, got all your homework done before the due date, and spent your weekends stowed away in a library or your dorm room. 

In your world, going to college parties was strictly off-limits. Frankly, you’ve done a good job of avoiding them your entire freshman year. A few of your friends insisted that you were missing out on fun. But the idea of loud music, sweaty crowds, and the smell of spilled beer didn’t sound like much fun to you.

But that all changed your sophomore year when your roommate, Jooyoung, finally convinced you to come to a homecoming party. She knew how much you hated any sort of social event, and respected your wishes. Now that you were in your second year, she was a little less forgiving.

“Come on, (Y/n). It’s just one party. You can’t just spend all your time in our dorm!” Jooyoung whined, half-dressed in her outfit for the night.

Glancing up from your laptop, you sighed. “You know I hate parties.”

Unfazed by your weak excuse, Jooyoung rummaged through her closet in search of something for you to wear. She didn’t even bother to look through yours, knowing you didn’t own anything remotely party-appropriate.

“You’re coming, and you’re going to look cute,” Jooyoung insisted. “Just give it a chance! You might even have fun for once.”

You opened your mouth to argue that you had plenty of fun without frat parties being involved. But before you could say anything, Jooyoung tossed a sleek black dress on your bed. It was a simple yet elegant dress, with thin straps and a figure-hugging silhouette. 

 “Here put this on. Trust me, you’ll look amazing,” she urged, flashing you a grin. 

Amazing wasn’t the word you’d choose when you reluctantly got up from your desk and changed into the dress. But before you could back out, Jooyoung was dragging you out of the dorms. As soon as you stepped outside with her, you regretted agreeing. You could already hear the sound of thumping music from blocks away, causing your stomach to knot as you approached the house.

It was even worse than you imagined once you got inside. The air smelled like alcohol and sweat, the bass from the music rattled your ribs, and people were packed together tightly, shouting over the noise.

Jooyoung’s eyes widened when she recognized someone she knew in the crowd. “I’ll be back!” she yelled over the music.

“Wait—” you began to protest, but she had already vanished into the sea of people.

Swallowing hard, you weaved through the crowd to follow after her. Just as you were about to give up hope, you felt a tap on the shoulder. Turning around, you were met with a familiar face. Lee Donghyuck. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t the party type,” the boy teased, clearly surprised to see you in this type of setting.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, feeling a bit self-conscious. “I’m not. Jooyoung made me come.”

“Hm, I see,” Donghyuck nodded with a smirk. “Want a drink?”

You eyed the plastic red cup he offered, raising an eyebrow. “You know I’m not twenty-one yet, right?”

“Yeah, like that’s ever stopped anyone from drinking underage,” he chuckled.

Wanting to stick with your rules, you shook your head. “I’m not drinking, Donghyuck.”

“Why not? You scared?” Donghyuck cocked his head, knowing exactly how to push your buttons.

Your stomach twisted, more out of pride than anything else— because you weren’t scared. You just didn’t want to end up like the sloppy drunk partygoers who got absolutely wasted. But Donghyuck’s taunting words and the smirk at you struck a nerve, and something inside you snapped.

With a determined expression, you snatched the cup out of his hand. “I’m not scared,” you said, before downing the drink in one go. 

The burn of the alcohol burned your throat immediately, causing you to pull away in a grimace. Donghyuck’s eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting you to go through with it.

“That’s the spirit!” he laughed, slinging an arm around you. “Come on, let’s get you another shot.”

One shot turned into two, then three. You weren’t sure when you lost count, but the edges of the room soon started to blur, and the music didn’t sound so painfully loud anymore. Your body felt light, and everything seemed warmer. Fuzzier. You stumbled through the crowd in search of Jooyoung but instead bumped into someone else.

“(Y/n)?” The sound of his voice instantly made your heart stop for a second. 

It was Mark Lee, a junior you knew from InterVarsity. He was someone you’ve admired from afar for quite some time now. The kind of guy everyone liked, always smiling and joking around with his friends. You’ve been crushing on Mark since last year when you saw him perform on the worship team. But you hadn’t dared to pursue anything beyond friendship.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said approaching you, his words slightly slurred.

He hadn't had too much to drink, having come as the designated driver for his friends. But it was tough to resist joining in with all the pressure around him.

“I didn’t expect to be here either,” you replied with a giggle, feeling more at ease than usual.

Mark’s expression shifted to slight concern as he noticed your flushed cheeks. “Are you…?”

“Donghyuck may have given me a few drinks,” you explained, swaying slightly on your feet.

At the mention of your mischievous friend’s name, Mark let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head.

“Of course he did,” he muttered under his breath. “Come on, let’s go outside.”

He grabbed your hand gently, and the contact sent a jolt through you. With his guidance, the two of you pushed through the crowd together, stepping out onto the porch. The cool air outside felt wonderful compared to the stuffy house you were just in. You smiled, closing your eyes and leaning against the railing.

“You okay?” Mark asked, a hint of concern in his voice as he contemplated whether he should get you some water.

You opened your eyes to look at him, suddenly feeling bolder. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the fact that you two were alone in a quiet space. You’ve never been this close to him before. But now that you were, you could see all the features of his that you admired. His dark messy hair, the way his lips curled into a soft smile, the way his eyes glinted under the dim porch light.

“You have really pretty eyes, you know that?” you blurted without thinking.

He blinked, taken aback by your compliment. “Uh…thanks?”

“No, like they’re so pretty,” you continued, stepping closer to brush your fingers over his cheek. “I could get lost in them.”

His eyes widened at your touch, but he didn’t take your hand away. “Is that so?” he asked, a slow smile spreading across his face.

By now, you heart was pounding erratically in your chest. But before your brain could override your desires, your hands found their way to his shoulders and pulled him down toward you. Mark was frozen when your lips met his, as even the tipsy version of him hadn’t anticipated this boldness from you. But once he processed that you were kissing him, a switch went off in his brain and something shifted.

Mark’s hands found your waist, pulling you closer as the passion seeped into the kiss. His lips were warm and firm against yours, and the taste of alcohol lingered between you. Your fingers quickly became tangled in his hair, and you pressed yourself against him, feeling the heat of his body through his shirt. Mark groaned softly into your mouth, his hands sliding up your back, one hand cupping the back of your neck as he tilted his head to kiss you more deeply.

Your lips moved like a dance, slow and rhythmic, but growing faster with each passing second. At some point, you felt the soft brush of his tongue against your lower lip, and you opened your mouth for him. The kiss was intoxicating, and the most exhilarating sensation you had ever experienced. You could feel his breath mixing with yours, your lips only parting for brief seconds before crashing back together, more urgently each time.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” Mark whispered against your mouth when the two of you finally pulled away for good. 

Your hand remained on his neck as you gazed into his eyes. Even in your drunken state, you could see the intensity in them. “Me too,” you said softly, resting your forehead against his.

The rest of the night was a complete blur to you. You woke up in bed the next morning with a splitting headache, and the sunlight streaming through the window shades only made it worse. As someone who had never had a hangover before, you had never felt so miserable.

Groaning, you lay back in bed and tried to recall what happened last night. You vaguely remembered the party, and Jooyoung running off, then Donghyuck pouring shots for you. Your stomach twisted at the thought. Why did I let him talk me into drinking?

Rolling over, you grabbed your phone from your nightstand, trying to ignore the fact that it felt like someone was pounding your head with a hammer. The screen instantly lit up with a few notifications, mostly emails. But one in particular made your heart stop.

Mark: Hey, how are you feeling? You okay?

Your breath hitched as you read the text over and over again to make sure you weren’t dreaming. Slowly, the memories from last night began flooding back, and a rush of panic accompanied them.

“Oh my gosh,” you muttered under your breath.

The two of you kissed last night. It wasn’t just one kiss either. It was so many times that it was almost neverending. Clasping a hand over your mouth in mortification, the realization hit you. You made out with Mark Lee, the guy you’ve barely been able to hold a conversation without stuttering since the day you’ve met him. This couldn’t be real.

You sat up quickly, causing your head to throb even more. Knowing you couldn’t just leave Mark hanging, you typed a response with wobbly fingers.

You: I think I’m okay, thanks. You?

As you were mentally kicking yourself over and over, your phone buzzed again. Sighing to yourself, you picked up the device again to see what he said.

Mark: I’m good, don’t worry. Want to grab some coffee?

         I can bring you some aspirin if you need it :)

A small laugh escaped you at his kind offer, as you replied with a simple “Sure.” Even though a part of you was nervous, you knew that you needed to talk to him. Nibbling on your lower lip, you anxiously waited for him to reply. Your heart jumped when he responded so fast.

Mark: Great! Meet me outside in 10?

With a sigh, you got up from bed. Your gaze flickered to the empty bed across from you— Jooyoung wasn’t there. You wondered if she came home at all last night. But knowing her, she couldn’t have gotten into too much trouble.

Pulling yourself together, you washed up in the bathroom across the hall. Once you returned to your room, you slipped on some jeans and the first sweater you could find. Anxiety churned in your stomach as you walked outside.

Mark was already waiting outside your residence hall, his hands shoved his pockets as his shoes tapped rhythmically against the pavement. His face lit up with a smile when he spotted you, somehow making you even more nervous. He greeted you with a soft wave which you returned with a small smile.

“Hey, you sure you’re okay?” he asked, noticing you squinting against the sunlight.

You gave him a light nod. “Aside from feeling like someone is pounding a hammer in my head, yeah I’m good.”

He chuckled in response, and a brief silence followed. Swallowing hard, you cleared your throat.

“Um…about last night,” you began, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I-I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to get so drunk, and I don’t usually act like that. I’m sorry if I made things awkward or—”

Mark’s expression softened as he stepped closer, gently placing his hands on your shoulders to steady you, cutting off your rambling. “It’s okay, (Y/n),” he reassured.

You blinked, surprised. “It is?”

He nodded, his gaze locked on yours. “Yeah. I’m not gonna lie, I was surprised to see you at that party, but…I don’t regret anything that happened last night.”

His words made your heart skip a beat. A part of you had worried that Mark only kissed you because of the alcohol, but from the look in his eyes, it didn’t seem like just a hazy memory to him.

“Did you…regret it?” Mark then asked, his eyes searching yours with a hint of uncertainty. He was pretty sure that his feelings for you were mutual. But he wanted to be sure that it wasn’t just the alcohol talking last night.

You hesitated for a moment before answering. “If I’m being honest, no, I don’t regret it. I just wish it didn’t take my getting drunk to finally express how I felt about you.”

Mark’s shoulders relaxed slightly at this, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“I’m so glad to hear that…because I’ve felt the same way for awhile now,” he paused, softening his voice. “I just wasn’t sure if you liked me back.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his words sank in. “Wow…I had no idea. I mean, I’ve liked you for so long, but I was always too nervous to say anything.”

You watched his smile grow wider and his eyes brighten up. His expression was a mixture of relief and anticipation.

“Well, now that’s all out of the way,” he said, slowly taking your hand. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

You felt your cheeks flush again, but this time, it wasn’t from embarrassment—it was from the sudden rush of hope that maybe, just maybe, things between you two were finally falling into place.

“I…I’d really like that,” you breathed, your voice trembling with excitement and disbelief.

Mark’s grin grew wider, and he squeezed your hand gently. “Good,” he said, his tone full of warmth and sincerity. Then, with a playful smirk, he added, “So, uh… can I kiss you again?”

Your stomach fluttered. This time, you weren’t drunk. This time, you were fully aware of what she was doing, and the idea of kissing him—sober—made her feel nervous in a different way. But you smiled, stepping closer until you were right in front of him. When you gave him the yes, Mark’s lips were on yours again. 

His lips were warm, and they moved gently against yours, sweet and careful. You felt your heart race as you kissed him back, your hands resting lightly on his chest. His thumb stroked your cheek as your lips pressed together, and this time, you could feel everything—the softness of his lips, the way his breath mingled with yours, the way his heart beat steadily under your palms.

When you finally pulled apart, the both of you were smiling, your foreheads resting against each other like the night before. Although you still weren’t a party person, your dislike for them lessened just a bit now.

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previous masterlist -> current masterlist

[retrospacejelly]

A Western Romance

Pairing: Ex-outlaw!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lost and in need of a place to stay, the ex-outlaw needs a place to sleep. Good thing he wandered into your yard.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Guns, Mentions of the devil’s tango, typical cowboy things, language

Part: 1/?

Part: 1, 2, 2 1/2, 3

Not proofread

A/N: Personally, there should be more Western Miguel content. I love Cowboys! I had this idea brewing for a while, and character ai helped push the plot! (Thank you Monstera for letting me expand on the plot!)

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Crickets chirped as the sun set over the horizon. Despite the warm weather of July, a nice breeze blew through the small town of Nueva Falls. On the outskirts of the tiny town, a small house sat just over the hills, hidden from society.

Y/N hummed a tune as she took her now-dry linens off the worn line. A weaved basket sat at her boot-covered feet, holding sheets, blankets, and whatever else was washed that morning. 

As she reached for the last sheet, a twig snapped in front of her. Pausing both her movements and her humming, she listened for any other noises. It could always be a rodent or a coyote. She mentally groaned. Ever since one of the panels to the fence around the chicken coop broke, coyotes had been raiding (or at least attempting to raid) the coop. 

She brandished her pistol that had sat snug between her hip and skirt, slowly moving from behind the sheet. Best not to provoke it. For now. 

Y/N squints at the now darkened horizon, not noticing an immediate threat. Before she could turn around, a hand slipped around her middle and another over her mouth.

“Don’t make a sound, Dama.”

The voice grunts out. His breathing is uneven, and despite his strength, sounds weak. Y/N nods frantically, pistol still clutched tightly in her hand. He slowly releases her, turning her around to face him. 

Now getting a better view of the man, Y/N’s jaw almost dropped. Why he had to be over 6’5! His tan skin shined with what little moonlight was above, his piercing gaze watching her every move. She did the same. 

Lowering her gaze, she noticed his disheveled state. His clothes were wrinkled and darkened from dust and grime, his peppered hair messy and sticking to the nape of his neck. He didn’t seem to have a weapon of any kind, not that he’d need one with his burly build.

“Are you hurt?” she asked, trying to scan for any noticeable injuries. Seemingly taken aback by her question, there’s a beat of silence before he lets out a deep chuckle. Lord.

“Are people in this town always this kind and trustin’ of strangers?” He replies, his eyes falling onto her gun. “Well, ‘Cept maybe you.”. 

Y/N can’t help but smirk, a surge of confidence taking over. “Well, I���m not like most people in this town. That shoulda’ been made obvious to ya’ when you wandered on my property. Now. Are you hurt? And what are you doin’ on my property?” She prods again.

He shakes his head. “No, no. I ain’t hurt. Just tired and hungry. What’s a lil’ thing like you doin’ out here by lonesome anyhow? Don’t you know wild animals roam ‘round at night?”

She huffs, annoyed. “You don’t do too well answerin’ questions, now do ya? Why. Are. You. On. My. Property?” 

He throws his hands up in mock defense, shrugging off her comment. “I’ve been wanderin’ through the desert for the past two days after my horse broke its leg. Long story short, I was robbed by bandits while I was camped out, and all I have on me are the clothes on my back, Senora.” He moves closer, boldly reaching up to caress her cheek,

“Please, I just need a place to stay and a meal to eat. Your abode was the first inklin’ of settlement I’ve seen these past two days.” He looks into her eyes, his voice now a whisper. “Please.”

She hums skeptically, taking a step back. “Why not stay at an inn in town? They got brothels to keep a horn dog such as yourself company.” Y/N snarks back, slipping her pistol back into her waistband. 

He chuckles again. “You suggestin’ I partake in those kinds of…sinful pleasures? Now that’s just hurtful, Princessa.”

“What unmarried man doesn’t?” Y/N snaps, crossing her arms. She taps her foot against the ground, waiting for another comeback. Once again he chuckles, shaking his head. Some conversation they were having. 

“And how would you know if I’m a married man or not, hun?” 

“Well, I don’t see no ring on your finger. And with the way you were touchin’ me earlier, what else am I to assume, hun?” 

He grins. “Who says I’m flirtin'? Maybe I’m just a friendly guy.” A beat of silence. “A bit too friendly, don’t you think?”. He shrugs again, “Is there such a thing as bein’ too friendly?” he inquires.

She nods, “‘Course there is.” He takes a step forward again, his posture relaxed. He takes a lock of hair into his hand, twirling it. “If I’m bein' too friendly, then tell me ta scram.”

Y/N smiles, “‘Corrdin’ to you I’m too kind.”. Noticing her playful jest, he smiles too. “Yeah, a real ray of sunshine you are.” He teases, dropping her lock of hair. “Mn, and you a ball o’ fire.” 

“You seem awfully friendly for a gal who brandished her gun towards me.” He says, leaning in ever so slightly. Y/N places a hand on her pistol. “Yeah, and this gal still has her gun. Don’t go tryin’ nothin’ now”.

He lowers his voice. “Trust me sweet thing. I’d never do nothin’ of the sort…less you want me to?”. She leans in, just an inch away from his face, only to swiftly pull away. “How many nights you plan on stayin’ cowboy?”.

His eyes widen at her trick, but he quickly regains his composure. “Just a night, Darlin.”

She nods. “Mn, alright. I won’t charge ya…money that is.” 

He smirks. “What are ya lookin’ for in exchange then…?”

“Help on my ranch.” Y/N shuffles past him and picks up her basket. She pulls the sheet from the line and plops it in the basket. “One of the panels that fence my chicken coop done broke on me, and I haven’t had time to fix it. Damn coyotes keep trying to snag a snack.” She huffs, setting the basket on her hip. “Sound like a deal?” 

He ponders over her offer, looking up at the moon. He looks back down at her. “You’re askin’ a total stranger to work on your ranch for a night?” 

She refrains from rolling her eyes. “I’m also lettin’ a total stranger into my house. I think rationality has flown out the window. Besides, you were the one to come onto my property askin’ for a bed and a meal.”

He rests his hands on his hips. “You’re an interestin’ one, I’ll give ya that. Can’t tell if you’re too trustin’ or jus’ know how to talk a man inta’ doin’ favors for ya’.”

She shrugs, “The motel’s open all night, you choose.”

He lets out a sigh, not wanting to go into the busy town. Surely someone would recognize him there. He’s surprised she hasn’t already. “Alright, Senora. Ya got yourself a deal. I’ll fix up yer fence if it means a roof over my head and a pretty lil’ thing to keep me company.”

Y/N chuckles, a light blush dusting her cheeks. “Alright, c’mon and follow me.” She says, walking towards her back porch. She hears his heavy footsteps trailing behind her.

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

[shelbgrey]

helloo!!! me and my friend absolutely adore your fics, and her birthdays coming up... so i was wondering if i could request a draco malfoy (her favourite character) x reader fic for her? :))

you can do whatever you want with the storyline, i just think it would be a cool idea!!

🫶

The truth doesn't always hurt(Draco Malfoy)

Paring: Draco malfoy X Weasley!Reader

Summary: as Draco and Ron's twin sister serve detention Cleaning for Professor Snap a bottle of Truth potion shatteres around them.

A/n: I hate the beginning of this, but I hope you enjoy the story.

Prompt: 1.9) “You saw the good in me when no one else did...so thank you”

💚MasterList 💚Potter MasterList

Draco was sitting next to y/n Weasley In Snape's potion class. To their displeasure they were assigned as partners for a project. Draco put an ingredient in the pot for the potion, making smoke puff up.

“Watch it!” I said, backing up from the table before smoke could get in my face.

“quiet Weasley, it's not like you understand what's going on anyhow” Draco said, obviously trying to get a reaction out of me.

I rolled my eyes, ignoring him and put the next ingredient in it. This time it bubbled up and splashed around.

It was like Draco was waiting for an argument, and since I ignored him he was annoyed and wasn't gonna let up. “That's going to spill. Stop that”

“I know what I'm doing!” I snapped.

“Doesn't look like you do.” Draco smirked and got up, grabbing my wand out of my hand.

I shoved him back a little and pulled my wand out of his reach. “I wouldn't” I knew how to fight just because I was a Weasley and had a bunch of older brothers.

Draco smirked, finding this amusing and deciding to have a little fun. “I bet you'll run telling your mummy next” he poked in a hypocritical voice.

“No... But maybe I'll tell George, from what I hear he whooped your ass at the last quidditch game… And I'm not talking about Gryffindor winning the game”

That got Draco a little mad. He was pretty sure he'd never lost to some Weasley, but he did play against one of them in the last match, and he did lose.

“Shut up, just shut up” Draco said with rage.

I clicked my tongue and shook my head. “What? Did I hit a nerve? Don't dish it out if you can't take it malfoy”

Draco lunged forward, grabbing me by the collar of my robe, his breathing became fast with anger. “Watch who you are speaking to!”

I pushed him back, making him tumble backwards into the table. The pot with our potion spilled all over the floor.

This caught the Professor's attention, and Snape approached the duo with a frown. “Malfoy! Weasley! Detention and clean up that mess immediately!” Snape growled. I clenched my jew and pushed Draco away making his grip on my robe go slack.

Snape grabbed us both by the collars and pushed them toward the closet with the cleaning supplies.

“You both will have detention this evening. Do not ever cause another fight like this again, or you'll be in real trouble” Snape's tone was cold as he spoke.

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

“You guys will stay here and organize and dust all the potions and ingredients” Snape ordered as he gathered the assignments to grade.

“For how long?” Malfoy sighed. Before Snape could open the door to leave he whipped around. “till I say so”

He left without a word and Malfoy threw his robe on one of the desks aggressively and rolled up the sleeves of his sweater.

“I can't believe I'm stuck here” he growled as he grabbed a vial and wiped some dust off the label and tossed it to the side. It would have shattered if it didn't land on his wrinkled up robe. I cringed expecting the sharp sound of glass shattering but it didn't happen.

“could you at least be careful?” I said, crossing my arms. He gave me a dirty look and tossed me a rag. “get to work I don't want to be stuck here all night”

“oh because that would be a bloody tragedy” I said sarcastically as I grabbed a potion book and dusted it off and put it to the side.

Malfoy started to mumble under his breath. “wait till-”

“Wait till my father hears about this... I know” I said, cutting him off as polished a bottle of poly juice. He gave me a sighed eye.

He tossed some more things around making me cringe. The thought of breaking something and Snape coming in scared the crap out of me.

“please be careful.. If we break something Snape will have are asses”

He scoffed “I'm not gonna break-”

Crash!

A bottle shattered into a million bits and black smoke steamed up from it. “bloody-”

“hell” Malfoy said, finishing my statement. We looked at each in silence then we both looked down at the label.

“truth smoke?” Malfoy coughed as the smoke filled the room. We coughed and ran to the door as it got hazy and hard to breathe.

I covered my mouth and coughed as Malfoy reached for the door. “It's bloody locked!” Malfoy said through his teeth as he aggressively jiggled the door knob.

“he locked us in!” I shouted kicking the door. “bloody psycho path!”

I slid down the door as I tried not to hack up a lung. Malfoy backed up and leaned against the desk across from me with his hand over his mouth and nose. The smoke slowly started to let up and we were finally able to breathe.

“I wonder how well the stuff works?” Malfoy said, kinda nervous. I raised an eyebrow at him. “what? Got a guilty conscience?”

He scoffed. “pff... No” he looked down and crossed his arms. His blond hair casted over his forehead and hid the expression in his eyes. I tilted my head to the side trying to read him. He sighed and pulled the chair that was pushed into the desk he was leaning on.

“Are you okay?” I asked as he sat down facing me with his hands folded together. “you only asking me that because I can't lie?” he asked, looking up slightly. I shook my head no.

“no” I whispered. “I really want to know” he finally looked at me and his Gray eyes stared into mine with guilt.

“I'm not alright,” he said simply. I shrugged and simply said. “me either”

I took a deep look and looked up at him with a concerned expression. “Can I ask you something?” he nodded. “might as well”

“why do you hate me so much?” I asked softly.

Draco sat up from his slouched position and looked like he was taken back by the question “I don't hate you... I never did” he said honestly. He sighed. Yeah the smoke works a little too well.

Draco hesitated for a moment. “Do you hate me?”

Before I could answer he started to ramble like he couldn't control it. “I know I'm not exactly the easiest person to be around and I'm a total ass to your friends and brothers bu-" he started rambling and I cut him off. The truth is smoke works better than he anticipated.

“Draco” he looked up surprised I called him that. In fact I think that's the first time I ever called him by his first name. I gave him a smile as I continued.

He smiled slightly. He looked almost relieved.

Draco chuckled to himself and looked away as he nervously rubbed his palms together. “I better get out of here before I say something I might regret”

I raised an eyebrow at him and shrugged. “probably nothing haven't already heard from you”

Draco barely smiled as his eyes dropped to the ground. “no…Nothing like that”

Draco took a deep breath then our eyes locked, I never realized how beautiful his eyes were. “Do you remember the very first time we met?”

I nodded, waiting to know where he was going with this. “before our 1st year… we ran into each other at the bookstore”

Draco nodded, physically telling me I was correct. “we knew nothing about our backgrounds… in that moment I wasn't a Malfoy and you weren't a Weasley… I May have only been 11 but I can tell you, you were the most beautifulest girl I had ever seen”

My eyes widened at his statement. I would have never expected his confession… But then again our track record was nothing but ugly. I didn't want to trust whatever ‘truth’ potion was cast on us.

“Draco…” I sighed looking at him with soft eyes.

“my father told me to stay away from you… I didn't want to, but I was so scared of him. Bloody hell I think I still am” Draco chuckled dryly. “I thought I could train myself to hate you by being rude and awful towards you… I also knew if I was nasty to your family you would want nothing to do with me”

I looked down as his words sunk in, I knew what I felt for him and that was love. You can't help who you fall in love with and I could tell you I hated myself for the first three years I went to Hogwarts, but there was just something about him and now he's confessing the secret that could not only change us, but our families too.

“Please say something,” he whispered.

Tears pricked my eyes as every single emotion hit me at once. “I Hate you… But I also love you. Sometimes I just want to punch you in your pretty face… I know you are not really a bad person, I have seen it since 1st year… I Choose to see the best in you”

Draco's eyes never left mine as he stood up from the chair then slid down the wall, sitting down next to me. “What does that mean for us?” I asked softly.

Draco turned towards me, placing his hand on my cheek gently. He leaned in slowly, giving me an out if I wanted it. I didn't plan on stopping him, I got impatient and met him in the middle. His lips were softer than I expected and he handed me as if i was made of glass. The kiss wasn't rough or rushed, just gentl and loving like we've been waiting for it for years.

He kissed me on the cheek and smiled softly “You saw the good in me when no one else did...so thank you” Draco whispered and rested his forehead against mine.

[gabbelina]

Moonlight Hour

The first chapter for my Lux-Mr. Ring-A-Ding/Reader is up on AO3

(I have a couple more requests I need to post and then I will open requests back up!)

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

“Lux!” you called from your place on the couch. You knew that little cartoon was around here somewhere.

No answer.

“Luuuux!” you whined pitifully, turning around and resting your chin on the back of the couch. “Commee onnnn!”

“You sure are a demanding little cherub,” Lux's voice purred in your ear.

A surprised squeak escapes you as you twist in your nest of blankets. “Don't DO that! You know it tickles…” you groan as you rub a finger in your ear dramatically. 

“Don't make me laugh. I'm surprised you could even hear me with all of those blankets you've stuffed yourself in. What's the big hullabaloo, toots?” Lux pulled at your blankets curiously, a small *fwoop fwoop* whistling sound followed his fingers.

You *pssst* *pssst* at him as you extricate your hand enough to tuck the blankets back in from where he pulled them loose. 

“For your information, creating the perfect nest is an art,” you began, squinting at him. “And I'm bored.”

He gave you an unimpressed look. 

You bat your eyelashes at him.

“What a shame,” Lux rolled his eyes. “There's DEFINITELY not a plethora of doom boxes in the closet, full of unfinished projects and trinkets that could save you.” 

“Hey. You like when I start projects… Spark of inspiration and all that jazz,” you frowned. 

“Oh, that's not what I'm judgin’, sweetie pie,” Lux smirked, a laugh track followed his quip.

“Can you…” you pouted.

“No sir-ee,” he grinned, wagging his finger at you. “I'm a god, not a silly little wind up toy. You're gonna have to crawl out of that mess and find something all on your lonesome!”

“Cruel. I was going to offer you a new experience, but if that's how you're gonna be…” pursing your lips as you disappeared down into your pile of blankies.

Lux's smile widened and he hopped on the couch with a goofy *boing*, looking down into your nest with a curious gleam in his eye. “Now, hold your horses, baby cakes! I didn't say I wouldn't help you if there was something in it for me.”

You reached up and booped his nose. “No, no… I get it. You're farrr too important for stupid mortal entertainment. I'll just have to find someone who will do it with me…”

“Oh, ya will, will ya?” he growled, his grin becoming sharp. 

“Yep, I guess so,” you answered flatly. 

“Well, joke's on you, sweetheart, because I never said you could find anyone else to entertain you,” Lux began pulling at the blankets around your face with a vengeful look in his eyes.

“Hey! Keep your paws to yourself, Mister ‘Godly big britches’!” you grit your teeth as locked yourself into a tug of war, scrabbling to keep your blankets intact. 

“Come on, dolly! You know I was just yankin’ your chain! Tell ol Mr. Ring-A-Ding about this grand idea you had,” Lux cooed in a sing song voice. 

“Who says I wanna do it with you, anyhow?” you groused.

“Don't make me laugh! You called, I came!” Lux pulled the blankets all the way down away from your face and met your eyes. “But I'm gonna have to level with you, dolly,” his voice becoming more sinister. “I'm starving for some good inspiration, and there's no telling how it will go for you it if I have to get creative…” 

“Will you do it with me, or not?” you cut him off, uninterested in his god complex speech. You had learned early on that he could monolog for hours if you let him. 

“...Sur…” Lux began, but you cut him off again.

“No backing out. You are either all in, or all out,” you raised an expectant eyebrow at him, hand still gripping the blankets protectively. 

Lux tilted his head, his eyes shimmering gold for a second as he studied you before he let go of your blankets with a shrug. “Alright. You got me. But I reserve the right to leave if it turns out to be a bum idea.” 

“Yaaas!” you grab the sides of Lux's head and plant a big big kiss on his forehead. “Let's goooo!”

Lux's cheeks dusted gold and his hat slid sideways on his head. “heh…”

“Here! I'll give you the blue one,” you gushed, handing him a blue Xbox controller as you grab your laptop from the coffee table. “Eeeee! This is gonna be a blast!” 

You turn on the TV and open up the app on your laptop. 

Lux straightens his hat and plops himself down on the couch, watching with passive interest as a bright picture popped up on the screen. 

“Minecraft?” Lux read outloud, looking to you curiously. 

“Minecraft,” you grinned, almost manic. A nervous sweat drop formed on Lux's brow. “You're gonna piss sunshine when you see all the stuff you can do on here.” 

Lux grimaced at your choice of words, “You sure gotta a funny way of roping a fella in, huh, toots?”

“I know a knot or two, but my specialty is leather,” you winked at him.

Lux's face changed color again, grumbling to himself as he tugged on his collar. 

……………………..

“What are those little chicken leg thingies?” Lux asked. “Are those important?”

“You mean your hunger bar…? Holy shit, Lux, you're starving! What even… STOP SPRINTING!” you chastise Lix as he flits around the map. 

………..................

“I AM THE GOD OF LIGHT!! There is no where in the realm that darkness and shadow will prevail. Nothing will escape my malevolent gaze! Every lamb and bee will be as fodder under my reign, and all of the denizens who live amongst the rivers and trees will bend their knees, blinded by my sheer power…”

“Lux.”

“Ye.”

“If I find another torch, I'm going to beat you to one health and throw you to a creeper,” you hiss. 

Lux nodded, a smirk lighting his face as he continued his speech “... I will be seen by all. The God of this universe that will be feared and worshipped…”

“AND NO MORE BONFIRES!” you yelled at him as he began spamming buttons on his controller, littering the floor of the cave with piles of wood and fire.

[kamisama1kiss]

HIIIII THE MOVIE WAS SO GOOD AND I SAW YOU WERE TAKING REQUESTS AND OMG OMG COULD YOU DO A NEKOMA MANAGER x KENMA PRETTY PLEASE ITS OKAY IF NOT BUT ANYWAYS THE MOVIE HAS ME AUGH!! Ah! preferably the prompt i think would be fun is either Kenma and Y/N going to the conbini and/or arcade in the middle of the night after the loss (they sneak out of the hotel) or Arcade/GameStop Worker!Reader x Regular!Kenma. This is my first time making a request so HOPEFULLY I did this right!!

The movie is so good, like wow. I actually did some small researching for snacks for a konbini 😝🫶 You did great, BTW! Loved the cute idea!! ♡

Song of choice: Sweet by Cigarette After Sex

!⚠️Spoilers from The Dumster Battle will be mentioned shortly⚠️!

~~~

Kenma Kozume { Midnight Snacks }

"Not of your brightest moments {Name}" Kenma spoke with the volleyball manager, walking next to him along the streets of Japan for a breather. "Perhaps not, but you didn't say no."

They smiled at him, finding his constant small frown from having to leave the comfort of sleeping to go out, alongside his switch being placed into their pocket for no purpose of being used.

"It has been a long enough day as is." not adding much of an answer while he was still tired from the match with Karasuno. Shrugging a shoulder at what he had side, "This just a short trip to clear our minds, besides its good for you to go outside some more."

They spoke gently, placing a light hand on his shoulder. The walking stops in a halt. "I know this was hard on you after how it ended, with the ball falling out of your hand at the end."

Almost as he held his breath when it was mentioned, his shoulder stiffened as well, feeling guilt from earlier. Nonetheless, he had experienced a new feeling. "You had fun playing volleyball today, I saw it. We all saw it." A soft patting motion with the hand resting on his shoulder, further making their way down the street lit path.

Rounding the corner in silence, the loudest sounds were easily picked up by the sounds of shoes hitting the concrete. It was maybe quiet but not uncomfortable. Simply, a warm aura wrapped the duo.

It could be seen as Kenma eyed them. Hesitation was shown in his movements, with enough curridge his hand finally latched on to their hand. It was pinkey linked, a small form of affection that he rearly initiated himself.

Hearts beating as one, with the stars dancing along the dark canvas up above. Comfort was broken at some point. "We could head to the konbini, up ahead." They suggested in a soft whisper, pointing briefly with their head. "A night snack could be nice."

The night felt as a warm breeze when they now had a destination to make. He was quiet, but not many words needed to be exchanged between the two. Lazily smiling as his eyes would softly admire how the moonshine hit their face, never having gotten the grasp of how they even ended up together.

With a blink of en eye now standing in front, one of the few ials of snacks, food, and simple groceries along such. "Hm, I feel for a strawberry sando. You?" They asked him while they reached for the strawberry snack.

His cat-like gaze roamed before reaching his wish. "A apple pie flavoured Umaibo." Reaching for one alongside it being not too far from where they stood.

"I'll pay." They said even before he could even utter another word. "Are you sure? I could pay for my own just fine." Raising a light brow but gives them the snack if choice anyhow.

"I insist, take it as a treat. You paid for the last one." They grinned at him as they now spinned on the heel to go upfront, lightly tugging him after with the pinkey still being held.

With yet another flash of a blink, they sat outside of the konbini, each munching on their respected snacks. "You know, this evening was pleasant, actually." He mumbled after a second bite, looking over at them only to already be greeted by a pleased and eased smile.

"I am glad to hear so." They lightly spoke, the moon shunned yet again on the two, giving them a soft glow. Going from linked pinkey to hands completely intertwined as time went on.

~~~

Hope you all enjoyed this little Kenma Kozume snippet!♡

[honeyjars-sims]

Part 2 Prologue #5: The Head and the Heart

Author's note: This post is written from Paul's perspective instead of Johnny's!

“I heard something today,” Danica tells me. She’s lying sideways on my bed while I try in vain to do some research. It’s futile, I know, because as soon as I find something useful I’ll be interrupted by Danica’s thinly-veiled attempts at psychoanalyzing our friends–or worse, me– under the guise of gossip. “I’m sure it’ll get around to you eventually, but I wanted you to hear it from me first,” she continues.

I sigh. I never know if what she’s going to say is actually as dramatic as she’s making it out to be. “Come on, Danica. I really need to finish my research. Can’t you wait until I’m done to ruin my life?”

“It’s not that bad,” she insists, but she's looking away. “It’s just…Deshawn is seeing someone.” She looks up at me, watching me closely to try and gauge my reaction. I try my best to play it cool.

“Good for him,” I say. 

Danica raises an eyebrow. “Really? You’re not, like, upset about it?”

“Not at all. I’m over that whole thing.” I wave my hand in an attempt to seem nonchalant and hit the corner of my laptop in the process. 

“Yeah, sure,” she snorts.

“I am! It’s been weeks since we last slept together. I barely even think about him anymore.” I can admit to feeling a bit thrown off at hearing that my (sort of) ex is dating someone else, but I’m not lying when I say I’m over him.

He was all I wanted when I was in high school, but reality never quite lived up to the fantasy I’d built up for so long. As much as it hurts to say, Deshawn didn’t feel the same way about me that I did about him, and no amount of waiting around was going to change that.

“Well, if you say so,” Danica replies, unconvinced. “I’m glad you're not hung up on him anymore. You know I love Deshawn, but he’s not the one for you.” She twists a lock of hair around her finger absent-mindedly. “Wait…you’re not moving on from Deshawn because of the roommate thing, right?”

“What? No! I just said I think he’s hot. I’m not trying to date him or anything.”

“Good, because you already know how I feel about that whole thing.” I can tell from her tone of voice that I’m about to get a lecture. “I told you it was a bad idea to move in with a guy you’re interested in,” she continues. 

“I’m not interested. Besides, he’s straight anyhow.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.”

“Okay, Mom.”

“Oh good one.” Danica rolls her eyes. “Look, I just worry about you, okay?” Her tone is a bit softer now. She can be overbearing for sure, but I know she means well. Her advice isn’t always welcome but she’s often right.

“Well, you don’t need to. I graduated with honors in both high school and in undergrad. I’m in med school. I’m not an idiot.”

“That’s the thing, though, Paul! Academically speaking you’re very intelligent, but when it comes to more practical matters, you don’t always make the best decisions. Especially with dating.”

I want to protest, but I wonder if maybe she’s right. There’s a part of me that wants to approach my personal life with the same fastidiousness that I have with my education, but there’s another part of me that yearns to be reckless.

It’s the part of me that sleeps with a friend for months, hoping that I can convince him I’m worth committing to. The part that wants to grab my roommate by the shoulders when we’re dancing around the apartment and press my lips to his, even though I know he’s straight. 

Danica would say that I like the thrill of rising above a challenge, that I place more value on things when they’re harder to achieve. I don’t tell her any of this, though. Instead I mutter a vague sound of approval and shift the conversation to someone else.

“So this guy that Deshawn’s dating…what’s he like?” I ask. 

“He seems nice. Oh, get this: his name is also Paul!”

“No way, that’s so weird!” 

“Yeah, we’ll have to figure out a way to differentiate the two of you. You’ll just be Paul and he can be…Other Paul.”

I laugh. “We probably shouldn’t say that in front of him.”

“No, definitely not.” She reaches her hand out and places it on my knee. “Hey, you’ll find someone that’s way better for you than Deshawn.”

“Yeah, I know,” I respond. I hope this is one of the times she’s right.

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