#The Back Door Thrift Shop

[tonionthrifting]

The Back Door Thrift Shop - Bargains Galore!

[scented-morker]

Wearing Enhypen’s clothes

Enha x implied fem reader, established relationship, 945 words (AGAIN), fluffff, jungwons is longer than everyone else’s😬

Heeseung

He is the perpetrator.

Like as soon as you walk in the door he shoves his hoodie onto you

It’s not cute either— your arms get stuck and your hair is messed up and staticky everywhere

But as soon as it’s on he pulls the hood down and looks at you with such a lovesick look even though you look like a gremlin

Every time you stay over he makes you wear his clothes because he just thinks you look so cute

And since his shirts/hoodies are too big on you it makes it easier to sneak his hands up them to hold your bare waist which is his favorite way to cuddle 😔

Jay

At first you were just so impressed with his style that you wanted to be like him 🥺

He though it was so cute when you walked out in one of the outfits he had posted a picture in one day and been like “how do you manage to make this look good 😭”

“Well for starters, the clothes actually fit me” he laughs and ruffles your hair

He likes to get matching outfits so you don’t always have to steal much of his stuff since you probably have a match

But you always end up stealing his accessories

The amount of times he’s complimented your necklace only to realize it was his 😐

You’re lucky he loves you

Likes when you slide his rings onto your fingers while you’re playing with his hands 🥰

Jake

THE KING OF SHARING CLOTHES

He will give you anything that you want from his closet, no questions asked

He loves trying to sneakily add articles of his clothing to your outfits

Like “hey what if you added- I don’t know- a flannel around your waist? Actually look, I’ve already go one right here. Let me put it on you.”

He loves coming home and seeing you in his hoodies or flannels (especially when they’re so long it looks like you aren’t wearing pants 😭)

Refers to his new purchases as “our new jacket” or will text you and ask “do you like this?”

And when you tell him it’s a mens shirt so you wouldn’t wear it he goes “actually, it’s a jake shirt, which means it’s a yn shirt.”

Sunghoon

He’s one to act like he doesn’t like it

But one time when you told him you were cold and he said “sounds like a you problem” you threatened to go get one of the other boys’ hoodie and he got so pouty and mad 😭

Now he always brings an extra one of HIS hoodies whenever you hang out because he doesn’t want you to get it from someone else

Also the type to show up at your house, see your collection of his clothes and tease you about it but then not take them back

And if you EVER tell him you need another one bc the ones you have don’t smell like him anymore—

He’s gonna need three to four business days to recover from that

Sunoo

Another one to refer to his closet as “our closet”

He always asks you to wear his stuff

Like you text him to ask what you should wear for your date and he tells you to just wear anything over and he’d give you something of his to wear

Sharing sweaters 🥺

Like little grandpa sweaters that you thrift somewhere and you guys share them like it’s the sisterhood of the traveling pants or something and send each other little pictures of where you were wearing it

“Today I wore our sweater to the ice cream shop! The guy in front of me in line ordered mint choco and it made me think of you” 🫶

Jungwon

Listen, he’s seen the romcoms— you’ve made him watch enough of them during movie nights to know that people like wearing their boyfriends clothes

He just had no idea how to offer it

Does he just walk up to you one day and say “here, wear this”? Does he take you to the cold section of the grocery store until you shiver and then give it to you?

HE DOESNT KNOW!!!

But one day you two come home from one of your dates and decide to just chill in his bed

Which is cool, except you had dressed a little nicer for the date and your outfit wasn’t exactly made for comfort

“Hey won, do you think I could borrow something to change into? My outfit isn’t very comfy.”

He scolds you at first for not wearing something you’re comfortable in because he’s gonna think you look beautiful no matter what you wear, but eventually gives you a tshirt and pair of shorts to change into

Laughs because you look like Adam Sandler

“I thought this was going to be cute but you look really funny”

Riki

Listen, he loves napping

And napping on you is one of his favorite places

So when your stupid pretty shirt was scratching against his face, Riki was very upset

He lets out a big dramatic groan, grabbing one of his hoodies from the floor next to his bed and shoving it onto you so that he can sleep in peace

You’re still wearing it when he wakes up, and earlier he was too tired to be embarassed but now he realizes what he did and gets a little red

“Thanks for the hoodie ki,” you tease him, but still refuse to give it back when he asks

“Well if you hate it that much you can take it off.”

“Never!! This is mine now!”

Cue him chasing you around to try and get it back

[sleeplessdreamer14]

𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝒾𝑒𝒸𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊

fandom: my hero academia

relationship: tenya iida x reader

summary: you left your jacket in iida’s room.

contains: mutual pining, unresolved romantic tension, fluff, opposites attract, thrifted clothes, like two lines of dialogue

a/n: @thecutestgrotto divider credit goes to

Study sessions hadn’t always been a thing between you and Iida, not until after moving into the dorms. You just lived too far apart to meet up every week like you did now, every Friday to be exact.

Iida had offered to tutor you earlier in the school year, but you always turned him down, wanting to at least try and figure things out on your own. But after you began to live in the same building, you finally accepted his offer and worked out a schedule for the two of you to meet up in the afternoon and go over any material either of you had trouble with.

Eventually, those study sessions began to evolve into hang outs with studying sprinkled in, switching between his room and yours every week. Despite you two having very different tastes in room decor, it look little time for you to grow comfortable in each other’s environments. You quickly learned his organization system and he gradually learned to just leave your clutter be… mostly.

This week’s study meeting was held in Iida’s dorm room, and when you had first walked through the door, you were sporting your iconic letterman jacket which you had gotten from a thrift shop not too long ago. It had become routine for you and your mom to stop by the thrift store when you would spend her days off work together.

Anyway, it wasn’t until about an hour after you had left to start turning in for the night that Iida realized you had left your jacket behind, in a small bundle on the floor near the foot of his bed. He was surprised that it took him this long to notice, considering he had actually watched you walk- or more rush out the door after you realized how late it had gotten. You had taken it off in the middle of studying since the fabric retained heat and you were getting a little warmer than you would have preferred, so he supposed that you must have been so eager to go shower and get to sleep at a somewhat decent hour that you simply forgot.

Iida’s initial idea was to stop by your dorm room to give it back to you, but it was already pretty late and he knew that you tended to lock your door at night. Though he supposed he could simply text you, but you were probably already asleep, or at least drifting off, so he didn’t want to disturb you. It had been a long week and you needed the rest.

So he decided that he would simply return it to you tomorrow morning when he saw you again. And it definitely wasn’t because over the past few weeks, the more time that Tenya spent with you, the more it felt as though your study sessions ended too early and he just wanted to hold onto this piece of you for as long as he could. Of course not.

And that’s why he was lying on his back in the dark, holding the piece of clothing to his chest while staring up and the ceiling with nothing but the low hum of the air conditioner and muffled outside noises to fill the silence.

If he were being honest, Iida loved this jacket. Because despite it being previously owned, it was so uniquely yours. He could still remember the day you returned to the dorms with a skip in your step as you showed off your new duds, talking about how lucky you were to find it right at the front of the shop and have it fit you just right. Coincidentally, it even had the first letter of your surname on the front. There were a lot of things that Tenya had grown to appreciate thanks to you.

Like your piercings. While Tenya previously found them impractical and even a bit unprofessional, he eventually grew to like how they looked on you, especially after you had invited him to go with you to get your most recent one.

And the rings you wore every day, two on your left and one on your right. Honestly, he kind of just liked your hands. Iida had briefly held your hand a couple times before, to help you stand up or when one of you was leading the other somewhere. He wished he could do that more.

Turning over on his side, Iida closed his eyes and lightly tightened his hold on your jacket as his heart drummed in his ears.

No. Don’t do it. Don’t do it, don’t you dare do it.

But he did. Tenya brought the jacket closer to his face and inhaled slowly. Yep, there it was; your natural scent with hints of your shampoo around the back of the collar. It was nice, comforting. Sometimes when he went to bed after your study sessions, he could find faint traces of your smell on his pillow or covers of you had been resting there while working.

Tenya wished he could have more than this. More of you, and for longer. But if this was all he could have, then he could be content with that.

The following morning, Iida folded up your jacket before going to return it to you. While part of him felt a little disappointed at first about having to give it back to you, that feeling was overpowered by the smile on your face when he did. You slipped your jacket on and tucked your hands into the pockets, thanking Iida.

“Don’t worry, it’s no trouble at all.” he replied, hoping that the blush in his face wasn’t too obvious. It really did look perfect on you.

As you went your separate ways, you gently rubbed your arms and took a deep breath in, your face flushing a subtle pink as you picked up faint traces of Tenya’s scent. Looking back over your shoulder in his direction, you chuckled softly as you stared at him as he engaged in conversation with some of your other classmates, blissfully unaware of that fact that-

“You totally left it in his room on purpose, didn’t you?” Mina whispered as she approached you, a Cheshire Cat grin spread across her face as she quirked an eyebrow at you. You said nothing, only rolling your eyes and lightly shoving her by the shoulder, earning a giggle. You knew that she could see the answer in your face.

Maybe you did, but he didn’t need to know that.

[luminiamore]

soul

basketball player ony x spiritual reader headcanons

୨୧ he absolutely has to keep one of the crystals you gave him with him. at all times. if he ever realizes he’s forgotten it—whether it’s on the way to practice or heading out for a big game—he’ll drop everything. no matter how tight the schedule is, he’ll make his entire team wait while he runs back to get it.

୨୧ he knows how sensitive and drained you get when you're surrounded by so many energies at once, and he could never put you in that position. so, even though he would love to have you at every game, he never allows you to come. instead, he’s making sure you're waiting for him in the locker room after.

୨୧ he takes the time to lock the door, ensuring that no one can hear anything, especially the sweetest cries you make when he's celebrating a big win. and when the rivalry match doesn't end in his favor-he's just as committed to making you feel his frustration. he’d end up carrying you to his car when he feels like he’s thoroughly dumped his anger past your warm sticky walls, your legs becoming jello.

୨୧ he was never the type to open up about his feelings, let alone imagine a future with anyone. seeing how dedicated you are to growing and evolving as a person, something shifted in him. he respected you deeply, more than he ever thought possible. for you, he started putting in the work—learning how to be more vulnerable, more present, and more open.

୨୧ you both became teachers to each other. he’d never admit it out loud, but you were slowly unraveling parts of him he didn’t even know were there. and just as much, he pushed you to continue evolving, helping you through your own challenges with the same dedication he put into his training.

୨୧ you two rarely argue. or ever really stay upset at each other. if he does something to make you upset you let him know rather than playing mind games, vice versa. ony would rather die than let you go to sleep upset at him. you will always talk it out. and get your pussy sucked clean after.

୨୧ he said “i love you” first, and while he tried to keep his cool and act like it was no big deal— on the inside, he was terrified. what if she don’t say it back? the simple thought almost made him second guess his decision. you did, of course.

୨୧ call him toxic, but unfortunately for you—breaking up is not an option. deep down, he knows you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him. he might make mistakes but he’s quick to learn from them, careful not to make them again. if you ever hinted at leaving, he’d beg on his knees, desperate to change your mind. his pride would be forgotten in a second.

୨୧ he’s the kind of man who starts taking care of himself because he knows that if he wants to be the best partner, he has to be the best version of himself too. he hits the gym regularly to clear his head, makes sure he’s eating right to stay energized, and starts working on his mental health—because you deserve someone who is just as mentally strong as you are.

୨୧ safe to say, you’re spoiled—but in the best way possible. he takes you to the crystal shop, and it’s like your personal shopping spree every time. he knows exactly what you need, picking out the most beautiful, rare crystals for your collection.

୨୧ he’s all in when it comes to your little quirks, even if it means spending hours at a thrift store. he’ll go with you, sifting through racks, helping you find those one-of-a-kind items you’re obsessed with. and when you find something perfect, he doesn’t hesitate. he’s dropping a bag, not because he has to, but because he wants you to feel special, like you deserve the best.

୨୧ all in all, he loves you. and it’s more than just the surface-level affection—it’s deep, real, and unwavering. he’s in love with you. every part of you. from the way you laugh to the way you challenge him to grow. you’re his lifeline, the one person who makes everything make sense.

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ don't let go, okay? | gojo satoru

wc: 2.1k

summary: it has to be some sort of fate that you happen to be stuck with gojo on valentine's day.

contains: f!reader, slowburn, fluff, reader and gojo are 21, reader and gojo are ‘guardians’ to megumi and tsumiki but they are not romantically together, japanese valentine’s chocolate tradition, reader’s cursed technique (vaguely), kind of pining

a/n: in the 'conversations on love' universe but takes place before the main series (would be nice to read but not necessary to understand this). theme song for this is what love is by zimmer90.

part of 'do you know what love is like?', a mini-series of almost's within 'conversations on love'. also included in how to be your lover boy (a valentine's collab by augustinewrites & seiwas)

The night is crisp when you step into it, the clean cut of a cool breeze tickling your cheek; it sweeps past you in the edge of winter and spring. 

You walk along the street. 

A sort of faded, vintage hue paints Shimokitazawa, wooden boards with worn down signages holding names of antique shops in every corner. The night feels older here, retro lights tinging bars and pubs more maturely than those nearby in Shibuya. At the street across, the sign of a cafe is flipped the other way to formally open the speakeasy it transforms into. 

You’ve only been here twice before: once with Nanami and Utahime years ago, while searching for old vinyl records the three of you had gotten into, and another with Tsumiki, some time last month because she’d mentioned wanting to check the thrift shops. 

Who would have thought you’d be back so soon? With—

“Satoru,” you call out, half-giggling, “why are you sniffing?” 

Gojo trails just a few inches behind you, body bent over closely to catch a whiff but not near enough to touch. Each inhale he takes is punctuated with the sound of whizzing air, condensing to fit through his nostrils. 

“You smell like chocolate.”

Out of all the plans you’d anticipated on Valentine’s Day, being roped into a mission with Gojo at the last minute was definitely not one of them. 

You shake your head knowingly, the corners of your lips curling; Gojo can smell sweets miles away, you could honestly mistake it for his cursed technique. 

He pulls back, falling into step with you. 

“Tsumiki asked me to help make some earlier.” 

Heavy jazz floats through the air as you pass by a bar entrance, the music muffling as the doors fall shut a few seconds later. Your boots clack against the pavement. 

“Oh?” Gojo perks up, voice turning an all-too-familiar hint of nosy as he teases, “What kind?” 

You snort as you dig your hands further into your pockets. For someone who claims to be all-seeing and all-knowing, Gojo is a lot more inquisitive than he seems; his nonchalance is but an added security much like his infinity is, dissipating only in company he’s comfortable sharing that side of him with. 

It’s been a while since Gojo’s been ‘home’ in the past week, so you don’t blame him for wondering. 

“Tomo mostly,” your gaze shifts to the side, waiting for his reaction, “though I did notice her sneaking a few honmei ones when I wasn’t looking.” 

There’s a slight stagger to his step as his shoulders tense up, his sunglasses shifting higher as his ears push back. You bite down your laugh. 

For as clueless as both you and Gojo are when it comes to being guardians to Megumi and Tsumiki, you think Gojo’s grown an odd mix of semi-brotherly-kind of-fatherly-mostly-guardianly protectiveness over the both of them—to Tsumiki especially. You can tell because his reminders to Megumi are always sealed with some form of ensuring Tsumiki makes it home safely. 

‘Home’, which is where the kids stay, but it’s neither yours nor his—just a place nearby that keeps them protected and comfortable. You’re with them most days, Gojo staying when he can, but with the higher-ups assigning him on missions left and right, there’s hardly any time for him to drop by. Hell, you haven’t seen much of him either, besides the rare instances of bumping into him along the halls of Jujutsu Tech, a whine almost always drawn from his throat. 

You see his curiosity as an effort to check in.

He only hums, hollower than his usual responses. The sound of his footsteps fill the gaps of what would typically be a seamless back-and-forth with you; you try not to comment on it. 

Indinstinct chatter brings the street to life, smooth beats cascading warmth against the chilly breeze. Despite the noise, Gojo’s silence feels unsettling—as if there are words forming at the tip of his tongue, withheld for reasons you can’t quite get a read on just yet. 

So, you wait, learning more and more that he usually comes around when—

“Did you?” 

The question is half-murmured, part of it lost to the night. 

Did you what? Notice Tsumiki?

“Hm?” you tilt your head towards him, tucking strands of hair behind your ear in an attempt to hear him better. 

He doesn’t answer. 

You stop walking. 

“Did I what?” you adjust your coat before turning towards him, catching the slightest of his gaze before he looks away quickly.

(“Did you make honmei chocolate?” he means.) 

Still, no answer. 

The tips of Gojo’s ears dust pink, and you try not to comment on that too.

His bottom lip is pulled between his teeth, slipping free before his Adam’s apple bobs, swallowing. 

“Wanna see something cool?” he changes the subject, removing his sunglasses and turning back to you as if none of it happened. As if he didn’t ask you anything, as if you didn’t ask what he meant—as if you didn’t just catch him at the tail end of a wistful stare. 

The shift in his tone happens so suddenly, it feels disjointed. Unnatural. But you’ve gotten used to moments like this from knowing him for so long; Gojo always says less of what he truly means. 

You focus on his face, yellow and red retro lights dancing on clear blue. He looks almost freakish this way, otherworldly—a crazed look you’ve gotten familiar with. His hands are stuffed inside his pockets when he stops, gangly long legs outstretched by the shadow beneath him. 

There’s really no time to be doing this right now, the both of you just 10 minutes away from the mission’s location—an abandoned building housing a special grade curse that lures people in with fabricated memories. Around you, the neighborhood’s nightlife has dwindled, your walk thus far having brought you farther from the heart of the place and closer to somewhere quieter, more secluded. 

Gojo looks too excited, eyes beaming wonder and mischief along with something else you can’t quite figure out yet. You purse your lips in thought. 

“C’mon, it’ll be quick.” he smirks, the dimple on his cheek deepening as he shrugs, “I’ve finally perfected it.”

A beat—skipped before your heart races. 

You wonder if he knows, if he’s using this to his advantage, because—

—when have you ever denied him when he looks at you this way? 

The higher-ups should have known better than to pair you together for a mission. Your instructions were merely ‘to assist’, but you hardly believe it considering Gojo almost always handles these things on his own. It’s more babysitting, you know, to keep the damages of his technique to a minimum. 

They shouldn’t have called on you, of all people—you’re on Gojo’s side. Always. 

A smile threatens to escape your lips, warmth spreading within your cheeks; you roll your eyes jokingly, stifling a giggle before relenting.

“Fine.” 

He guides you forward, chest bumping against your shoulder blade as he picks up pace. It’s a clear road ahead of you, the streets emptying out to more greenery; your senses are filled with the smell of the earth mixed in with the faint cotton of Gojo’s cologne. 

This is bad for your feelings. 

(Being this close to you feels like the ticklish drag of fingernails just right before it creates indents in his chest.) 

There’s something brewing between you and Gojo, neither of you have just addressed it yet. He pulls away when the moment is too close but still looks for you first after missions, an almost automatic question to either Shoko or Ijichi about your whereabouts.

You’ve been catching his stares too, almost always at the split-second before he turns away—a reaction on impulse. The silence between you feels fuller lately, as if there are words he wants to say but is choosing to withhold. 

When the space is vacant enough, he steps a few inches to your right, left hand stuffed inside his pocket as he shakes his arm hesitantly, almost awkwardly. 

“You have to hold on to me,” he instructs you. 

Your eyes widen, equally surprised and shy as you slowly take your hand out of your coat and slip it into the empty space, resting it on the crook of his elbow. Gojo freezes very slightly. 

He shakes it off just as quickly, “You might be sensitive to my domain because of your technique, so stay close just to be safe.” 

Then, his head tilts towards you, a little closer than you’re both used to. This near, his eyes hold a perfect morning sky, eyelashes hanging like wispy clouds on a clear day. 

Your gazes meet and you blink twice, goosebumps littering your skin. 

“Don’t let go, okay?”

Another beat—followed by another, and another, the sound of it growing louder. 

You almost miss the way he says it gentler than normal, how sincere it feels with his breath tickling your cheek. 

“Okay,” your fingers curl around his arm tighter. 

He lifts his other hand up, crossing his fingers as he recites the mantra to his domain. In an instant, the greenery around you disappears, stark white taking its place. 

“What do you think?” Gojo asks almost immediately, crossing his arms over his chest. Your fingers stay curled onto the crook of his elbow, sandwiched between his forearm and bicep; his other hand rests a few centimeters away from yours, nearly touching. 

You scan the space, examining its vastness. Minimalist. A blank sheet—

“It’s…” you try to find the right words, “... empty?” 

He gasps exaggeratedly, “Hey!” then pouts in fake offense, “I made it porcelain white at least. This isn’t pure white you know.” 

You eye him from the side.

He chuckles, breaking his act, “You should be honored.”

A pause—his tone shifting to something softer, more vulnerable. 

“You’re the first person I’m bringing in here.” 

His admission is unexpected, but it feels relevant, makes you feel like it, too. 

You’re touched, knowing how secretive he’s been on perfecting his domain since Toji and Geto; he only ever tells you and Ijichi about it. No one ever pressured him into achieving his perfect domain, but he feels like his existence necessitates it. 

“It’s clean,” you finally say, playing along, “I like it.” 

He eyes you this time, dimples deepening the more he attempts to poorly push down his smile. 

“Shame I can’t really do much with it, would have wanted to spice up the interiors a bit.” 

You snort, knowing full well that Gojo’s very much the type to pick one piece of furniture and anchor the entire place’s aesthetic off of that. 

“Someday,” you catch his eyes again. 

(It echoes in his ears, the quickening thump of his heartbeat—pink noise that can’t possibly be a product of your technique. 

In the silence of his domain, all he hears is that sound and you.) 

He hums before looking back to the empty space, “Acoustics would be good by then, we can try your technique in here.” 

You nod, the corners of your lips curling; his pinky presses against yours so faintly you wonder if you just imagined it—if he had meant it or not. 

. 

The special grade is dealt with within a quarter of the time it took you to travel to here, but Gojo seems to bear the consequences with another one of his migraines—a mixture of fatigue from activating his domain earlier along with sensitivity from the increased bustle in Shimokitazawa’s night life as you exit the neighborhood. 

You make a mental note to get him something that covers his eyes a little bit more than those circle frames he uses—an imbued blindfold maybe? You’ll have to think about it some more. 

(When you both get ‘home’, you set up the couch, offering him the spare bedroom so he can sleep off the headache. It’s a quick trip to the kitchen for a glass of water when he catches a glimpse of it—a fully decorated box of honmei chocolate partially hidden at the corner of the counter. 

The card has half of his name written in your handwriting.

You don’t end up giving it, but he does receive some chocolates from you, still. It’s a belated gift the next day, along with the ones you gift to Shoko, Yaga, and Ijichi—a tradition you’ve kept up since you were 16. 

But, his box has an extra piece, and you even tailored each one to all his favorite flavors: sakura, strawberry, zunda, and anko; his card is the same one you left half-written, just now fully spelling ‘Satoru’. 

So, he thinks his might be a bit more special, and he’s realizing that he likes it that way—he might prefer it much more, actually.)

a/n: haven't written col in a while but this is the official launch of 'do you know what love is like?', a mini-series of almost's within the 'conversations of love' universe! there are lots of details that connect to some of the col works but this happens before all of the ones released so far (so you don't need to read the main series to understand this, but it would add to the full experience if you do!).

thank you notes: @augustinewrites love u my valentine, this fic wouldn't exist without you 🥹 + @stellamancer col couple is here!! with chocolates!! thank you for going over this for the first read 🥹 ily niku + @mididoodles @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat my cheerleaders!! thank you for the support always 🥹

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[zeppelinlvr]

Dating Dean Winchester

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Notes: I just wanted to post some head cannons since I don’t have any fic ideas rn. Also thank you guys for all the support, i can’t even begin to express my gratitude, i’m so glad you guys like my work! 💗💗

Warnings: Fluffy, some cursing

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

- Protective like no other, if you join him on a hunt he makes sure you stay close and is throwing punches the second anything gets near you

- Dean has trouble saying he loves you but he shows it through his actions and taking care of you.

- Takes him a while to let you get close but when he does you’re his whole world, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you or to protect you.

- Loves loves loves taking you out to eat, he always wants to try new foods and restaurants with you, both of you overeating and cuddling while watching a movie until the stomach ache goes away.

- Sam helps you plan surprises for Dean on your anniversary or his birthday

- Opens up to you about wanting a family (Dean is such a girl dad ugh)

- Lots of teasing and playful banter, if you mix words up or say something dumb he’s sure to let you know he heard it.

- Petty arguments over things that definitely don’t need to be argued about

“Dean where are my shoes”

“probably by the door” he said without looking up at you

“i’m standing by the door dumbass” you told him

“i didn’t take them” he responded flatly

“yes you did” you shot back

“why would i take your shoes?”

- Arguments end when one of you finally laughs or you just kiss and make up.

- Both of you asking Sam to take your side in an argument

- Going to bars and laughing at everything after too many drinks

- He LOVES kissing the back and top of your head.

- Def holds the back of your head when you hug him.

- Tries his hardest to make you feel better when you’re upset, he lets you talk through it and tries to make you laugh. He’s not good at helping people with their emotions but he tries his hardest for you.

- Getting a cat with him and he acts like he hates it but you catch him cuddling it and letting it sit on his lap.

- Says he hates the cat even though he babies it big time.

- Calls you a dork but he loves how smart and educated you are in certain areas.

- Singing together in the car and making dumb faces at each other.

- Talking with him about music and gifting him cassettes that you pick up at thrift stores and music shops on the road.

- He let you drive the impala one time and was sweating and twitching the whole time. (no hate to you he just loves his car), he prefers to drive you around.

- Defends you in public, corrects you in private!!

- Telling him everything that comes to your mind and he lets you yap because he’s secretly interested in your leg pain, the people you saw at the gas station and what new perfume you want to buy.

- Will laugh at something for an hour with you even though it’s definitely not funny anymore.

- Feel like he likes Johnny Cash and old country so you make him a mixtape of old country songs.

- He rolls his eyes at your complements but you see the smile playing at his face.

- Calls you sweetheart, sweet cheeks, doll, sweet girl, pretty much anything he can add sweet in front of.

- Both of you eat up the themed motels, trying to find the most ridiculous ones you can.

- Even though you guys bicker and you get on his nerves Dean would do anything for you, he’d literally go to hell and back to keep you safe.

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

[clockwayswrites]

Minx- Dinner Start

cw: implied and lightly referenced sexual acts and favors

“Well, you look like something the cat threw up.”

Jason pried one eye open just to glare at Danny as he flicked him off. It didn’t matter if Danny couldn’t see the glare, it was the principle of it all. Jason didn’t need to be told how badly he looked, not when he knew how badly he felt. He especially didn’t need to be told that by Danny who looked liked a million bucks. The black dress hugged Danny on all the right places to give him all the right curves and, impressively, the appearance of small but shapely breasts.

Danny just shrugged at the gesture. “You do.”

“And you’re lucky most people here know not to fuck with you,” Jason growled. “What are you doing walking around here looking like that?”

“There were some creeps around the lockers I keep my change of clothes in,” Danny said as he sashayed forward. The way he walked in those heels over the beat up sidewalks of the Alley was frankly impressive. “It seemed safer to come home like this than deal with those fucks. Don’t worry, I’ve got the gun you gave me.”

Jason ran his gaze down the form fitting dress again. “Where?”

Danny laughed, the sound bright and musical. It was at odds with the shit hole of a night that Jason had been through. It was nice.

“Come on, up off the wall. My place should be close enough to limp over to,” Danny said. He reached out and placed what Jason had to imagine was a gentle hand on the side of the helmet. “Unless you need the better stock of your place?”

Jason bit back a groan as he leaned up off the wall. “Not that badly hurt. It’s a lot of surface shit and bruising.”

“I can take care of that. Come on. I even have dinner waiting for us.”

“Yeah, how’d you manage that magic?” Jason asked. He followed just a step behind Danny and to his left, automatically falling in to guard him in a way that Jason tried not to think about too hard.

“With the magic of a crockpot and a rice cooker,” Danny said with a dramatic spread of his hands like he was making a rainbow. “Seriously, best two purchases that I’ve ever made. Like, I can come home to warm food and it’s good! I never thought that I could cook but this shit I can do.”

Jason hummed in acknowledgment. He couldn’t exactly do a crockpot when he didn’t know what safe hosue he might end up at, but maybe he could look into a rice cooker that he could start remotely. If he threw some precooked meat or an egg on top of the rice, that would still be better than what he at some nights when he was coming home after a long patrol.

“This one is mine,” Danny said as they got to a small, nondescript door. It was next to the entrance for a fix-it sort of shop and lead up to the second story of the battered, brick building.

Jason had already known that this one was Danny’s. He chose to not say anything about that as Danny unlocked the door and led them up the tight stairs to another door (which was to Jason’s approval also locked) and into the apartment.

Thrift store might be a better word for the place. There was a lot of stuff with no clear sense of style or theme. Hell, Jason wasn’t even completely sure what room they were standing in right then.

“Go sit on the couch,” Danny said.

“I would if I could see the damn thing,” Jason replied.

Danny rolled his eyes as he brought a foot up to start to undo the dangerous footwear. “Behind the potted plants. It’s yellow, you can hardly miss it.”

“You say that, but,” Jason said, mostly to be an ass, as he headed that way. He stopped short of the very yellow couch to stare at the wall and the large, neon skull that adorned it. “Didn’t that used to be up Vic’s bar?”

Danny smirked at him as he passed by. “You can’t prove it’s the same one.”

“I can. I mean, you know that, right?” Jason called after Danny as he disappeared through a door that he didn’t bother closing. “I could, in fact, prove it is the same one.”

“But you won’t!”

Jason sighed. But he wouldn’t. “How did you even get it here in one piece?”

“Carefully and with a few blow job IOUs,” Danny said casually. After a beat he added, “You know, I don’t think Leo ever cashed in on his? Oh well, he’s happily married now.”

Not really knowing what to say back to that, Jason sat down on the edge of the couch and started to undo his boots. He set the second one aside just in time to look up as Danny finished pulling on some black leggings up over strawberry patterned underwear. Jason glanced aside quickly.

He hardly had an issue with nudity— not after years of fighting crime with family or training with assassins— but there was something so much more intimate about it in the soft neon light of Danny’s apartment. Focusing on taking of the bulkiest parts of his own armor seemed safer than looking up again.

--- AN: Words are... not my friend today, so not sure if I'll get anything for Trauma Tuesday done. So have this it of Minx I wrote more of last night! Stay delightful, darlings.

[jelly-an0n]

A Sweet Treat

Jason Todd x Reader

Jason had caught you, quite literally, with your hand in the cookie jar.

In your defence, you hadn't thought he would return for a few more hours.

You see- Jason had helped you make a batch of cookies a few days before, one of your many kitchen dates where you typically ended up covered in more flour than not. The finished product wasn't your best work- but they had tasted better than anything you had made on your own.

So, once that batch had cooled enough to eat, the more burnt ones were set aside to start with while the rest went into a wonky jar, one you had found at a thrift shop and deemed too adorable to let slip away.

The cookies hadn't lasted long, either you or Jason sneaking one away when either of you could, thinking the other was completely unaware. And the amount in the jar had quickly dwindled down to the last one- the one you were just about to claim as your own before bed while Jason was out on patrol.

"Is that the last cookie?" Jason's amused voice is what causes you to realise he's there, leaning against the kitchen door, staring at you with a raised eyebrow.

You glance between the cookie now secured in your hand and him, before suddenly darting pass him with laughter echoing where you once were.

Jason instantly gives chase, it's a sudden game of tag. The winning prize? The last cookie.

Thinking back on the night, you can't really remember who won, the chase turning into a tickle fight the dissolved into soft kisses and a shared baked treat- but it's a memory that causes you to smile every time you get the chance to purchase a cookie along with your morning coffee.

[livwritesstuff]

Eddie is holed up in the office of his and Steve’s home working on some writing when he notices an odd kind of commotion coming from upstairs.

Now, he and Steve have three daughters under the age of ten, so commotion is pretty much a baseline for them, but it’s odd because it sounds like Steve might actually be involved this time, and that makes it especially weird because Eddie was pretty sure that Steve was taking the kids to see a movie to give Eddie a few hours to maybe hit that word count goal (he probably won't, but whatever).

It's just about odd enough for Eddie to go investigate further and, indeed, he finds a very much ticked-off Steve standing outside of their middle daughter Robbie’s closed bedroom door.

“What the hell is going on?” Eddie asks.

Steve rounds on him. 

“She’s driving me insane,” Steve says, “That kid is you in a seven-year-old’s body, and I’m going insane.”

“Wait, can you…” Ed shook his head, “What’s happening?”

“I thought it would be fun to take the girls to that new Nanny McPhee movie because they liked the first one, right?” he starts

“Sure.”

“The second – the second – I suggested it, Robbie starts ranting and raving. Ed, do you know what she said to me? 

“Oh god,” Eddie said warily, “What’d she say?”

“She said sequels aren’t passion projects, Papa. They’re just for money. Who the fuck do you think she learned that one from, Ed?”

And yeah, shit, that might be Eddie’s bad.

“Whatever,” Steve says before Eddie has a chance to respond, “So she doesn’t wanna go – that’s fine – but, shocker, the other two still want to go, and just as we’re walking out the door, Robbie demands that we wait for her because she actually does want to come and now,” Steve pauses to hold in a laugh as Robbie scutters out of her room in the direction of the bathroom, one shoe on and an earring half-in, “Now we’re gonna be so fuckin’ late because this one can’t just throw on a sweatshirt and get in the car.”

Eddie knows for a fact that Robbie had spent the entire weekend in the same pajamas she’d worn to bed on Friday night, but now she’s donned a denim dress with a red t-shirt and black tights underneath. She’s got black combat boots on her feet (just one at the moment, actually), and she’s wearing the leather jacket Eddie had found at a thrift shop in New York to complete the ensemble.

“Look at this kid,” Steve says, following Robbie into the bathroom and watching as she tried to fix her earring with one hand and her hair with the other, “Robbie, it’s August. It’s almost ninety degrees outside. Maybe think about ditching the leather.”

“I don’t care,” she fires back, “It’s about the look, Papa.”

“We’re going to a movie theater. It’ll be pitch black. Nobody will be looking at anything other than the movie. Let’s go.”

But Robbie is already pushing past him with a belligerent, “Outta my way. I gotta get another necklace.”

Steve manages to snag Robbie by the back of her jacket and swing her up into his arms.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” he says as Robbie furiously tries to squirm out of his grip to no avail, “Oh, I’m Robbie and I’m four feet tall and I get up-in-arms about everything and I’m gonna wear a leather jacket in August even though I once got heat exhaustion at the mall and gave my dad a fuckin’ heart attack.”

Robbie is in giggling hysterics by the time Steve ends his onslaught of mockery and puts her down.

“What do you think?” Steve asks, “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” she says, and then she asks, “Can you help me find my other shoe?”

“And now she’s asking me for shit,” Steve comments in disbelief as Robbie ducks back into her room. He looks at Eddie, “Seriously, you need to call Wayne and apologize for everything you must have put him through.”

“Alright.”

[simgraze]

I am so excited to be releasing my first sims 4 save-file!

This is version 1.0 which is a redo of Newcrest! There are also lots completed for Willow Creek, but that world is incomplete and will be updated in a future version.

Disclaimer: I own all of the DLC, and have used them throughout the builds and households. You can still download this without all of the DLC, but some items may be missing and need to be replaced. (I went back and forth on this, but ultimately my community said to just go for it).

No Mods/CC Required

There are 9 households living in Newcrest, with other households in Willow Creek and Not in World to populate the world. 

For console players, all of the lots and households are available on the sims 4 gallery. My id: simgraze

The downtown area of Newcrest is very sims 3 inspired, with many of the buildings taking influence from Sunset Valley. You can find the Doo Peas Corporate building for all of your freelance sims to visit. Check out the Sunset Plaza shops, including a gym, grocery store, bookstore, and thrift store. Get political at Town Hall and meet Mayor Avanche, who may be engaged in a lively debate. Have drinks at Waylon's Sports Bar, or grab dinner at the Sims 3 Bistro, or the run-down diner next door.

With plenty of drama, and 3 lots ready for your sims to move into, Newcrest is a great place for sims of all ages who are looking for a fresh start.

Thank you to everyone who has supported my channel during this process, your love and comments on my update videos definitely encouraged me to keep going!

Also a big thank you to everyone who has submitted sims for me to use on the gallery <3

In terms of future updates, Willow Creek and San Myshuno are both in the works. I have no idea when they will be released, but I definitely want to release those updates at some point.

(Not Required, but what I use). The only mods that I recommend in terms of keeping sims in your neighborhood is Home Regions by Kuttoe. I like messing with my settings so that only sims from Willow Creek and Newcrest will populate my world.

The map override I am using by dershayan.

YouTube video showing more about the save-file.

If you end up playing in this save, I would love to see your screenshots, gameplay, etc. with #simgrazesavefile

save-file download | lots and households guide

[oaksgrove]

A Place to Call Home

pairing: Keegan Russ x Reader

synopsis: After months of deployment, Keegan finally returns to the apartment you’d both barely settled into before he left. What was once an empty, impersonal space is now a warm, inviting home filled with your touch. As the two of you reconnect over dinner, the love and comfort you’ve created together remind him of what he’s been fighting for.

warnings: None, just tender, heartwarming fluff.

word count: 1805

a/n: is all about love in the little things. Hope you enjoy this cozy slice of domestic bliss!

The apartment was empty, save for a few boxes stacked haphazardly in the corner. The walls were bare, the hardwood floors scuffed, and the faint scent of paint still lingered in the air. You stood in the middle of the room, hands on your hips, surveying the space that would soon become your home.

“It’s a bit… sad, isn’t it?” you said, glancing over your shoulder at Keegan.

He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, his sharp blue eyes scanning the room. “It’s a blank slate,” he said simply, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “We’ll make it ours.”

You grinned at his optimism, turning back to the room. “Ours,” you repeated softly, the word wrapping around you like a warm hug.

The two of you spent the next few hours unpacking, your voices mingling with the sound of tape ripping and boxes being shuffled around. Keegan insisted on doing the heavy lifting, even though you playfully argued that you were just as capable.

By the end of the day, the apartment still looked sparse, but there were signs of life—a cozy blanket draped over the couch, your favorite mugs lined up on the kitchen counter, a Polaroid of the two of you pinned to the fridge.

Keegan pulled you into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “It’s a start,” he murmured.

“It’s perfect,” you replied, leaning into him.

But perfection was fleeting. Just weeks later, Keegan was called back to duty.

The morning he left was quiet. Too quiet.

You stood at the door, your arms wrapped around yourself as you watched him lace up his boots. His duffel bag sat by the door, a stark reminder of the goodbye you were about to say.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he said, his voice steady, though you could hear the tension beneath it.

“You better be,” you replied, forcing a smile. “I’m not finishing decorating this place without you.”

He stood, pulling you into his arms. His embrace was firm, grounding, and for a moment, you let yourself believe that time would fly by.

“Take care of yourself,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper.

“You too,” you replied, your fingers clutching the fabric of his jacket.

When he pulled away, his lips brushed against your forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said, your voice trembling.

And then he was gone.

The days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months. The apartment felt cold without him, the silence oppressive. You threw yourself into work, into little projects to pass the time, but it was never quite enough.

Until one day, you decided to change things.

You started small—string lights hung above the windows, a tapestry on the wall to add some color. You printed out photos, memories of the two of you, and pinned them up in the hallway. You found an old record player at a thrift shop, and soon the soft crackle of vinyl filled the apartment, chasing away the silence.

Piece by piece, the space transformed. It wasn’t just an apartment anymore. It was a home.

The apartment smelled like garlic and rosemary, the faint crackle of something sizzling on the stovetop breaking the silence. Keegan stepped inside, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his boots heavy against the polished wood floor. He froze just past the threshold, his breath catching at the sight in front of him.

You stood at the counter, your back to him, swaying slightly to the soft hum of music playing from the kitchen speaker. The oversized sweater you wore hung loosely off one shoulder, and your hair was messily tied back, strands framing your face.

It wasn’t just the sight of you that rooted him to the spot—it was the warmth of the apartment itself.

The last time he’d been here, the walls had been bare, the furniture sparse and impersonal. The place had felt like a waiting room, a temporary stop in the chaos of life. But now, it was something else entirely.

String lights curled along the edges of the ceiling, casting a soft, golden glow. Polaroids covered one wall—pictures of the two of you smiling, laughing, caught in quiet moments of joy. A tapestry hung behind the couch, its rich, earthy tones adding depth to the room. On the side tables, lamps with warm light bathed the corners, pushing away any lingering shadows.

It looked like home.

Keegan couldn’t stop watching you. The way your hands moved so naturally as you stirred the sauce, the way you hummed a tune softly under your breath—it all felt like a dream. Every movement, every little detail, reminded him of how much he’d missed you, of the pieces of himself that had been scattered while he was away.

He let his gaze wander again, taking in the transformation of the apartment. On the coffee table, he noticed a candle, its flame flickering gently, filling the air with the comforting scent of vanilla. A knit blanket was draped over the back of the couch, the kind you’d pull over yourself while reading or watching a movie. Small details like these made the space feel alive, vibrant in a way it hadn’t been before.

And you—his heart ached just looking at you. It had been months since he’d last seen you, months since he’d felt your arms around him or heard the way you whispered his name like it was the only word that mattered.

Keegan cleared his throat, his voice hoarse. "Hey."

You startled, spinning around with wide eyes, but the moment you saw him, the surprise melted into something radiant.

"Keegan!" you gasped, abandoning the knife on the cutting board as you rushed toward him.

He dropped his duffel just in time to catch you, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist as you leapt into his embrace. The familiar scent of you—lavender and something sweet—filled his senses, grounding him in a way nothing else could.

"You’re home," you murmured, your voice muffled against his chest.

He buried his face in your hair, inhaling deeply. "I’m home," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hands framing his face. "You didn’t tell me you were coming. I would’ve—"

"Didn’t want you to wait on me," he interrupted, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Wanted to surprise you."

You smiled, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "You’re a good kind of surprise, Keegan."

His gaze drifted around the apartment, taking in every detail—the photos, the lights, the small touches of you everywhere. "You did all this?" he asked, his voice soft with wonder.

You followed his gaze, a hint of shyness creeping into your smile. "Yeah. I wanted it to feel like… like us."

Keegan shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It’s perfect," he said, pulling you close again. "You made it perfect."

The timer on the stove beeped, and you pulled back with a laugh. "Dinner’s going to burn if I don’t get back to it."

"Let it," he said, his hands refusing to let you go.

You rolled your eyes but kissed him gently. "I missed you too, but you’re not starving on my watch."

Reluctantly, he let you slip out of his arms, watching as you returned to the kitchen. He followed, leaning against the counter as you fussed over the meal.

"Can I help?" he asked, though the thought of doing anything other than watching you felt impossible.

"Just sit there and look pretty," you teased, glancing at him over your shoulder.

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, before grabbing a chair to sit by the kitchen island. His eyes never left you as you moved around, his chest full of a peace he hadn’t felt in months.

Your smile softened, and you stepped closer, holding out the spoon. “Taste this for me?”

He leaned down, letting you guide the spoon to his lips. The flavor was rich and comforting, a warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with the food.

“Perfect,” he said, his voice rasping slightly.

You grinned, pleased, and turned back to the stove.

Keegan stepped closer, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. You stilled for a moment, but then relaxed into his embrace, leaning back against him.

“I missed this,” he murmured into your hair.

“Me too,” you whispered. “I kept trying to imagine what it’d feel like when you finally came home. I don’t think I imagined it being this good.”

He tightened his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder. “This is better than I ever could’ve imagined. You’ve made this place… you’ve made it feel alive.”

You turned in his arms, your hands sliding up to cup his face. “It didn’t feel alive without you, Keegan. It didn’t feel like home.”

The weight of your words settled over him, his chest tightening. He pressed his forehead against yours, his hands cradling your back. “I’m sorry it took so long to come back,” he said, his voice heavy with regret.

“You’re here now,” you said softly, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “That’s all that matters.”

The oven timer went off, breaking the moment, and you laughed lightly as you pulled away. “Go sit down. Dinner’s ready.”

Keegan watched as you plated the food, every movement so familiar, so effortlessly you. The table was already set—another small detail that tugged at his heart. Candles flickered in the center, their warm glow adding to the cozy atmosphere.

“Do you like it?” you asked, breaking him from his thoughts.

“Like it?” he echoed, his voice quiet. He gestured to the room around him. “I love it, sweetheart. I love everything you’ve done here. It’s… it’s us.”

As you both sat down, Keegan reached across the table, taking your hand in his.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice low.

“For what?” you asked, tilting your head.

“For all of this,” he said, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “For waiting for me. For turning this place into something I want to come back to. For being you.”

Your eyes shimmered, and you squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to thank me, Keegan. This is what we do. We’re a team.”

He nodded, his throat too tight to speak. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt at peace. Sitting there with you, in the home you’d created together, he knew—this was where he belonged. This was everything he’d been fighting for. For the first time in a long time, Keegan felt like he could breathe. The apartment, the food, the warmth—it wasn’t just a place to return to.

It was home. And so were you

[natalievoncatte]

31. Spookycorp

(Yes I know it’s late. I have a permit. I can do what I want.)

Lena adjusted her cheap plastic tiara, which she’d had chosen herself at a Spirit Halloween. Though she would never admit it, Lena felt giddy when she went shopping now. She used to just send Jess or use a high end shopping service; Lena Luthor had neither the time nor the patience to fumble with checkout lines and coupons, but post-L-Corp Lena, private citizen Lena, head of a charity org and retired from corporate sharkery Lena delighted in it. In a sweater and leggings with her hair in a simple ponytail and glasses not contacts, she felt human. Normal.

Her costume was simple, the tiara and a goofy floofy mini dress she’d picked up at a thrift store, and a wand to top it all off. Kara recognized her immediately.

“Let me guess, a good witch?”

Lena stood in the door and beamed, nudging her glasses. She was still getting used to them every day but her therapist had insisted she stick with the changes she made.

(The penthouse was going on the market and she was selling her Louboutins. Most of her Louboutins. She was finally telling that little voice in her head that sounded like Lillian to SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU’RE NOT MY MOTHER whenever it admonished her about not being perfect enough)

Kara was dressed in an all-green ensemble with a pointed hat resting on her head and a cheesy plastic bow on her back.

“Robin Hood?”

“Of Locksley,” Kara bowed.

(If I’d know, I’d have dressed as Maid Marian.)

She beckoned Lena to enter in an expensive gesture and watched her step inside, her gaze lingering in a way that made Lena tingle all over, goose flesh rising on her arms. She hopped up onto a stool and smiled when Kara handed her a beer.

“They make pumpkin spice beer now?”

“Mmmm,” Kara said, nursing her own. Lena’s eyes widened when Kara tipped a flask into it; a sticker on the side read Not For Humans.

“Just a little to loosen me up,” said Kara. “It’s a party.”

Kara sat down on the other side of the table and just… looked at her. She looked at Lena with her chin resting on her fist and a soft distant look on her face, and Lena stared back just as intently, entranced by the way her sunny curls escaped her sloppy ponytail and framed her face.

The spell, as it were, was broken by a knock at the door. The snacks were coming, an absurdly huge order that Lena had placed while she was on her way. As the bewildered delivery boy accepted her excessive tip, Kara carried the bags into the apartment, and together they began laying it all out on the kitchen island.

Brainy and Nia were the first to arrive. They wore matching silver body suits and Nia had put on a gloss of green makeup: Querl simply disabled his image inducer.

“We’re aliens!” Nia chirped. “Lena I love your outfit! Wait is Kara Robin Hood? Lena, why aren’t you Maid Marian?”

Lena froze, suddenly aware of Kara’s tense presence beside her. She didn’t dare turn her head and gauge Kara’s reaction.

“Did you purchase every potsticker in National City?” Brainy asked, almost pointedly snapping the tension.

Kara laughed. “I think Lena just wants to keep me from eating everything else.”

Alex and Kelly also showed up in marching costumes, making the moment even more awkward. They were married, of course, so they were supposed to coordinate.

Alex strutted into the apartment, grinning, and threw back the cowl of her Batman costume, as Kelly rolled her eyes behind the mask of her Catwoman outfit.

“That’s cute,” said Kara. “Did you guys like flip a coin to decide who was who?”

Alex poked the gray fabric over her stomach. “You know what, Kara? Sometimes I want people to know I have abs too. And unlike some people I have to work for mine.”

Kara poked out her tongue and shoved a beer in her hand as Kelly pulled Lena into a hug.

After a toast to James, and J’onn, and Winn, and absent friends, Kara started the first movie of their marathon. Each couple had selected one film, and Alex’s selection went first: a really weird movie called The Keep.

“This was originally three hours long before the studio butchered it, but it’s still a classic,” Alex explained. “It’s Michael Mann’s only horror movie.”

Lena found it largely incomprehensible and not very scary, and there were some scenes, especially the nonsensical sex scene, that made the experience a tad awkward.

“If I was in an ancient castle in Carpathia and the crosses in the wall started glowing, I would not mess with them.” said Kara.

“Yes you would,” Alex snorted. “Your approach to danger is to shove you arm in it.”

Kara drained her beer and rolled her eyes. Lena glanced over at her and giggled, nursing the last of hers.

“Want another one?”

Lena nodded, and Kara got up to get them more drinks. Lena lost interest in the movie as she watched Kara cross the apartment and bend low to grab two more bottles from the bottom shelf of the fridge, bending at the hips. The bottom of her tunic pulled up over her muscular backside and the buns of steel strained her green leggings.

(She would annihilate me with a strap)

When Kara stood up, Lena snapped her gaze around and found everyone staring at her, Nia suppressing a giggle. They all looked endlessly amused, except Brainy, who had a self-satisfied smirk, as if he’d beaten her at chess.

Kara sat down and passed the cold beer to Lena, saying, “these movies would be scarier if they didn’t all have a bad guy I could just toss into space.”

She looked at Lena and raised her arm to curl her bicep.

Lena felt her soul almost leave her body and took a drink from her beer to hide the shivers.

The movie ended and Nia jumped up to put on her selection, which she proudly announced to the group. “ARMY OF DARKNESSSSS!” she shouted, clapping her hands.

Lena hasn’t seen this before and even though there was a ten minute prologue explaining what the hell it was about, Lena finally just decided to stop caring about the plot and just go along for the ride.

Kara had apparently seen it and she and Nia went back and forth quoting the dialogue back and forth at each other and gobbling snacks. Alex and Kelly seemed more interested in each other and had gone fairly quiet.

Lena was more interested in Kara. Her joy was infectious, especially after a third beer.

It was getting cool in the apartment by the time they were ready for the final movie, and Lena’s outfit was hardly warm. Kara felt her shiver and got up, coming back with a stack of blankets, which the others accepted.

Kara then took her cape and spread it over Lena. The fabric was stout and heavy and lay warmly about her as she tucked it under her chin.

“Uh oh,” said Alex. “Lena gets the Superblankie.”

“Oh, shut up,” Kara said.

“Lena always gets the Superblankie,” Nia agreed.

“Guys!” Kara said, sounding a little panicked.

“Start the movie already,” Kelly yawned, breaking the tension.

Kara put on the final movie, her choice: Bram Stoker’s Dracula.

No one remarked that for movie choosing purposes, Lena and Kara had been expected to act as a couple. Kara sat down on the sofa with Lena and pulled the cape around them both, tucking them tightly together and sharing her blessed, glorious body heat. Kara ran about three or four degrees hotter than a baseline human and it made her a living space heater. Lena adored it.

She adored a lot of things about Kara, like her laugh and her smile and that funny little scar, the only imperfection on her invulnerable body. She adored the way her blue eyes glittered like sapphires in the dark apartment, and the soft pillow of her bottom lip and her big strong hands and the way she was always laying a protective arm across Lena’s shoulders, making her feel so safe and…

Lena turned her attention to the movie. It was a comfort choice of hers and she knew it by heart, so it was easy to relax into Kara and not worry too hard about how much she was utterly, irrevocably, cruelly in love with her unattainable best friend.

The apartment was quiet. Lena was fairly sure that Alex was asleep and Kelly was mellow, too entranced with her new wife to care about anything else, and the way that Brainy and Nia were tucked under their blanket and whispering to each other made Lena hot with jealousy.

Kara’s chest hitched and Lena turned to her sharply.

“What is it, darling?” she murmured.

“Nothing,” Kara lied, then whispered. “This is so sad.”

She took Lena’s hand and Lena almost died on the spot, and it got worse when Kara nuzzled her chin into the crook of Lena’s shoulder.

Out of nowhere, half an hour later, Kara murmured, “if I lost you I think I’d become a monster too.”

Lena flinched, then turned to her. Kara was looking at her with big puppy dog eyes and that crooked little smile of hers, at once an honest smile and a smile for the keeping of secrets.

Everyone else was asleep, and would probably stay that way until morning.

“Kara,” Lena whispered.

Kara took it as an invitation, gently shifting so that Lena was now in her lap, and tucked Lena under her chin. She wrapped her arms around her and just breathed, chest gently rising and falling against her.

“I want you to know how sorry I am for all the things I’ve done,” Kara whispered into the top of her head. “I’ve never told you, I was gone before I could and after I got back I was scared.”

“Kara,” Lena murmured back, “darling, it’s alright.”

“I was so scared when I was there,” Kara said, not daring to name the Phantom Zone. “That place messes with time. I was terrified that if I ever got back you’d all be gone. You would be gone. I was so afraid it hurt.”

Lena went still, just listening.

“I’m so sorry, baby. You deserve better than me.”

“No I don’t,” Lena insisted, almost too loud. “No I don’t. There is no one better. God, Kara,” she softened her voice, “I think I fell a little in love with you the day we even met. I never used to believe in love at first sight or soulmates but… I am a witch after all.”

Kara let out a slow sigh. “Lena, are you saying…”

“Even when I was trying to tell you I hated you, I was telling you how much I love you. It’s you, Kara. It’s always been you.”

“I love you so much,” Kara said whispered, “I’ll love you forever.”

“Kara, everyone else is asleep,” she forced out, her jaw trembling from excitement. “Take me to the bedroom. Please.”

Kara said nothing but stood up in a single motion, lifting Lena with ease and curling her up in the cape. Lena didn’t think her feet ever touched the ground as they slipped into the bedroom and Kara laid her down on the bed, quickly and quietly closing the door before lunging into the bed, pressing Lena into the mattress with a barrage of hot, aggressively desperate kisses.

They were both quiet, Kara pausing only briefly to implore Lena with her eyes and wait for a murmured yes. There was something thrilling about the quiet, they way they swallowed their gasps and passed their moans softly through one another’s lips, and Lena would never forget the way Kara delighted in her, virtually worshipping her.

Lena returned the favor with with enthusiasm.

By morning, Lena was exhausted in every sense of the term and was curled up in a tangle of blankets and a snoozing Kryptonian.

There was a knock at the door.

“Well lock up on our way out,” Alex called. “By the way, you guys forgot about the whole keeping quiet thing about halfway through. Thanks for etching Lena yelling “daddy” into my brain.”

Kara snorted.

“Alex, I love you, but get out.”

[whitehotwild]

took a peek at amazon music’s The Boys character playlists (really just Butcher’s and Hughie’s… womp womp)… ohhhh old man Butcher my beloved.

all i can imagine is being at Butcher’s apartment for one reason or another.

☆ maybe the team went out to a bar together, and as everyone turned in for the night, saying their goodbyes, you and butcher were the last ones there. For whatever reason, he refuses to send you off by yourself to your own apartment this late at night and tells you to just come over and spend the night at his, that it’s closer anyway.

you try to ignore the zip up your spine when he leads you into his apartment with a hand on the small of your back. you try to ignore the soft flush of your cheeks when he teases you about snooping while you look through his one (barely filled) bookcase.

“what? you scared I’m gonna find your fuzzy pink handcuffs?” you tease right back, squatting down to flip through the vinyl records he has sitting in a milk crate next to the bookcase.

butcher rolls his eyes with a smirk, “mine ain’t fuzzy… d’you even know what those things are?”

you don’t react, but you do store that in the folder labeled ‘Useful Butcher Information’ that lives in your brain. ignoring his teasing, you let out a soft huff of laughter when you see a record you’ve only seen at your grandparent's house and in the back of a shitty thrift shop uptown.

“exactly how old are you?” you ask, pulling it out and showing him the record in question: Roy Orbison Sings Lonely and Blue (1961).

butcher walks over and takes the record from your hand, switching it for his beer. he had asked you if you wanted one when you two walked through his door, you had declined before, but have taken to stealing sips of his. it’s probably the closest you’ll get to kissing him tonight.

“old enough to know this is real music… not that Taylor Swift shite you force me to listen to in the car.” he snarks, slipping the record out of the sleeve, setting it on his cheap turntable.

you stand back up straight with a scoff, “you can make fun of my ‘brat summer’, but Miss Swift is where I draw the line.” the beginning of the record starts to ring softly through the room…

‘Only the lonely… (dum-dum-dum-dumby-doo-wah)’

“oh… you can’t be serious,” you smile softly and he holds a hand up as if telling you to ‘wait for it’. “…so corny,” you mutter shaking your head, still with that same smile.

butcher takes the beer bottle out of your hand, taking a sip before setting it on one of the shelves, “nope… classic.”

he lets himself be a bit softer around you, even if only for a moment. it’s only when you two are alone, usually late at night, usually after a few drinks that he lets the walls drop… only just a bit.

like now, when he pulls you into the empty space of his living room, placing your hand, the one that isn’t wrapped in his, on his shoulder, his free hand goes to the small of your back.

“so now you wanna dance?” you ask with a bit of snark.

butcher lets out a soft huff of amusement as you two start swaying, “what you lot was doin’ at the bar wasn’t dancin’… you was flailing about.”

“hm… whatever. least we were having fun, i mean… even M.M. got up!”

“‘cause he’s a sucker for ‘Earth, Wind & Fire’.”

“well yeah… who isn’t?”

“me.”

you roll your eyes with a soft sigh, “suuure… stick in the mud.”

you’re both quiet after that, only the sound of old music coming through shitty speakers and gentle steps against his floor fill the room. he dances you through the whole a-side of the album, the hand on your back has snaked around your waist, your head rests against his shoulder, and he holds your intertwined hands closer to his chest.

you take as much of this as you can get from him, knowing these moments are fleeting. there are so many unspoken words between the two of you, you’re too stubborn to make a move, and well… butcher’s too… butcher. he thinks he’s much too undeserving of something as precious as you.

and maybe he’s right. maybe he doesn’t deserve you, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting you, it doesn’t stop you wanting him. so for now… the soft, fleeting, moments are enough.

it’s always strange when those moments end, though. the way you can see his demeanor shift in an instant.

like now, the music stops and he looks away from you when you look up at him. you can see the way his face changes, like he’s snapping out of a trance or he’s caught himself doing something he knows shouldn’t.

butcher pulls away from you, wiping his hands on his pants as if the feeling of you lingering on his skin has to go. he turns to put the record away and turn off the turntable.

the silence lingers for a minute before he speaks up, “think we should turn in. you take my bed.”

you try to protest, “the couch-“

“don’t fight me on it.” the command isn’t harsh, it’s not mean, it’s only a bit stern, but he just wants you to listen to him.

he just wants to do something nice for you.

you nod with a quiet sigh and thank him with a soft smile. you both retire for the night and you both know you’ll be gone in the morning before he wakes up. you both know you won’t make any mention of it when you're both in the office tomorrow.

but you both know that for now, the fact that it happened at all is enough.

(divider by @/plutism)

[toxycodone]

WHAT ARE YOUR DAISUKE HCS ??? GENERAL AND DATING ??? 🥺🥺🙏🙏

ship. daisuke jaurez (mouthwashing) x reader

content. general + sfw + fluff

an. ummm like and reblog and leave comments or I’ll shave Daisuke bald. also no weird babying Daisuke 💪🏽

General

This is pretty much confirmed he’s Asian + Latino but he’s definitely Japanese/Mexican to me. He’s so SoCal coded it’s absolutely ridiculous. I’m thinking like…he lived close to the border or is from San Francisco or LA and has a lot of family in SoCal.

As far as MBTI goes I’m saying he’s an ESFP/ENFP and as far as Zodiac goes I’m saying Gemini or Cancer.

In his formative years he had a “dank memes” phase. Like, middle/high school Daisuke was a total dork. He was a kid lucky enough to be diagnosed w adhd when he was younger so he was on meds and did EXCEPTIONAL in school. Lived off the praise of teachers. He was especially good at science and math. (Which is why his parents encouraged him to get a mechanic internship).

^adding to this he has adhd + depression (the depression is more of a byproduct of the ADHD tho) and he takes meds!! he probably takes stimmies so he’s personally really concerned about his heart health.

HE HAD AN UGLY DUCKLY PHASE. Glasses + braces king. And he was awkward asf. But he slowly grew into himself and his style. He still has insecurities though and doesn’t think he’s that attractive bc of it.

I don’t think he made it past community college or gen Ed courses though. (He has HELLA test anxiety and despite being smart he sucks hard at ACT/SAT). In college he felt really isolated and it was hard for him to get out there so. He kinda shut down.

To me he’s around 23-25 years old. Old enough to where the pressure to “do something with his life” and figure shit out is hitting hard. But also like, still at an age where you’re first figuring shit out. He’s really insecure about this. Not because he’s stupid or anything he just has NO idea what to do w his life and can’t figure it out.

He had/has a part-time gig at a local art store he absolutely adores. He’s an artist and participated in a lot of local competitions/collabs/etc. he’s made a lot of connections here and wants to be a full time artist BUT this is where his parents draw the line. He’s fought w his parents a few times about this but it ultimately boiled down to “we’re just concerned it won’t pay/etc.”

He begrudgingly accepts this bc he knows it’s bc his parents care so much about him and want him to be successful bc they think he’s a smart guy.

Loves, loves, loves traditions and holidays. He dresses up and decorates for them all. Gets way too excited about seasonal drinks and food specials too LOL.

This is kinda random but. Vaquero Daisuke. Idk what to do with this HC but I think he loves Western style and tried to do horse riding as a kid but his mom enrolled him in DRESSAGE as a kid and he was like THIS IS SO CRINGE.

still enjoys the rodeo though. If he could get back on a horse again he’d do barrel racing.

Grew up having to take his shoes off before going in the House so on the Tulpar he always leaves his shoes neatly by his door to feel some sort of normalcy 💔 (at home he usually kicks them off into a corner and it always annoys his mom)

He has a good relationship with his parents. They really, really try to understand their son and are really patient with him but they don’t want him to end up complacent (he probably has a cousin or two who are too spoiled and his parents HATE that.)

Specially close to his mom though. She spoils him bc that is her BABY and he’s such a sweetheart despite it all it’s hard for her not to (his dad is kinda similar too but is like. Trying to hold back.)

Thrifting god. (Canon from the devs btw.) It doesn’t matter that he has the money for new clothes, he has a passion for scoring unique finds. He’s also a frequent enjoyer of vintage markets and pop up shops. I also personally think he loves farmers markets.

Probably a furry (doesn’t suit up though) and definitely enjoys raves (ask him about his Kandi collection)

Also buys concert tickets for local venues in bulk (like he catches them on sale and like. For a month he’s going to a new venue every weekend for a show). He’s so proud of being into niche musicians.

an avid member of fashiontok. I really think he loves this and reads theories and shit. He has a pretty good following on his fashion/life account. But he really cares the most about his meme account (brainrot enjoyer)

He gets tattoos/piercings instead of therapy (has a belly button ring he adores btw and very much cares about his ear setup. He is still planning it meticulously)

There is 100% a cringy tattoo somewhere dumb he got either drunk or on a bet. Ima headcanoning he has a tattoo of a bee on his knee (genuinely thinks this is a fire tat btw)

Y2K BADDIE. His style inspo is so “male lead and or comic relief in a 2000s romcom”. He’s so nostalgic for the 90s too (he gives me gen Z who clings so hard to being a 90s kid but was like. Born in 1999/1998 LOL)

Brown eyeliner enjoyer. He looks gorgeous.

Has a pinup poster of some girl in his room but it’s mainly just for the aesthetic (again. trying to be like dudes from the 90s/00s movies/TV shows).

Romantic

Okay. This may be against the grain idk but I don’t think he falls first. He just really really wants to be your friend and then it hits him that he has a crush and is like. Oh.

I think he’s a total dork. He’s not 100% inexperienced or whatever and he’s an attractive guy!! But like. His rizz is 0. He’s not the type to like smirk and be sexy he’s just a dork and tells jokes and is a total sweetheart.

Crushing Daisuke is like. Insane. He actually is kinda okay at hiding it but he SO easily gets embarrassed while trying to showcase how cool and confident he is. Like. He won’t try insanely hard before he’s breaking down in laughter BUT. YEAH.

He finds himself trying to learn guitar to impress you or get a new piercing or tattoo bc maybe you’ll think it’s cool then he’s like “oh I’m cooked.” (Verbatim)

Calls you dude/bro/etc regardless of your gender or relationship status. You will be married and he’s like “hey dude”. 💀

He also likes calling you bae/babe (EWWWW *twirls my hair*) and POOKIE LMFAOOOO. calls you baefy too esp if it annoys you.

It’s his earnest attitude that is the hottest thing about him though. His attraction to you is so genuine. When he says he loves you, he means it. ITS SO…YEAH. There’s no doubt about it and the LOOK IN HIS EYES…MY GOOOOOD HES IN LOOOOVE. You are the best thing to him.

It’s really important to him you have a close relationship with his parents. Like, don’t worry it’s not difficult. They may be a little ehhhh at first (I don’t think Daisuke’s judgement is 100% great w romantic partners) but once they see you two interacting it CLICKS. You become a part of the family. You’re always invited to bday parties and dinners and cookouts and everything (his mom is so cool and you guys mix drinks together and his dad has a green egg or blacktop he’s so proud of and teaches you how to use it)

Sends you tiktoks as a means of affection. Like. Your notifs are clogged and it’s because he just has so much to show you (THERES SO MANY ROMANCE ONES MAN then it’ll be like the most brainrot shit you’ve ever seen)

PHYSICAL AFFECTION IS HIS LOVE LANGUAGE OH MY GOD.

Literallt he’s to kiss you every time he sees you or he’s gonna go crazy. He’ll pepper your face in kisses. He can’t resist you’re just SOOOO cute he loves you.

He holds you like a teddy bear when you guys cuddle. If you have your head on his chest you can hear his heart just SLAMMING against his chest and he tries so hard to play it cool but he’s just too full of love.

But he also loves resting on your chest or thighs. Bro falls asleep on you a LOT.

He plays with your hands and fingers. I like to think he does this when you speak to him and then he starts wondering what your index finger would look like with a pretty engagement ring and fantasizes about proposing and a wedding and then you say something and he snaps back into reality.

Passes the orange test or whatever the fuck that is his parents always cut fruit for him so he does the same to you. Will just cut up and apple and be like “hey do you want some?”

I think what he appreciates the most in return from you is verbal praise/reaffirmation. He trusts you so much to be honest with him and values your opinions a lot SO. When you tell him you like him and that he’s handsome and stuff he can let out a sigh of relief bc he actually believes you. You help build up his self confidence. ❤️

@mochiiniko (tagging bc I answered ur ask!)

[featherandferns]

daylight - two

jj maybank x fem!reader | part 2 of the daylight series | read part 1 here

content warnings: drinking, mentions of sex

word count: 3k.

blurb: you join jj's friends at the chateau and find yourself playing hot seat.

“No.”

“Come on! It’s cute!”

“I mean this with all due respect: burn that top.”

Rolling your eyes, you look down at your t-shirt. You’d thrifted it from a shop near the harbour. Born to fish, made to work. You thought it was hilarious, and it was washed and worn-down into comfort. Stretched at the collar and slightly big on your frame, you fell in love. Mimsy? Not so much. 

“It’s funny. I think it’ll go down well,” you tell her, keeping it on. You tuck the front into your pair of shorts before sitting down at your desk. Grabbing your hair brush, you begin taming your hair. 

“This is the first time you’re meeting hot-mechanic-man’s friends and that’s what you’re wearing?” Mimsy says, disapproval heavy in her voice. “God, you really are lost without me.”

Mimsy had dubbed JJ ‘hot-mechanic-man’ after you recounted the story from two nights ago, when your car decided to call it quits on some random country road. All you’d done was tell her his name and that he was from the Cut, and she’d stalker master-minded her way to his Instagram. It was just as you had pictured it to be. Snaps of him surfing, some shirtless (score), and photos of him smoking. His friends were on there too. You’d counted it as homework for tonight in your sleuthing. John B with a head of brown-ish hair, curled and fairly long; Kiara with a brimming smile and ‘save the turtles’ branded backpack; Pope with his awkward grin which did not match his well-toned body. They seemed fun from the photos.

There was a video on his Instagram which you think Mimsy might have watched fifteen or so times. It was of JJ shot-gunning a beer with John B, stood in a yard beside a campfire. You’d watched it too, eyes fixated on his bobbing Adam’s apple, and promptly clicked out of the video. So, despite your teasing, you were grateful for Mimsy’s talents. 

“How’re you getting there? Parents giving you a ride?”

“I’ll skate,” you say. 

Mimsy nods. “Is it a good skate scene out there?”

“S’alright,” you shrug. Flashing her a smile through the camera, you say, “would be better if you were here.”

“Yeah, well, most things are,” she jokingly returns. The smile that follows is solemn. The two of you missed each other like crazy. 

Mimsy looks past the camera into a mirror and continues working glitter onto her eyelid. It sparkles against her tanned skin. She's going out tonight to your usual haunt. Fake IDs got you into a social-club style bar in your local area, where most of your friends went. You missed the smell of liquor that clung to the walls and that uncomfortable tackiness of the floors. 

“You nervous about meeting his friends, then?”

“I guess,” you say. “Kinda nervous about meeting him again.”

“Yeah, hot guys will have that effect on you,” Mimsy returns with a cheeky grin. 

Rolling your eyes, you go to fire something back but get interrupted by a crackled yell through the speaker. Mimsy turns around in her chair, towards her door, and hollers back to her mother in Spanish. 

“Pol el amor de Dios,” she mumbles as she turns back to the camera. “Sorry, babes. Gotta go.”

“Have fun!” you grin. 

“Oh, you too,” she returns with a telling wink. Then she clicks off the screen. Your room is unnaturally quiet without her voice and company.

Checking the time, you get to your feet, pull on a pair of beat-up Reboks, and grab your bag and penny board. Jogging down the stairs of the two-story home, you call out to your parents. Your dad mumbles his reply just as you slip out the door. You take off down the street and head towards the address JJ text you. Your backpack is heavy with beer cans and unopened chips, and your cased digital camera. It felt wrong to leave your house without some form of camera: polaroid, digital, disposable. You were attached like a child to a safety blanket. 

As you pull onto the road which supposedly leads up to John B’s house, the amount of tarmac depletes. Making the rest of the way on foot, you’re only semi-cautious as you start down a dirt trail to an old fish shack that’s only just visible through overgrown shrubs and trees. The echo of energetic chatter which carries to you calms your worry. You round the corner to find JJ stood on top of a tree stump, arms expanded as he tells a story. When his eyes catch yours, he stops mid-sentence and jumps down. 

“Yo! You made it!”

The rest of the gang turns as JJ bounds over to you. He grabs you by the shoulders and coaxes you into the gathering. 

“This is the girl I was telling you guys about,” he says to his friends. 

They nod, wave and smile their greetings. JJ stands behind you, hands planted on your shoulders, and announces your name like you’re visiting royalty. 

“That’s John B, Kiara and Pope,” he introduces. You think you do a good job acting like you’ve never seen any of them before. 

"You're the damsel in distress JJ's been telling us about?" Kiara asks.

Laughing, you say, "that's not how I'd describe myself but sure."

The group smiles. John B nods down at the penny board you’re carrying. “You skate?”

“No, no, I just carry it around for street cred,” you dryly return. Pope sniggers. 

“See! Told you she was funny!” JJ says. He makes his way to the beer cooler. “Beer or seltzer?”

“Beer,” you reply.

He tosses a can to you like he did at the garage. You catch and crack it open, and then take the empty lawn chair beside Kiara. She’s sitting crossed legged, nursing a bottle. The only lighting comes from the porch behind you. Everyone is sat in a wonky circle, lounging in their various seats. JJ has claimed the hammock. Chickens coo in a run not far from the group. The marsh water near John B’s home soothingly laps at the land. Crickets and owls accompany the quiet hum of music playing from a beat-up Bluetooth speaker. 

“You came at the perfect time,” Kiara tells you. “JJ was just telling us a very interesting story.”

“Thank you, for that,” he replies, gliding past the almost-insult. “As I was saying, Priss snuck outta the party and nobody knows where she's at, right? Then, I'm heading out and guess who I fuckin' see her mackin' on? Fuckin' Bradley G.”

"You're so full of shit," John B snorts, shaking his head.

"I swear on my life! I swear on my God blessed grave, Priss and Brad G hooked up at that keggar the other night!"

You glance at JJ's friends and nobody seems very convinced.

"You're not allowed to go to parties unsupervised anymore," Pope says in a matter-of-fact manner.

"Shut up, Pope. Like you ever go to parties anyway," JJ mutters before taking a hefty swig of his drink.

Rolling her eyes, Kie looks to you. “Anyway. JJ says you’re new to Kildare?”

“Yep,” you reply. 

“Where abouts you living? On the Cut?”

“Yeah, about ten minutes from here, actually,” you say. “Thanks for letting me hang with you guys by the way.”

“Course,” she smiles. 

“Oh!” You suddenly remember your bag. Delving in, you produce two large bags of chips. “I brought snacks and drinks too.”

John B gets up and gladly takes the beers from you, placing them in the cooler with thanks. Kie tosses a bag of chips to JJ before opening the other, offering it around.

For a while there’s little chatter as you all relax. Kie hums along to the Bob Marley song that plays and Pope reads. John B’s head is reclined back, eyes shut, and a cloud of smoke sometimes billows out from the hammock cocoon JJ’s placed himself in. It’s reminiscent of how your friends used to be back in Vancouver. Chilled and cool, no pressure. 

JJ breaks the quiet with a groan, shifting to sit up. “A'right. I’m bored. Let’s play a game or something.”

“Not strip poker again,” Pope demands. 

“Oh come on! Why not!?” JJ protests. 

Kie rolls her eyes. “Because you’re a card shark.”

“And because you always end up getting your dick out,” John B tags on. You snort into your can. 

“Alright, alright, what then? I can’t be arsed setting up beer pong,” JJ grumbles, plopping himself down in a seat just opposite you. 

“What about hot seat?” you offer. The group looks to you. 

“Hot seat?”

“Yeah, it’s when someone sits down in a chair and they’re grilled for five minutes by the group. Any questions, no rules. If they don’t wanna answer, they drink,” you explain. “It’s fun.”

“I’m down,” Kie shrugs. 

“Me too,” Pope agrees. John B nods. 

JJ gets up, grabbing another abandoned seat (I mean, are these things multiplying?) and placing it in view of everyone, mimicking that of a courtroom layout. 

“Alright, who’s first?” he asks. After a round of highest-lowest, Pope winds up in the hot seat. He shifts nervously as Kie readies her timer. 

“Ready? Go!”

With that, an influx of questions follow. They range in severity: some joking and trivial and others bordering on existential. Pope drinks only once when asked if he’s into anybody, and before more prying can follow, the timer goes off. 

“Now you get to choose who goes next,” you explain, somewhat giddy with the others. 

“John B, you’re up,” Pope prompts. They swap seats and the group eggs the brunette on as he steels himself for questioning. The timer starts and the questions begin. 

“Blow job or hand job?”

“Blow job,” John B answers JJ. 

“Dogs or cats?”

“Dogs.”

“Do you think the Royal Merchant is real?”

“Damn straight,” John B replies. You frown. Royal Merchant? 

“Hottest girl in the county?”

John B deliberates. When he seemingly can’t decide, he takes a drink. More silly questions follow, most of which stem from JJ, and the group starts to crack up. The alcohol helps, easing everyone out of any boundaries. When John B’s round finishes, it’s followed by Kiara. She takes a joking bow before hopping into the seat. She’s calm and collected under their scrutiny. Rolls her eyes at JJ’s prying queries and entertains your own curious questions. From the way the group answers, and what they answer, you gain a better sense of their personalities. JJ is the next one up. He throws his hands up as he walks over, as if he’s heading into a boxing ring. He then man-spreads in the seat, shorts hitching up his muscular quads, and vapes as Kiara resets the timer. As your eyes skim up and down his body, they return to his face to find him watching you, amused. 

“Timer’s going,” Kiara says. You snap your eyes away from his.

“Favourite sex position?” John B asks. 

“Damn, that’s a tough one,” JJ replies. His finger swipes his lip almost tauntingly as he deliberates. You’re shamelessly intrigued. “Toss up between doggy and missionary.”

“Weed or beer?”

“What!? That’s evil!” JJ argues. “Weed, I guess.”

“Surfing or fishing?”

“Surfing. No! Fishing. No, no, wait…Can I choose both?”

You chorus with the others: “drink!”

He does as he’s told, swigging back his can. Nods when he’s done to prompt another question. 

“If you could travel somewhere in the world, where would you go?” you ask.

JJ looks to you. His answer comes quick. “Anywhere. Fuck it - everywhere! I’d go to Mexico, and then Brazil, and then Argentina, and then I’d go to the Caribbean islands to see what’s happening there. And then Japan and China and all those places, and then a little backpacking stint around Europe and stuff. Finish off in Africa with the elephants and shit.”

The group hums their approval. As you glance around, you get the sense none of them have been very far. Neither had you. The farthest you’d ever been was North Carolina. Your family had never ventured out of Vancouver before; the only reason your parents had settled on North Carolina was because of your dad’s ties. He was born here and grew up not far from Kildare, in Wilmington. You think he might have been chasing nostalgia when he announced that you were all moving to Kildare. 

“You into anyone right now?” Pope asks. 

“Why? You offering yourself up?” JJ teases. Pope rolls his eyes, mumbling jerk under breath. “Yeah, I am.”

“Who?” Kie prompts, curious. 

JJ’s eyes flash back to you and a telling smirk sneaks onto his face. “She already knows who she is.”

The group’s low whistles and ‘oo’s aren’t the only cause for your flushing. JJ’s stare is too. It flits down your figure tactfully before returning to your eyes, smirk only wider. You clear your throat, press your legs together and sip your beer. The timer goes off. 

“Who’s up?” John B asks JJ.

“New girl,” JJ replies, clearing the seat for you to take his place. You gladly do so, laughing at the applause and whoops that come from the others. 

“Do your worst,” you grin, squiffy from the beers.

Kiara starts the timer and the gang comply with your request. 

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?” 

You bark out a laugh at Pope’s question. “Shit, starting off heavy. Um…Crashed my friend’s bike.”

“As in push-bike?”

“As in dirt bike,” you cringe. “Brand new dirt bike.”

“Damn, that is rough,” John B chuckles. 

“Thing you like the most about yourself?”

“We talking physically or...?”

“Intellectually,” Kiara clarifies. 

“And physically,” JJ happily tags on. 

“Physically? My wrists, I guess. Don’t ask, I know that’s weird,” you laugh. “And intellectually…” Your eyes downfall to the grass ahead as you ponder. “Maybe my faith in others? I always try and see the best in people.”

Kiara nods, content with your response. 

“What about the thing you dislike most about yourself? Intellectually, that is,” Pope wonders. 

Your smile twists. “My faith in others.”

It was a double edged sword: you’d learnt that the hard way. You wash down the memories with a swig of beer. 

“Body count?”

The sudden change in tone makes you laugh.

“You can’t just ask a girl her body count!” you exclaim through your giggles. JJ exaggerates his shrug. 

“Why the hell not!? Anything goes right?”

You shake your head with a smile. As you sip your drink, you stare JJ down. 

“Alright, favourite sex position then,” Kie says.

You comply with that question. Grinning, you say, “cowgirl. Or reverse cowgirl. Either, really.”

John B whistles as Kiara teases, "okay, girl, okay."

“If you had to hook-up with anyone here, who would it be?” JJ asks. 

Laughing, you look to the sky as you toss back your head. “I met most of you guys like two hours ago!”

“Going off first-impressions, then,” JJ says. You can hear the grin in his voice. 

There’s an obvious answer, at least to you. It’s the blonde who you’ve spent the whole night trying not to stare at. His rugged handsomeness and bedroom eyes mixed with the sheen of daytime sweat and sunscreen that settled on his skin, bathing him in beauty...Fuck, it’s not fair people like that exist. You want to know the recipe God used to make him. Want to keep it to yourself so he can’t make it anymore.

Fixing your posture, you train your eyes on JJ. Then, you take a long, long sip of your drink. Kiara laughs under her breath with John B. You swear you see JJ’s demeanour darken. It’s like a game of who can break first. In the end, it’s you, thanks to the surprise of the timer. 

“That’s time…”

“John B. Get your butt back in this chair,” you say, getting to your feet.

He does as asked whilst you return to your old spot. When you glance up, you find JJ watching you. There’s a shadow of a smile on his lips and a barely-there expression on his face, but you can’t decipher what either means. There’s something uncomfortably familiar about it though. Reminds you of the same type of smile you saw almost a year ago, back in Vancouver, on a different guy's features. You look away and wash it down with your drink.

The game eventually dies down after two more rounds, without you or JJ returning to the hot seat. By now everyone is bordering on drunk.

The energy has amped up and the atmosphere is upbeat. As Kie, Pope and John B fall into a loud debate about something or other, JJ finds the spot next to you. He nudges your leg with his. 

“You good?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” you smile. “Thanks for inviting me along tonight.”

“Course. You thinking you might a Pogue?”

“Maybe, maybe,” you reply non-committedly. You take another sip of your beer. 

“Look, uh, I’m sorry if I weirded you out at all tonight, with all the hot-seat things,” JJ randomly says. 

Frowning, you look at him. “It didn’t weird me out. I told you that at the garage, didn’t I? That it doesn't bother me?”

“Yeah, but, after tonight…Just don’t want to make you feel weirded out around me,” he replies. 

It’s sweet that he cares about that. JJ seems the kind who talks first and apologies later. Whilst you know half of it's joking, you appreciate him checking that you’re comfortable with it. You’d had flirty guy friends before. Hell, you had flirty girl friends too. Mimsy, to name one. Maybe the different thing here was that you wouldn’t exactly turn JJ down. It wasn’t him that was keeping you at bay.

“Nah, you’re good,” you say. Glancing down, you watch your sneakers fidget in the grass. “I just, uh…I just have a lot going on right now and I don’t wanna jump into anything. Even if it’s casual, you know? At least not until I figure things out a bit more and get settled.”

It’s only half of the truth. There was something deeper holding you back. You could feel it now, creeping up behind you, always looming since December.

But you just met JJ. He didn’t owe you anything the same way you didn’t owe him. And trauma dumping isn’t the most certifiable way to make friends. 

“Nah, I get it,” JJ hums, nodding. “Sides, if you’re gonna be one of us, we have rules.”

“I’m sorry, you have rules?” you snigger, looking to him. 

JJ laughs. “Alright, alright, I know it sounds intense but hear me out! They’re to keep the peace and stuff. Keep us together.”

“That’s sweet. I, too, often trap people into friendships with rules,” you sardonically return. JJ nudges your leg away in joking disapproval. You laugh. “Go on, then. What are these rules? Should I get a notebook or…?”

“Alright, rule number one: no pogue on pogue macking.”

“Macking?”

“Kissing. Hooking up. That sorta thing,” he explains. 

Pursing your lips, you nod. “Guessing that came about after your collective balls dropped and you realised Kiara’s hot?”

JJ doesn’t speak but his silence is answer enough. You laugh. A particular outburst from Pope catches your joint attention. John B and Kiara fall into hysterics and you smile at their joy. It distracts JJ from further rule-telling. Reaching down into your backpack that’s nestled under your seat, you fish out your camera and settle it on the trio. You snap a few shots. They’ll look perfect with a black and white filter. JJ watches you flick through them. 

“You a photographer or something?”

“Kinda,” you reply. “I do it for fun, mostly.”

“Wanna take one of me?” It seems a rhetorical question.

Chuckling, you lift the camera and snap a shot of a grinning JJ. In one hand he holds up his drink and in the other he makes a surfer symbol. It’s cute. Shows his dimples and crowsfeet by his eyes. It reminds you why you were so infatuated by him at the kegger. The way the camera paints him is like a Monet. Before you can protest, JJ takes the camera from you and turns it. You complain as he snaps a shot: it feels unnatural being on this side of the lens. You snatch it back. 

“Dickhead.”

“What? You look cute! Especially in that shirt - I fucking love that.”

You try to hide your fluster by placing your camera back. JJ gets to his feet. Offering out a hand with a smile, he helps you up. The casual touch somehow feels like you're shaking on something. An agreement, to be simply friends, at least for now. So, passing a smile and naturally retracting your hand from his, you follow him to the others.

“What we talking about?” JJ asks.

“Oh, shit! You guys have got to hear this story!” Kiara struggles out.

They all shuffle to make space for you and JJ. John B wordlessly offers you another can whilst Pope recounts his tale. As you settle into laughter with the others, cracking up at JJ’s teasing of his awkward friend, you find yourself happy with the thought of becoming a Pogue.

read part three here!

taglist:

@princessuki21 | @psyches-reid

[remiratboi]

The Truth Of The Matter - Part 2

Masterlist

Part 1

Minotaur M Best Friend X Human GN Fat Reader

CW: monsterfucking, clubbing, drinking, slight body insecurity

(This is the type of dress I’m imagining btw)

Another night, another dance, another mediocre hookup. You laid in on your shared couch, upside down, head hanging off the end, half watching local access cable. You heard the shower turn off. Rin walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.

The guy was practically a god. You couldn’t help a small groan as you saw his damp chest out of the corner of your eye.

“What’s up, sweetheart?” He asked, pausing mid step. You didn’t realize he was going to hear that.

“Nothing, just so hungry, even this crappy ad is doing it for me.” You lied. He chuckled.

“You work today?” He asked. The towel slipped a bit, showing the top of his happy trail. You felt your pussy clench. You had a thing for hairy dudes.

“Nope. Any clients today?” You asked back. He was a self employed personal trainer, as if he could be any more stereotypical. But you respected him regardless. He was very clear that he helped people learn about their bodies, movement and health. He wasn’t out here helping people lose weight. It wasn’t about that for him. He always said, sometimes weight loss is a byproduct of movement, but more often than not people gained in muscle anything they lost in fat.

“I had a couple this morning while you were busy sleeping off last night,” he smirked at you, “but I’m done for the day. Want to grab some lunch?”

You jumped up at the question, turning around so you were facing him over the back of the couch. You smiled broadly. “There’s this new-”

He interrupted you with a raised hand. “A new ramen place that just opened a few blocks away. I know.” He teased you. “You’ve only been talking about it for two months.”

You pouted. His smirk grew and he closed the distance between you. Rin stood in front of you, on the opposite side of the couch. You looked up at him. The position made your mind wander.

It didn’t help when he reached out and grabbed your face, his large hand cupping your chin and jaw. He squeezed and shook you gently. “Stop pouting. It’s not my fault you're predictable.” You gazed back up at him, eyes wide. Your breath caught.

Rin seemed to realize how suggestive the actions were and you watched a light blush cover his cheeks. He coughed, and dropped his hand, half turning away. “Be ready in 10.” His voice was more gravely than it had been a moment before. He retreated to his room, and shut the door.

You sighed deeply and sunk down onto the couch. You had to be dripping after that.

The ramen place was good, better than good. It was amazing. You loved soup. It was your favourite category of food. Rin smiled at you while you ate.

“What?” You asked around a mouthful of chicken karaage.

“You’re doing your good food dance.” He chuckled. You blushed, but didn’t stop. “It’s cute, that’s all.” You rolled your eyes.

After lunch, the two of you walked down the towns Main Street, stopping at a few stores. One was your favourite consignment shop. You loved thrifting, and the owner had incredible taste. Rin watched good naturedly as you tried on a few dresses.

You were feeling pent up, the previous night's performance not satisfying you. It had been a trend lately. You thought maybe you were getting bored.

Rather than evaluate your feelings and take healthy steps, you decided to throw money at pretty dresses. You didn’t often wear dresses, but that’s the mood you were in today. You tried a couple but weren’t feeling them.

You knew the last dress was a failure before you even had it halfway. It was tight. Like tight tight. It was a pretty red bodycon dress with sheer sleeves that sat off the shoulders. It was short too, only going barely halfway down your thighs. You worried if you bent over, you’d fall out of it.

You got it on, it did fit, but it was tighter than anything you’d normally wear. It was stretchy material, so you felt comfortable physically, but emotionally you didn’t know if you could handle something so revealing.

You were about to take it back off without showing Rin when he piped up.

“Why are you taking so long? Let’s see it.” He called from the seat he was in outside the fitting room. You floundered.

“Uh, it doesn’t fit very well, so I’m not going to bother.” You called back.

“What do you mean, does it not close or something?” He asked. You heard his voice closer to the door now. You glanced up and sure enough, you could see the tips of his horns over the door. “I can do it up for you.” He finished.

“No,” you laughed anxiously, “it’s done up, it just doesn’t fit very well.”

He paused. “Well, then let me see it?” He said it like a question. You sighed.

You steeled yourself, and opened the fitting room door. You felt your cheeks heat up before he even saw you.

“Ta da.” You said lamely when the door opened all the way. Your stoic best friend’s mouth dropped open. His cheeks went red as well, and you felt yours get even worse. His eyes roamed your body, every inch.

“Jesus Christ…” he trailed off, eyes glued to your curves.

You panicked. “I know, it’s too tight, and short, and looks bad on me, that's what I meant about it not fitting well.” You moved to close the door.

Rin put his hand out, stopping you. “No, sorry, you… look incredible.” You almost stepped back in surprise. “You absolutely have to buy that.” He continued. You fidgeted nervously.

“No, where would I even wear it, it’s so revealing.” You replied. He finally tore his eyes from your body to look up at your face.

“I’ll take you to a fancy dinner, show you off.” He smirked, a hungry look in his eyes that you didn’t understand.

You laughed, an edge chasing the sound. “Please.” You said sarcastically. “It would just be a waste of money.” You moved to close the door again. “I’m not buying it.”

Rin didn’t move or respond for a moment. “I’m telling you, sweetheart, you’re doing the world a disservice by not living in that thing.” You knew he was just being nice. He was your best friend after all.

“Thanks, but it’s fine. I’ll find something else.” His eyebrows pulled together, but this time he let you close the door.

After a few more attempts in the racks, and one or two last ditch try’s, you were changing back into your own clothes. Rin offered to hang the rejects back up for you, and you handed him the pile.

When you came out of the fitting rooms, he was already at the cash register. You figured he must have been eager to get out of there.

The rest of the day passed as normal. You stopped and picked up a couple groceries, then headed home. He cooked dinner and you hopped into the shower. When you came out, you found a bag on your bed. It had the consignment store’s logo.

Peering inside, you were astonished to see the red dress you’d tried on earlier. You pulled it out and walked to the kitchen. Rin was humming and half singing one of your favorite songs.

“What is this?” You asked, holding out the dress. He didn’t even need to turn around to know what you were referring to.

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t leave that there when it was practically designed for you.” He flipped something in a pan and turned around. “You don’t have to wear it, of course, but if you ever felt comfortable, I’d love to follow through on my offer.”

You raised an eyebrow. “To go for dinner?”

“Yeah.” You noticed when he spoke, he seemed unsure of himself. It wasn’t a state of him you saw often. He was normally very confident and self assured. He walked towards you and took the dress from your hand. He let it unfurl and held it up against your body, currently only clad in a towel.

“This dress looks absolutely stunning on you, and it deserves to be seen. Go to dinner with me, and wear this.” He avoided your eyes, looking at the dress draped over you.

You laughed. He was such a sweet guy. “You asking me on a date, Rin?” You teased.

“Yes.” He replied, no humour in his voice. Like always, however, you read it as friendship.

You laughed again. “We’ll see. No promises!” You waggled your finger at him. “Maybe, if whatever you’re cooking is delicious as it smells, I’ll go on a friend date with you, and MAYBE, I’ll wear this dress.” You took it from his hands and walked back to your room.

You didn’t hear his deep sigh. You didn’t see the way he watched after you as you walked away.

Part 3