#i mean hell this is a practice piece I just really liked it so here I am posting it online

[xxanaduwrites]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ a residue series installment ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

honey, are you comin’?

previous part: sweet talkin’ | from the hive: session 1

✎ elementary-teacher!reader (miss.honey) x biker!benny 🏍️

summary: in which benny finds honey again. this time near a honeycomb, hopin’ for a taste on the road ;) (p.s.: if you were wonderin’, yes — the title of this was so inspired by måneskin)

warnings: not much of anything besides some minor talks of cruelty towards children, peeps being judgmental as hell, & smoking. they’re subtly flirting here basically. it’s cute! that’s really it. x

author’s note: oh my goodness! you have no idea how STUNNED i’ve been by all the love miss.honey!benny have been getting so far. fully was not expecting this. deadass wrote sweet talkin’ for fun. no thoughts, head empty type beat. just wanted to thank you honeys so so much. i can’t thank ya enough i fear! i literally still can’t wrap my head around this, but i love you all sm & can’t wait to share more with you! 🍯🐝🫶

word count: 2.7k

💌 requests are open, send ‘em honey 💋

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Another unbearable wave of heat managed to remain the very next day. Your students squirming against their metal chairs, antsy as ever for a reprieve. And so were you too. Thankfully, it just so happened to be your turn as fellow recess monitor with one or your fellow co-workers, Miss. Margie. Marge just so happened to be a newly breaded fresh faced teacher just like yourself. You enjoyed her company, more so than the older teachers who were rather cruel to the students. Especially when they did something wrong. Marge wasn’t cruel so to speak but she was a tough cookie, putting her foot down when needed. You two as a duo were rather perfect for the school grounds. You as the comfort go to when a knee was scraped, and Marge as the tough love go to when a particular student needed a stern talking to.

You worked well together, and it showed. Your relief was rather prominent when you stepped out the back door near the playground. An immediate swarm of giggles and chatter from small voices buzzed about, and you couldn’t help but smile as you adjusted your eyes to the sun, protected under your heart shaped sunnies. It didn’t take you long to find Marge who was already planted near the monkey bars with her arms crossed over her chest like a drill sergeant. Considering her father’s status as a war vet, by no means was it shocking to you or anyone else for that matter to see her in such a state.

“Hi Margie,” you greeted her once materialized next to her. “How’s it goin’?”

Margie's clear concentration dropped at the sound of your voice. “Oh no wonder,” she commented without looking at you. Her brows shot up in genuine intrigue.

Your honey coated lips parted in confusion instantly. “Huh?”

“Your three o’clock, Hun.” Margie tilted her head to the right subtly, directing you to her line of sight. A sight that made your heart curl into itself in a warm beat. Right behind those chain-linked fences that kept the kids contained was Uncle Benny. Yet, today his status as Uncle appeared to be rather amiss. Instead of Johnny’s car flanked near the curb, he was leaning against a neat Harley Davidson. The same one you saw him on that mornin’. You figured he was dropping off the girls or somethin’, but your curiosity got the better of you when you saw Mrs. Davis with them instead.

Now in the no parking zone, he stood out like the sorrest of thumbs. Practically a puzzle piece thrown into the wrong box. With no thoughts behind those pretty blue eyes of his besides you.

“That biker of yours stood up like a torpedo as soon as you walked out,” your co-worker added.

You took a moment to adjust your glasses, moving them to the tip of your nose to get a better look. Sure as shit, you weren’t having a heat stroke. It was really him. He was still here. Had he been out here since the mornin’ or left to come back? And if he was here for you like Margie said — why? You were certain he wasn’t much of a fan of you the day prior.

“He’s — He’s not my biker,” you mangled out, words twisting off your tongue as butterflies danced around your tummy.

Margie snorted. “I hate to break it to you, Hun. Lookin’ like he is now.” She paused a moment, shifting her footing as she spotted a youngin’ running roughly across the pavement, almost banging into another student. “Hey — watch where you’re goin’. Don’t push it Mikey!” She reprimanded before fixing herself upright and asking you, “What was all that about yesterday anyways?”

“What y’mean?” You questioned, not quite sure what she was going on about.

“You know — lettin’ the Davis girls go with ‘em. Caused a bit of an upheaval with the parents apparently. Heard all about it in the break room this mornin’. Doesn’t sound like Principal Rubs is real happy about it either.”

Your ears couldn’t believe what you were hearing. What business did the parents have putting their two cents in about somebody else’s family members? As for Principal Rubin, well, she was Principal Rubin after all. There wasn’t much to it there. The damn woman was a stickler with the sprinklers yesterday after all. Never a ball of fun as far as you were concerned.

“Why wouldn't I?” You challenged, becoming rather defensive.

“The guy pulled up like a maniac all greasy and shit. Almost gave everyone a heart attack,” Margie reasoned, her features churning in disgust.

You knew if he was some clean cut military guy in full uniform, she wouldn’t have made a comment at all, which kind-of pissed you off. Sure his clothes were lookin’ as if they hadn’t seen a washing machine in a cycle of days, but hey — what did that have to do with character? There were plenty of people who gave this outward canvas of perfectionism, far off from who they truly were deep down inside. You knew that, and you saw it every single day within the cruel clusters of your modern society. You saw it in the faces of your Ma and Pa when you didn’t fit the supposed mold they were trying to conform you to.

“So? He’s their Uncle, Marge,” you countered, defenses climbing high. “Did you ever think that maybe the man was runnin’ late? Worryin’ about the girls. That’s why he was speedin’.”

Margie sighed. “Not with that Vandals shit on his vest, but whatever you wanna believe, Hun.”

It went quiet between you two then. A clear indication that this conversation wasn’t gonna get the two of you anywhere.

“I should go talk to him,” you announced, snapping the awkward silence in half. There was no denying that you were now suddenly eager to find out what all this was about.

“Yuh should. If you don’t I will, and I doubt that will end well,” she joked, her eyes sparkling in amusement. Oh and she was right about that. Knowing Margie, you knew the idea of her approaching Benny would formulate a recipe for disaster.

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the mental image of such a scene. But also — you were utterly glad for this newfound banter popped open from a bottle of tension. “Alright Colonel, I’ll be back,” you quipped, before heading across the playground.

You could feel his eyes burning across your form on your journey to the edge of the property, your tummy flipping again in a bit of nerves and excitement. A part of you felt somewhat disappointed when you found yourself coming to a halt — stuck behind the monstrous fence that separated you from him, while another was glad for some security. You weren’t quite sure what his motive was, but knew it couldn’t be anything bad. He was just sitting here, smoking and minding his own business. Well — minding you.

“The girls don’t get out of school for another few hours, y’know,” you said matter-of-factly, eyeing him through the grates of the fence that reminded you far too much of a honeycomb.

He didn’t say much of anything, just raised a brow as you as he took one last drag of his cigarette. You watched as he put it out against the pavement, amongst a garden of other buds with his boot. Your suspicions were coming into fusion then, the realization that he’d been planted here for as long as your delusions imagined.

What could he possibly want from an innocent elementary school teacher like you?

He reached for that packet of Marlboros in his vest pocket all over again, clearly on a chain smoking spree. “Y’want?” He asked, stopping in his tracks. Those lean fingers of his calloused to the bone holding out a fresh cigarette in your direction. A cigarette that he’d been saving for you just in case.

You looked around for a moment, not quite sure what to do. The coast seemed to be clear though. Margie looked busy with some of the kids. Had a cluster of ‘em around her with her finger wagging about in every which direction. With her eyes no longer trained on Benny and you, and your form more than halfway across the school yard, you figured it wouldn’t hurt. Besides, you were having a day and could really use a cigarette. “Sure.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

Benny re-adjusted his stance, shoulders straight as he sauntered the sidewalk to meet you against the fence. His rough knuckles brushed across your polished ballet slipper fingers as he passed you the cigarette though the honeycomb, a sweetness shooting up your arm in an instance. You left it sticking out for a moment so he could light it up for you, and you could feel his hot breath fanning against your face. The casual interaction felt rather intimate in the moment, and you were more than happy when you got to take a step back on your first drag.

“Thanks,” you voiced your appreciation as he popped a fresh cig against his lips, now lighting up his own. You couldn’t help but notice that he had a sweet little freckle etched into his bottom lip. No wonder he had beautiful lips, you thought.

Surely, they’d be sweet to the kiss.

Jutting your hip out, you tapped your foot against the dry grass in impatience. “You stalkin’ me or somethin’?” You ripped off the bandage then, getting right into the real stuff. It was too hot out to sugarcoat anything any longer. Plus, the more you stood here the more Marg would get curious, and you’d be caught slacking on the job.

His lip curled up to the side naturally, just like it had yesterday when you introduced yourself to him. “Ain’t a stalker,” he confirmed, re-pocketing his lighter.

You found his candid response refreshing’. Naturally a honey rumblin’ laugh tumbled out of you “Good to ‘ear. My co-worker y’see ‘round over there?” Flicking the residue on the end of your cigarette out of the way, you pointed at her simultaneously. “She thinks ya are. Doesn’t appreciate the loitering.”

He shook his head then, long pretty eyelashes fanning his lower lids as he puckered his lips against the cig. His eyes squinted across the campus for only a second until his gaze landed right back on you. You in another denim overall number with a whole new canvas of embroidered fun. This time, knowing that you were gonna be out in the yard come afternoon, you opted on a classic jean overall. There was always the possibility of having to kneel on the grassy ground or near the sand pit, having to scoop up a youngin’ that refused to leave the playground. You learned your lesson rather quickly within your first few months of teaching. Tripping over yourself in such a situation left a tear in your favorite skirt. A skirt you still frowned about every time you found a certain piece in your closet that would make the perfect pair.

Funnily enough, if Benny knew of such a thing he would’ve made sure the same exact piece of clothing was at your doorstep and back in your closet before the thought crossed your sweet little mind.

But you didn’t know that. Not yet, that is.

And Benny — well Benny wasn’t payin’ as much attention as he would’ve liked to what you were sayin’, and he wasn’t quite interested in Margie anyways. His interests lied with you, and in his defense, the sight of you in your heart shaped sunnies wasn't helping the cause one bit. It was hard to take you seriously when you looked that stinkin’ cute. Made him wanna put you in his jacket pocket for safe keeping. And hell was he itching to just drive his bike right through the fuckin’ fence to break the barrier between you two. He was still beatin’ himself up for not taking your hand when you offered it to him yesterday. Hence why he was here, stakin’ you out. Hoping to fix his mistake.

Because the last thing he ever wanted to do was fuck this up with you.

Instead of enertainin’ your comment or makin’ a move to leave upon your far from subtle hints, far from linear to your own wishes, he changed the topic completely. “What time y’get outta ‘ere?”

You took a long drag of your cigarette, to calm your anxieties. The smoke circled ‘round your face for a moment before it traveled across the fence, reachin’ for Benny. Ironically, it was as if the smoke mirrored your desires of clinging onto the man in front of you. “‘round the same time as the girls, a little after,” you replied, curiosity adding, “what’s it to ya?”

“Wanna go for a ride?” He inquired casually. As if he was just stoppin’ by and hadn’t been sitting here for a good three quarters of the school day waitin’ for you.

The simple question spilling from those pretty lips of his made you melt in an instant. If it wasn’t for the obvious heat as a buffer to such a state, your mind would’ve found him as the culprit. “Where?”

“‘round.” He shrugged, not offering much of a plan. His casual demeanor remained concrete to his form.

An innocent smirk stretched across your face, blooming the apples of your cheeks and creasing the plane of your forehead. Now you were the one to flex amusement against a cylinder wedged between honey glossed lips. Now Benny was the one to be somewhat grateful for the honeycomb — if you will. Cause if the fence wasn’t there, he knew he wouldn’t be able to contain himself. He’d have your honey gloss all over his lips, tasting your sweetness without a second thought. Without caring about Margie or the students on the playground. Without caring about anyone really, but you.

Always you.

Perhaps anyone else would be rather suspicious of a plan with really no plan at all. Sure Margie would need a bulleted itinerary on fresh stationary, color coated and attached to a clipboard respectfully. But you — no, you appreciated his carefree mentality. It was peaceful in comparison to the stressing atmosphere that surround you on a daily basis, dotting on the kiddos in your classes, worryin’ constantly about ‘em.

Two could play this game, you thought.

Just at the end of your cigarette, your pretty fingers reached between a ring in the honeycomb, motioning it back to him. “Would ya put this out f’me?” You asked sweetly, mascara coated lashes batting about behind those obvious heart eyes of yours. “Don’t want the kids to find it in the grass.”

“Mhm,” Benny hummed, finding your concern for this children too fuckin’ cute. How could he ever say no to a sweet thang like you? He just couldn’t.

Your fingers grazed his as he took it from you, a touch that you found yourself thanking your faith for allowing you to bask in again.

This time he not only put out his cigarette, but yours too in the garden of buds that would blossom into a metaphor. A metaphor that had you joining his crew. Becoming a part of the club, joining his family, and fulfilling your wifely duties of planting a seed or two more along the way. Growin’ Benny some baby honeys of your very own.

Your lack of a reply to his offer didn’t sway him by any means, only fueled his fire tenfold. Turning on his heel then, you couldn’t help but frown, thinkin’ your hesitance turned him impatient and over the prospect completely. Especially when you watched him mount his bike and rev the engine, ready to ride away without another word. But Benny — no he still had somethin’ to say, and he was gonna say it alright. “I’ll see ya out front after school, Honey.” He decided, “I’ll be waitin’.”

The sound of your nickname rolling off his tongue — as smooth as honey sliding down your throat in a soothing tea — was all you needed to make your decision.

With your fun little backpack — straps resting against your shoulders — absolutely decked out in pins and keychains alike, you’d spot him at dismissal, and he’d be waitin’. Waitin’ for you to come. Wonderin’ if you were comin’.

Askin’ himself ‘Honey, are you comin’?’

Of course you would. You always would with Benny, no matter what.

And when you mounted his bike, your body molding into his like you were made for him, and your hands wrapping around his waist, Benny’s mistake proved to be no more. Suddenly, everything felt right in the world.

Right because you were one step closer to being his honey.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

hi-ya, i hope you enjoyed part 2! there’s so much more to come. expect a from the hive 🎙️🐝 installment real soon :)

also to note, my requests are open for any miss honey x benny cross works + any convos about these two in general. don’t be shy honey, i’m all for yapping in the asks.

+ don’t forget to comment if you’d like be added to “da bee hive” (my version of da tag list)

smoochies. all da love xanadu 💋

da bee hive 🐝

@nervousnerdwitch

@sunnbib

@rose-deathman

@austinbsblog

@thegabbyh

@jihyowrrld

@bellesdreamyprofile

@superemobitch

@m00npjm

@imusicaddict

@astrogrande

@alana4610

@cynic-spirit

@mariaenchanted

@themorriganisamonster

@real-lana-del-rey

@ateliefloresdaprimavera

@harryandhishairclip

@themorriganisamonster

@alexa4040

@returntopresley

@imladrisofabookdragon

@madisonmontgomeryxoxo

@zablife

@superstarcherrycolagirl

@nerdy-novelist017

@anqeliclust-recs

@imladrisofabookdragon

@thatoneweirdgirl17

[bbydoll18xx]

How Do I Get to Heaven?

'Without changing a piece of me, how do I get to heaven?'

Paige Bueckers x reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Themes: angst, slurs, religious trauma, HAPPY ENDING i promise

A/N: hiii so this one is super angsty and sad. I've been going through a rough time, and this is my way of coping. I kinda touched on these subjects in 'She's Such a Good Girl' part 2, and this is similar. I was obsessed with 'Heaven' by Troye Sivan when I was like 15-16 and the lyrics hit a little too hard. If you're gay and were raised in a religious household, I suggest taking a listen.

~

“He’s a fuckin’ faggot!”

“Hate the sin, love the sinner.”

“Those kinds of people are going straight to hell.”

Your face remained neutral. It had to. But you had years of practice, and while you were internally sobbing at the bigoted remarks, there was nothing you could do to stop it. So you stayed quiet, and you maintained your usual look of disinterest. 

Running up the stairs, you finally make it into the safehaven of your bedroom. You shut the door quietly, trying to avoid seeming as if anything is wrong or out of the ordinary. Nothing could possibly be wrong. You were the perfect child; straight As, never in trouble, and you always were eager to help out around the house. But you were harboring a dirty little secret that threatened to rip you from the grips of being the golden girl of your family. 

Sobs wracked your body as you slid onto the carpeted floor of your room. What had started off as an innocent dinner had turned into a nightmare. Slurs were thrown around casually, and unbeknownst to your family, you were the unidentified target. Your sexuality was the reason you had become an empty shell of a person, riddled with fear of accidentally outting yourself. And the anxieties you felt were bubbling up, threatening to ruin the perfect image of yourself that you had crafted for your loved ones. 

This wasn’t the first time. And it surely would not be the last. 

Your family had always claimed to love you. Your childhood was a happy one, but you feared the truth would break everyone. And even if they found out and still claimed to love you, you knew they would always see you differently. Gone would be the girl they knew, and their eager touts would be replaced with hushed whispers. You’d forever be known as “the gay one.” And you fucking resented that.

So here you sat on the floor, trying to quiet your sobs as you mourned the loss of the life you once knew and the people who would eventually turn their backs to you. 

Summer was ending, and soon you would be fleeing back to college, where your guard could be let down just enough to show the world a glimpse of who you really were and who you really wanted to love. 

There was just one girl who you wanted to love you back.

Paige Bueckers was your best friend. And she was so very gay. 

Since meeting her at the beginning of freshman year, she had pulled you out of a darkness that had resided in you since you had realized your feelings towards girls. It did not take long for you to fall madly, head-over-heels in love with her, but you had vowed to ignore it. 

Even if there was any hope of reciprocated feelings, you knew deep down that being in love with a girl would mean having to come out to your family. And you were just not ready for that. You weren’t sure if you would ever be ready for that. 

The thought terrified you. You knew you were willingly inhibiting a possibility of incredible happiness and love, but because it was at the risk of losing your loved ones, you were shutting it all out. 

‘Fuck. I really need therapy,’ you think miserably. 

That was the understatement of the century.

~

The new school year starts, and Uconn’s campus is ablaze with excited students and the possibilities of what is to come. You are finally starting to feel like yourself again, and the second your parents leave your apartment, you don a t-shirt plastered with Diana Taurasi’s face on it. 

You could finally get your gay card back.

A loud knock rings through the empty apartment, and before you could get to the door to answer it, Paige is peeking her head through it, a huge grin covering her face. 

She wastes no time barreling through the room, sweeping you up in a hug and spinning you around. Your feet leave the ground, causing your stomach to flip, and your legs automatically wrap around her waist for leverage. 

“Someone missed me,” you giggle, feeling breathless from being back in Paige’s tight embrace. You had been dreaming of this since you last saw her, back in July. 

“Course I did,” she chuckles, voice muffled against your hair. “You glad to be back?���

You groan. “Fuck, yeah I am. Lookin’ forward to not hearing some slurs for a bit,” you say, fist-pumping the air with a dramatic roll of the eyes. “And I’m especially looking forward to not having to listen to Fox fuckin’ News,” you add, pretending to gag.

Paige’s eyes rake over you, and she pouts, already knowing how your family could be. She had listened to your endless rants and your pathetic cries for the past three years. 

“I think you should just move in with me after this year ends. That way you don’t have to put up with that shit. Then we can be together after graduation,” she says earnestly. 

This was not the first time she had proposed this idea. And while you were internally jumping at the idea, the fear of how it would look to your family made you shy away. Paige wasn’t exactly the most straight-looking girl. Living with her would make things complicated. Your covert feelings had no place in a situation like that. 

You sigh. “I’ll think about it, P,” you promise, linking your pinky with hers, as you always did. 

~

Christmas break quickly rolls around, and Paige’s words are still playing in the back of your mind. Your feelings for her had grown, as if that was even possible, and having to leave her and the safety and warmth that came with her, was agonizing. 

Sitting against the hard back of the pew in your family’s Catholic church, you look around, thinking about how these people would be okay with you burning in hell forevermore. The familiar feeling of shame creeps back into your chest, the flames licking at your wounds. 

You wanted to run and hide. You wanted Paige. 

The Christmas activities persist, and amongst the holiday cheer and piles of gifts, uncomfortable conversations emerge, and you shrink back to your room, desperate for respite.

You felt so fucking abandoned. This was supposed to be a time to enjoy with your family, and instead you were hiding.

There was one person, though, you knew would not abandon you, and that was Paige. Her presence was enough to lessen the sting of the inevitable rejection of your family, and in that moment, it was enough. 

Pulling out your phone, you dial her number, longing to hear her voice, all the way from Montana. Christmas break could not end quickly enough. 

Paige’s smiling face is soon on your phone screen, but it falls as soon as she sees the tears falling down your cheeks and your wobbling bottom lip.

“Oh, baby, what happened?” She asks in a hushed whisper, voice full of anger and concern. 

“They hate me,” you cry. “They fucking hate me, and they don’t even know it yet.”

Paige sighs, trying to find the right words. While she had always had acceptance from those around her, she knew how difficult it was for you to be at home, and she desperately wished to take away your anguish. 

“I love you,” she stresses. “And I know that doesnt fix your family treating you like shit, but soon you’ll be back and everything won’t seem as shitty, I promise.” 

You nod, wiping at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. 

She loved you. And you knew that. But you wanted her to love you in the way you loved her. For now, you would take what you could get.

“Just a few more days,” she assures, and you feel the tiniest bit better.

Just a few more days. 

~

The start of the new year always engenders change, and you had promised yourself as the clock chimed to signify it was midnight that this would be the year you would hike up your big girl panties and figure out your shit with Paige. Your senior year had to slow down, and Paige’s proposal had been in the back of your mind since August. 

If you could get over your stupid crush on her, things would be all good and dandy, but your efforts to eradicate her place in your heart were futile. You had mused it over nearly a million times. Maybe you’d eventually get over her, and maybe she would have some bizarre habit that would inevitably give you the ick, ridding you of all romantic feelings toward her. 

You could only hope. 

You pump yourself up on the way over to Paige’s apartment, encouraging words forming on your lips, leaving a trail of fog from your warm breath against the cold air. 

You knock on her door, cheeks pink from the frigid temperatures of Connecticut in January, grateful that it hides your blush. Paige opens the door, eyes wide and hopeful. She always looked so damn alluring. 

Your words leave your mouth before your chary mind could overtake you. “I want to move in with you after school ends. I can’t go back to living like that.”

Paige’s features twist into a smile, and she pulls you in for a hug. “Gonna take such good care of you,” she whispers, and you believe her. Your arms wrap around her middle, anchoring you to the floor. 

“I should probably tell you, though,” she trails, her voice getting smaller as she takes a deep breath. 

You look up at her, confusedly. “Tell me what?”

“I love you. And not just like as a friend. So if you don’t want to live with me because of that, I get it,” she mumbles, eyes trained on the floor.

Your breath quickens at the realization. Paige loved you. And the thought of being a colossal disappointment to your family and potentially cast out did not seem to matter as much anymore. Because here was someone who loved every part of you and accepted the good, the bad, and the ugly. 

The look of shock swiftly morphs into one of unbridled euphoria, and without another thought, you pull Paige in for a kiss. It was filled with the pure longing and want of years of uncontrollable urges and repressed thoughts, and it nearly made all the shittiness worth it.

Pulling away, Paige links her pinky with yours again, just as she had back in August. It was an unspoken promise of love. And while you knew the journey would be inexorably difficult, Paige was worth it in the end. 

~

dang that was rough lol but thanks for reading as always:) I really hope this wasn't too triggering or anything for anyone. This has been such a nice outlet for my pain and anger, as I really don't have anyone to talk to about this stuff. I am here for everyone who can relate. My inbox is open if you guys ever want/need to talk

xoxo katy

[safination]

The Second Time Around

|Masterlist|

Alastor shakes his head, chucking a little. Each puff of his laughter cranes your head up and down. “Mother would strangle me if she learned what I’m doing with you,” he says. “Oh, she would go bonkers and grab my ears, telling me I was raised better than this.” “What exactly are you doing to me besides lulling me into sleep after filling my belly with the most exquisite food.” “We’re living together.” You pull away, looking at him to motion to the house. “Sweetheart, I hate to break it to you, but we’ve been living together for the past two years. Well, ten if you count our life up top,” you say with a snicker. “Living together is the least sinful thing we’ve done together!” Alastor shakes his head, pushing you up to your feet. TLDR: Alastor prides himself in being a gentleman, yet here he is now, living with his not-really wife but still his wife without rings around your fingers. It’s time he changed that.

Just a small little fic. I'm working on some requests right now, so to those who requested, I didn't forget about you, don't worry <3

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Alastor adjusts his hold, securing your body with a firm hold as he carries you on his back. The pads of his thumb go up and down the skin of your leg, and each movement lulls you deeper into him.

Strands of his hair brush your cheek when you rest your chin on his shoulder. They caress your skin every time Alastor takes a step, humming a song as he walks down the street. It’s a familiar tune.

Night-time air blows cold, even in Hell. Despite already wearing Alastor’s coat, the breeze forces you to sink deeper into his back. It’s warm—he’s warm.

The pads of your fingers draw circles on his dress-shirt as you press yourself into him. Closer…the desire to be closer never ends. It’s like a never-ending fire that consumes you with every touch. How unfair of Alastor to hold this kind of power over you.

It's funny—hilarious, even.

The same scent of detergent emanates from your clothes, but there’s this undertone in Alastor’s coat. It’s a whole mix of different scents but to you, it’s just Alastor. Nothing less and nothing more. How can the same batch of laundry produce such a different smell? 

There’s a metaphor somewhere there that Alastor can probably find. Your clothes. His clothes. The same smell of laundry detergent, but each piece holds a different whiff.

You tighten your grip on Alastor’s shoulders, steading yourself to lean back and stare at the sky.

The sudden shift of weight causes Alastor to stumble back. His leg shoots out to keep your bodies stable. Still, you lean your head back to watch the reddened sky. Clouds filter across its red canvas, prompted by the cooled winds of Hell.

“Dearest…if we fall, I will blame you.” Alastor scowls, and the faintest of static emits due to his annoyance. It’s something he’s still learning to control, and you let this offense pass…for now.

“We?” you echo, smiling into his shoulder. “Does this mean you would fall into the ground with me, my love?”

“Perhaps…,” Alastor begins, keeping his eyes ahead, “…I…I should skip a few steps and drop you right now. Oh, that would be quite the hilarious sight! Just the thing to end the night.”

A laugh escapes into the air and echoes across the dirty streets. You crash your weight forward, pressing your chest against his back.

Alastor stumbles forward, catching himself just in time to keep your bodies from falling. “I will actually drop you if you continue this childish behavior of yours.”

You settle yourself on Alastor’s back and press a small kiss on his shoulder. “My feet are starting to feel better. You don’t need to carry me,” you begin but wrap your arms around his neck, “my darling…my sweetest, sweetheart.”

“It’s you who insisted on wearing these blasted shoes. I told you to wear practical ones.” Alastor makes a face, pointing his nose into the air…but still, he presses his lips down on the skin of your arm. “I would say, ‘It paints me to tell you so’ but we both know that isn’t true.”

“Then don’t say it.”

“Dearest.”

“Yes?”

“I told you so,” Alastor says, and despite him looking away, you can practically see the smile on his face. “It doesn’t pain me to do so at all. Actually, it brings me great joy knowing I was correct.”

“I hate you.” The words are mumbled into his back.

“Now, now,” Alastor says. “We both know that’s a lie.”

“Al…I love you.”

“I know,” he tells you, pressing another kiss on your arm. “I love you.”

“That’s sweet but if you truly loved me, you would have told me we’d be dancing after dinner,” you say, banging your forehead on his back with a small huff. It’s a poor attempt to hide your shy smile. “Go on then, drop me if carrying your wife bothers you so much.”

Alastor keeps his eyes ahead as he walks, angling his head to connect with you. “That’s quite the ridiculous notion, considering we’re already home.”

You try to slip out of Alastor’s hold.

“Dearest, we’re still at the gate,” he says, shaking your body to force you to wrap around his neck tightly. “We haven’t reached the door yet—sit still.”

“Al, I can walk the rest of the way,” you tell him but still…you settle back into his hold. “The door is right there.”

Alastor keeps silent, intent on walking to the entrance of your home with you on his back.

He struts past the garden, and walks straight up the porch, landing you gently on the rocking chair. The pads of his fingers trail down your leg until they catch the soles of your shoes. Alastor slips them off your feet, revealing the red spots that mark your skin.

Alastor kneels before you, one leg propped up like a stool for your foot. Ha! It’s quite the sight to see the Radio Demon on his knees for his wife.

The pressure he uses to massage your feet brings instant relief to the buzzing of pinched nerves. His thumb glides over a particular aching spot that forces a hum of delight out your lips.

Maybe wearing the wrong shoes wasn't such a bad thing…and maybe, you should wear the wrong shoes more often.

With Alastor’s gentle attention, your feet stop aching.

Alastor takes your hand, pulling you to stand off the rocking chair. He takes the seat from you, but before you can begin to huff, Alastor pulls you on top of his lap. Your legs lean against the arm rest as you curl between his legs and into his hold, pressing deeper into his chest.

You flick the ends of his bowtie, and take the monocle resting on his face. The round glass connects to a chain. “Do you actually need this?”

“Sometimes.” Alastor rests his chin on your head.

The monocle distorts your vision as you bring it closer and farther to check the grade. “You didn’t need this when you were alive.”

“That’s because I had glasses.” Alastor snatches his monocle, and places it back on his face. “You smudge it.”

“I liked those glasses,” you say. “They were very handsome, and suited you very, very, handsomely.”

Alastor hums, rocking the chair to bring you into a lull. The breeze of the night forces you to pull his coat closer around your shoulders, eyes drooping as you settle between Alastor’s legs. This moment will pass, and soon Alastor will force you to your feet and into proper clothes then into a proper bed.

That’s later…this is now.

And right now, you’ll inhale the soft scent of sulfur from Hell’s air while chasing that precious mix of Alastor’s scent. And right now, you’ll lean into the heavy hand that soothes your back, grounding you into his arms.

Alastor presses a kiss on your forehead. “My dearest.”

“Hmmm?” you say, letting the lull take hold.

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight?” He brushes a palm across your head, patting the strands that stick out. “I need to know if you had fun.”

“It was the most fun I’ve had in years.”

Alastor shakes his head, chucking a little. Each puff of his laughter cranes your head up and down. “Mother would strangle me if she learned what I’m doing with you,” he says. “Oh, she would absolutely go bonkers and grab my ears, telling me that I was raised better than this.”

“What exactly are you doing to me besides lulling me into sleep after filling my belly with the most exquisite food.”

“We’re living together.”

You pull away, looking at him to motion to the house. “Sweetheart, I hate to break it to you, but we’ve been living together for the past two years. Well, ten if you count our life up top,” you say with a snicker. “Living together is the least sinful thing we’ve done together!”

Alastor shakes his head, pushing you up to your feet.

He presses a kiss on your ring finger, letting his lips linger across the skin. “I am a gentleman,” Alastor tells you, and each word brushes your skin. “My mother raised me to act with honor…yet, here I am living in our house, sharing a bed with you, all without being married.”

“Alastor, we are married,” you say. “Was tonight’s dinner not meant to celebrate our anniversary?”

“You’re forgetting that our vows ended with, ‘till death do us part’,” Alastor says, wagging his finger at you. “I died…and so did you. Death parted us, yet it also brought me to you once more.”

Alastor lowers to his knees, your hand still secured around his own.

There’s a smile on your lips that you don’t remember smiling, and the words tumble out on their own. “Yes.”

“My dear,” Alastor starts, sighing. “I haven’t even said anything. The ring isn’t even in my hands yet.”

“Okay…okay,” you say, laughing into the air. “Sorry—go on, please. I won’t interrupt you.”

“Let me finish.” Alastor reaches into his pocket, bringing out a small box. It’s just the right size to hold a ring. “Will you—”

“Yes.”

“—let me finish?”

You flash your most innocent smile. “I’m sorry. I promise to stay silent.”

“From this day on, I never wish to be parted from you,” Alastor tells you. “Death or no death. I am to be your husband, and stay in this house until eternity ends.”

You squeeze his hand. “Yes.”

“Dearest…,” Alastor says with a warning tone, but squeezes your hand back. “Will you do me the honor of re-marrying me?”

“Yes,” you say once again. “Always…I will always say yes to you.”

Alastor presses a kiss on your cheek, allowing his lips to linger for what seems like a lifetime—the same lifetime you’ll spend together once more.

The next kiss lands on your other cheek.

A kiss to the forehead.

A kiss on the edges of your lips.

Alastor runs his thumb over the soft skin of your mouth. Breaths mix together with small huffs. The intoxication of his nose trailing up your face consumes your very being.

The back of his fingers caresses your face until they reach to tuck a strand behind your ear. His touch shifts to cup your face as the pads of his thumb swipe across your cheek. It’s over…you’ve fully lost yourself into him.

His lips brush above your own, torturing you slowly.

The hold on the back of your neck brings you closer until your noses crash into one another, and your forehead presses against each other. His mouth grazes yours, but never fully connects. Inches of breath separate your kiss, and every exhale only pulls you deeper into madness.

The lids of your eyes flutter to a close when he finally kisses you. Kiss after kiss after kiss. Your arms snake around his chest, pulling him closer into a hug.

The kisses he blesses you with are slow, as if he savors each and every one. Alastor kisses you like there’s no place he would rather be than pulling flush against his body like he was carved to fit you into his space.

Alastor slips the ring around your finger.

You’ve said ‘Yes’ once before, and you’ve said ‘Yes’, this second time around. The answer will always be the same throughout any lifetime or any world.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Tell me what you think! I quite like this short one. It's sweet and just hits the feels for me. School has been killing me. BUT DON'T WORRY I REALLY HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN ABOUT YOUR REQUESTS. THEY'RE DRAFTED AND WILL BE COMPLETED

[pjackk]

Extremley Urgent Action Needed

Hi everybody i hate to to it but im in a realy bad spot and ive been pretty much bummed out really badly lately and lots of people on here are actually being really bad to me constantly and telling me lots of mean shit all the time and im pretty much in a super bad spot because im mentally fucked up badly right now and the theres some some holidays and shit comign up and i dont give a fuck about heaven or hell cuz my life is fucked anyways and going to shit so i dont know how it could really get worst but i pretty much want to treat myself and practice self care by making the right choices for me and getting shit that i really want as a gift to myself since nobody else will ever get me free shit since im a societal freak and a piece of shit apparently and something i really want is a Cast Iron Money Man

So the great part about the guinness Stout moneyman is that on top of making me enjoy my life for once in my fcking life if i had him it would teach me how to save my coins and put them in a safe place so they dotn keep falling down the drain because whenever im counting my pennies and other brown or shiny colored coins its always in the sink cuz thats the only place not filled to the brim with stupid shit i keep finding LOL i keep finding shit on the ground and in the trash and its often interesting as fuck shit like a stick that would be realy goood for turning into a weapon if needs to be if i was attacked from every angel a great way to fight them and a perfect advantage to have is to have the range advantage so if the thieves and other bandits were coming at me with knives and shit i would be able to bash them with my stick and maybe break there bodys while im at it and i could legaly say i killed them to defend my self and all my other shit so anyways theres tons of shit everywhere and since i just throw away my dishes when im done with them because they are way to dirty and beyond even the level to get it cleaned no more cuz shit is dried on there and wont come off if i make it wet i just gie up so that means theres never shit in my sink exept for the coins when im counting them but the big problem is i dont have a money man made out of cast iron to keep my coins safe so they fall down the drain and when i try to pop them up by dumping oil in the drain and using gargage disposal switch it just crunches them up and shoots fragments into my glasses and always breaks my glasses so i always have to get new glasses since they are always breakign whenever i lose my coins but the big problem is since i dont have my coins no more since they all get all torn up and shit its super hard to afford new glasses or food at all even though i dont technicaly have to eat its always fun to eat yummy shit so please consider to send me money to help muy shit as fuck mental get better and invest in my prosperity i promise u it will trickle down to u and u will benefit from my well being im actually working on a new CD right now with dope as fuck music but its realy really hard to be creative when i dont want to get out of bed because im always hung tf over from drinking a shit load of top notch gin a the pub all night and feeling super depresed basicaly my Guinenss beer Shaped money man would be a perfect way to solve my problems let me know if u want to help by clicking the beer above and giving me money to spend on my cast iron money man

[sihtsisdrowkcab]

DP x DC prompt - Villainess AU

Hey! So I found this promt and just had to write something with it!

https://www.tumblr.com/kuroishuuha/714717053010984960/dp-x-dc-prompt-villainess-au?source=share

Prompt

-Danny is transported into a novel/game where he is the villainess fiancé of the male lead.

Knowing that only death awaits him at the end, Danny tries to end the engagement (who knows if death will stick this time - Danny is not gonna risk finding out)

Meanwhile, Jason finds himself as the male lead of a novel/game he never read/played

The system in his head is telling him that the only way to get back home is to have a happy ending with his fiancé

So we have Danny who is desperately trying to end his engagement and a Jason who is trying to woo his fiancé (and cursing the original male lead - because the guy must have done something horrible for his cute and nice fiancé to be desperate to break up with him)-

Story

Danny was so over this. He thought this would have been easy, maybe not on his parents part god knows they don't give up without a fight, but his fiance has shown nothing but disdain for him his whole life (even if he wasn't here for 90% of that life) He thought he'd only have to tell his fiance that he didn't want to marry him, his fiance would be ecstatic and run into the sun with Ophelia and he'd get the weight off his shoulders and wouldn't have to worry about dying anymore and yet...

"No."

Danny just looked at him with horror "What do you mean no?" He practically yelled.

"No, I won't break off the engagement."

"Why not!? You hate me! You've hated me since the moment we met! I know you want to be with ophelia!"

Daminan looked like he was trying to read his face which makes no sense, if anyone should be trying to read the other's face it should be him!

Danny grabbed Damian's shoulders and shook them, he knew he wasn't acting like a proper gentleman, but his life was on the line! "Have you lost your goddamn mind? What in the world is wrong with you?" He paused, took a breath and let go of his shoulders. He was sure this had something or the other to do with politics, he just couldn't wrap his mind around it at all. He took another step back, he had to appease Damian somehow. "Look, neither of us wanted to get married and neither of us really knew what we were getting into when our parents signed the agreement and had us agree to this, my parents won't back down but from what I know of your parents they'll let you back out of this no problem. My parents will be pissed but that's neither here nor there. There is really no reasonable excuse for why we shouldn’t break off our engagement." Danny said smugly, crossing his arms over his chest. There was no way Damian could deny all of that.

-

How could Jason deny all of that?! He was acting completely out of character, which was funny because he hardly knew what his character was like at all besides from second hand accounts. When he was told he just had to get a happy ending with his fiance he had thought this would be a piece of cake, he had brushed everything else off and took this as a really weird miny vacation, how hard could it really be to marry your fiance? Everything was already set up, it couldn't fail.

Except for the fact that apparently he was a dick and hated his fiance and she was done with all that, which he would have cheered on the fiance any day, get rid of that dick 100%. But now he was here in that dick's place and having to deal with his stupid problems and his fiance wanted to divorce him! How was he ever going to get a happy ending out of this? He did eventually want to get home no matter how annoying Bruce could be at times.

His fiance huffed drawing his eyes to him, he really was very pretty, he had no idea why Damian seemingly hated him. Sure he was being annoying as hell right now but really that was all Damian's fault.

"look i don't know why you seem to be fighting for this, it seriously seems like you just forgot everything!"

Jason froze, should he go with that? It really would be rather convincing seeing as he really didn't know Damian at all.

Danial paused, his eyes widening as he fixed on Jason's hesitance, seemingly picking apart all that he was and assessing him not adequate.

"You really don't act like Damian at all..."

He froze again, was that a good thing? Was this gonna be what gave him away?

"Did you hit your head or something? Temporary amnesia?"

"Y-yes!" Was he messing this up, would Danial believe that?

"Then why are you fighting so hard to keep the engagement? You don't know me at all."

Shit. shit what did he say? How did he convince Danial to keep the engagement if his other self hated him and this self didn't know him?

"I-I heard how wonderful you were from my parents and- and fell in love!"

Danial backed up with a distured look on his face, fuck he shouldn't have said that. "Love? After just hearing about me? That’s… kind of creepy."

“I just want to get to know you!”

Danial looked at him, his shoulders slumped and he looked resigned as he said "fine we'll keep up the engagement for now.” yes! “But when you get your memories back, we're breaking it off.”

Not great, but at least he knew that wasn’t going to happen. 

 He turned around to leave, oh wait. "I haven't told anyone else I've lost my memories so could you keep that one to yourself?" He asked, turning back around.

Danial looked at him suspiciously. "Why haven't you told anyone else? Not even your family?"

Fuck again! Why couldn't he just get this right? "Of course my family knows!" He really hoped Danial never met them because they absolutely did not. "but no one at this school does, i don't want them to treat me like i'm made of glass like my parents." Not completely off base, they've been tiptoeing around him all summer, probably because he was acting so weird.

"that makes sense." Danial sighed, he looked suddenly like the whole weight of the world was upon his shoulders. 

Jason screwed up his face, he had definitely been the one to place it there. He wanted to go over to him and tell him that they could break off the engagement after all but he really couldn't do that. "I'm sorry." He settled for instead.

Danial looked surprised. "You’re apologizing?"

"Yeah, I've made this so much harder for you than it really had to be. And you don't really know me anymore and I really don't know you."

Danial looked at him with something akin to empathy. "It's hard being thrust into a world that's unfamiliar to you isn't it? No one you trust or know around you and having to be something your not."

Jason looked at him in genuine shock. "H-how?"

Danial looked panicked for a second before he gave a light laugh. "I may not have amnesia but I do have expectations from everyone around me." He rubbed his arm. "Everyone says you're way out of my league and that I'm lucky to have you." This time his laugh was bitter.

"If anything you said about the old me was true it was really the opposite."

Danial gave a snort that Jason couldn't help feeling was the prettiest thing he's ever heard. "oh believe me i down played it."

Jason looked at him aghast. "Downplayed it!? Just how bad was I??"

Daniel gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and a smirk, "Now that, my friend is a talk for another time. Danial moved past him brushing his shoulder, what felt like a shock passed through him and he went stiff. When he finally came to his senses he was all by himself, What had just happened?

[godjustkys]

| mndi 18+

| What a perv.

please give requests.

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

Pairing: Top!dom!AMAB!reader x bottom!sub!Dean Winchester.

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

Genre: smut.

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

Word count: 2,357

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

Warning(s): slight feminisation, use of pet names, reader being a cocky asshole (just a lil bit), unprotected sex, reader has clothes on/character does not, bratty Dean >:)

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

Request: "can i req perv dean winchester x top male reader? possibly where dean’s jerking off to something that correlates to the reader (like a picture/boxers/whatever works really), but ends up getting caught? he’d usually use his glib tongue to get away, but poor princess is so embarrassed he’s caught jerking off to a guy."

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

A/n: i think about dean a lot, putting my headcanons to use here. i need him so badly,,

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

You had just gotten back from a grocery trip, putting the bags on the kitchen table. “Fuckin' hell, it's quiet.” You murmured to yourself, your hands on your hips.

Sam was out. Somewhere. Said he had business to attend to. He took Cas with him, so the only one that should be home right now was Dean. At first you thought you'd come home to Dean sitting in the kitchen and drinking, or simply watching the TV.

Neither of those were the case. You slowly walked to Dean's room, thinking to yourself. Just as you reached the door to his bedroom, you opened it immediately, figuring it'd be pointless to knock at this point.

“Dean, will y- woah—” you were in the doorway, standing still, your hand on the door handle.

Dean scrambled to sit up, getting a blanket to cover himself up. “What the hell! Knock, you moron!” He yelled at you, his facial expression clearly offended. Dean swallowed hard, eyebrows furrowed.

“Jesus Christ, okay, sorry-” you thought it was funny, how you caught him jerking off. You had a grin on your face, taking in the surroundings for a little while as you took a small step back, planning to close the door and leave Dean alone. Your smile dropped in a matter of seconds when you noticed your shirt — your dirty, bloody shirt that was supposed to be in the laundry,, in the grasp of Dean's hand.

“S'that..” you inquired slowly, squinting your eyes. “Is that my shirt?” You tilted your head to the side, your shoulders slumping. Why would Dean have your shirt in the first place?

“wh—” he looked down at his hand, practically baffled. Once Dean realized you had seen the piece of clothing, his grip tightened. “What? N— no, no that's mine.” He tried hiding it behind his back slowly.

“Dean, that's my shirt.” You pointed out, your facial expression going blank. “Were you-” you paused mid sentence, trying to take in the new information. “Were you jerking off to me?” Your tone had gotten a tad bit more serious.

“Huh?” He turned his head to look at you, wondering if he heard your question right. “No! No way! What in the world are you talking about?” His tone was defensive as he sat up more straight.

“Wait, scratch that. You were jerking off to a guy?” The look on your face was priceless, absolutely stunned. You knew you caught him, he was in a pinch. He wouldn't get out of this easily. “Since when are you so accepting of your attraction to men?”

“Hold on, does that mean you find me attractive? Am I attractive to you, Dean?” You fixed up your shirt, trying your best to look presentable. “Am I hot enough to get you off? Hm?” That same grin crept back on your face. Being friends with Dean was one thing, annoying and teasing the absolute shit out of him was another. You loved every minute of it.

Dean's gaze shifted to the floor, the feeling of heat cursing through him. Was he getting embarrassed? No, he had to come up with something to derail this conversation.

“You're being fucking ridiculous, [Name], get the hell out.” Dean made eye contact with you, trying to keep his poker face up.

“Awh, is my poor princess embarrassed to be caught jerking off to a guy?” You cooed, walking into the room and closing the door behind you. “You know damn well that it is my shirt.” You spoke, making your way towards Dean. Before the other could respond, you reached around and snatched the shirt.

You held it up, taking a proper look. “Yep,” You nodded with an affirming tone. “It is, in fact, my shirt.” Dean looked away from you, eyebrows furrowed as he huffed, clearly annoyed or even embarrassed. “Fuck off, out of my room, now.” He commanded, his voice ever-so slightly shaky.

“Ay, what the hell? I caught you jerking off to me, and now you're trynna kick me out?” You tilted your head to the side, throwing the shirt onto the ground. “Come on, I gotta know if you're in love with me or not,” you pushed further, your tone firm.

Dean scoffed as he laid back down with a small thud, the blanket still covering his lower half. He brought his arm up to his face, covering his eyes. “No. M'not. Get out,” Even though Dean denied it, his tone didn't seem that confident or convincing.

“You want me to get out and leave my shirt so you can continue jerking off to me? Orrr,, perhaps, there's a chance you want me to stay and get the real deal?” You didn't give it up, how could you? Dean Winchester, an absolute ladies man, trying to get off to his friend, a guy.

“What are you talking about??” He asked in an almost offended tone, taking his arm off of his face to look at you.

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

Deep breaths and groans filled the silent room, your hands gripping his firm thighs as you slowly pushed your cock in. Both of Dean's legs were over your shoulders. “Shit.. t'feels weird,” He breathed out, his left hand resting atop of yours, right hand freely on the bed itself.

“Yeah, well, now you know how a woman feels when you fuck her ass.” You said in a taunting tone, not taking your eyes away from your lower half. The sight of your cock slowly disappearing in his entrance - god.

Dean muttered something out that was followed by a grunt, his hand gripping the sheets underneath the two of you a little. “Jesus Chr— ist..” His voice faltered mid-word, eyelids fluttering shut. “Relax, Dean, relax. You're doin' good,” You encouraged him in a gentle manner, rubbing circles on his thighs with your thumbs to soothe him - calm him down.

“I am- relaxed.” He grumbled out, letting out a small wince. “Wouldn't say it feels like that,” You leaned down a bit, pushing on Dean's legs. Soon enough, you fully bottomed out. “Need a moment?” You asked, eyes flickering all over Dean's torso. “You take me for a wimp?” He said breathily, opening his eyes to make eye contact with you.

Once you looked into Dean's eyes, you got so lost. He looked breathtaking like this, the look in his eyes - full of lust, neediness and want, the glossiness of them. His slightly furrowed eyebrows, clenched jaw, his hand on yours,, the hand gripping the sheets.. so perfect. All of him was perfect. “Fuckin' hell..” You muttered out, moving your left hand to Dean's cock, very slowly jerking him off.

“Mff-..mm.” Soft noises escaped his mouth, followed by a sigh of content. Your touch stimulated him to no end. “You never got to cum, right? I interrupted you,” You spoke in a delighted tone, a smirk plastered on your face. “Why don't we finish off what you started, huh?” Your hand's pace had quickened with your sentence as Dean tilted his head back, his blinking getting more frequent and excessive.

“Fuckkkk..” He said, his voice quiet and low. His breath hitched in his throat for a short moment as you started slowly thrusting in and out. Agonizingly slowly. “Did you grab my shirt from the laundry?” You questioned suddenly, looking down at him with half-lidded eyes. “Cause it was dirty, you know, I'm curious.” You added, a grin flashing across your face.

“Mmh— nhgggh!—” Dean breathed out simple whines and whimpers. You were not sure if he even heard you, your thrusting getting more rhythmic and deeper. It was all new to the other - he'd usually do the fucking. “Hey Dean-oooo, I asked you a question baby,” You cooed, thumb rubbing over the slit of his dick, putting pressure on it. “Son of a bitch— shit!” He pressed his head back into the pillow, hand gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white. Dean had a hard time not squeezing your hand as well.

You moved your hand, intertwining your fingers together as you pushed his arm, making his forearm rest beside his head, pressing his hand into the mattress a bit as you propped yourself up. “Breathe Dean, jeez,” You said with a small breathless scoff, your other hand pumping his cock continuously. “Sh— shut up,, I hate y..you, hhgg!-” Dean managed to speak, his sentence truly holding no malice or hostility behind his tone of voice, moving his head to the side and letting out a hiss at the feeling of your cock inside him. “Do you?” The grin never left your face. “Not only did I catch you jerking off to me, or my clothes rather, but you're letting me fuck you as well. That speaks volumes to me baby,” You shifted on your knees, finding a completely new angle. You pushed in, reaching deep. With that, Dean choked out a gasp, his eyes shooting open as he arched his back off of the bed slightly.

Almost immediately Dean let go of the sheets, bringing his hand to his mouth, covering it. He let out a couple muffled moans, really starting to sweat. Your thrusting pace quickened. It was harsh and deep. “You feelin' shy? We're alone, no one's gonna hear you, Dean.” You mumbled, looking down at your hand jerking him off. His cock twitched, leaking precum. You let out a groan at the feeling of Dean clenching around you.

At this point Dean was seeing stars behind his eyes, the feeling was entirely new to him yet it felt so good. Too good, maybe. He whimpered against his hand, his thighs tensing as they shuddered. You clicked your tongue in annoyance, not exactly directed towards him. You removed your hand from his cock and grasped his wrist, removing his own hand from his mouth so he wouldn't muffle his moans anymore. You pinned it next to his head on the mattress, almost the same as his other hand.

Of course Dean tried resisting being pinned, but you did all of that while fucking him mercilessly and relentlessly. “oh- ah! fucckk—” He bit down on his bottom lip to try and suppress his moaning. You suddenly hit his prostate with a harsh thrust, earning a loud whine from Dean, his one hand clenching into a fist, the other squeezing yours. “Nnh! Shit! Yes yes yes, just like that-” he rambled out, his chest rising and falling with each breath that he took, his lips parted.

His legs started trembling over your shoulders, toes curling. You let a soft groan leave your lips, leaning your body down again, Dean's knees inches away from his chest. He seemed more flexible than you thought. “Yeah? Feels good, doesn't it?” You said in a confident tone, letting out a soft sigh of content, your thrusts ever so slightly losing rhythm.

“Ghhh— pleaseee, pleasepleaseplease,” He whined, his muscles tensed visibly as his body spasmed, shaking his head. You abused his prostate, most likely bruised it as well. Dean squirmed underneath you, his arms aching - couldn't put his hands where he wanted with you pinning him to the bed. His cock throbbed as it was lightly pressed between the both of your abdomens. “w- I'm close! shit! i'm so close!-”

“Go on, cum for me, you've been so good,” You praised him in a softer voice, trying to keep up the same fast pace just to push Dean over the edge. His eyes shut tight, pushing his arms up in an attempt to free himself. As you noticed this, you let go of both of his hands and he almost instinctively wrapped them around your neck, pulling you in as close as possible. Without any further warning, Dean came, making a mess on his own stomach. He choked out a breath he didn't even know he was holding, panting afterwards, eyebrows only stitching together further.

“There we go, good boy,” You murmured, gasping softly as Dean's walls tightened around you. He was starting to get a bit overstimulated with the way you continued pounding into him after he came. One hand of Dean's gripped your shirt, the other holding onto the back of your neck. You felt your own climax nearing.

“Mmhhh,” You hummed out, placing open-mouthed kisses on Dean's neck as a way to distract yourself a little. You ended up only chasing your own orgasm, your cock twitching inside Dean's hole. He shuddered, fingers tangling in your hair, slightly pulling on the locks. “There- there, right there-” Dean moaned out, his voice hoarse and raspy, trying to ride down his own orgasm.

Your hips stuttered, slowly breaking the pace. You were close, almost ready to pull out. Dean felt slight emptiness near his prostate due to you not pushing back in and he whined. “N— no, no, inside, come inside.” Dean rasped out, holding you close to him. You raised an eyebrow at this, nonetheless complying with the other's request. “Fuck Dean, you're kinky,” you joked, pushing your cock all the way in.

His legs continued to shake, burying his head in the crook of your neck. “g-god,” Dean managed to speak through the string of moans and whimpers he let out. With one harsh final thrust and a groan, you came inside Dean, the warm liquid pooling inside him. He let out a shaky sigh, his grip on you loosening. You dropped your head down and leaned your forehead on Dean's shoulder, relaxing. “This fulfilled your expectations of me?” you asked, clearly out of breath. “Or do you wanna go again?” You whispered, your hands moving to remove Dean's legs from your shoulders, lowering them and making them wrap around your waist.

Dean paused as you lifted your head back up again, looking down at him. He made eye contact with you, his eyes ever so slightly teary. “You think you got enough stamina for another round?” He mocked you, his panting very audible, voice quieter than usual. “You're a little shit,” You chuckled, shifting your position to a sitting one. “You're getting what you asked for,” with a tight grip on his hips, you started moving again.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Final Girl.

Pairing: Yandere!Chrollo x Reader (HxH).

Word Count: 1.4k.

TW: 'Girl' Is In The Title But Reader Is Gender Neutral, Death and Blood, Mentions of Guns, Manipulation, Implied Kidnapping, and Spoilers for the Ninteenth-Century Novel Dracula.

The night you met him was, by no coincidence, also the night you learned what it meant to feel your blood run cold.

‘Met’ might’ve been an exaggeration. You didn’t meet him so much as you stood still and stared at him – lumbering down the hallway, clutching a gore-splattered butcher's knife, his suit disheveled and stained with a dark, blotting substance you couldn’t bring yourself to put a name to, in your fear-induced paralysis. With the manor's high ceilings and dim lighting, he seemed impossibly tall, his black eyes blank and terrible, his smile manic in a way that sent a chill up your spine, that left you frozen where you stood and unable to run as he came to stand in front of you, as he raised a hand and—

And pointed to the book tucked under your arm, a yellowed paperback beaten to hell and back from weeks of loving abuse. You’d spent hours wondering if you should bring it with you, if there was anyone else on the face of the planet who’d be stupid enough to bring a book to a mascarade ball, but you figured you’d have to step out for a breath of fresh air at some point, tonight, and phones weren’t really an option at this kind of thing. Looking back on it, you struggled to remember why you’d spent so much time agonizing over something so inconsequential, especially when whoever found your body likely wouldn’t pay it a second glance. “Is that—” He started, pausing to wet his lips before correcting himself. “Is that Bram Stoker’s Dracula?”

You blinked several times, shifting your weight. “It is,” you managed, eventually, just before the point of no return. “I… I’m only a few chapters in, though. They’re only on the second blood transfusion.”

His smile widened. “I’m reading it for the second time, now. That’s one of the best passages - you can practically feel the dread mounting in the prose.” While he spoke, you stole another glance at his attire. With your shock beginning to fade and your nerves given a few seconds to cool, you could see that he clearly hadn’t just walked out of a crime scene. His clothes were wrinkled, but not torn, not displaced the way they would’ve been if he’d been in a real fight, and he was covered in a cartoonish amount of (presumably fake) blood. He couldn’t have meant for it to be realistic, not unless you were supposed to believe he’d bled twenty people dry on his own.

He must’ve noticed you staring. His rambling trailed off into an airy chuckle, his free hand drifting to his blood-soaked shirt. “I’m afraid I might’ve misread my invitation,” he admitted, with a slight shrug. You were almost in awe of his nonchalance. Showing up to a masquerade ball in a costume fit for a b-rated haunted house would’ve left you catatonic for… god, the rest of the year, at least. “That’s how I found my way back here, actually. You can understand why I wouldn’t want to stay in the ballroom for very long, considering I’m dressed for a very different party.”

“No, no, that makes a lot of sense! I mean, a costume party would be more in-season.” You felt like an idiot. You could only hope you hadn’t looked as scared as you felt. “Honestly, I’m just surprised they let you in with a prop.”

He glanced to his ‘knife’, too, as if he’d forgotten he was holding it. “Oh, this little thing?” He took the blade in his free hand, bending it downward. Unceremoniously, it snapped into two pieces as easily as if it’d been made of little more than tin foil and plastic - which, to be fair, it probably was. “Most people struggle to see me as a threat, for whatever reason.”

“The doormen probably just felt bad for the strange man who showed up to a charity gala covered in blood.” You spared a small smile, then genuinely brightened, taking up your novel and fishing out the spare mask you’d shoved between the pages while you were getting ready. He should’ve counted himself lucky that you could never be bothered to find a real bookmark. “Mine came in a set of two,” you explained, signaling for him to bend down. A little too easily, he obeyed, stooping just low enough for you to work your spare mask over his head. It was cheaper than anything you would usually like to show off – the base simple black cloth, the embroidery meaninglessly gaudy, the main body kept in place by little more than a simple white ribbon that never seemed to sit just right, but he accepted your offering with a grateful hum. “It’s not much, but—” You paused, buttoning his suit jacket, doing your best to make it look a little less like he’d just walked out of a bad slasher movie and a little more like a tragically color-blind, but ultimately well-dressed party-goer. “It should get you through the door.”

He straightened his back, and you thought you might’ve seen something spark in his dark eyes. Then again, it could’ve just been the moonlight. “I don’t think I ever got your name.”

Oh, right – that was something most people did before offering to fix a stranger’s clothes, wasn’t it? You rushed to introduce yourself, and he did the same. “Chrollo Lucilfer.” And then, offering you his hand, “Perhaps I’d be more warmly received with a plus one?”

As hesitant as you were to slip back into the ballroom on the arm of a disheveled stranger who’d already made an impression of his own, it would’ve broken your heart to turn him down. That, and you might’ve had a weakness for disheveled strangers who fell on the more handsome side of the spectrum.

You laughed as you threaded your arm through his, letting Chrollo guide you back to the main event. A second passed with only the sound of your footsteps and distance music to fill the quiet, then another. Eventually, you broke the silence. “It’s very well-written,” you started, trying to fight the urge to fidget. “But… I don’t think I’m the right audience. I care too much about Lucy. Seeing her go through so much and knowing she’s not going to make it is just—” You sighed, shook your head. “It’s agony. Especially when the villain is literally in the title. I mean, I know the characters don’t know that, but still.”

“The benefit of a voyeur's perspective.” For all his glowing praise, he didn’t seem very offended. “I think the dramatic irony is part of the appeal. By the time the tension breaks, it’s nearly too painful to keep going.”

“Which is exactly why it hurts to read,” you groaned, slumping into his side. “I get why it’s happening, but I just can’t stand spending so long on the build-up knowing how it’s going to end. It probably doesn’t help that Lucy’s one of my favorites, either. Well, aside from Mina, but it wouldn’t be fair to compare her to the author’s self-insert.”

The two of you came to a pair of rounded oak doors. There’d been a pair of attendants stationed outside when you left, but Chrollo didn’t seem to mind shouldering it open himself, ushering you inside with a smile and an idle gesture. You took a second to steel your nerves, still not entirely prepared to throw yourself into a very crowded room filled with very loud music and very eager socialites, then crossed the threshold, coming face to face with—

Carnage. Pure, unadulterated carnage.

There were bodies everywhere, each corpse mangled and bruised and broken in every possible way. Dark blood and broken glass covered the formerly pristine ivory floor, and the walls were painted with the remnants of gunfire. A few people were still standing – the murderers, you figured, judging by the blood on their outlandish clothes, the weapons in their hands, the indifferent agitation written across their expressions as you stared at them in horror, as your heart threatened to give out for the second time that night. The tallest man you’d ever seen pointed a hand-held machine gun in your direction, but Chrollo found his way back to your side, resting a hand on your shoulder as he spoke. “Hold your fire,” he said, casually, as if you weren’t standing at the edge of a bloodbath. As if he’d known what he was leading you into. “I think I’m going to keep this one.”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe. The air hitched in your throat as he brought a hand up to your chin, tilting your head back and forcing you to meet his unblinking stare. You’d been right the first time. There was never anything his eyes could’ve been but terrible. “I always did like Mina.”

There was never anything he could’ve been but a monster, prowling for his next kill.

“I guess I just have a soft spot for survivors.”

[goldfades]

Paige nsfw hcs pls

─ warnings | NSFW under the cut! read at your own discretion!

─ taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson @euphternal and here's a link to my taglist if anyone would like to join!!

─ ev's notes | the long awaited nsfw headcanons for paigey, i finally got the motivation to write it after i kept reading the INSANE smut yall keep writing (keep it up im lovin it) also this is such a mess, this is just rambling and not organized whatsoever, but wtv i hope yall enjoyed :)

woo, where do i even begin?

let's begin with the obvious, paige is a TOP, i can't stress this enough

i genuinely can't see anyone topping her she's just .... a TOP

but that doesn't mean she won't let you take the reigns every once in awhile, esp after a bad game/tiring practice because everyone once to be taken care of sometimes

i'm def not the first person to say this and certainly will not be the last but STRAP GAME GOES SOOOOO HARD

i feel like at first she's gonna be weirded out cus like... she likes only girls for a reason??? and she has her mouth and fingers??? why would she need a piece of plastic to make her girl feel good???

but the first time y'all try it, she's hooked

she forgets ab her hands after that

jk but like

yeah she's HOOKED

she gets really into it LOL, def can imagine her calling the strap her dick

oh and she fucks HARDDDD like, no room to breathe or anything

like you'll be gasping for air after and she'll be super duper proud

i read this one fic with like the dual ended one (i didn't even know that existed) and then i was like yep, yes this is the oneee

with positions, i can't see her doing anything more than like missionary (cus she loves to see your pretty face) and like from the back

but as soon as she discovers riding, it's OVERRRRR for you

she's making you ride her strap anytime she can, cus she loves it

she has her hands on your hips as she's guiding you and she LOVES IT so fucking much, like the power she has over you makes her go feral

oh and do not get me started on sucking her strap, cus again she loves the power she holds over you

she has your hair in a ponytail and the more you get comfortable with the whole thing, she WILL make you gag

she acts like it's her dick (yeah i know we covered that) but like esp when you're sucking her strap, she will just dirty talk u the entire time

"you like my dick, pretty girl? like gagging on my dick?" cus yeah, u do

oh and yes, she does have breeding kink

it breaks her heart that she can't get you pregnant 😪

but she sure as hell will pretend to!!!!!

will 100% bend you over and just yap about getting you pregnant

also if she's fucking you in missionary, she expects you to look at her the entire time

so if you turn away, she will grab your face and keep you looking straight at her

FUCK IDK WHY THAT'S SO HOT

paige is a D1 yapper i fear, and that would 10000% seep into the bedroom LMAO

mostly praise cus babygirl would feel really bad but when she gets into, she GETS into it

like she will call you her slut as she's about cum

that post-nut clarity goes hard the first time tho cus she's like no way i called my gf a dirty fucking slut 😭😭 she sits with her thoughts for a good 10 minutes trying to recollect herself

she is a munch for sure, like she will eat you out for hours and hours on end (not an exaggeration btw)

but she LOVES when you give back

it makes her go fucking feral when she sees you eating her out, like yessssssssssssss

she has to close her eyes bc if she keeps looking at your face, she WILL cum

she has a bad hair pulling problem, like she will grip your hair so hard your head will hurt after

it's apart of the appeal tho 🎀

her fav spot to get absolutely ate is her gaming chair cus like, she needs you in between her legs giving her support to get that victory royale 💯💯💯

she hates when she gets ass or tits bc she genuinely cannot pick

it depends on the day bc they're both great, she will never pick one

i feel like she's definitely thought ab fucking you in public but she can't risk it

SHES A D1 ATHLETE !!

the only time yall did was in a bathroom at an event and it was SOOO bad afterwards cus everyone could tell

you had to pretend like you didn't get your brains fucked out and paige had to pretend she didn't DO the fucking

but lowkey she enjoyed it a lot, but would she do it again?

maybe, a solid maybe (with the right motivation)

okay but like ....

she def has fingered u while the girls are over cus like, she was in a silly mood?

you just looked too fucking good, she had to

but thank god no one noticed (at least to yalls knowledge...)

she's a horny fuck ARGUE WITH THE WALL

she will get turned on by anything you do, like homegirl is just sooooo down bad for you

you could be applying chapstick and paige will be like "we need to fuck, now."

paige's aftercare is just giving you water and cuddling with you for 10 mis while scrolling on tiktok and then gets up to play fortnite with kk

she literally is the tiktok where it's like "after he rearranges my organs he goes and plays fortnite" i hope yall know what i'm talking about

but you don't mind ofc cus she makes you sit on her lap while playing

but then turns into another round cus shes a horny fuck

paige is all for hickies on YOU but she gets pissed when you give her a hickey cus she's like people are gonna see

like she's the only one who has to deal with the public 🙄🙄🙄

but she loves marking you EVERYWHERE, esp on your collarbone like it's so sexy

oh and god bless you in the summer, the ones on your thighs are getting AIRED OUT bc paige does not care

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[fatecantstopme]

Never Do That Again

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Summary: The team is in a tiny town, a town so small that there is only one tiny hotel. What happens when you end up having to share a small room with your boss for a week straight?

Warnings: Angst. Some fluffy fluff. Mentions of death. Suicide. SMUT, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V). Use of pet names. Swearing.

"Dear God, I'm exhausted," you mumbled as you walked into the little hotel.

"I'm just looking forward to a hot shower," Morgan said from behind you.

"So are we. You smell terrible," Emily teased.

"Shut up."

You all chuckled as you reached the front desk.

"Good evening," the woman at the desk said. "How can I help you?"

"Hi there," you said with a smile as you were the first person to reach the desk. "We're in need of a few rooms."

"Okay, dear. We have one single and three doubles available."

Before anyone else could say anything, Rossi stepped forward and said, "I'll take the single."

The lady handed him the key and he waved to you all as he headed towards the elevator.

"Are you kidding me?" you grumbled.

"Reid and I will bunk together," Morgan said, taking another key from the desk.

You were about to ask JJ to room with you, but she snatched up a key and said, "Emily and I will take a room."

You gave her a look that she pretended not to see.

Hotch sighed heavily and reached for the last key. "I guess that means it's you and me, (Y/L/N)."

You deepened the glare on your face as you looked at JJ. She smiled at you knowingly and you felt the strong urge to smack her. Instead, you simply said, "Guess so, boss."

Everyone moved towards the elevators as a group, but you grabbed JJ's arm and pulled her back to you. "You did that on purpose," you hissed.

"Of course I did."

"J--what the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Now's your chance, (Y/N/N). Time to find out if he wants you as badly as I think he does."

"Or I'm just horny and sleep-deprived for however long we're stuck here," you grumbled.

"I doubt it."

She practically dragged you into the elevator with her and you both fell silent. JJ was the only person you'd ever admitted your feelings to about your boss. She was your best friend and you trusted her implicitly.

When you first told her you liked Hotch, she started paying more attention to how he acted around you. By this point, she was convinced he was into you--like really into you. You weren't so sure. Hotch was always so professional...you couldn't imagine a situation where he would break the rules so blatantly.

The hotel was small, only 8 rooms in total, four on the second floor and four on the third. JJ and Emily's room was on the second, as was yours and Hotch's, meanwhile, Rossi's room and Reid and Morgan's was on the third floor.

Hotch unlocked the door and waited for you to enter before bidding goodnight to JJ and Emily and shutting the door. You managed one last glare in JJ's direction before the door shut, but she shot you a wink and ducked into her own room.

When you turned around and got a full view of the room, you realized just how tiny it was. The two beds were so close together they were almost touching and the only other pieces of furniture in the room were a single nightstand and a small loveseat.

"Well this is...quaint," you managed.

Hotch laughed lightly. "That's one word for it." He tossed his duffle onto the bed closest to the door. "I'll take this one if that's okay with you?"

You nodded and walked over to the other bed and sat down on the edge of it. "You wanna shower first? I'll take longer."

"Sure, thanks." He grabbed what he would need and went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

You gave yourself a little slap on the face to try and snap yourself out it. Your brain was betraying you as it often did in situations like this. First, you imagined what he would look like without his clothes, then your mind wandered to taking a shower with him, then to being underneath him on the bed. "Shit, (Y/N)," you said to yourself. "Snap out of it."

You laid back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, waiting for Hotch to come out of the bathroom. You tried to think about literally anything else, but your mind kept traveling back to your boss--as it often did these days.

You knew it was dangerous to let yourself think about him or imagine anything with him. He was beyond off-limits. You couldn't deny the sexual attraction you felt, nor the spark of real attraction, but you sure as hell couldn't act on it. It could destroy both of your lives.

"Uhh...(Y/N)?" Hotch said a little louder. The way he spoke told you it wasn't the first time he'd said your name.

"Sorry--I was lost in thought," you said as you sat up. You were completely unprepared for the sight of him post-shower, his hair was damp and tousled, and he wore nothing but a t-shirt and boxers.

You must have been staring a little too long because he cleared his throat. "Your turn."

"Oh, yeah--right." You stumbled to the bathroom, feeling like a complete idiot. You made fast work of your shower and nighttime routine.

You started digging through your bag trying to find your pjs as the panic started to rise in you. "Fuck," you muttered. "Fuck, shit, fuck!"

"Everything okay in there?" Hotch called.

"Yeah," you called back. "I just--shit--I forgot my pajamas."

"Oh...umm--do you need anything?"

You groaned as you realized all you had was a tank top. "Not to be awkward or anything, but do you maybe have pants?"

He chuckled lightly and you heard him rustle through his bag. "I have a pair of sweats. Will that work?"

Oh, thank god. "Yes! Thank you so much."

You opened the door just enough for him to slide the pants through the crack. You grabbed them gratefully and pulled them on quickly. As expected, they were massive on you. He was broader and taller than you, the sweats making you look like you were a child trying on your father's clothes.

You walked out of the bathroom, holding tightly to the waistband of the pants. "They're slightly big on me," you said lightly.

Hotch looked over at you and froze. His eyes trailed over your body slowly and you felt incredibly exposed under his gaze.

"The uh--the tank was all I had," you mumbled as you climbed into your bed.

Hotch seemed to realize he'd been staring awkwardly and his gaze quickly averted. "Don't worry about it. You can wear whatever you want to bed."

You chuckled. "Thank you?"

He groaned. "Sorry, that came out weird."

"It's okay." You laid down on your bed and sighed. "These beds are tiny."

He laughed. "You're telling me. I've never felt so large in my life."

You looked over at him and giggled. "You look like you're sleeping in a child's bed."

He groaned. "I feel like I'm sleeping in a child's bed. There is no way this is going to be comfortable."

"What size are these beds, anyway?"

"I don't think they even make beds like this. They're slightly larger than a twin, but smaller than a full."

You sighed. "They had them specially made for this tiny room."

He chuckled. "Probably."

You curled up under your covers and settled in for the night, exhaustion finally overwhelming your body. "Could you get the light?"

"Of course." He reached over and turned off the lamp. "Goodnight, (Y/N)."

"Goodnight, Hotch."

**********

"How'd you sleep?" you asked the next morning.

"Terribly," Hotch admitted.

"Me too, honestly."

"It's the tiny bed."

You sighed. "Hopefully we'll only be here a day or two."

The whole team worked hard all day, doing their best to catch the latest unsub. You finally decided to call it a night around 7.

"Let's get dinner and head back to the hotel," Hotch said.

Everyone agreed and you headed to the local diner, one of the only places to get food in this town.

You slid into the booth on the side facing the door, as you always did, and to your surprise, Hotch slid in next to you. JJ was sitting across from you and she smirked slightly when she saw Hotch sit down.

You gave her a 'shut it' look and she just chuckled.

Throughout dinner, Hotch's leg brushed against yours several times and his proximity had you distracted. You could smell his cologne and it made you lightheaded. It was almost embarrassing. When his leg would brush yours, your entire body froze and you found it difficult to breathe.

You were beyond grateful for dinner to be over and to head back to the hotel. But even there you couldn't escape him because you were sharing a damn room. FML.

When you walked back into the hotel room and stared at the tiny beds you groaned audibly.

Hotch followed your gaze and chuckled. "Yeah, not looking forward to that either."

Suddenly, an idea popped into your head and before you could think better of it, you spit said idea out. "Hey, what if we push the beds together to make one big bed?"

Hotch froze. "What?"

"I mean, at least then it'd be like a normal sized bed and maybe then we could get some sleep."

He just stared at you in silence and you quickly realized what you had just suggested.

"Or, not--just kidding. That was a terrible idea."

"No, no--actually, that's not a bad idea," he said.

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah! I mean, at least that way we both have a higher chance of actually getting some sleep."

"Okay, cool."

The two of you set to work on moving the nightstand out of the way and pushing the two beds together. It actually did seem to be make sense, at least visually. Hopefully it made sleeping a little more pleasant tonight as well.

"Much better," you said softly as you patted your side of the bed. "Just don't roll me off the bed in the middle of the night."

He laughed. "No promises."

Just like the night before, Hotch showered first, then it was your turn. When you came back out, he was already laying in the bed with his eyes closed.

You moved slowly and lightly, just in case he was asleep. When you crawled into the bed, you noticed the way he was breathing and you couldn't help but smile. He was fast asleep, all the worry lines that normally lived on his face were gone, and you couldn't help but think he looked incredibly peaceful.

You smiled again as you reached across him to turn off the lamp before getting comfortable on your side of the bed. "Goodnight, Hotch," you whispered.

**********

The next day was almost identical to the day before. Work all day, eat dinner, shower, go to sleep.

It was day number four when things finally started to pick up. It was an extremely long day, but the team had successfully identified the unsub. Now it was just a matter of finding him.

Day five was an absolute shitshow. One of the locals had messed up and spoiled the team's chance of catching the unsub. You'd been on a wild goose chase for most of the day and Hotch was in an absolutely foul mood by the time you made it back to the hotel.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" you asked quietly as the two of you sat upright in bed.

"No."

"Okay."

You both sat in silence for several minutes--the heaviest silence you'd ever felt.

"I don't like feeling powerless," Hotch said suddenly.

You turned to look at him in surprise. "No one does."

He shook his head. "It's worse for me. I'm in charge--I'm supposed to be the leader. If I have no control, then what are we supposed to do?"

"It might help to remember you're not alone."

He looked over at you. "I feel alone."

"You're not. You have us," you insisted.

"I shouldn't be burdening any of you with my troubles."

"It's not a burden. We're your family, Hotch. It's what we're there for."

He fell silent again, but it was much less tense than before. After a few minutes, he spoke again. "Can I tell you something?"

"Of course."

"And you won't judge me?"

"I would never judge you," you said honestly.

"Sometimes I lay in bed at night filled with nothing but fear and regret. It's so crippling I can barely move. This case is getting to me, and I--I feel that fear. Every worst case scenario runs through my mind and I feel like I'm drowning."

Instinct takes over and you reach to grab his hand. He tenses, but he doesn't pull away. "I'll be your life-raft," you murmured.

He looked up at you with emotion-filled eyes. You weren't used to seeing anything other than the most stoic expressions on his face and it shocked you beyond belief. But nothing could prepare you for the words about to come out of his mouth. "Can I hold you?" he whispered so softly you almost thought you were hearing things.

"I--uh--you--" you stammered.

"Never mind, forget I said anything."

"No, wait--I was just surprised," you said softly. "If it will help you, then yes, you can hold me."

Without waiting for him to respond, you laid down beside him. He shifted slightly, getting into a more comfortable position. You felt his arm snake around you as he whispered, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," you whispered back.

He tightened his grip around your waist and pulled you closer so your back was flush against his front. You couldn't remember a time when you didn't want this, but you didn't imagine it happening quite like this.

It was either exhaustion from the day or the comfort of his arms, but you fell asleep within moments, Hotch not far behind you. Neither of you would admit it, but it was the best sleep you'd gotten in ages.

**********

The next day was different in so many ways. Hotch was different. Opening up to you had changed something in him, something you didn't understand. He was never more than a few feet from you at any point in time, he would brush up against you often, and he would glance at you for much longer than he should have. You weren't sure what to think, and you didn't want to read too much into it.

It was mid-afternoon when you received a phone call that led you to the location of the unsub. The seven of you pulled up to an abandoned house where he was supposedly staying. You entered, guns drawn, and began to clear the house.

You reached one of the back bedrooms and a shot rang out. You ducked back out of the doorway just as another bullet struck the doorframe where you had been standing a second before.

"FBI! Put the weapon down!" you yelled.

"You first," a voice replied.

"Come on, Matthew, it's over. Just put the gun down and come out."

You felt Hotch come up beside you. "She's right, Matthew. We have you surrounded."

You could practically hear the wheels in Matthew's head turning. After several moments of silence, a final shot rang out, followed by a loud thud.

Hotch reached out to stop you, but you pulled away from him and entered the bedroom. Matthew, the unsub, was lying on the floor in the middle of the room. The gun was in his right hand, blood splattered all over the left side of the room.

"Guess we were right about him being suicidal," you said softly. When you turned to look back at Hotch, he was staring at you with a look you couldn't quite place--somewhere between terror and anger.

Before you could ask him what was wrong, the rest of the team started coming into the room. You made a mental note to ask him about it later.

Hotch was quiet during dinner and he was silent when you got back to your room. He didn't even say anything as he crawled into bed.

You'd asked him if he was okay and he'd brushed you off, but you were no fool. You could feel the tension rolling off his body in waves.

You laid there, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what had happened and why he wouldn't speak to you. It was killing you inside and there was nothing you could do about it.

"Never do that again," he said suddenly.

"Do what?" you asked in confusion.

"Put yourself in danger like that. You could have been killed."

"Hotch, I was doing my job."

"Your job is to come home at the end of the day--not get yourself shot by some deranged killer."

"What are you talking about?"

He turned the light on and sat up, anger radiating off him. "You didn't even think--you heard that last shot and you just went into that room. You didn't know what you'd find! You didn't know if he was still alive--if he was going to shoot you. You didn't think about what it would do to me if something happened to you!"

You'd been gearing up to yell back at him until you heard his last sentence. "What it would do to you?" you whispered.

He froze, seemingly realizing in that moment what he'd actually admitted out loud. "I--shit."

"Hotch?" you questioned softly.

He groaned and put his head in his hands. "Forget I said anything."

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen."

He sighed. "Look, (Y/N). I--I care about you, okay? I...I don't think I could take it if something happened to you."

"Nothing happened, Hotch. I'm perfectly fine."

He finally looked up at you. "This time. What about the next time? Or the one after that? I'm terrified every single time you step into a potentially dangerous situation."

"Terrified of what, exactly?"

"Losing you!" he yelled, exasperated. "Of watching something bad happen to you; of not telling you how I feel; of never getting the chance to touch you or hold you or kiss you--and I can't stand it, (Y/N)! I just can't."

You blinked several times as if that would magically make his words sink in. Of all the ways you'd imagined having this kind of conversation with him, this was most definitely not on the list.

"I'm sorry," you murmured. "I didn't know you worried so much."

His eyes were swimming with emotion and unshed tears. "Do you have any idea how much you mean to me?" he whispered.

You shook your head. "But I think I'm starting to see it."

"I know I'm not supposed to feel like this. I'm not supposed to like you this way or want you like this, but I can't keep suppressing my emotions and pretending everything is fine as it is. It's not fine, (Y/N)--I'm not fine. I can't keep living a lie...it's killing me."

Every word you'd ever learned magically left your brain in that moment. Your heart was hammering in your chest, the only indication you were still alive, the rest of you completely frozen in time.

Then, suddenly, your brain kicked back into gear and you launched yourself towards him, lips locking against his in a passionate kiss. Your words had failed you, but there was no mistaking the emotions in that kiss.

When you separated, you were breathing heavily, cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you realized what you'd done. Before you could apologize, Hotch grabbed you and pulled you back into him, kissing you with as much passion as you'd given him.

"(Y/N)," he breathed against your lips.

You sighed as he grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his lap, lips never leaving yours. His hands snaked up under your tank top, feeling your warm, soft skin with the tips of his fingers.

You let him pull your shirt off over your head and his gaze fell to your exposed breasts. He bit his lip and looked up at you hesitantly, as if asking for your permission.

You grabbed his left hand and placed it directly on your chest. He got the hint and immediately lowered his face to take your pert nipple into his mouth.

You let out a little sigh and ran your fingers through his dark hair. When he nipped at your breast, you gasped and tightened your hold on him.

"Aaron..." you whispered softly, losing yourself in the feeling of his hands and his lips on your body.

He groaned and lifted his head to look at you again. "I never thought my name on your lips would sound so sexy."

You grinned and murmured, "Aaron."

"Now you're just being a tease."

You bit your lip and winked at him.

He chuckled lightly before flipping you onto your back so you were under him on the bed. He reattached his lips to yours, kissing you like his life depended on it.

Your hands began to tug on his shirt and he pulled away from you just long enough for you to yank it over his head. He wasted no time getting back to kissing you, his lips trailing down your jaw and neck.

Your hands caressed every inch of his skin you could reach from your position, the softness of your touch eliciting sweet sounds from his lips.

He rutted his hips against yours and you gasped at the feeling of his very hard member pressing into you.

Your body suddenly went into overdrive--years of pent-up desire rising to the surface. "I need you," you begged.

He lifted his gaze to meet yours. "I'm right here, baby."

You shook your head. "Need more."

He smirked. "Who knew you'd be such a needy girl?"

"Aaron," you whined.

He chuckled. "Alright, alright. Patience, sweetheart." He hooked his fingers under the waistband of your sweatpants and gave them a firm tug. He pulled them down your legs and tossed them off to the side.

You spread your legs for him, revealing your soaking wet core. He moaned at the sight before slipping a finger between your folds to collect the juices that lingered there. He brought his finger up to his mouth and licked it clean, another moan escaping his lips.

"You taste delicious," he murmured.

You could only stare at him, eyes pleading him to give you more.

Normally Hotch would have taken his time teasing you, but he could feel your need radiating off you in waves. Plus, if he was being honest, he needed you just as badly. Waiting just wasn't in the cards tonight.

He dropped to his stomach between your legs and before you could say a word, his mouth was on you, hot breath, wet tongue, and devilish lips dancing across your core, making you gasp with pleasure.

He ate you out like you were his very last meal--and he intended to savor every second of it. Despite having never been intimate with you before, he played your body like an expert musician, hitting every single one of your sweet spots, making you squirm beneath his touch.

"Aaron, please--I'm--" you gasped out.

He moaned, not wanting to stop his ministrations to respond to you. He knew you were close without you having to spell it out. He could feel the way your pussy clenched around his fingers and the way your thighs had begun to shake. He was desperate to feel you cum--to taste your delicious release--so he didn't stop.

Your fingers dug into his scalp and tugged at his hair as you squirmed, pleasure threatening to overwhelm you.

With one last flick of his tongue and motion of his fingers, you cried out his name as your orgasm crashed into you. He held you in place as he lapped up your release, lips not leaving your pussy until you practically dragged him up by his hair.

He smiled down at you and licked his lips, tasting the last of you on them. Your eyes were wide and your body shivered with aftershocks--a feeling you weren't exactly accustomed to.

"Can I return the favor?" you asked, slightly breathless.

"As much as I would love that, I wanna be inside of you too badly to wait--I'm gonna struggle to last as it is."

You smiled. "Then lose the boxers, handsome. Lemme see you."

He sat up and quickly shed his boxers, eyes focused on your face. He knew he was well endowed--and he knew how to use it--but nothing made his chest swell with pride as much as the way you were looking at him right now.

Your eyes were focused on his cock, surprise evident in your gaze as you took in his size. The surprise quickly melted into heady desire and your gaze flicked back up to his face.

"Like what you see?" he teased.

"You know I do," you whispered.

There was something about the way you said it that made him want you even more. As he lined himself up with your entrance, he took a deep breath to try and maintain his composure. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you or lose control.

You wiggled your hips slightly, letting him know you were ready and willing.

He locked eyes with you as he began to slowly slide into your tight, wet heat. Your lips parted and a soft gasp left them as he pushed inside. "I've got you, baby," he murmured.

Your hands gripped his biceps as he kept pushing into you, the stretch threatening to break you right in half. By the time he finally bottomed out, your nails had dug crescent shaped indentations into his skin.

He wanted to wait for your body to adjust to him before he began to move, but you had other plans. "Fuck me, Aaron. Please."

The pleading tone in your voice was all he needed to hear. He began to move, hips setting a fast pace from the start.

The room filled with the sounds of your love-making--moans, whimpers, gasps of each other's names--mixed with the salacious sounds of your bodies coming together.

"You feel so good, baby," he whispered. "Even more incredible than I imagined."

Your mind was completely fuzzy, filled with nothing but the feeling of immense pleasure. As such, you couldn't formulate coherent sentences to respond to anything Hotch whispered to you.

"I could stay here forever--" he moaned as you clenched tightly around him. "Fuck--baby, I'm not gonna last."

You simply moaned in response as he sped up his movements.

"I need you to cum for me, (Y/N/N). Need to feel you--please."

You were clutching onto him, nails raking down his back as he fucked you deeply. "Close," was all you could manage to say to him.

"Can I fill you up, baby girl? Wanna make you mine."

Something about his words drove you wild. You screamed out "Yes!" followed by "Aaron!" as you came, body shaking beneath him.

The way your pussy clenched around his cock as you came sent him right over the edge and he filled you with his seed. His hips faltered on his last few strokes and he whispered sweet nothings into your ear as you both came down from your highs.

He slowly pulled out of you and your body shivered slightly at the loss of contact. He quickly got up, stumbling slightly, as he made his way to the bathroom for a warm washcloth.

He came back and began to gently clean you up. When he was done, he tossed the washcloth onto the floor and crawled into the bed beside you.

"Come here, pretty girl," he mumbled.

You obliged, moving your body so you were up against his side. He pulled you closer and you rested your head on his chest.

"Infinitely better than I'd imagined," he whispered into your hair.

You chuckled lightly. "Agreed."

"Oh? So you imagined it too?"

You glanced up at him, a light blush covering your cheeks. "Of course I did."

He raised his eyebrows. "You're very good at hiding your attraction."

"Thank you. It's not exactly easy when you're surrounded by a bunch of profilers."

He nodded. "I know what you mean. I'm surprised you didn't know I liked you before this."

You bit your lip and looked away.

"What is it?"

"Well...JJ knew."

"Oh?"

"She insisted you liked me...and she also knows that I like you."

"Ahh, well...I suppose it was only a matter of time."

You looked up at him again. "You're taking this surprisingly well."

He shrugged. "It's not as if I was planning on keeping this a secret."

Surprise lit up your face. "You weren't?"

He returned your surprised expression. "Of course not. I finally have you, (Y/N), and I'm sure as hell not letting go."

"But what about the rules?"

"To hell with the rules. We deserve to be happy."

"Who are you and what have you done with Aaron Hotchner?" you teased softly.

He smiled. "Him? Well...he fell in love."

You inhaled sharply.

"You don't have to say it back, (Y/N). I have no expectations here...but I know how I feel and I needed to say it."

You lifted your head off his chest to look at him better. "I know I don't have to, but I want to. I love you too," you whispered.

A thousand emotions filled his eyes the moment those words left your lips. He leaned down to kiss you and you felt your body respond to him immediately.

Before you knew it, you were straddling him as you made out, desire pulsating between you. "Round two?" you asked with a grin.

"I thought you'd never ask."

**********

The next morning, you went down for breakfast a few minutes before Hotch. You'd woken up to his lips on the back of your neck and shoulders--kisses that quickly turned to more fiery passion.

You'd finally convinced him to come shower with you, which of course took longer because he insisted on giving you just one more orgasm.

When you walked into the little seating area on the first floor, you were greeted by the rest of your team. Every single one of them had shit-eating grins on their faces as they said good morning to you.

"How was your night, (Y/N)?" Emily asked lightly.

"Did you sleep well?" JJ teased.

"I didn't get much sleep," you said honestly--knowing they clearly were already aware of that.

"I imagine Hotch didn't either," Morgan said with a grin.

You shot him a look. "Alright, out with it."

"I'm just saying, (Y/N/N), the walls are really thin," he responded.

Your eyes widened and you looked at JJ for confirmation.

"We're just really grateful for those noise-canceling headphones you got us for Christmas last year," JJ answered.

"Oh. My. God," you groaned.

"Morning everyone," Hotch said as he walked into the room, completely oblivious to the current conversation.

"Morning, Aaron," Rossi said knowingly, a teasing lilt to his voice.

Hotch glanced at you, taking note of your very red cheeks. Comprehension dawned on his face and his eyes widened slightly.

"Thin walls," you whispered.

To your surprise, Hotch simply smiled. "Saves us the trouble of telling them we're dating."

Rossi was the first to laugh and the rest of the team quickly joined in. You were glad they knew--even if it was in the most awkward way possible. You knew they loved and supported both you and Hotch, and that wouldn't change with your new-found relationship.

[verysium]

bllk characters and what you think would be their type or what they find attractive in a girl?🙈💗💌

i mean... 🤔 do u want the truthful answer or do u want the ideal answer? cus i don't think any of the bllk boys (maybe with the exception of otoya and aiku) would have a type, much less let it be limited to a girl. but assuming they actually have a life outside of football, here are some traits they would find attractive in a person:

isagi would like someone he can see as a role model. throughout his life, he often finds figures that inspire him (eg. noel noa, ego, even rin if you squint hard enough). he doesn't idolize them, but he does find a way to incorporate their strengths into his playing style and actions. if you have a character trait he highly values, he will like you, and it's generally pretty easy to get him to like you. (unless of course, you're a massive dick like kaiser.)

i find that he gets along best with kurona and hiori. this is because (1) they can read his intentions well, and (2) they are quiet and level-headed. obviously, this would also apply to the romantic side of his life. isagi admires people who are similar to him but still have their own quirks and idiosyncrasies. for example, you subtly support him from behind the scenes and bring him snacks after practice and pack his bento every morning. he appreciates small gestures of kindness.

isagi is also someone very hot-headed as evidenced by his potty mouth. he likes someone who can match his energy and passion but is still calm enough to prevent him from doing anything rash. i picture him running up to you after a game, and the adrenaline causes him to pick you up from out of the stands and twirl you around in his arms.

canonically, isagi is unpopular with girls. he literally returned from valentine's day empty-handed. he tries to be nice most times, but truthfully, nothing except football really interests him. so if you can skip the small talk and start drafting football plays with him, i think he would be attracted to you. like very attracted.

unrelated but he likes someone with a pretty laugh.

bachira needs someone motherly. i feel like he never really got to be a child because everyone around him was constantly putting him down for being the "weird" kid. that's why his current personality is undeniably childish at times. it's the only way he can express the inner child he had before he grew up too fast. i think he'd like people who take care of him in a parental manner, whether that's scolding him for doing something stupid, wiping his chin cus he's a messy eater, or teaching him english every day.

i feel bachira is one of the most extroverted characters in blue lock. he genuinely thrives off his interactions with others. and for that reason, i think he'd be attracted to introverts because they differ so greatly from him. (he'd probably adopt them too.)

bachira has the most creative insults, and that's partially why he gets along so well with isagi. he's not afraid to get out of his comfort zone, nor is he afraid of pushing others to do the same. if this boy can hallucinate whole monsters, he can sure as hell rip his opponents into pieces. i feel like he'd have such a stark duality around you. he'd be beating the crap out of the other team, but the moment he sees you, he's all sunshine and rainbows and bounding over to ask you about your day and overshare about his.

ADHD. that's it. that's the quote. if you're hyperactive, then he's hyperactive, and you'll both be rocking the same boat. most people would assume he needs a grounding presence in his life, but i think post u-20 arc bachira is actually mature enough to process his own issues. now he just needs someone to let loose and have a little fun with.

rin needs a therapist. end of story. this boy is a whole case study. i don't think he's even mentally stable enough to have a romantic relationship. but if he were to date someone, i'd imagine that person is somewhat similar to isagi (and no, this is not a ship.)

isagi has something rin definitively lacks, and that is his strong, dynamic sense of self. when rin fails, he takes it heart. all solutions are linear and logical to him. if he missed a goal, it was because he didn't train hard enough. if he couldn't beat sae, it was because he just wasn't good enough.

but isagi completely changes his mindset every time he loses. (there's a reason why he's surrounded by puzzle pieces all the time.) analyzing is second nature to him. every failure is a catalyst for self-improvement, and he constantly breaks himself down in order to adapt and rebuild. rin needs someone like that in his life, someone who can teach him to be unafraid of change and embrace it instead.

rin also isn't immune to external influences. obviously, he is still learning to play football for himself. looking at the pxg version of him, he has had a significant change in mindset, but he still hasn't completely separated himself from this idea of "beating" someone in order to get to the top. according to his logic, if he surpasses both sae and isagi, he will finally be content. but the truth is, he won't be anywhere near content because his ego still isn't entirely his own. i think he would admire someone who refuses to let themselves be defined by others.

rin would also like someone who is patient because he clearly isn't. (boy was about to have a whole brain aneurysm when bachira threw that paper airplane at him.) honestly, you need to be both gentle and persistent with him. he hates it when people come on too strong, but he also finds his walls slowly crumbling when someone repeatedly goes out of their way to show that they care.

rin has a high level of emotional intelligence, as evidenced by sae's comments about his intuition. however, he can only work out a person's thought process about halfway before he starts to feel lost himself. for example, he can understand that sae dislikes losing, but he doesn't understand that it's innately tied to sae's self-worth and expectations as the eldest child/genius prodigy/role model. if he's going to romantically date anyone, then they need to be extremely skilled in the art of communication. otherwise, rin is going to easily misinterpret things.

finally, i think he'd like someone who knows how to comfort him. rin overthinks. like a lot. the cogs in his brain are constantly whirring. you need to lay him down on your lap and run your fingers through his hair and tell him that everything's going to be alright. (and it is going to be alright, because you're about to move both heaven and earth for him to make it stay that way.)

kaiser has no set type, but if he did, it would also be isagi (i'm sorry but yoichi is our harem princess for a reason.) kaiser oscillates between this superiority and inferiority complex. he even admits he was weak-hearted once.

any and all attraction is heightened for him because he gets obsessed easily. (like did you see his massive desktop displays of isagi? tell me that does not scream high-key yandere shit to you.)

however, more so than people, kaiser is fixated on ideals. he literally got a cheesy blue rose tattoo to remind himself that nothing is impossible, and he stands naked in front of his mirror every morning repeating the motto: "this is me." the self-esteem issues are glaringly obvious.

now, rather than completely shatter his entire worldview like isagi did, you need to be the one to gently (and i stress, gently) remind him that sometimes ideals aren't everything. kaiser is unpredictable, but the one thing that stays constant about him is the many masks he hides behind. everything is a role to him, and he takes center stage. but you need to convince him that none of this really matters. he doesn't need to bedazzle himself in tattoos and dye his hair and sport a mullet-rattail hybrid to be worthy of attention. sometimes his ugly bed head and dark circles are precisely the reason you love him.

second of all, you need to set firm boundaries (otherwise you'll end up like ness.) kaiser wants someone with a backbone, and he does not turn a blind eye to raw potential. victory is his end goal, and if you can bring him one step closer to that, he will stick to you. the only issue here is that you need to make sure he does not use you. and believe me, he will try. but if you draw a strong line between you two and stand your ground, he will start to see you in a new light. it can go both ways (love or hate), but either way you are someone important in his eyes.

lastly, i think he wants someone with a sense of humor. he's naturally cocky, and he needs someone to match his wit. ness already does that, but he doesn't give kaiser enough challenge. in my mind, i imagine kaiser trying to impress you with his german, but you give him a good run for his money when you already know how to speak it. things like that. he thinks it's hot when you can stand up to his level. but at the end of the day, your loyalty still lies with him, and you're not above/below him but rather the one standing beside him.

barou doesn't have a type. he is the type. you're lucky to have him.

otoya likes cute girls, even better when they have the standard fringe/bob cut look. he also lives for the height difference. teasing short girls by patting their heads is his signature move. he also likes it when girls wear lipgloss, like a sparkly candy pink shade, maybe even a spritz of perfume. he's also type to make fun of the little chubby pooch you get when you eat too much. he thinks it's adorable. personality-wise, it doesn't matter. he's going to cheat anyways. jk but on a more serious note, the person he's likely going to stay with forever is someone who can forgive his weaknesses and actually make the effort to understand him. instead of writing him off as an immature two-timer, he'd appreciate people who can actually hear him out. obviously, it doesn't excuse any of his actions, but it lets him know that you do indeed care.

aiku says he likes anyone who looks easy to break up with, but it's actually the opposite. he tends to go for older women who end up slapping him in the face. he's a womanizer, but he actually has a significant amount of character depth. generally, he's someone who goes with the flow, and nothing really upsets him. but to actually get to know him and his insecurities, you'd have to be someone really important to him. i think aiku is the type to be a serial dater before he finds someone he'll actually stick to. he's afraid of commitment, and it's for good reason. the authority figures in his life have failed him enough times to be considered unreliable. please be kind to him because the childhood trauma was not. i smell lots of emotional baggage here.

nagi likes the flame type because it has few weaknesses and helped him clear three levels in digimon. oh wait, you mean his ideal type? yeah, he does not know what that is, and he's too lazy to think of one. currently he's in the middle of fighting a custody battle for choki, and he's losing to a certain purple-haired freak. please come back later.

reo likes wine aunties lol. it's canon that he prefers older women, but i think it's just because they tend to know what they want. he likes people who have a set goal and are constantly working towards it. he himself diverts all his time and resources into football once he discovers that it is his calling.

i think he's the type to be extremely popular but not actually have any deep, long-lasting connections with any of his friends. he knows a lot of people, but he doesn't know them well. that's also why he gets so attached to nagi because nagi is the first person to really know him. in a way, i think that'd translate over to the people he loves as well. he likes people who don't beat around the bush. if they like him for who he is, they'll say it outright. he doesn't need to do any digging or engage in any form of the pretentious formalities he despises.

reo is rich, which is both a blessing and a curse. on one hand, he's all set for life, but on the other hand, it unfortunately makes many of his relationships conditional. he said it himself that people are often drawn to him because of his money. so i think he'd also like someone who isn't materialistic. he values honesty and genuine connection above all, so if you're ready to give him love regardless of his status, he'd sincerely love you too.

chigiri likes tomboys or any person with masculine characteristics. he's constantly getting mistaken for a girl at blue lock, so i think it'd just be funny to pair him up with someone who also shares the same androgynous plight. you two would bond over breaking gender norms.

he's a capricorn, and even if astrology is a pseudoscience, i still feel like the archetype fits him well. he refuses to let other people see him cry. he values his family a lot. he tends to be moody and intense at times. not to mention he is very goal-driven (excuse the pun.) based on that, i think he'd want someone calm and understanding. it's not that he needs someone else to work out his own problems for him. it's more so that he needs someone to remind him that he's still human sometimes. i feel like after his injury, he was sort of in this survival mode, constantly trying to prove himself and get back to the level he used to be at. but you need to remind him that he can relax once in a while. it's perfectly alright if he isn't as good as he used to be right now. progress comes at a different pace for everyone.

furthermore, chigiri tends to project a serious image most of the time, so i think it'd be nice if someone reminds him that he does have indeed an odd sense humor and his fair share of stupid moments, and that's totally okay too.

shidou likes anyone who doesn't like him, but this has to be done the right way. within blue lock, he's already sort of this outcast because no one understands his playing style (except maybe sae.) you need to show him that you value his eccentricities while also keeping him at an arm's length. he loves a challenge.

since he's someone unafraid to express himself, he likes to see that in another person. whether it's in your fashion sense, way of talking, body language, etc., he loves it when you act unapologetically yourself.

shidou is quite literally a dog kept on a leash, so you need to tug on that leash from time to time. he loves it when people attempt to tell him off and call him out for his bullshit. inhibition is a foreign concept to him, so he feels entertained when others try to teach it to him. he also thinks it's immensely sexy when you're angry at him. lord knows he is definitely going to slip that in mid-argument just so you can yell at him some more.

sae wouldn't even believe in the concept of a "type" in general because he thinks it's stupid to categorize people based on an ideal and fixed set of characteristics. (that's pretty rich coming from a guy who calls people who don't meet his standards lukewarm but we're just gonna ignore his hypocrisy.) either way, he has a non-traditional view of love and attraction.

i do think he likes people who are solid and reliable, and they can continuously yield quality results. he would also want someone who is as ambitious as him because i don't think he can realistically get along with someone who has no dreams or aspirations. it just doesn't fit well with his driven personality.

people who are empathetic and emotionally intuitive intrigue him since that's something he lacks. personally, i think he'd like someone who is mature (doesn't matter if they're older or younger.) if you can teach him something useful, he find you worthy of his time. and if you can read his feelings without him even telling you, he would consider you someone special.

sae needs someone who holds similar ideals to him but doesn't follow him blindly. (notice how he hated it when rin blindly relied on his assists when they were children.) he want someone who is independent because he is also highly independent. however, the difference is that they also actively make room in their life for other people, and that is something sae doesn't know how to do.

there's a point of growth somewhere in your relationship where you call out his mistakes and set him on the right path. sae struggles a lot with his definition of victory, and he finds it difficult to curb his greed. his ego is what sets him apart from everyone else, so failure is not an option in his books. unfortunately, this is also why he loses some of his original spark/motivation. you need to be someone who can tell him that failure is not a weakness, and sometimes the journey matters more than the ending.

also this poor boy needs someone to teach him social cues because i don’t really think he knows how to read the room. he’d probably unintentionally insult a chairman or investor, and you’ll be trailing after him with a sheepish smile as you bow and apologize for him. (i feel bad for his manager.)

[eighttens]

Imagine: Gymcrush!San x pilatesgirlie!reader

Synopsis: Imagine finally working up the courage to go up to Gymcrush!San, after weeks of semi-creepily watching him across the stuffy gym.

It’s not your fault that he‘s somehow always there when you do your sessions, even less so that your eyes keep finding him and his tiny waist. Him and his thick arms, him and his muscular chest, him and thunderous thighs. Not your fault that he wears those skin-tight tops, paired with the iconic grey sweats, or on days where you thank the lord, workout shorts. No, not your fault at all when he looks like sex on a stick after running cardio on the treadmill, oven more so when deadlifting, a belt cinching his waist in deliciously.

So, after a particularly successful gyming session for you (you had completed a new Pilates routine with increased weights, and held your yoga stretches for a whole 20 seconds longer than usual, and even the 15-minute warm up run seemed easier than usual), you finally manage to walk up to him.

You’re regretting it the moment you start walking towards him, only now noticing that he isn’t here alone „fuck fuck fuck what do you mean he’s got his bros here“. You almost make a 180 to turn to leave, but decide to kick yourself in the ass „you’re going to die anyway, why not take the chance?“. Your Yolo attitude carried your feet across the gym hall, and by some miracle the two guys standing with San start drifting towards a machine, probably to start the next set.

Taking deep breaths you try to hype yourself up, you look down at your clean shoes and reverse what you’re going to say. Once your confidence if built up enough (and your short trek across the gym is complete), you muster up the courage to speak to him, lightly tapping his shoulder to call his attention.

He pulls the headphones off his head completely, and turns to Look you in the eyes. His eyebrows raise slightly once he takes in your appearance, and you can feel your face heating up at the way his eyes scan your figure. He remains silent but nods his head to you once his gaze returns to your face, bidding you to say your piece.

You collect your scrambled thoughts and practically squeak out the semi-confession „Hi, sorry to disrupt you but I find you really admirable, I hope this doesn’t come out of the nowhere but could I have your number?“ Your eyes are hopeful, and by now you’re sure that a blush has crept its way onto your face- you can feel it down your neck.

You‘re fidgeting with your phone a little, watching his eyes widen and his mouth drop open a little, tongue coming out to dart at his lips before he speaks. „Yeah, sure. No problem.“ His voice is gravely but kind, and you can feel your heartbeat pick up at the success you’ve garnered from the interaction. A little too giddily you open your phone contacts and select a new contact.

Holding out your phone for him to take, you’re caught off guard by his grumbling voice again. „You do Pilates, right?“ your breath halts for a second. Never in your life had you considered it a reality where he would perceive your existence, too. It really didnt occur to you that just as much as you watch him, he could be observing you as well.

„Uh- yeah, yeah i do Pilates. Im usually in the open space though.“ you reply once you fond your voice again. He nods thoughtfully in response, „yeah, thats right.. Ive seen you do your routines once or twice. Impressive as hell, i couldn’t do that stuff to save my life.“ a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he finishes typing on your phone, passing it back to you and looking into your eyes again.

You bite back a smile and look down at your phone to avoid his eyes, shy from the compliment. „Oh, thanks…“ you hear him chuckle. „Hey, lemme get your number too, ill reach out first since you beat me to taking the first step.“ your eyes flick up to meet his again, wide in surprise. „Huh?“ you look down to his hands where he holds out his phone on front of him, eyes expectant and warm.

He sighs and gestures for you to take the phone, which you do almost reflexively as he explains: „Well, you’re braver than me for approaching first, I’ve been noticing you for a while now, never had the confidence to go up to you though. I was worried I’d scare you away.“ You look at him in disbelief, your mind racing with thoughts as your gaze shifts to the heavy phone in your hand.

„Oh…“ your voice is quiet as you numbly type in your number, filling the contact as your name. A smile that mirrors his crosses your face when you look back at him, and you both end up giggling as you stare at another in silence, smiling like teens.

Once you’ve calmed down you avert your gaze again and shrug. „So… see you around??“ he nods almost immediately, arms flexing as he reaches up for his headphones again. „Yes! I mean- yeah sure.“ he corrects his overzealous tone and coolly coughs to cover it up, cringing a little at himself, and you laugh a little. „Okay, bye then!“ you send him a little wave and turn around to collect your things and head to the changing rooms to leave, a little pep in your step.

Glancing into the contacts of your phone you notice that not only did San leave you with his number, but he added a note into the contact itself: „Meet me tomorrow in/after gym, same time as today? Maybe i can spot you, and maybe you can help me stretch? And maybe we can grab some food afterwards???“ you almost die right then and there, head floating in the could as your cheeks hurt from how hard you’re smiling.

What you dont see though, is the way his friends rush over to him once you’ve left, bombarding him with a million questions and clapping him on the back in congratulations. „Wow! Sannie!!! The cute little Pilates chick? Fuckin‘ score man!“ Mingi claps his hands in approval, nodding hard as he watches your form leave the gym. „Who knew that San had this kinda game, damn good on you.“ Wooyoung still has his hands on San‘s shoulders, rubbing them up and down roughly.

San doesnt say anything, just standing there, soaking in the moment, chest warm and stomach fuzzy as he thinks back to your interaction. From one moment to the next however, his face falls. „Fuck.“ he curses, voice flat. Both Mingi and Wooyoung look at San‘s face, and then one another. „What do you mean? You just bagged all that, and you’re worried about anything??“ Wooyoung looks at him incredulously, expression almost comical. San shakes his head with a blank face his eyebrows ever so slightly furrowed. „Where do i take her to eat? And how the hell do i become flexible by tomorrow?!“

[optimist-pine]

Returns

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Daryl finds something in his pack that doesn't belong to him... (ps. it's yours)

Era: Season 2, the farm

A/n: This is a silly little thank you for everyone who's been supporting my writing! If you've liked/commented/reblogged any of my works recently, this is for you. :)

Daryl digs around in his backpack, shoving aside arrow bits and extra clothes in the search for a clean(ish) rag he knows is buried in here somewhere. Ah, there, the glimpse of a red hue must be what he's looking for. He tugs it free, but as he brings it into the daylight it comes to his attention that this piece of cloth doesn't belong to him.

He drops it immediately, head swiveling to make sure nobody saw. But no, he's tucked far away from the rest of the group, not a soul in sight. He gingerly picks up the garment before realizing how ridiculous he's being and shoves it in his pocket. He'll slip into your tent, return it, and get the hell out of there and get on with the rest of his day.

Everyone's either dispersed to other parts of the farm or busy enough completing whatever chores they've taken on to notice him. Even if he didn't already know which tent was yours, it'd be obvious from the plethora of herbs and flowers hanging to dry by the entrance, and the dog-eared foraging guidebook waiting on a lawn chair for your return.

He peers through the screen window to assure himself that you're not around before unzipping the door and stepping inside. A moment too late, he realizes the amount of dirt he's just tracked into your otherwise pristine living space, and curses. Nothing to do about it now he supposes. He squats down, opening your pack and pulling the wayward item out of his pocket.

"Daryl? What're you doing in my-" Your voice makes him jump before your words falter.

His head snaps to you; you're bent down a bit, hands on your hips with sweat dripping down your temple. Your mouth is stuck in a cute little "o" of pure confusion. He's frozen, hand halfway between him and your belongings, lungs stuck mid-breath. He really should say something in his own defense.

"Is that my underwear?" You ask a little more quietly.

"I - uh..." He gapes. He's invading your privacy in so many ways, you're going to think he's a total ass if not a complete creep. And he actually doesn't mind you too much so he doesn't want you to think of him in that way. Not that you think of him at all. But now when you do you're going to hate his guts. "They - uh..." He tries.

"Ohh. I get it." You say, nodding, like this all makes total sense. "I've got something of yours I've been meaning to return, just wasn't sure how to make it not-awkward..." You kneel down beside him, fishing around in a side compartment on your bag. "Buuuut no matter. I believe these belong to you." You hold out a pair of faded boxers that've been rolled up neatly.

"Hey, Rick wants to know if-" Glenn appears in the tent opening and Daryl can practically see the gears struggling to turn in his head as he takes in the two of you so close together, each obviously holding the other's intimates. "Y'know what? Nevermind. Just go talk to Rick when you're done or whatever, okay?" He sighs, walking away.

Daryl wastes no time grabbing his boxers, shoving them in his pocket. You do the same but with more grace, standing to brush off your pants.

You let out a small chuckle, biting down a bit on your lip. "It was so hectic when we left the CDC; must've grabbed each other's stuff then." You step outside and he follows. "Thanks for returning them." You say, stooping to re-zip the tent.

The CDC is such a blur that it takes effort to remember. There weren't enough rooms for everyone and so you'd asked to bunk with him. Even though he was sufficiently intoxicated that night, he'd been lucid enough to appreciate not being alone, your steady breaths in the unsettling darkness had quieted his nerves.

He can't seem to make his eyes stay on you for long, though that doesn't stop your gaze from lingering - he can practically feel every place your eyes land as you study him. "S'no problem." He shrugs.

"Well, I guess I'd better go see what Rick wants..." you sigh, making no noticeable effort to go anywhere.

You're leaving a space for him to say something but he doesn't really have anything to add to that. "Yeah." He replies dumbly.

A soft smile grows upon your lips. "Don't be a stranger, okay? Some of us actually enjoy your company." You nudge his shoulder good-naturedly as you walk away.

He mulls over your words, trying dissect what that last little bit means. You were just being kind, right? He's pretty sure people have barely put up with his company, let alone enjoyed it. Realizing you've already been gone for multiple minutes he pushes those thoughts to the back of his mind and trudges off, noting that there's at least a few hours of good daylight left to make use of. But those thoughts are still there, nagging, toying with him.

---

A couple of days later, when Daryl returns to his camp after a successful enough trip into the woods, there sits your well-loved guidebook. It's laying on the ground where you must've set it when you stopped by earlier and forgotten it when the two of you headed out. He picks it up, flipping through the bent pages and your frequent notes when he passes one that makes him stop and turn back. Next to chanterelle mushrooms you've scribbled 'Daryl - pair w/ venison' . He hadn't caught game that big since back at the quarry, and even then the geeks got to it first. A small swell of pride rises within him at the thought of you planning ahead in this way, of you counting on him to provide.

The feeling follows him as he settles down for the night. Pulling out a flashlight he figures he might as well see if there's anything he can learn from your book... Or maybe that's just an excuse to search for more of your annotations. He'll have another return to make in the morning, but he can't quite bring himself to mind all that much.

[allaboutnayeli]

KIKA NAZARETH as your girlfriend

author notes: if kika ever get cornrows, i'm deleting this and i'm not playing 🫶🏾 anyways let's totally act like this wasn't posted because the next part of my alessia series is taking ages.. totally not the reason.

━ KIKA is the type of girlfriend who loves to tease you. it's her #1 love language. it doesn't matter the time or the day, she will find a reason to tease you. sometimes it's about how much water you're drinking practice ("feeling extra thirsty today, huh?") or she's all up on you after a long day at practice when you both are way too sweaty to be all on top of eachother.

━ AT the same time, kika is so caring. she carries your bag when you two go to practice, loves to open doors for you, does little things like tying your shoe or making sure to keep snacks in her bag because she knows how you like to snack in the car on the way back home after a long training session, and more.

━ SHE lowkey has an ego. kika will make cringy jokes about how fine she is and how she's the prize in the relationship. at the end of the day, she really sees you as the prize.

━ CLINGY as hell. even at practice when it's not the most appropriate. she wants to be around you and touching you even if it's the smallest of touches. her favorite subtle way to be close is to hold pinky's.

━ IF you don't know portuguese, kika is happy to teach you. not without some teasing, of course. she'll force you to cuddle her after every lesson and wants kisses everytime you get a word right. she calls it "positive reinforcement" and you know damn well she doesn't get what that word means.

━ SHE enjoys vacationing with you. traveling some of the world during off-season is a fun pasttime, especially with a pretty woman on her side. kika will take you to places she already been, so you two can explore it together. you always ask her wouldn't she rather go somewhere new and she always says "no, this is somewhere new because i never been here with you."

━ DEFINITELY the type to want a dog or cat right after you guys move in together. she thinks it's the last piece to your lil family (until kids at least). if you don't care for having a pet, she'll try to convince you by listing everyone else in the team who has a pet. "you don't want pet FOMO, do you?" is her favorite line.

━ A huge family person and wants you to meet her family as soon as possible. the first vacation you guys go on is to portugal to see her family for a short while, then off to where you are from to see your family. kika prides herself on getting along well with your parents and whatever siblings you have.

━ THE type to do "one month anniversary" just because she finds it cute.

© ALLABOUTNAYELI

[dreamwatch]

Turn The Page

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #30 - Prompt: Fame and Fortune | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: implied alcoholism | POV: Steve | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: mild angst with a happy ending, future fic, they’re in love your honour, Eddie’s over it

Again, another iPad entry so hopefully no typos but… who knows!

The moment Eddie gets off the stage Steve knows something is wrong.

The twenty-first had been hard, a day of press, of meet and greets, of things Steve asked Eddie to cancel. ‘It’s easier to just do it’; it’s not though. It never fucking is. The press and the fans get a Diet Eddie, and Steve ends up with an angry drunk in his bedroom. But they power through it. They always do.

 Steve goes to special shows now, wouldn’t have come to this one but it’s the twenty-seventh, and what’s more special than knowing your boyfriend is still alive?

Eddie practically throws his guitar at his tech as he rushes off stage, rushing past everyone, Steve included.

“Eddie?” he calls out.

The rest of the band get off the stage. “Eddie!” Jeff shouts from behind him. “The encore!”

But he’s gone, down the labyrinth of hallways, the crowd still cheering for more.

He doesn’t shower, doesn’t grab his shit from the dressing room, just walks out of the back of the venue to their car,  Steve running behind him. The car isn’t ready, they’re not expecting him for another thirty minutes at least, and it’s a confused mess of security and crew, frantic radio messages.

“Eddie, what the fuck is going on?” Steve asks, taking him by the elbow. He gets a tight head shake as a reply.

The car ride is silent, the smell of cooling sweat blending with the air con blowing full blast at them, and when they get to their hotel room, Eddie heads straight to the phone.

“Hi, can I get room service to the Junior Suite?”

Steve just gawps, he feels like he’s losing his fucking mind.

 “Uh… can I get… do you have pineapple? I’d really like some pineapple actually. And a bottle of champagne… whatever you think is best, oh and hold on,” he says covering the mouthpiece with his hand. “Do you want anything?” 

He sounds manic, so off, so not his usual self. Wild in a crazed way, and it’s scaring Steve. He stands in the entranceway, mouth hanging open.

“Yeah, I want to know what the fuck is going on?”

Eddie blinks.

“And a cheese burger and fries.”

He hangs up and finally peels his t-shirt off, letting it drop to the floor as he walks to the bathroom to shower. The phone keeps ringing, Jeff asking what the hell is going on, their manager, Phil, screaming at him. Eddie wanders in, towel around his waist, another wrapped around his hair. He doesn’t even stop to ask who Steve’s talking to, just gently takes the handset from his hands, places it back on the phone.

The room service arrives and Eddie leads Steve to the dining table, tells him to sit and eat, and then he takes a huge piece of pineapple with him to the bed.

The phone rings again, and this time Eddie rips the cord from the wall.

“Ed, you have got to talk to me.”

“I will. Just let me eat this first. Eat your burger.” 

As if he could.

Eddie sits on the edge of the bed half naked, eating pineapple. Steve’s watched them trash rooms before, true idiot behaviour, but this is probably the weirdest fucking thing he’s ever seen.

There’s banging on the door, Steve can hear Gareth’s voice, then Phil’s again, it’s after midnight now. Eventually they go away.

“You know,” Eddie says breaking the silence. “I don’t think I’ve enjoyed anything in the last few years as much as I enjoyed that fucking pineapple.” He frowns at the half eaten fruit platter, like he’s trying to solve a math problem. 

Steve crouches in down in front of him, his hands gripping Eddie’s knees.

“Bambi, please, what the fuck is going on? I mean, do I need to call a doctor here…? You’re scaring me.”

Eddie looks at him like he’s water on a hot day. 

“What if I said let’s run away? I’ll quit the band, we’ll buy a ranch or a farm. Get out of LA.” His eyes meet Steve’s properly for the first time since he got off stage. “What would you say?”

“I’d say give me ten minutes to pack.”

“Really?”

“Really. Where’s this coming from?”

“I died twenty years ago. And I got a second chance and I took it, you know. We’ve done amazing things. But it’s not fun anymore. It hasn’t been fun for a long time. And life’s too short for that, it’s too short for me to waste it being miserable. And I am. I’m a thing, I’m a commodity. I go where I’m told, I turn up, do my thing. I don’t remember the names of the towns I’m in, I always thought that was a joke you know? It’s not. It’s real.” He laughs, but it’s shallow, his eyes flat. “Who fucking knew?”

Steve gets off the floor and sits beside Eddie on the bed. “Are you serious?”

Eddie doesn’t answer straight away, but when he eventually looks at Steve he nods, and for the first time that day, Steve realises, he smiles. “Yeah. Yeah I’m serious.”

“I hate that you felt this way and didn’t tell me.”

Eddie takes his hand, threads his fingers through, locking them together.

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

This stupid, beautiful man. His everything. His life.

“And the band?”

Eddie shrugs. “They’ll be fine. They’ll get another guitarist no problem. People would kill to join them.”

Steve reaches for Eddie, lays his palm against his cheek, trails his thumb along the silvery thread that runs all the way to his throat, a memory woven on his face. It scares him how close they were to not having this, hits him sometimes out of nowhere. He leans in, his lips meeting Eddie’s, tastes pineapple, tastes home. He wouldn’t deny this man a single thing.

“Alright then,” says Steve says, breaking the kiss with a smile. “I guess we’re going shopping for a ranch.”

[ruruvxz]

hello! new reader here. i think hanni would write romantic love songs!

“My Dearest Clementine”

Hanni Pham x fem!reader

↳ synopsis: You and your overachieving (ex)girlfriend broke up, but little did you know, she still hasn't gotten over her little clementine. And what's better than food to get into a woman's heart? A good serenade.

↳ cw: foul mouth reader, reader once again is lowkey so mean, breakup, established relationship, comfort, fluff

↳ word count: 2.1k

a/n: omg my first ever anon, im tweaking out, but i agree she definitely would make/cover love songs about reader. and she’d put her whole heart into the performances too… she’s such a cutie pie nfgagggghhhhhh fun fact this was originally a jihyo fic but then i thought really hard, and decided on not making it about her. oh and this is song is clementine by grant perez heheheheh

Skimming through the channels, you really couldn't help but be so agitated by everyone broadcasting this god-awful music show. "God, do these people only watch one thing, and why does it have to be music shows of all things?" You huffed to yourself, whilst aggressively mashing the poor remote. To be honest you'd be the first one to admit that you did enjoy all the award shows and music festivals. Hell, you've even been to your fair share, but do all these channels have to screen the same thing?

It's been the same MAMA award show on almost every channel, even networks that talked about important news, couldn't help but talk about it. Almost as if there wasn't anything else of importance to speak about, making your blood boil even more at the thought.

However, your visceral hatred for music programs wasn't always like this, well, not before at least. You used to adore watching the latest performances, always admiring the work put into performing on stage. It came to the point where you'd buy tickets for venues near your apartment. Despite not always recognizing everyone performing, you'd always sit through every performance, all the while waiting for that one special person to take the stage. Embarrassingly your true intentions were to go watch your then-girlfriend, Hanni, and cheer her on from the sidelines.

That was before, and now, the one who you called your one true love, had just recently shattered your heart into pieces because of work.

All the memories of her loving presence came back flooding into your mind, like how she'd escape practice using Minji's help just to find herself wrapped around your arms. Everything was just too much, the fact she would leave you to save face just enraged you further. "Argh! I am not about to reopen old wounds! Leave me alone you— minx!" You yelled at the screen, before throwing profanity after profanity, like some madwoman trying to stop the voices in her head. At this point, your neighbors were on the verge of sending a wellness check to the apartment.

Your rage was at a tipping point when you saw her gorgeous face popping up on the screen. You held up the remote, ready to shatter the poor television by projectile throwing the remote at the screen. It wasn't until your phone started vibrating erratically that snapped you out of your female rage. Holding your hand out and snatching the phone from the coffee table, you put the speaker to your ear.

"Yeah? Who is this?" You asked curiously, taking a mental note of how the caller's number looked eerily familiar, summing it up to being a coworker.

"Hey, I know we aren't close, but my friend needs a favor." The woman on the other side spoke with a soft and soothing voice, it sounded familiar, though the loud sounds of chanting made it hard to decipher who was on the other end. Thinking for a moment, you took your gaze out from the phone and to the television screen, biting your teeth as you saw New Jeans without Hanni nor Danielle. Sighing in relief you didn't have to see your stunningly aggravating ex-girlfriend.

Still reminiscing about all the times she's carefully and delicately peeled various fruits for you to eat without you even asking. You started to drift off thinking of ways to get her back, before snapping out of your pitiful daydreams, just to respond to the woman on the phone. "Uhm, not to sound round or anything, but who is this? I mean I'd love to do you a favor but—" You rightfully questioned, since this was just such a perplexing thing to ask someone, especially since you had no memory of them.

"Listen I’m…a friend of a friend...?" She spoke unsurely.

"Look, I'm really busy at the moment, I've got a maximum of 30 seconds before the next song starts..." The woman spoke, while you sat there still trying to puzzle together who she was. "It's just, my friend REALLY—" she exasperated the 'really' as much as her voice could. "Wants you to watch the MAMA performance today."

"What... I'm sorry, with all due respect, that's such an odd demand. I must emphasize that I don't know you, and you're not making the effort to state who you are." You commanded at the mic before the call closed, the woman on the other end not wanting to argue with you.

Before you could interrogate me further, the speakers connected to the television erupted loudly with my nose, the screams and praises abundantly clear. And of all the songs it could blast powerfully loud, it was "How Sweet" by NewJeans, but all that you could notice was Danielle throwing the phone to one of the staff before her muscle memory pushed through. (And that Hanni, who was previously sitting perfectly fine with the other members wasn't going to perform the song with them.)

As quickly as you comprehend the song was playing, you put down the volume to a bearable state. Admittedly you still felt a bit creeped out by that call, but then again compared to the phone calls and letters you received from crazed lovers, it wasn't the worst thing you've gotten.

Suddenly a sinister realization hit you, other than working, you didn't do much during your day off, only thing mildly interesting happening today on my day off was this fuck ass show. And if that caller's so-called "friend" wanted you to watch the performances, you'd do just that. So that's how you decided that you'd spend your precious time letting out your toxic rage on these performances in the comfort of your own home.

The time flew so quickly, and most if not all the artists were so enjoyable, but then, the performance you had dreaded the most was about to happen. However, a part of you was quite ecstatic to watch that dreadfully alluring woman fail miserably on stage. (But be honest, Hanni never does, she always looks perfect doing what she loves, not the mention how elegant she sounds when she sings.)

"God Hanni, even till this day you're insufferable. Fuck." You screeched, as the painfully beautiful memories of her flooded your brain, while all you could do was continue to shove chips into my mouth, eating them up with a bittersweet rage. But with your prior knowledge, before the performance started, the artists were given about a 10-minute break to get all the equipment and stage ready. So you were left with your heart racing inside your chest.

After a dreadful wait, you watched as the dim lights began to slowly light the stage with a warm spotlight, and the LED backboard displayed a beautiful orange orchard. It took you aback since Hanni’s most recent solo tracks never mentioned anything about flowers or fruits. You hated to admit that no matter what you still supported her career to the bitter end of your relationship, so every little detail about her was engraved into your mind. But oh hell, if it's a mess up, even better for you right?

"Ah, hello everybody. I hope you've been enjoying the performances today. Everyone is so good!—" Hanni spoke, the crowd roared at her words, and the camera flashed to her coworkers smiling proudly at her words.

"I understand everyone wants my more recent solo songs, but I wanted to showcase a new song. I made it about someone close to me." She continued, while even more mental anguish bubbled up inside your head by how she spoke so softly about the song, and how you assumed she moved on so quickly.

"I hope you all will enjoy this performance." That was the last thing she said before the backtrack began to play. It was a gentle stroke of a guitar before the other members of the band continued to play to the rhythm. The song continued as you leaned closer into the TV, using your remote to turn up the music playing from the speakers.

“Color it gray...” She sang, your heart thumping out of your chest, your mind drifting to the moments leading to your eventual fallout.

“Until I forget you

Like I never met you” The memory of her pleading you to forget about whatever connection you both shared because she didn’t want to drag your career down. Her tears still linger in your mind.

“My dearest, my dearest Clementine” She continued, looking back at the first time she ever spoke so dearly about you, using ‘Clementine’ as a term of endearment because you both cringed at the thought of calling each other ‘baby’ or anything of that sort.

“Color it gray

Until I forget you

Like I never met you”

“My dearest Clementine”

“Throw it away

But close enough to you” Her voice strained by her sorrow.

“Cause although I hate you

I will still fall in love, my Clementine”

“Every time, always”

“No matter how hard I try”

“My Clementine, every time”

You're always on my mind” She ended, fixing her gaze to the camera, looking longingly, as if she was looking at something— no someone through the screen.

You watched in disbelief as she closed up her performance, and walked off the stage, still wearing the matching dragonfruit and orange necklace you bought together. It was a few minutes sitting in utter bewilderment before getting a call on your cellphone. All you could do is weakly pick it up, while still being in complete shock at what you just watched, and without checking the contact you forced yourself to speak up, "Uh..." with a very long pause, you resumed "Hello."

"Clementine!" The voice on the other line spoke loudly, there was no other person who called me that sickening nickname other than the one and only Hanni Pham.

"I thought I blocked you!" You shouted defensively at your phone trying to get this woman to hang up.

"Yeah! But you never blocked Danielle since she never really messaged you, haha!"

"Just leave me alone you freak!" You argued loudly, "I'm hanging up on you Han—" Before you could press, block caller, you heard her scream from the other side.

"No wait!"

"You saw my performance right?"

"Uhm... I wouldn't say I didn't." You awkwardly admitted, still trying to avoid answering her questions.

You sat in awkward silence for a while before she spoke again, "Please, I know you— we weren't the most mature people, but please give me one more chance. I know I shouldn't be asking you on the phone…” You hear a faint sigh before Hanni carries on with her whole speech. “but I don't know any other way to contact you without you running in the opposite direction."

Rolling your eyes behind the phone, you took in a deep breath and analyzed the situation before making a very calm, calculated response. "No! Die in a ditch, Hanni! You dumped me! Then made a song with my nickname and aired it out to everyone!"

"No! No! No wait! Please! Clementine! That's the only way to get through to you! Please Y/N, I wouldn't be begging like this for anyone else."

"Ugh... fine! We'll talk about this later once you're done with work alright? Besides you shouldn't be stressed during award shows, it shows."

"Really?!" She questioned, a bit shocked that you would even give her the time of day.

"Yeah, whatever, don't overwork yourself."

"Thank you so much, I promise I won't, thanks for caring so much, even with everything I’ve done."

"Yeah yeah, you know my place, I'll cook something up, and bring you comfortable clothes, because I'm going to give you a piece of my mind."

"I should've expected that, don't worry, we'll talk, I promise, I’ll listen to whatever you have to say— and I promise I won’t make any more stupid decisions."

"Sure."

"I never break my promises clementine."

"Just— go back to work, Hanni! You're pissing me off, your sweet talk won't work on me this time, I'm gonna beat your ass no matter what."

"It was worth the try." She laughed before hanging up the phone, you swore you were gonna kill her when she came back home. But for now, you forced yourself off the couch and prepared everything for her arrival, after all, she never broke her promises.

[bagerfluff]

Love and Limps

Harry Potter x Slytherin Male Reader

Prompt - "Why did you help me?"

Harry cursed himself as he limped towards the hospital wing. Harry had accidentally fallen during quidditch practice and now had to limp his way to the hospital wing. It hurt but Harry was able to push through it. For about half of the journey.

Now that he had been walking with his limp for ten minutes it was starting to hurt. “Bloody hell” Harry whispered as he leaned against the wall. “You okay Potter?” Harry looked up at the voice to see Y/n standing a few feet away from him. 

Harry sighed as he looked away from Y/n. Y/n L/n the king of slytherin. Harry didn’t feel like getting teased, so he said he was fine and started to walk, or limp, away. But when he was a few feet away, he tripped.

Harry closed his eyes as he waited to hit the floor but he didn’t. Harry looked up to see that Y/n had caught him. “So you're fine?” Y/n asked with a small smile on his face. Harry looked back down at the floor as he blushed. Why did Y/n have to look so good?

Y/n shifted Harry so he was standing up but once Y/n realized that Harry could really stand he picked Harry up. Bridal style. Harry blushed as he wrapped his hands around Y/n’s neck. Harry tried to get down but Y/n just said “just trust me Potter”.

Harry stopped moving after that. Harry thought as Y/n carried him to the hospital wing. Why was Y/n helping him? Y/n was a Slytherin. Slytherins hate Gryffindor's. But when Harry thought about it Y/n never really did anything mean.

He mostly kept to himself. He didn’t join Umbridge. And Harry heard that he refused to torture the first years, Y/n even helped during the war. Maybe Harry was wrong about Slytherin's. The more Harry thought about it, the more he realized that only Malfoy and his goons were mean.

Every other Slytherin was fine, nice even. Harry realized that he was wrong, along with everyone else. Harry wondered how many first year Slytherin's were hated because of what people in the past did.

Harry was so caught up in these thoughts that he didn’t realize that Y/n had placed him on a bed. “Again Potter” Madam Pomfrey said before she left to get a potion for Harry’s leg. Harry expected for Y/n to leave but he stayed.

He was sitting in the chair next to Harry’s bed. “Why did you help me?” Harry asked as he looked over to Y/n. Y/n looked up from the floor and looked at Harry with a face of confusion. “Because you needed help” Y/n answered. 

“But why?” Harry asked again. Y/n smirked as he got up from the chair. Y/n then leaned closer to Harry to whisper in his ear. “Because I like you Potter”. Harry blushed as Y/n leaned away from his ear and walked out of the hospital wing.

Once Madam Pomfrey came back with the potion Harry was still blushing. “Here Potter” Pomfrey said and Harry drank the potion. Harry then walked out of the hospital wing but when he got back to the dorms he realized that something was in his pocket.

Harry pulled it out and realized that it was a piece of parchment. Harry unfolded it and blushed when he read it. 

Sunday, 10:30, Hogshead. See you there, Potter

Harry smiled once he realized who it was from. Harry entered the dorms with a smile. Already thinking about what he was going to wear.