#sorry for disappearing for a week this was why

[mrs-kmikaelson]

helios

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x sunshine!reader Summary: Aaron thinks you're just about the most radiant person he's ever met. But then you fly too close to the sun, and all your light disappears. Warnings: grumpy x sunshine turned not sunshine, references to the greek myth of icarus and the sun god helios, graphic descriptions of violence, murder, mentions of abduction, heartbreak, complicated relationships, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unresolved trauma, aaron is a bit of a jerk (with reason) Words: 3.1K

Masterlist | icarus (part 1) | part 3

a/n: part 3 otw (don't kill me; we can talk about the next part of the grey area later)

When you first met Hotch, you knew he was wondering why you'd apply for the BAU. Most people wondered why you'd work for the Bureau in the first place. To make the world brighter, you'd thought.

But now your world was so dark that it made you wonder what the point of any of it was.

Did it matter if you helped some people? Did you really help anyone? You used to think so.

Now you were on the other side of the equation, and it didn't seem that way anymore. You weren't the agent, just the victim. And now you wondered—could you ever truly help anyone? Or were they all just dead the moment they were taken?

You never stayed long enough to see the aftermath, what happened to the victims after the unsub was apprehended. You now wished you did. Did this feeling ever go away?

It didn't feel like that right now.

Nonetheless, you still found yourself sitting at the BAU round table, coffee in hand in attempts to remedy your lack of sleep. It didn't help much, but it made you feel like you were doing something. Lately, everything in your life felt that way.

You sat across from Spencer, between Emily and Derek. They were talking about this movie they saw; Reid was arguing about innaccuracy and statistical probability. They invited you to go, too.

No thanks, guys. I'm busy this weekend. You didn't elaborate further.

You remembered the look of disappointment that washed over Spencer's face, but he covered it with a smile. You reciprocated it the best you could.

Smiling felt harder.

"Hey, Y/L/N, you listening?"

You blinked, turning to see Morgan looking at you expectantly. "Sorry. What?"

"I said, drinks. After this case. It's all on the old man's tab." Rossi made a sound of protest in the background, but Morgan barely glanced his way, keeping his eyes on you. "You in?"

Your mouth opened, but you didn't know what to say. You were running out of excuses. This felt like a test—

"Let's start the briefing."

At Hotch's entrance to the room, you felt a weight being lifted off your shoulders despite the air somehow getting heavier. You trained your eyes on the screen, relieved that you wouldn't have to answer.

JJ started, "Baltimore's seen a series of child abductions over the past few months. Jimmy Porter was abducted from the mall a week ago." She clicked to the next slide. "His body was found dumped by the harbor 2 days ago."

Diving into profiler mode, you tilted your head at the picture. "Dumped is a nice way of putting it," you commented. "The positioning shows an ample amount of remorse."

"And he dumped the body where it could easily be found," Hotch built off your point. He usually did that. It almost felt like things were normal between you.

Please, Y/N.

You cleared your throat. "Have the other bodies ever been found?"

JJ sighed, automatically indicating you wouldn't like her answer. "Baltimore PD is sweeping the water as we speak." She clicked to the next slide. "Last night, Max Campbell was taken from his home while his parents were asleep."

Derek sat up straighter. "That's a hell of a risk to take."

"To go from abducting from common hunting grounds like a mall to one's own home is extremely unlikely. It shows an immense jump in confidence and victimology, going from victims of opportunity to a specific victim in a specific location," Reid said, making gestures with his hands. 

You tipped your head in his direction. "There must be something specific about Max Campbell that made the unsub take him without even cooling off."

Hotch nodded, agreeing. "We'll discuss this further on the jet. Wheels up in 30." 

You all stood up, grabbing your things. You were about to leave the room when Hotch called your name. 

"Y/N." You turned back, seeing his soft expression that was simultaneously devoid of emotion. "Could I speak to you for a moment, please?"

No. Whatever he wanted to talk about could wait. He already got his fill the night before. You had nothing more to talk about.

But you couldn't say that. You'd already said too much. So, you reluctantly nodded, waiting for everyone to file out of the room and ignoring the glances they shared.

Rossi closed the door on his way out, like he could anticipate that you wouldn't want anyone to hear this conversation. You didn't know if you wanted to thank him for it or be angry at the assumption.

Most of your feelings were torn between extremes.

Sadness and anger.

Relief and intensity.

And as you stared at Aaron, standing there with stiff arms, hate and love.

He started slowly as if he was pacifying an unpredictable animal. "Y/N... I would like you to stay with Garcia for this case."

You involuntarily recoiled, shocked at the notion. If he was ashamed, he didn't show it. You scoffed. "What?" He opened his mouth, but you didn't let him get a word in, taking a step forward. "Hotch, that's ridiculous. Child offenders are my specialty. Are you seriously taking me off this case?"

"I'm not taking you off the case," he reasoned. "You'll be more help here—"

"How?" A look of offense crossed his face, but you couldn't care less. Maybe you would've been more scared to go against Hotch before, but this was now. He'd never suggested something so ludicrous.

Emily called you yin and yang, two sides of the same coin. He trusted you on all fronts. This didn't feel like trust.

It felt like punishment.

Hotch's eyes hardened, giving you a look you'd never seen directed at you before. "Agent Y/L/N, as your unit chief, I am ordering you to stay here. Your input is valued; you will still contribute. But effective immediately, you will not be joining us in the field until a psychological evaluation deems you fit."

Another scoff left you. "Psychological evaluation? That's what this is about? All because I wouldn't fucking talk to you—"

"Watch your tone—"

"You have my doctor's note. I am physically and mentally capable for this job. You are not a licensed psychologist—"

His voice raised as he cut you off. "I reserve the right to make decisions about the agents on my team." He gave you one final once-over, like he was daring you to say another word, give him a reason to do something more drastic. You clenched your jaw, holding back all the words you wanted to let flow. That seemed to satisfy him enough. "You will stay here. End of discussion."

Hotch grabbed his briefcase and promptly left the room, not sparing you another glance as you just stood there, left once again by Aaron Hotchner.

Yin and yang, Emily had said. It almost made you laugh. The coin was flipped.

He was leaving you in the shadows.

— 

Derek passed by your desk as you were grabbing your things, getting ready to go to Penelope's bat cave. He raised a brow at you. "Hey, where's your go bag?"

Without meaning to, you sighed, immediately regretting it when you saw the smile on his face falter. "Sorry, I'm—" not mad at you, "I'm not coming. Bossman's orders." You threw in a smile, trying to smooth things over, but it came out more sarcastic than anything.

He stared at you in silence for a few seconds with that same look that everyone had been giving you since you came back. The same way you'd look at a pressure-activated bomb. Careful not to move too fast, press too hard, press in the wrong areas.

Derek seemed to decide that whatever he was thinking was worth saying. "Kid, you know he just wants what's best for you." Kid.

Were you not grown up now?

You pursed your lips before responding, "Yeah." It was sure as hell hard to see it that way when you were being benched, punished for something that wasn't your fault.

You couldn't help but think that Hotch would never do this to Derek. Or anyone, for that matter. It was just you.

Morgan sighed, but he left it at that, sensing the cut was too fresh. His eyes travelled lower. Silence again.

You knew what he was looking at. You resisted the urge to cover your stomach.

"Does—" he hesitated. Derek Morgan never hesitated. "Does it still hurt?"

You sharply inhaled. The scars had two months to heal. Sometimes, you could still feel the knife ripping into your body. Once. Twice. Three times.

You could feel it most times, actually.

The medications could get rid of the pain, but they couldn't get rid of the sensation of that knife in your body. Sometimes, you thought nothing ever would.

"I'm told it doesn't hurt anymore than it should," you said. Whatever that meant. Apparently, you were in pain paradise. This is the spot you want to be at, you doctor told you.

You didn't call bullshit when he said that, but Morgan looked like he might do it for you in real time.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but he was cut off by Emily. 

"Are you guys coming?" Right after she spoke, her eyes darted between you both, asking you a different question with her eyes. Am I interrupting something?

You shook your head, giving her a smile that looked more practiced. No, you're not. "No, I'm not coming. I'll see you guys when you get back." You dodged any more questions by quickly turning around. Morgan could explain it to her if she asked. You didn't feel like answering any more questions, being treated like a ticking time bomb.

You just wanted things to go back to normal. Once they started treating you like they did before, then you could be the same as you were before.

You're not the same, Y/N.

Nothing was.

—

Penelope couldn't get through to you. You were quiet all day except to share your theories. The next day was the same. And the next. And the next. Until the bastard was caught.

Max Campbell was rescued. You weren't there to see it, but you wondered if it really made a difference. He was just a boy, so full of light.

Would that light ever come back to him?

You exhaled, running your hand over your face. Even though you stayed home, you were exhausted. You didn't sleep more than an hour at a time, but that wasn't much different from your new routine.

You were starting to see more of the moon than the sun.

When the team returned, you greeted them all with smiles. There, just like before. The only difference was that you didn't talk to Hotch.

He glanced at you, wordlessly telling you to talk to him, but you weren't gonna do that.

Rossi noticed the lack of communication between you. Everyone did, but he was the only one who'd say something about it.

Stirring his coffee in the break room, he started, "Aaron is... stubborn. But he's extra hardheaded for the people that he loves." Loves.

Your hand stilled halfway to grabbing the coffee pot, but you recovered quickly, grabbing it and pouring yourself a cup. You glanced side to side, checking to see if anyone was around to hear him and whatever he was implying. 

When you found no one else, you replied, "Okay." You weren't going to dignify that claim with any other response.

You knew Aaron cared about you; you'd be a shitty profiler not to know that. But love was a strong word.

Love didn't leave you all alone when you begged it to stay. Love didn't stay away from you while you were lying in a hospital bed. Love didn't interrogate you and make you sit on the sidelines when you didn't answer its questions. Love didn't make you feel so cold when all you wanted was to feel warm.

Rossi stopped pretending to pay attention to his coffee. You didn't meet his eyes. "Bellissima, you're going to have to talk to him eventually."

"Can you pass the creamer, please?"

"No." Finally, you looked up, meeting Rossi's passionate gaze. "It gets worse before it gets better. You have to let that happen."

You clenched your fists, digging your nails into your palms. You didn't see how it could possibly get worse than this.

"You know, I don't really think I want this coffee anymore." You left the mug on the counter, exiting the break room and leaving the conversation altogether.

— 

"Hotch, please. The case is right here—"

"No."

"Come on, I'll be right by your side the whole time," you argued. A new case came in, just over in Montclair, and you were trying to negotiate your way into it. Two cases had passed where he made you stay in Quantico. It was becoming nonsensical.

You thought he'd crack by now, but he remained firm in his resolve, refusing to let you in the field until you talked about what happened. And "talking about it" was something you didn't want to do, much less with him.

His gaze had more heat than the sun outside. You could tell he was contemplating it. Even he must've been able to see how absurd this was, holding you back from your work when he wouldn't do the same to anyone else.

When it was him on the other side of this, he came back to work. He went into the field 30 days after being stabbed nine times. You only endured a third of that.

You thought back to that day. You'd rushed to the hospital and didn't leave his side. You visited him every day, keeping him company and updating him on your cases. You never iced him out the way he was isolating you right now. You never avoided him when you knew he was hurting.

If you talked to him—if you had that conversation—then that's what you'd say. You'd end up saying something foolish about the things you felt, feelings he wouldn't reciprocate. You'd reopen wounds you were desperately trying to close.

So you wouldn't.

You didn't say a word of what you were really thinking, sticking to the script. Please let me go. I'll be fine. I'll stay by you.

Eventually, he made up his mind. "Fine."

You could've nearly smiled.

— 

The case finished speedily. You captured the unsub and found the girl just in time. Happily ever after.

Hotch didn't seem to think so.

As soon as the elevator doors opened to the sixth floor, he was storming past you all, his footsteps thunderous against the floor. Garcia's smile fell from her face when she saw.

Without turning back, he called, "Y/L/N. My office, now."

You rolled your eyes, following him and ignoring the looks your colleagues exchanged. They did that a lot, lately. But everyone stayed silent, electing not to make commentary. It was smart, not wanting to add fuel to the fire.

But you... you were the most fire you'd been in months. For the first time since what happened, you didn't feel cold. White hot anger coursed through your veins, lighting a fuse that no one could get rid of.

You slammed Hotch's door on your way in. He immediately turned to you, seething, "That was reckless and stupid—"

"It got the job done—"

He raised his voice. "You walked into the house alone, without backup—"

"I talked him down—"

"You could've died!"

"It wouldn't be the first time!" you snapped. Your chest heaved as if you'd just run a marathon, phantom pains in your abdomen supporting your words. 

He glanced downward before meeting your eyes again. For a second, it was almost like you were looking at Aaron. It was almost like he was understanding. 

You got quieter, but your voice was no less firm. "It certainly won't be the last."

And just like that, Aaron disappeared. No longer your friend. Back to the prosecutor, the unit chief who took your words as a challenge. His eyes narrowed. "Yes, it will be." It took you a moment to understand what he meant, but he soon made it very clear. "Your gun and your badge, now. You're suspended for the next two weeks."

You took a step backward as if his words were a slap in the face. "What?"

Hotch didn't lighten up, his face completely impassive. "You are a danger to yourself, and I cannot allow you into the field in good conscience." He held his hand out. "Gun. Badge. Now."

You echoed, "You're suspending me?"

"Yes."

An incredulous scoff left you. He was suspending you after everything? When he had done the same and worse?

He was allowed to use his judgement and keep things to himself, but the second you stepped out of line, he wanted to suspend you? You couldn't believe it. You wouldn't believe it.

In a split second, you made a snap decision. If he didn't want you here, then it wouldn't be on his terms.

You unholstered your gun and unpocketed your badge, shoving them in his chest as opposed to handing them to him. You didn't take your eyes off him once, maintaining your glare.

You hoped it burned.

"You're not suspending me," you rebutted, taking a step closer to him. Realization dawned on his face. "I quit."

Hotch's face morphed into something that almost looked like regret. You wouldn't stay long to savour it.

You spun on your heel, marching out of his office with him right behind you. The team, who no doubt heard small bits of your conversation, looked confused. You didn't stop for any of them.

"Y/N, this conversation isn't finished." He must've thought that'd get to you. His unit chief voice, big and loud. But your feet didn't stop moving.

With your back still turned to him, you retorted, "No, but I am."

You reached the elevator, pressing the ground floor and close button within seconds of each other. When the doors closed, Hotch's approaching figure was gone, replaced by your own reflection.

A shaky breath left you. The fluorescent lights in the elevator were blinding. It was brighter in there than it was anywhere else in the building. But when you got out to the parking lot, it was just dark.

Artificial lights. Not the sun.

They didn't last. They had switches; you could turn them off.

Your switch was flipped, too. For a second, you were hot and blazing, burning brighter than you'd ever burned before. But as soon as you left the building, that changed completely.

You were immersed in darkness.

And you were alone.

[maladaptivewritings]

Headlock Pt.2

Summary: Simon just returned from deployment, to realize he has a new neighbor. His paranoia soon leads to obsession as he dives into a cycle of charismatic stalking.

Tw: stalking, smoking, general Simon behaviors.

Y/N: She/They pronouns, has tattoos, library associate, mid-late 20's, y/n height is implied (between 5'3 to 5'6)

The old building ached and groaned as the weeks passed. Simon had learned as much as he could through his searches. Documents littering his personal desk and counters, pictures of you from social media now taking up space within his mind.

"Just for security reasons" a siren song danced in his mind. He the hours you worked, that was easy seeing the wall were thin enough and your alarm was just loud enough. As He would lay amongst the pitch sheets, listening half-heartedly as you fumbled about rushing to get ready. The door slams shut as you sprint out into the hall. The sick routine begins as Simon would roll out of bed, watching you from his window.

The sun just peeks behind the buildings as you would run to your car, hair tossed back into whatever style would listen that morning. Insisting to himself that this was a passing thing, and soon this would be just a thing of the past.

Until you knocked on his door after you got back that night.

His eyes scour your body for a clue on why you had shown up this time. Had you seen him this morning? Did you somehow find out about the encyclopedia of knowledge he had on you.

"Are you hungry?" You ventured, eyes darting aware from Simon's as you continued. "I want to try this place down the road, everyone I know is busy."

Simon was stunned, understanding the concept. Were you asking him out? No, definitely not this was just politeness at it's finest. He nodded unsure if he could speak.

"Of' course, I could eat." He finally answered.

"Um, drive together or walk or separately..." You elaborated further, definitely just ready to leave.

"I'll walk," Simon assured, disappearing back into his home. He grabbed coat, but in his hidden state shoved the folders and files into his desk. If everything went well, he didn't need you seeing that.

You waited in the doorway, already having dropped off most of your work items in the foyer of your own apartment. Simon finally returned to the hall, trying to correct his social faux pas as he nodded and greeted you.

"So' where we heading." He was nearly a foot taller than you as he trailed behind. The sickly yellow lights of the hall helping paint the scene in front of you as you reached the stairwell. You explained some convoluted story about your coworker raving about a restaurant which you knew was down the road. You were of course tired of this woman's incessant ramblings about this damned place. He followed, his figure shadowing yours as you finally halted in front of a small café.

Soft music escaped the windows and doors, the patio lit up in the evening sun. Y/n waltzed inside and Simon, like a stray mutt, followed the dim gold light danced of the delicate cups. The booths worn in as the two sat down.

"I am so sorry about this," You recalled the rushed manner you asked. Before even getting to that point you attempted to come to this small restaurant over five times, chickening out per each attempt. Hands hiding your face as the two of you waited for a server to come by.

"Had nothin' better to do." His voice assured that he was content, his hat hiding him from the light as he leaned in to meet you at the table. He was pushing himself to feel normal, a task never fulfilled in his daily life. For this for you he'd try.

The server came and the two ordered, small treats littering the table as Simon tousled the tablecloth. This was not a place he'd visit, vintage neon signs displayed across the walls. He noted every moment you ranted and raved. He now knew who you hated in the office, or how you'd lay in bed for as long as you could before running off every morning.

The sun fell, and the two of you returned to apartment building. You invited him in for a moment before separating, just desiring more company for the night.

Your apartment was quaint, old textbooks littering any surface. Many just old and outdated, he follows as you slowly breakdown some physical barriers, your coat and scarf than taking down your hair while slipping into slippers. He haunts the halls of the apartments, picking up trinkets ever so often and few falling in to his pockets.

His grunts and groans, an intended way of keeping your eyes off him. He yearned to explore this strange land, where do you hide away at night? When did you lock yourself away and entertain yourself.

He had been drawn to glance into one of those dark doorways that lined the hall. As he drew nearer, he heard you yell for him. Pulling him from his daze.

"Uh, Coffee or Tea?" The question that halted him. He fell back into the kitchen where you stood. An electric kettle boiling as y/n sat a top the counter awaiting a response.

"Tea," He paused seeing you being to pull out a bowl of various tea's a collection he would be jealous of if it weren’t for the fact he only enjoyed maybe three out of the fifty within your grasp.

"Just grab one." You pushed the bowl towards him, as you grasped one at random. Making your own cup in peace, Simon glanced at the clock. 10:28 P.M. While he would love to poke around further, he knew it would be to risky to rummage throughout your home with you here.

"I'll pass, gotta get up early tomorrow mornin'" He apologized, his lie hidden by those puppy-dog-eyes. As he slipped out and back into his home. He had now some trophies from tonight, a few knickknacks that wouldn’t be missed, and maybe some other items that disappeared from your laundry when he claimed he needed to use the restroom.

[lovesuhng]

after the kiss

part 2 of drunk words, sober thoughts friends to lovers, fluff, smut, johnny his big, reader is described as a big girl

Johnny wanted to kiss you. You wanted to kiss Johnny. Everything was perfect, right? Wrong.

Ever since the day you drank too much and said more than you should have, you decided to run away from your best friend simply out of fear. You were afraid the kiss wouldn’t be good. But most of all, you were afraid things would change between you and Johnny. You couldn’t bear to lose him just because of something silly you said while drunk.

It had been over a week since you started ignoring his messages and calls, hiding every time you saw him in the university hallways, making up excuses when his friends asked why you were avoiding him.

He understood that you needed time, that you were embarrassed—he knew you very well. But he was tired of waiting. He needed to see you, which was why he was now at your apartment, waiting for you to explain why you were running away from him.

“I’m sorry, okay? I swear I don’t know what got into me that night.”

“You know exactly what happened.” It was clear that, no matter how hard he tried, Johnny couldn’t understand. “I told you I wanted to kiss you too, so what’s the problem?”

“Oh, Johnny, we’re friends! What if we kiss and everything gets weird? What if we drift apart because of it? Have you thought about all the mess that could happen if we—”

Your words were cut off by your friend as he pressed his lips to yours, giving in to the kiss you both had wanted for so long. You know when people talk about the electricity running through your body when you kiss someone you love for the first time? That was exactly what happened between you two.

All the fear, all the doubts that had been swirling in your mind disappeared. Every single worry faded the moment Johnny touched you.

You pulled apart just enough to look at each other, taking in the expressions on your faces. The smiles on both your lips were proof that you wanted more than just a simple kiss. And so, a softer, deeper kiss began.

Having Johnny’s lips on yours was an incredible sensation, as if they fit perfectly together, as if yours were made solely to be with his. The lack of air finally forced you both to part, but even then, your foreheads remained pressed together, eyes locked in an intense gaze.

“Still scared?”

“Not at all.”

Another kiss began, this time fervent, filled with desire. One of Johnny’s hands pulled you closer by the nape of your neck, while the other played at your waist. You thought you were going to lose your mind when his wet kisses trailed away from your lips, down to your neck, then to your collarbone.

When a soft moan escaped your lips and you tugged at the waistband of his pants, it was Johnny’s turn to feel like he was going insane. He almost thought he was imagining things when you leaned into his ear and whispered:

“Take me to the bedroom, Johnny.”

Johnny stopped abruptly, looking right into your eyes, as if he's trying to understand what you just said and, when you smiled, he was sure you wanted it as much as he did. Then, he took you in his arms with the greatest ease and drew a hearty laugh from you.

Despite being much shorter than him (which wasn’t exactly difficult, considering his height), you had a striking presence—thick thighs, full curves, completely different from the type of woman you thought he would be attracted to.

So, seeing Johnny lift you off the ground so effortlessly left you even more impressed—and even more horny.

Upon reaching the bedroom, he gently laid you on the bed, initiating another round of heated kisses. Your hands roamed beneath his shirt, tracing the firm muscles of his abdomen—a silent invitation for him to take it off.

“Wow…” Johnny chuckled at your reaction as you look in his body. You had seen him shirtless before, but this time was different. Now, you were consumed by an indescribable desire and he was even more built than the last time you saw him like this.

You removed your shirt as well, along with your bra, catching him off guard with your boldness. He wasted no time, taking one of your breasts into his mouth while massaging the other. Shivers ran through your body as soft moans escaped your lips, sounds that only fueled Johnny’s pleasure. You were already so wet, so overwhelmed with need, that you took his hand and guided it between your legs—a silent plea for him to touch you.

That was how Johnny gave you your first orgasm of the night.

“I want you now, Johnny.” You said, your eyes locked onto the prominent bulge in his pants. He started to remove them and you watched his every move. But when you finally saw him, you froze.

Johnny was a big man, so it was only natural that he would be big in every sense, but still, you couldn’t help but be taken aback. Nervousness flickered across your face and he noticed immediately. Leaning in, he gently cupped your chin and whispered, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll go slow, and if you want me to stop, just tell me. I know you can take me so well, but, trust me, okay?”

You simply nodded, and he rewarded you with a soft, lingering kiss.

Slowly, he began to push inside and your grip tightened around his arms. Johnny kept whispering sweet words, reassuring you every step of the way.

“You’re doing so well, my love.” “You’re so beautiful, I know you can take me.” “You feel so good wrapped around me.”

His words sent waves of pleasure through you, making you clench around him, driving him wild. Once he was fully inside, he started with slow, gentle thrusts, gradually increasing the pace.

You moaned, trying to muffle the sounds, but it was impossible. Your fingers tangled in his hair, nails dragging down his back, leaving marks on his skin.

Johnny didn’t stop, pressing kisses and bites along your neck. Your eyes met, filled with nothing but raw pleasure and admiration. That tension in your stomach built up, unraveling into a mind-blowing climax.

“You okay, baby?” Johnny asked, watching as you caught your breath.

“More than okay.” You smiled at him, eyes glowing with satisfaction. “But now…”

You pushed him onto the bed, straddling his lap, positioning yourself above him.

“I want to make you feel good.”

Guiding him back inside you, you slowly lowered yourself onto him, watching as his head fell back, his large hands gripping your waist. Now it was your turn to kiss and bite his neck, making sure there would be marks left behind.

Johnny was in pure bliss, completely intoxicated by you. His obsession was undeniable when, for what felt like the hundredth time that night, he covered your breasts with kisses and love bites, making sure you reached your peak once again.

“J-Johnny… I’m gonna…”

“Me too, princess.”

It didn’t take long before both of you reached the edge together, collapsing onto the bed, breathless and spent.

Johnny turned to look at you—chest rising and falling, eyes closed, yet absolutely stunning. He smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before heading to the bathroom. After cleaning himself up and taking care of you, he laid back down beside you, pulling you into his embrace and kissing you deeply, yet tenderly.

“This feels like a dream.” You murmured, nuzzling into his chest as he ran his fingers soothingly along your back.

“Me too. It was even better than I imagined.”

“You imagined this too?”

“Of course. I’ve always wanted you like this, right here by my side, looking so beautiful.” He paused, sighing. “I think it took me too long to realize what I really felt for you, but I guess everything happens at the right ti—AAAAAH! WHY DID YOU DO THAT?”

Your intrusive thoughts won, and you bit his chest, completely disrupting the romantic moment.

“I’ve always wanted to do this. Do you know how hard it was to control myself, seeing you looking so damn hot and not being able to bite you all over?”

Johnny burst into laughter at your confession, pulling you in for another kiss. He felt like the luckiest man alive to be with the woman he had always been in love with.

Both of you were relieved that nothing between you had changed—that you were still best friends.

Except now, that bond had evolved into something deeper. A love that was finally mutual.

[glossypolaroidkisses]

thinking about long-term relationship reader and lu and how their interactions would look like right before he cut contact w/ everyone …

Oh my god.. this is so evil but genius I can’t believe you're gonna make me write this. (I’m teasing please spam my requests. I’m yearning to write for you guys).

Part 1/3 - Between Love & Leaving

Luigi admired you, he always did. He would always look at you, his eyes full of love. You’d catch him, an infectious grin on his face purely from him observing you. Whether you had just woken up with your messy hair and puffy face, or all dolled up, his plus one at every engineering event.. He always smiled at you the same way, his dimples making an appearance. When you caught him, you’d playfully shove him, “Stop looking at me like that, goof.” You’d tease. His cheeks would flush a light pink, “Like what?” he’d reply, knowing exactly what he was doing.

In the weeks leading up to his disappearance, don’t get me wrong, Lu would still admire you. But, paired with that sweet smile were his eyes that would gloss over. You would catch him in the act, but instead of reacting playfully he would immediately look away or start blinking rapidly to rid his tears. “What’s wrong, my love?” you would ask, he would shrug it off. In hindsight, you should’ve known. But since Luigi is so smart, you believed his excuses. 

Luigi was the sweetest man you had ever met, you would believe anything he said. He could’ve told you that the sky was purple, and you would have nodded and bat your eyelashes at him in adoration.

It was always something.. “Dust got in my eye,”, “I just yawned”, “The sun is so bright,”, “Computer screen must be straining my eyes”, “It’s just my allergies, amore mio.”, “Wow. It’s really windy today, huh?”. He’d follow one of these lines by casually rubbing his eyes, then taking your hand and giving you a reassuring squeeze or forehead kiss.

You had no reason not to believe him. You were approaching your four year anniversary of being together, why would Lu suddenly start tearing up when he looked at you? Nothing had changed between you in the last few years, or so you had thought. 

Another reason you didn’t pry on him being more emotional than usual, you thought he had plans in mind. 

Your best friend from middle school was in town, so you invited her over on a whim to share great news with her. “Have fun, guys.” Luigi said, watching as you and your giddy best friend Sheila headed to your bedroom. “I’ll just be in the living room. I’ll text you if I head out,”  he said. “Okay, baby!” you reply, giggling as you and Sheila walk into the bedroom. You closed the door behind you. “What did you wanna tell me!?!--” Sheila excitedly asked, barely inside the room. “Shhhh!!” you cut her off. “Oh, oh,” she quiets to a whisper. “Is it about Luigi?”. 

You nod, unable to contain the excitement. “I think he’s gonna propose.” 

Immediately, Sheila lets out some hybrid of a scream and a squeal; Regardless what it is, it was loud. Your hand flies to cover her mouth. 

You shoot her a death glare before slowly removing your hand. “Sorry, sorry.. That’s so exciting, y/n. How do you know?”. 

“Well, I don’t know, but last time we were at the mall, he walked by the ring store really slowly. He never window-shops, ever. Actually, he doesn’t shop at all. He just comes to buy me things. Also, he keeps having these mysterious vague ‘plans’. I even caught him staring at the calendar for a long time. Like.. What is he planning?” you say. Sheila grabs your hands and starts jumping up and down. “I can’t wait to be your bridesmaid!” she says. You laugh, “okay, okay. Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.” you say, still smiling at the possibility. 

“Do you know what kind of ring you want?” Sheila asks.

“No, but I’m sure I’ll love whatever Lu chooses.”

When you had closed the bedroom door and Sheila screamed shortly after, Luigi ran over to the door. He thought that someone was in pain. Before he could grab the handle and rush in, he heard you shush Sheila. He stood at the door, listening to the conversation. As soon as the word ‘proposing’ left your mouth, his heart sank. There he was, carefully planning to disappear from everyone, and you were imagining he’s going to propose. You didn’t know that Luigi heard this conversation. 

Eventually you moved on from the engagement conversation and sat on the bed, where it was difficult for Luigi to hear from behind the door. 

Admittedly, in the final week before Luigi departed, there were signs that were concerning. 

He was overly apologetic, generally more distracted, always shrugging when you mentioned future plans. “I’ll get back to you on that, baby.” He would say, a hollow look in his eyes. 

Regardless, you could have never predicted from these actions that he was planning to go AWOL. Everyone has their off days, and Luigi was always a stable person in your life. One of the only consistent people. Your safe haven, the love of your life. Yes, you lived together, but Luigi himself was truly your home. No matter where you were. His heart, his soul, the way he looked at you. Even with the unusual behaviour, you never would have guessed that he was planning to cut everyone off.

Plus, you're an overthinker. You overachieve at overthinking. Luigi knew this. Another reason why you dismissed your suspicions. He constantly reassured you and provided you with the healing words and gestures that your flawed mind needed. 

3 days before he left, you were eating dinner together. There had been a painfully long amount of space between conversation, long enough to notice the sounds of chewing and forks scratching your plates. Luigi was breathing heavier than usual, trying to force himself to say the words. If he didn’t say it soon, he knew you would notice the awkward silence and ask what's wrong. If you looked at him with your glimmering eyes, filled with worry, he would blurt the truth. Withholding information from you had been eating him alive as it was. Your nails clinked on your wine glass as you picked it up, lifting it to sip your wine. The subtle gulp when you swallowed, Luigi knew it was speak now, or never.

“Lu—”

“I’ve been feeling restless again. I think I’m gonna head out for another backpacking trip soon. Clear my head.”

"Another trip?" You set your glass down slowly, your fingers tracing the rim as you studied him. Your tone was light, almost teasing, but there was a quiet concern knitting your brows together. “You’ve been quieter than usual, but I didn’t think you were planning another escape.” You gave him a playful smile, trying to lift the mood. No response from him, you struggled to read his emotions. “What? Is my cooking that bad? You have to go backpacking again?” you joke. 

Luigi tried to smile back, but it barely flickered before fading. Your words felt like a soft punch to his stomach; not because they hurt, but because they made him crumble. He knew you were trying to make him laugh to put him at ease, like you always did, but the pit in his stomach only grew. He forced himself to take another bite of food, chewing slowly to give himself a moment to keep the nausea at bay.

As the silence stretched, you glanced at him again, beginning to nervously gnaw on your bottom lip. You wanted him to say something, anything. 

The last thing Luigi wanted was to make you worry. He swallowed hard, the food catching as the lump in his throat kept rising.

“You know I support you.. no matter what,” you said softly, your voice laced with concern. You always wanted him to do what made him happy, but this confused you.  “.. Are you sure this is what you need?” you asked. You didn’t want to be a nagger, you hated that feeling of being annoying. But the sirens in your head were blaring.

Luigi nodded quickly, too quickly. “Yeah, I’m sure,” he said, his voice rushed. He grabbed his glass and took a long sip, hoping the cool liquid would settle his stomach. “Everything’s good,” he added; His tone light, but delivery similar to a robot.

His leg bounced under the table, he couldn’t stop. He could feel your eyes on him, the gentle worry in your gaze.. It made his chest ache. As if a boulder was resting on top of it. “You don’t have to worry about me, my love,” he said, more firmly this time, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He wanted to reassure you more than anything in the world, but genuinely couldn’t.

Before you could press further, he abruptly pushed back his chair, “I’ll, uh, I.. I think I ate too fast. Give me a moment,” he said, his voice hurried as he stood.

You didn’t get a chance to respond before he walked quickly down the hall, his jaw tight as he focused on keeping it shut.

The door clicked shut behind him, and he locked it with trembling fingers before leaning heavily against the sink. All his weight pressed into his hands, relying on them to keep him standing. 

His reflection in the mirror stared back at him, pale, like a stranger who had seen a ghost. He gripped the edge of the counter, his knuckles white as the nausea twisted violently in his stomach.

Lying to you felt like poison, churning inside him. It rolled around, slowly and heavily, as if threatening to drown him. His chest heaved as he fought the wave of sickness, closing his eyes tightly, but the guilt clawed at him, relentless. He felt like he was coming apart at the seams, each thread of his sanity unraveling faster than he could handle. Never in his life did Luigi imagine he would have to lie to you, of all people. 

The sound of the faucet endlessly running filled the room as he turned it on full blast, a lazy attempt to have as much as he could to cover the sound of what was about to happen. How could he do this to you? How could he look into your eyes, so full of trust, and lie to you over and over again?

 The weight in his stomach weaved, making its way up his body in a matter of seconds. Weak in the knees, Luigi stumbled to the toilet, barely making it in time.

He let his legs collapse on the cold tiles, his hands gripped the rim of the toilet bowl as his body betrayed him. His stomach heaved violently, and though he tried to keep it silent, the force of it left him shaking. He gave into the weakness, resting his heavy head on the seat before his body forced him back up again, projecting into the toilet. 

He couldn’t keep doing this. Every lie felt like a knife, slowly sliding though his skin from the inside, out. The guilt was unbearable, suffocating, making him feel like he was losing his mind. The love he had for you burned in his chest, so overwhelming that it hurt, and the thought of you finding out what he was going to do.. the realization, the betrayal in your eyes.. even just the idea of it        made him want to scream.

He flushed the toilet quickly and grabbed a hand towel to dab at his clammy face. For a moment, he clutched it tightly, his hands trembling as he pressed it to his hot forehead. 

He forced himself to stand, gripping the sink for balance as he splashed cold water on his face. His reflection blurred in the water dripping from his skin, and he stared at it. He didn’t recognize himself anymore. Not the man you trusted, not the man you needed, the man you deserved.

By the time he turned off the faucet and unlocked the door, his mask was back in place, but barely. Each step closer to the table, it took everything in him to keep it together, to keep you from seeing the cracks. What could Luigi do? He had to leave, no matter what. Selfishly, he couldn't have you find out while he was still living with you.

When he sat back down, you looked up at him, your face calm but carefully watching. He gave you a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry about that, darling. I think I definitely ate too fast.” He gestured toward his empty plate. “Despite popular belief, your cooking is way too good to pace myself.” he says, taking yoru hand and giving it a gentle peck as an apology. You laugh, taking it lightly as he intended, but Luigi is savouring every meal of yours as if it was one of his last meals on earth. 

Luigi kept the conversation light, deflecting your questions carefully, though every glance you gave him felt like it could unravel him completely.

The night before he fulfilled his plan was one of the most beautiful nights you had ever shared.

a/n: Your last day together will be continued in Part 2, here’s the link to it!  Edit: Now also available, part 3/3 <3 Enjoy.

also, floor plan of how i visualized the appartement when i wrote this, because I’m insane!;

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: The Rule

You had one rule.

It wasn’t a difficult one to follow, not really. Marshall had made it clear since the day you got married—your pleasure belonged to him. Only him. It wasn’t just about control; it was about trust, about knowing that no one—not even you—could take what was his to give. And you had obeyed. Until now.

He’d been in L.A. for a week, and the ache had become unbearable. You tried everything—burying yourself in work, distracting yourself with TV, even calling him just to hear his voice. But nothing helped. His voice wasn’t enough. His words weren’t enough. The need clawed at you, desperate, relentless, and before you even realized what you were doing, your hand was hovering between your thighs, temptation stronger than ever.

You bit your lip, heart pounding as you picked up your phone and dialed his number. He answered on the second ring.

"Hey, baby," he said, his voice sending a shiver through you.

"Marshall… I—" You hesitated. "I need you. Please, just this once… let me."

Silence stretched between you. Then, his voice dropped an octave, firm and unyielding. "No."

Your breath hitched. "Marshall—"

"I said no," he repeated. "You wait for me. Like a good girl."

Your body ached, desperation making your voice waver. "But I—"

"Don’t." His tone was final. "You know the rules."

Your fingers tightened around the phone, frustration and need warring inside you. "Okay," you whispered, though your body screamed otherwise.

He sighed. "I know it’s hard, baby. But you belong to me. And when I finally touch you again, you’ll understand why I make you wait."

You nodded even though he couldn’t see you. "I miss you."

"I know," he said softly. "Be good for me."

The call ended, and you were left staring at the ceiling, restless and aching. But the need didn’t fade—it only got worse. Until you couldn’t take it anymore.

One hand gripping the pillow that still smelled like him, the other moving with a frantic, guilty rhythm, you let yourself slip. It was supposed to be quick, just enough to take the edge off. But the moment you came undone, pleasure was immediately drowned by guilt, crashing over you like a wave.

You didn’t have to confess—he wouldn’t know. But that wasn’t how this worked. You told him everything. And so, with trembling fingers, you texted him.

I’m sorry.

It took less than a minute for your phone to vibrate. The three dots appeared, disappeared, then reappeared again before his response came through.

Tell me exactly what you did.

Your breath hitched. He wasn’t mad. Not yet. But he would be. You hesitated, but he knew you too well to lie. So you told him. Every detail. The ache, the need, the way you fell apart with his name on your lips, but how it still wasn’t enough. How you still needed him.

For a long moment, there was no response. Then—

Pack a bag. Be at the airport in two hours.

Your stomach clenched. You knew what that meant. He wasn’t waiting until he got home. He was bringing you to him.

—

The flight felt like an eternity. By the time you arrived at the hotel suite, your nerves were frayed, anticipation twisting through your veins like fire. The door barely clicked shut before you heard his voice.

“Come here.”

You turned slowly, finding him standing near the window, bathed in the city lights. His expression was unreadable, jaw tight, eyes dark.

“Marshall—”

“Did I tell you that you could touch yourself?”

You swallowed hard. “No.”

“Did you forget who you belong to?”

“No.”

He took a step closer, then another, until he was towering over you, fingers tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “Then why did you do it?”

“I—” Your words faltered. “I missed you. I needed you.”

Something flickered in his eyes, something softer, but it was gone just as quickly. "You think missing me is an excuse to break my rules?"

You shook your head, heart pounding. "No."

He exhaled sharply, thumb brushing over your lower lip before he caught your chin between his fingers, his grip firm. "Take your clothes off."

Heat pooled low in your stomach as you obeyed, pulse thrumming in your ears. When you stood bare before him, vulnerability creeping over your skin, he nodded toward the bed. "Lie down. Hands above your head."

You did as you were told, breath shallow as he took his time, eyes raking over every inch of you. Then, slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a silk tie.

"You want to take matters into your own hands?" He climbed onto the bed, straddling you as he tied your wrists to the headboard. "Let’s see how much you enjoy being completely at my mercy."

The moment his lips brushed your skin, you knew—this wasn’t just a punishment. This was a lesson. One you wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

His hands moved with deliberate slowness, fingertips tracing over your skin, igniting every nerve in their wake. He took his time, teasing, taunting, watching your body react to his touch.

"You don’t get to come until I say so," he murmured against your neck, his breath hot, sending shivers down your spine.

You whimpered, already on edge, your body betraying you with every arch and tremble. The desperation was unbearable, your core aching, throbbing, needing him more than ever. "Please," you whispered, voice cracking. "Please, Marshall."

He pressed a kiss just below your jaw, the warmth of his lips a stark contrast to the possessiveness in his grip. "Not yet," he said, voice rough. "Not until you learn."

The torment continued, his hands, his mouth, his voice keeping you teetering on the edge but never letting you fall. Every time you thought he would finally give you what you so desperately craved, he pulled away, watching you writhe beneath him, a smirk playing at his lips.

"Tell me who you belong to," he demanded.

"You," you gasped, arching against the restraints. "Only you."

"And who decides when you get to come?"

"You do," you whimpered, tears pricking your eyes. "Please, Marshall, I can’t take it."

The moment he finally gave in, finally let you have what you had begged for, the release was shattering, overwhelming. He held you through it, whispering praises, his grip still firm, grounding you in the aftermath.

—

Hours passed, and you were spent, trembling, gasping for breath as he finally released your wrists, his fingers massaging the marks left by the silk tie. His lips found your forehead, pressing a lingering kiss there, softer than any before.

"You know why I had to do that, don’t you?" he murmured, voice rough but laced with something gentler now.

You nodded, too exhausted to speak. He cupped your cheek, brushing his thumb over your swollen lips.

"No one else touches you," he said, more to himself than to you. "Not even you."

Your eyes fluttered closed as he pulled you against him, his warmth surrounding you, lulling you into a heavy, satisfied sleep.

But even as exhaustion took over, his grip on you remained firm, possessive. A reminder that he would always be there to claim what was his.

You had broken the rule once.

You wouldn’t do it again.

[some-sad-ass-divorced-shit-tai]

Ok, I am a comparatively illiterate engineer and this was so well put so I’m sorry for how simplistic everything will be now.

You are right. Taissa as a character works even more than they intended because the struggles they have assigned her play into this Olivia Pope-esque struggle to obtain a powerful position in the very system that seeks to grind a woman like her down to dust before she even has the cognition to recognize it’s happening. One could argue that from the very first episode they have been showing the proverbial “work twice as hard to get half of what they have” issue when coach puts Jackie in the captain position when it seems the clear choice is Tai but she is seen as “too much” and Jackie has “social capital” (arguably borne out of white privilege, and extended pretty privilege making her much more palatable etc.).

And my main grievance with season two was how much adult Tai (and even Van) are completely non players in the plot. As you said she won that seat and basically surrendered to the other her squandering it without putting up much of a fight (and in nonsensical scenarios too, I’ll repeat myself here. She went into a missing/dead woman’s apartment and stole files, left her assistant’s car unlocked by the highway, and probably wasn’t due to take office in the week or two that spanned season 2, especially with a wife in a coma, but the show cast her character aside last season and ignored all that, and now in s3 they just hit a reset button with that “impeached” line. Why did them impeach her for?)

Taissa’a break up with Van being also hand-waved (for now) in a line about how she ditched her for a veneer of respectability also minimizes so much something that probably can be dissected in so many identity issues in light of her being black. What was her family’s response to not only her lesbianism, but her dating a poor white woman? Could she have climbed the social liberal ranks of whatever HBCU they sent her to (or is that a fanon thing? Did she not go to Howard?) with Van? How much was that factored in in her decision? Is her marriage that of political appearance? It didn’t seem like it. Casting Simone and Sammy, their dark skin cast members, aside to crawl back to Van is one of those accidentally racist choices of the narrative when they don’t give us that context in the middle. They wanted adult Van and they just made Tai’s black disappear for it.

But all of this (black) reading of Taissa’s black experience to me does not negate the fact that I really think the writers think of themselves as guys who “do not see color”, they don’t care about Lottie’s background besides her being medicated, about Tai’s and Akilah’s blackness (Akilah’s hair stopped making sense this season and it’s been a real source of joy for me to see it make sense the past two seasons lol), they don’t gaf about Mari’s seemingly Latin American background… Shauna is Jewish? Or at least fanfic I’ve read seems to think she is? Nat’s catholic I presume… the show does not care. I love this show, but I’m pretty sure the writers just don’t care beyond The-CW levels of engagement with any of this. This is one of those shows where, as it’s written right now, anyone could’ve played anyone. One could argue it’s cool, that they did their little colorblind casting, but once the show tries to establish itself as anything more than fluff it quickly starts falling a bit apart. And the fandom wants to treat it as more than fluff, but we all have our blindspots as you say. I’m a Tai truther and a Shauna and jackieshauna baby scholar, but I know nothing of the Māori people and I would not know how to begin to project anything onto the blank slate they have made Lottie regarding to her heritage. It’s a brain-at-50% capacity kinda show for me. Love the theorizing and the turning them over in my mind like a rotisserie chicken etc., but yeah vibing with the fact that the writers just don’t care about these particularities and they don’t have a long term plan lol.

I haveeee so many Taissa Turner thoughts and the way that she is desperately trying not to be sucked into the teeth whirling maw of the US, how she desperately wants to assimilate, how she is gasping for power like air because she has none, how it has torn her apart many times over, how the show constantly reinforces her central fear; that she does lose power whenever she lets her perfect facade go, she lost her family from which she derives social acceptance as The Other One came out to look for Van, that she lost her seat - the power she struggled so hard to obtain - when she kissed Van again. And now S3E1 she lets loose to appease Van by Dine&Dash-ing, and surely the waiter chasing them is having a heart attack and will not survive which means she is going to be hit with felony level manslaughter charges. And you fucking know Perfectionist Taissa is going to come back with a vengeance, and that means The Other One will be back as well. The man with no eyes, the spectre that haunts her, can be read as a cypher for white supremacy. (Which is also the thing - he is passed down by her grandmother! It is intergenerational trauma!!)

Anyway all this rambling is to say I think Tawny Cypress has toppled Shohreh Aghdashloo from my list of celebrity actresses that I am most sexually attracted to.

[hinamie]

tiger lily

[arsenicflame]

Bonus round! Do you use a queue tag?

[tvntheatre]

ah yes my yellow howdy plant relevant boys.

[cabbagestrand]

to that anon who always reminds me of diakko week, bless you and thank you so much. i wouldve really loved to participate but ive really been busy the past years, was hectic yall. just wanna shout out that person, whoo, ill try and drop something before i disappear again for the final(!) semester. heres a chilling capybara i sculpted tho!

[dizzybizz]

npc shopkeeper-ass doggy. he sells things he finds outside.

[acediaedeus]

he was a punk, she did ballet typa story with grimmichi, but both of them are punk, and both of them do ballet.

this one is an AU where they're just humans, but Ichigo is still a weirdo who sees ghosts, cause why the fuck not. also, long-haired Grimmjow.

in Ichigo's case, it's that he did ballet. why? let's imagine Masaki sending Yuzu to ballet classes when she's four because the girl is fascinated by the beautiful women dancing in white tutus on TV in one of her mum's shows. Masaki is afraid her small, gentle, and shy daughter will have a hard time making friends with all the new kids, so she tries to convince Karin to go with her sister, at least for the first few classes, but the girl is unwavering in her refusal. she would hate to pressure her children into anything, so accepts, and as a last resort goes to her older son. young and filled with the desire to protect his family and please his mother, Ichigo says he'll go with Yuzu.

and so on top of his karate, Ichigo also does ballet for a while, so his baby sister will have an easier time adjusting. he actually likes it too, but then mum dies, and the beautiful women dancing on TV she used to watch no longer bring fascination, only tears. so they no longer do ballet and that is that.

everything else after that is much the same: Ichigo gets bullied, puts the karate classes to use and becomes a delinquent. all is well until one day Yuzu comes to him, timid and unsure, putting Ichigo on high alert, fearing someone has hurt his sister (a big mistake they'll regret and learn not to repeat), but all she says is that she wants to try dancing again. he, of course, encourages her to try.

like the good older brother Ichigo is, he comes along for her first class as moral support. Yuzu is amazing, as expected, and he definitely feels some water in his eyes watching her dance, which no one needs to know that. BUT, there's this guy, who seems to be his age, training on the opposite side of the room. beautiful and mesmerizing, and so ethereal Ichigo can hardly look away. the way he moves is enchanting, his long blue hair swaying and spiralling into a snake with each spin. he leaves with a happy Yuzu for their little sibling celebration with Karin, filled to the brim with confusion.

time goes on, but he simply can't get the guy out of his head, and one evening he comes to walk Yuzu home (he is not about to let his baby sister walk alone in the darkness of winter). he's a little early, so the class is yet to finish, but oh wait, there's the guy standing outside. one thing leads to another aaaand... they're fighting. positively rolling on the ground like children. and like a child Grimmjow (cause that's his name apparently, which Ichigo doesn't even remember when he was told that) bites his hand, so like a child Ichigo tugs on his blue hair. it's soft and nice, and he's getting distracted. but then Yuzu is yelling at him, calling him a foolish boy (and he won't even argue, because he really is a fool).

so yes, turns out they both were punks and both did ballet.

[jopjab]

hi sorry i died again i was busy drawing nothing but prsk characters/vsynths in chiikawa art style for 3 days straight

[arthur-lesters-tummy]

day 63 of the dreamlands

soo me and @arthur-lesters-ribcage got out the sewers! (see day 61) apparently @arthur-lesters-tits and @arthur-lesters-slutty-waist got married? though their party barely met the requirements of being one so i invited everyone at the hotel and folks from the taverns to the rooftop for a proper celebration.

we got punch with who knows what in it, fairy lights, people are playing beer pong, sending balls off the side and hitting pedestrians on the street below. and SOMDBODY has been barbequing burgers which smell like shit, knock it off!

i got a job offshore so i'll be leaving tommorrow. if you want to confess your undying feelings for me, now would be the time to do so; i'm sure we could squeeze in another marriage before morning. i should be back in 2 weeks but you know how these things go...

[thatoneluckybee]

hey hey hey this is random but the funniest two things just happened in order

guess who just had an app downloaded on her phone for some reason by a parent

guess who also just learned there’s an app that turns your watch into essentially a light Human Shock Collar

[eggsbenedictinurmom]

I feel like absolutely DOGSHIT this week but at least I finally finished my Au’s 06 Sonic campaign timeline today