#romantic murderer monday

[littlelioncub43]

Ok for murderer Monday 😶‍🌫️

Imagine being softdark!Lee's little housewife and getting your period and he gets soooooo protective of you esp. in public and when you're both alone and you're in pain and he's heard that pleasure can fix that sooooo....

AaaaAAAAAAH YES. It's been so long since I wrote for Lee. I need more Lee thots hehe

Home Remedies

Summary: When your period comes with a vengeance, Lee is quick to dote on you. But when the regular methods of pain relief seem to be failing you, Lee suggests another way to make you feel better.

Pairing: soft dark!Lee Bodecker x fem!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), fluff, fingering (f receiving), pet names (princess, baby doll, baby, nothing crazy), period sex, bleeding (obvi), Lee being Lee which is naturally darker but still very loving, brief mentions of force feeding, dry humping, Lee coming in his pants, and a partridge in a pear tree.

Word count: idk, I wrote this on my phone.

A/N: Holy crap, I accidentally wrote a fic! Look at me go! This was supposed to be short but it turned out to be a full length fic! I'm honestly so surprised and proud of myself. I hope you enjoy it! Hehe let me know how you feel! Comments and reblogs are always welcome! 💖

Kisses 💋

—K

Lee made it a point to track your cycle, it made life easier for the both of you. He knew when your attitude was less than agreeable that your monthly was just round the corner, which helped him keep a level head most of the time. He knew when you'd burst into tears because you were out of lemons and he forgot to pick them up from the store, that your monthly was approaching. As much as it drove him up the walls to have you all over the place, he knew there was no avoiding it. Just as there was no avoiding the itch deep inside him to watch over you.

On a good day, Lee had a hard time leaving you at home by yourself. The worry that someone might break in, or something might happen while he's gone lived permanently in the back of his head. No matter how many times that you tell him that you're more than capable of taking care of yourself, Lee had a hard time buying it. He just wants to make sure you're safe, that's all.

So when you're curled up in bed way past the time you normally get up, that need to hover around you comes back full swing. You were certain there was a knife in your abdomen, and it was slowly but surely cutting its way through your insides. You were flushed hot, but felt annoyingly chilly at the same time. After 20 minutes of wrestling with the blankets you found a position that didn't hurt.

"Babydoll?" You hear Lee's groggy voice laced with concern from behind you. "You feelin' ok?"

"Cramps," is all you could say through the discomfort. Lee clocked the pained whine in your voice and the waves of tension that radiated off of you immediately.

"Period come early, or your tummy?" He sat up and rubbed his eyes, ready to get whatever you needed.

"Period," you grumble softly. He grunts in acknowledgement and makes his way towards the medicine cabinet, grabbing the painkillers and a cool washcloth for your forehead, he could feel the heat emanating from you.

"Here you go, honey," he whispers as he hands you the two pills and the glass of water you keep by your bedside. You swallow them down with some effort, the water settling in your stomach makes you nauseated.

"Thanks," you sigh as he sets the half empty cup down and eases the damp washcloth across your heated skin.

"Y'welcome," he whispers and mozies his way downstairs, ready to call Ida at the station to tell her that he won't be in today. He comes back to bed less than 10 minutes later, lightly buttered toast and a small plate of fruit in hand. You sigh when you see the food, knowing that it's a lot easier to just eat the food rather than argue with him about it. Last time you did, he sat there and basically forced the slices if oranges down your throat. Lesson learned.

Once Lee was satisfied with the amount of food you'd eaten, he tucked you back into bed, this time setting a red towel beneath you to catch any excess blood.

"There you go," he presses a kiss to your face and straightens up, "if y'need anythin', you tell me, alright?"

"I will, honey, thank you," you smile up at him softly. While he still was the rough and burly sheriff of Knockemstiff, you couldn't deny the fact that he loved you to pieces. He gave you that boyish smile that he knows you love so much, and went about his way.

Your little nap lasted for about an hour before the cramps came back with a vengeance. The dull ache was now replaced with piercing pains that shot through you. Deep groans pulled their way from your throat as you writhe in your spot, unwanting to move too much.

"What's the matter?" a concerned Lee ask from the door, your pained groans having alerted him. Unable to answer him, he crosses the room to sit on the edge of the bed next to you, still in his pajama pants and undershirt. "Is it bad? Want more pills?"

"N-Nooo," you whimper with a shake of your head, you knew they'd do nothing to quell the pain in your abdomen.

"What do you need, honey? Tell me," he sighs softly, his face pinched in pain, mirroring your own grimace. Seeing you like this definitely did a number on him. "Hm?"

"Don't know," you mumble, frustrated that you have no clue what could possibly make this better.

"Wanna try something? I heard it's supposed t'help make everything better," he says, a playful yet caring glint in his eye. He can tell he has your attention now, that you're just desperate enough to want relief no matter how you got it. "They say that gettin' off helps relax the muscles that are crampin', helps you relax. Don't that sound nice?"

Lee tucks a strand of your hair behind your head, smiling when you nuzzle into his palm on instinct. He read about it months ago and was just waiting for the opportunity to put it to the test. Now all he has to do is get you to agree, which he knows is going to be a piece of cake. He watches as you chew over his proposition.

"Gettin' off?" You ask softly, looking up at your husband.

"Yes, babydoll," he leans in closer with a soft nod, slowly but surely moving to hover over you, "gettin' you off... makin' you finish."

It's second nature to spread your thighs for Lee, your body welcoming his own as he cages you in underneath him. You could see the predatory gleam in his eye as he watched you, waiting patiently for your answer. You knew that this was partly for his own pleasure, but the saccharine promise of relief from the pain was enough for you.

"Ok," you nod, your arms moving to lazily sling around his broad shoulders. Lee gives you that pleased smirk that sends butterflies fluttering through your tummy, a welcomed contrast to the shooting jabs and dull aches.

"Alright," he purrs, clearly pleased with your answer, and lowers his body down to yours carefully. You whine softly at the pressure, but he's quick to shush you gently. "It's ok, babydoll, it's alright. Jus' let me take care of everythin', and you be a good girl and relax, hm? All you gotta do is feel good."

He whispers his loving promises into your skin as he peppers tender kisses along your jaw, making his way to your lips. You both let out a shared moan of relief when your lips finally slot together. The slow movements of Lee's unfairly large hands pull your mind away from the discomfort you feel, the further south they travel the heavier you breathe.

"L-Lee," you moan into his mouth when he gently cups your sex, his hooded eyes trained on your face as he holds you in his palm, the heat from your core drove him fucking crazy. He groans softly as he begins to pet you, stroking your mound in slow motions, careful not to push too hard. Your eyes stay shut as small little whimpers of pleasure fall from your lips. The feeling of his hand rubbing your sensitive parts has a mixture of arousal and blood gushing out of you, just for Lee to feel.

"That's it, babygirl," he groans, letting his own eyes shut for a moment to just feel the growing wetness of your cunt through your panties. The small sparks of pleasure are soon not enough anymore, and you try to tell him with a gentle nudge of your hips. "Wan' more already?"

"Uh-huh," you nod, ignoring the teasing lilt to his voice. He gives your lips another peck before he's peeling off your panties and discarding them to the floor.

"So wet for me, aren't ya, Sweetheart? Always so wet," he coos as his thick fingers glide easily through your petals. Lee bites his lip when he smells the metalic scent of your blood mixing with the tang of your arousal— he could get used to this.

"Oh my god," you sigh and grip his white undershirt in your fists, your head lolling to the side as he circles your clit in slow, precise movements. You were so fucking sensitive, it was nearly overwhelming. The gentle touches left you burning for more and breathless, then you had Lee above you, watching your every expression with his own hungry gaze, and speaking in that thick drawl— it was dizzying.

"Oh, fuck!" You whimper as a thick finger fills you slowly, your back arches off the bed on instinct. The deep grunt that leaves Lee has you clamping down around his forefinger, his thumb replacing his finger on your clit. Lee was certain he's never been this hard in his life than he is right now, watching you lose yourself to the pleasure he's providing. His cock flexes against your inner thigh as he pumps his finger in and out of you at a sluggish pace.

"There you go, baby, there you go," he rasps under his breath, his eyes drinking in every little expression you make. The way your nose scrunches, how your eyebrows furrow together when he touches that special spot inside you, the way your gorgeous lips stay parted to let those beautiful moans flow freely. "So fucking beautiful, y'know that? Make me so crazy for ya, Princess, can't get enough a'you, never get enough."

The stretch of another finger joining his first has your hips trying to rut, chasing the pleasure, but Lee's heavy frame keeps you in your spot. He speeds up ever so slightly, the sound of his fingers sinking into your sopping cunt over and over fill the room.

"Oh fuck, y'hear that? Hear how wet you are?" Lee growls, the slick sounds being his undoing. His fingers speed up, keeping their pressure light as he stretches you out. You gasp and moan as the pleasure builds, the tension growing in your lower tummy draws tighter and tighter with each swipe of his thumb against your clit.

"Lee, m'gonna cum!" You gasp and toss your head back, your legs squirming as he works you closer and closer to your high.

"Yeah? Y'gonna cum on my fingers, baby? Gonna make a fucking mess?" His voice is rough, his own hips beginning to rut, humping himself against your thigh for some relief. The act alone sends you shooting higher ans higher towards your crest. "C'mon, honey, I want you t'come for me."

You didn't stand a chance.

"Lee!" You cry out as you finish, your body thrashing as waves of bliss crash down over you again and again. You can hear Lee's pleased grunts in your ear as you clench down around his fingers, his thumb working you through your high. A rush of wetness seeps from your core, coating Lee's hand and dripping down your skin to the towel. It's not long until you feel his covered cock throbbing wildly against you.

"F-Fuck!" He curses harshly as his own end catches up to him, soaking his boxers and pajama pants. Throaty groans resonate through his chest as he rocks against you to milk his high as long as possible. Heavy breaths replace the moans that filled the shared bedroom. Peeling your eyes open, you gaze up at the ceiling as you try to catch your breath.

Lee sighs and pulls himself from the comfort of your shoulder to look down at you with a soft smile. His face flushed pink and sweat beads his forehead from your activities and shared body heat and you can't help but beam up at him with that same lovesick smile you give him.

"How're y'feelin', Princess, any better?" He asks in a breathless voice. You giggle softly and relax your grip on his shirt to smooth out the wrinkles you left.

"I forgot that's what this was for," you admit bashfully, making him chuckle with you.

"Well, good, then I did my job right."

"You always do, Sheriff Bodecker," you coo and give him a kiss, already feeling more like yourself. Lee groans into the kiss at the title.

"You're a little minx," he whispers in between another kiss before propping himself up on his forearm, giving his attention to his fingers still buried in your cunt. "Fuuuuck me," he groans when he sees the mess you made. A thin layer of blood coats your inner thighs and part of his hand, the glisten of your cum recognizable on your lips and his wrist. Slowly, he withdraws from your pussy, watching intensely as his fingers emerge coated in your essence and blood.

The little whimper you give when he leaves you completely empty has his dick stirring in his trousers. Lee sucks in a deep breath as he brings his fingers from between your legs to get a better look.

"Would y'look at that?" He marvels, mostly to himself, as his fingers gleam in the late morning sunshine. Your face heats up at his actions, embarrassment taking hold as he shows you his bloody, cum covered fingers. Lee's eyes are fixed on his digits as he plays with the strings of wetness for a moment before bringing them to his lips. A loud moan vibrates in his chest at your taste, his eyes sliding shut in bliss as he cleans you from his hand. He finally releases them with a pop.

"Fuckin' divine is what you are, Princess. Fuckin' heavenly," he growls, his dick fully hard in his pajama pants as he begins to rut into your thigh again, his eyes dark with hunger again as he quickly unties the drawstring of his pants. "M'gonna fuck ya all fuckin' week, make sure ya don't feel nothin' but pleasure— fuck, m'gonna take care of ya, Princess, I promise."

And he did.

Comments and reblogs are always welcome! Hehe

I no longer have a taglist! If you wish to stay up-to-date on when I post, follow @littlelioncub-library 💖

#romantic murderer monday #murderer monday #sheriff daddy #sheriff lee bodekcer #sheriff lee bodecker #sheriff daddy bodecker #sheriff lee bodecker x female reader #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x female reader #lee bodecker #lee bodecker x fem!reader #lee bodecker x y/n #lee bodecker x you #sheriff lee bodecker x reader #sheriff lee bodecker x female!reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan characters #the devil all the time #tdatt #little lion literature

[uraichievents]

UraIchi Week 2024

Monday, July 1st, 2024 - Sunday, July 7th, 2024

AO3 Collection

Full Prompts List Submitted This Year

(Click images to enlarge. Alt text under the cut.)

What is UraIchi Week?

It’s a week-long fanworks event to promote the Urahara Kisuke x Kurosaki Ichigo ship. There’s no sign-up, it’s just for fun, and everybody can participate. Completed works and wips are both acceptable, and any type of fanwork (fanfic, fanart, gifsets, etc.) is welcome. NSFW and/or potentially trigger-y content is allowed, although please remember to tag your works properly.

The ship itself can be written romantically or platonically, as lovers or friends or even enemies, so long as it stars these two characters together in some way. Poly ships are also fine so long as Ichigo and Kisuke are still the focus of the fanwork. And crossovers and fusions are also allowed even if it isn’t one of the given prompts for the event. Basically, anything goes, and the only criteria is that it has to be UraIchi-centric.

Posting:

UraIchi Week is hosted here on Tumblr and on AO3. For posts on Tumblr, remember to ping @uraichievents and tag #UraIchi Week 2024. For AO3, you can add your work(s) to the collection linked up above. You are also welcome to join the UraIchi Discord server if you haven’t already and come and talk about what you’re working on!

Themes:

July 1st, Day 1: i've met you before / i'll meet you again / this is the first time we've met.. right?

Time Travel / Dimension Travel

Identity Porn / Hidden Identities

“I've suffered from traumatic dreams of my past lives since I was a child, and I'm just now realizing that coming up to a beautiful stranger who looks like someone I've seen die a thousand times in a thousand different ways at a bar and asking if we've met before sounds a lot like a come-on haha no wait come back that doesn't mean I'm not desperately attracted to you please kiss me again” AU

July 2nd, Day 2: It's fact that killable problems are not real problems.

Murder Husbands

Ichigo is Deadpool / unbreakable / any other accidentally immortal being who is really kind of annoyed about it (because it’s boring, and he’s still young enough to be within his lifespan, but it sure takes the fun out of fighting).

All the times Ichigo died, he ACTUALLY died, he just came back. Every time he comes back, he comes back Wronger.

July 3rd, Day 3: Things I Should've Told You / Things I Don't Tell Anyone Else

The skeletons in your closet are about to overflow. Would you like me to tidy it up?

Ichigo is experimenting with self-expression, a hobby, etc., making up for lost time as a regular teenager. Urahara is always the first one (sometimes only one) to see or hear about a new idea.

“The person I trust most is you.”

July 4th, Day 4: Sword and Shield

I am yours to command, use me as you please.

Shiba!Ichigo and Second Division!Kisuke

Summoner/Mage AU: Paired summons who are good apart but unmatched together.

July 5th, Day 5: That One is Mine

Hollow Instincts / Feral Protective

Possessive!Kisuke: He stepped aside for Sui-Feng because Yoruichi was always master first and friend second and love interest never, and because Yoruichi wanted her in a way she's never wanted him. But Ichigo is different, and everyone soon realizes that when Kisuke truly wants something, he always gets it in the end.

“Death can’t have you. You’re mine.”

July 6th, Day 6: Monsters come in all shapes and sizes. Some are born, some are made, and some decide being a monster's pretty fucking cool.

Visored!Urahara Kisuke AU / Vasto Lorde!Kurosaki Ichigo AU

“Ichigo forges a friendship with his Hollow in the Shattered Shaft” AU

vs. Gotei 13 AU: Ichigo time travels back from a future where he was chained to the throne as the next Soul King by the Shinigami.

July 7th, Day 7: Creator’s Choice!

As always, the above prompts are all optional, and you’re free to come with your own ideas. You can also find an excel sheet with all the prompts submitted this year linked up above, so feel free to look through that if you want, and you can also make a copy for yourself.

And that’s it! We’re looking forward to what everyone comes up with!

#psa #uraichi #uraichi week 2024 #uraichi week #bleach

[eldritch-nightmare]

heyy!! can i request LJ and Candypop ( ,,if you write for him) sharing a fem!reader? (headcanons or something else) i don’t mind <33

a/n: I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT CANDY POP WAIT omg he's one of those creepypastas that i heard about but never really looked into so. first time writing him so i hope i did him justice for you! i wasn't sure if you wanted something more lighthearted or something darker so i did my best to keep it balanced.

LJ and Candy Pop sharing a fem!reader.

warnings: my knowledge of candy pop comes from the creepypasta files wiki page so just a heads up if i get something wrong, opted to make reader a creepypasta here but it's very vague, lj and candy pop are like frenemies in this i suppose, sorta hints that the reader might've been forced into this relationship, my hand slipped and i dropped a 'good girl' in here somewhere i couldn't help myself, possessive behavior from both of them, implied unhealthy relationship.

Man, what's it like having a 7ft tall imaginary monochrome clown that terrorizes children and a 7ft tall colorful Night Terrors possessed jester be in love with you? It's probably a strange experience.

They both argue over who caught feelings for you first. LJ swears up and down that he fell for you first, but Candy Pop claims it to be love at first sight. Honestly, you've just chosen to believe that they both fell for you around the same time.

The two of them were definitely hesitant to share you, though that was more on Candy Pop's side than it was LJ's. Listen, sharing a body/soul with the literal demon king makes you a bit possessive over things, okay?

You don't particularly mind either way, to be honest. They're both a bit... much to handle at times, but you guys make it work. Like... literally. You had to plan out an entire schedule and everything because they kept bickering about how much time the other spent with you.

LJ gets you on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays while Candy Pop gets you on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. Sundays are days you spend alone because it's always good to have some time for yourself.

Of course, they don't... follow the schedule that often. Why would they? They aren't confined to the mortal chains of schedules.

They are both equally romantic in their own right, and you won't lie, you certainly have enjoyed a few of the spontaneous dates they've taken you on. Sometimes, they'll even get together long enough to plan out an outing for all three of you. They can get along, see?

Now, we can't forget that they are both murderous entities. One is an imaginary friend turned serial killer and the other is... something. A demon? A poor possessed soul of a jester? Whatever he is, he's deadly. Shall I provide some examples?

Example one: Laughing Jack was abandoned by the one person he was created to befriend, so trust me when I tell you that he has some deeply rooted abandonment issues. He's all fun and games until there's even the slightest possibility of you leaving him. Even if someone makes an offhand remark about how you should leave him, his entire persona does a complete 180.

Suddenly, his hold on you is just a bit more tighter than it normally is, and you can feel his nails digging into your skin, threatening to draw blood. It's a subtle, silent threat of what he could do to you if you ever tried leaving him.

Example two: Candy Pop, as a whole, is somebody you have to be wary around because his mood can flip like a switch. He'll be happily humming away about some random topic one moment, and the next he's pushing you up against a nearby wall and looking at you with such a crazed look that it's almost hard to believe that this is the same person who claims to be in love with you.

He's the type to remind you of where you belong. You belong by his and LJ's side, so don't you ever forget that, okay? You really don't want to see what'll happen if you do.

In the end, though LJ and Candy Pop have a habit of bickering with each other, they'll make one hell of a team if it means keeping you in their grasp. You don't fit with anyone but them, and you don't need to fit with anyone other than them. They're the perfect match for you, and you'll come to see that sooner or later. So, all you need to do is be a good girl and stay by their side, got it?

It's Sunday. Sundays are supposed to be your day. You had plans to hang out with the other girls, maybe even play dress up with Sally if she was up for it. So, why the hell were you currently stuck in bed, sandwiched between a clown and a jester?

You have no clue because you just woke up and they were already here. Sure, you could just… wiggle your way out of bed but then they would wake up. Do they even need to sleep? They aren't mortal like you are, so sleep doesn't seem like a necessity to them. But it's not like you can just stay in bed all day either. You had things you wanted to do!

So, with a very silent sigh, you slowly start to sit up, untangling yourself from the mass of limbs trapping you to your bed. You were able to sit up with relative ease, the hard part would be crawling over either LJ or Candy Pop to get out of bed. That would be… that would be difficult.

Even if you were to try and crawl over one of them, you weren't able to because before you could even decide which one to crawl over, you were being pushed back into laying down again by Candy Pop.

You let out a small 'oof' as soon as your back hit the mattress.

"Where do you think you're going?" You hear LJ ask, and with one quick glance at him, you can see a slight pout on his face. It was almost enough to make you forget about the feeling of his nails gently grazing your stomach.

If he just decided to dig them into your--

"She's not going anywhere." Candy's voice murmurs directly next to your ear, effectively cutting off your train of thought. You only belatedly realize that he had buried his face into your neck, his hair brushing against your face, "Right, angel?"

Well… it seems like you're not going to be getting rid of these two today, so whatever plans you had for the day were going to have to be put on hold until next Sunday. You just hoped the two of them didn't make a habit of this.

#anon #laughing jack x reader #candy pop x reader #laughing jack x you #candy pop x you #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta #literally slapped a photo of candy pop into pixlr and hyper zoomed on his eyes to look at the pixels to figure out the exact shade of them #and i didn't even mention his eyes in this so it was a pointless endeavor #i spent 4 hours writing this i think bc i kept getting distracted so if it's a mess im sorry

[auteurdelabre]

Window Dressing: Chapter 1 - Dave York x f!Reader

Window Dressing

pairing: Dave York x F!Reader (NO use of y/n)

Story summary: Resolving to achieve professional success within the CIA you embark on a ruthless game of one-upmanship against your work nemesis Dave York, a rivalry that is complicated by your growing attraction to him.

[AU - Dave is divorced and he still works for the CIA because I want our suburban murder daddy have a nice life. ]

Chapter summary: When the CIA director offers up an opportunity for field work you jump at the chance. Too bad your work nemesis and colleague is just as excited for the position.

Chapter Tags: Enemies to lovers, colleagues, work jargon, nicknames, mentions of divorce, disrespect.

a/n: I just finished my yearly rewatch of The Hating Game (y’all don’t come for me, my job is stressful and I like to decompress with something silly). And all I could think of was an MC and Dave in a similar situation and before I knew it the first chapter was already written. It’s gonna be cute and since its me there’s gonna be smut but unlike me, not a ton of angst. Don’t look to close at the CIA details because your girl don’t know shit about it. Just go with the romantic-comedy vibrations.  

Chapter 1: CodeBook

Codebook: A list of plain language words opposite their codeword or codenumber.

Working at the CIA isn’t that much different from a normal day job as most people think.

You go to work in the subway along with everyone else. You read your paperback of the week sipping overpriced coffee and trying to ignore the stench of unwashed masses that dot the DC metro.

You wear comfortable shoes and pilled sweaters and your hair frizzes in the rain. You don’t look any different from anyone else that walks the terrain on their way to their Monday to Friday job. You start at eight am and end at five, unless a job requires you stay later.

Much like most offices with a lot of moving pieces, a majority of your job involves paperwork, worrying about schedules, IT problems, editing reports and more. It’s not as glamorous as the TV shows make it out to be. You are not Claire Danes in Homeland no matter how much you wish you were.

You wear a lanyard that holds a plastic square with your name and face on it that you scan at the entrance. Every morning you wave and say good morning to Dennis, the head of security at the front before slipping him a donut you got along with your coffee.

“You’re too good to me,” Dennis murmurs as you hand it to him.

You just smile. Dennis was one of the first people you met here at Headquarters and you have nothing but good things to say about him. He was kind and patient when everyone else rolled their eyes murmuring about the new hire.

The similarities to another corporate office might be that the coffee sucks and there are definitely cliques within workers. Considering you’re all in different departments this isn’t really much of a shock. Some of your departments overlap with one another, especially if there’s a potential high profile target.

You nod and smile at colleagues as you pass them on your way to the Operations department, ignoring the way many of them look more anxious than usual. This isn’t a surprise given what you saw on the news this morning.

You take the elevator down several floors before exiting and spotting a familiar slender figure perched on the edge of your desk. His hair is combed to either side of his pinched face and behind his thick framed glasses he looks like he’s analyzing something, as he always is.

“Hey Otis,” you say cheerfully as you lay down your purse at your desk.

Your desk is one of the few places in the world that feels uniquely you. You’ve decorated it with a pink stapler, purple and blue paper clips. Your folders are gold striped. Your desk itself is littered with a collection of tchotchkes from over the years, none more impressive than your rubber duck collection.

Otis pats one of your rubber ducks swiftly before standing and giving you a formal nod.

“Morning. I was just dropping some papers off and couldn’t help but notice you’ve added to your collection.”

You smile, nodding as you motion to your latest acquisition; a rubber duck playing the saxophone and wearing sunglasses. All the way from New Orleans and from a very competitive bidder on Ebay. But it was worth it to have your little jazz quacker sitting proudly with the others that line your desk.

Otis is one of the few people at work that doesn’t seem to be bothered by much. He does his job well and he always has an interesting fact to share. Well, interesting to him anyway.

Otis also likes to hover around your desk in the mornings for a chance to interact with your co-worker Priya. The prettiest girl at the CIA and the nicest. She brings in cupcakes for your entire team during holidays. She loves to laugh at everything you say, which makes you like her even more.  She’s also wickedly smart and even faster than you at translation (which is saying something).  As if on cue, you see her stumbling into the office with a coffee stain on her pale blue blouse.

“Damn potholes,” she mutters angrily, throwing her bag and onto her desk and giving her version of a frown, which is the equivalent to a kitten mewling for the first time.

“Morning Priya,” Otis says, his pale cheekbones pinking. You smirk, trying not to watch as their awkward flirtation commences.

“Morning Otis,” she replies cheerfully before organizing her desk for the day. “You have a good weekend?”

“Very,” Otis nods. You watch one of his long fingers tap along the head of your police officer duck nervously. “Uh, was watching a documentary on Jack the Ripper. Very intriguing.”

“Oh yeah,” Priya nods politely, her eyes on her computer as she boots it up for the day. You’re saved from the uncomfortable interaction by the sound of a female voice ringing out behind you. A voice that makes you sit straighter in your seat as you swivel your chair to face her.

She’s a fierce-looking Asian woman with short cropped hair and deep plum lipstick. All of her black blazers are tailored perfectly to her slender body and despite her diminutive stature you know she could kick anyone’s ass here.

“Meeting in five in Boardroom B,” Mina says to the crowd of arriving staff.  “Don’t be late.”

She strides from you all, heels clicking against the tiled floor and the room seems to exhale in tandem. She’s terrifying. She’s amazing.

Mina Crawford is the Director for field officers and counter intelligence. She’s a former Clandestine Service officer and one of the few living recipients of the Intelligence Star. Basically, she’s your hero. And you want to follow in her footsteps because from what you’ve gathered she used to be in your exact position as a Languages Officer.

“She’s so cool,” you practically swoon.

“Ask her to be your mentor,” Priya insists for the fiftieth time.

“That would be humiliating,” you reply, as you always do. “I’m too old for a mentor.”

“No one is too old for a mentor,” Priya insists.

“You see that stuff on the news last night?”

“The parliament member in Lebanon?” Priya nods, dropping her voice quietly.

“I think they’re going to send someone into the field,” you say trying not to sound excited. “Someone with language experience.”

“You think?”

“Think about it,” you reason. “All the higher profile killings have been in places with very little English. Stands to reason they would send a Language Officer out.”

“Even with no field experience?” Otis asks. He looks doubtful which makes you frustrated. If Otis doesn’t think it’s gonna happen there’s a good chance it won’t. Brenda, a cheerful-looking woman in her fifties takes her seat in the desk next to you.

“Gotta learn somehow,” you shrug. “But maybe they’d team them up with a senior Agent or something.”

Priya is about to reply when her large eyes go over your shoulder and she grimaces. 

 “Here they come.”

You, Priya and Otis glance over to see eyes the crowd of suited men and women murmuring gently to themselves.

The Protective Officers.

If this was highschool they’d be the popular kids. Getting to go on glamorous field missions, being right in the heart of the action. All are good with their weapons, all look like they stepped off the pages of some high end catalogue because their paycheques far outweigh your own. Several of the younger men chuckle loudly, giving off the energy of an American Psycho Fraternity.

“Assholes like that get to go to foreign countries, to experience life all over the globe and we’re stuck here,” you grimace, typing your Algeria field notes later that day. “I can’t stand it.”

 “I would hate to be in the field,” Brenda says with a theatrical shudder from beside you. “I like the safety of the desk.”

“That’s not why I went through basic training with an emphasis on stalk training,” you insist. You worked your ass off in training, making sure that you were as prepared as anyone else.  While officers are rarely trained in weaponry or hand-to-hand combat you’d requested it.  Worked earlier and stayed later if it meant a chance to learn more.

And now these chuckle-fucks come in with swinging dicks and they get all the glory. Two of them walk by you towards the coffee maker.

“And she was high key the best I’ve ever had,” one says to a man with perfect teeth.

“You have no rizz,” the younger man replies with a boisterous laugh. “How the fuck you pull that off?”

Jesus.

“You know I speak Russian, Spanish, Arabic and a handful of others and I will never be able to unravel the elusive bro code of the Protective Officers,” you muse dryly as you roll back in your chair.  Otis smirks and Priya laughs behind her coffee mug, drawing the attention of several of the agents including your bitter work rival: Dave York.

Dave York is the most annoying man you know at the CIA. He is a senior agent well-liked in the office and he gets along with almost everyone. You’re quite the same within your department. But the two of you? There’s no love lost there.

Dave saunters over to your desk and you spin back around to face your computer. You have no desire to be caught up in a verbal sparring match today. You have to be focused for the meeting in case there is the offer of putting newbies into the field. It’s something you’ve dreamed about since you started here five years ago.

“Been to any fun graveyards lately, Parsons?” Dave offers with a touch of humor in his deep, rasping voice. A voice that you find impossibly grating. It’s like having your ears run over by a gravel truck.

“Actually yes,” Otis says with a bracing smile. “One in New Orleans just proved very useful.”

Otis Parsons is a Ghoul which means he parses obits and graveyards for deceased individuals agents can use for aliases. He enjoys his job more than most and with his severe eye contact and strangely chilling manner of speaking you can see why some are put off. You happen to think he’s hilarious in an eerie, Crispin Glover sort of way.

“Parker, I need these tapes from Algeria parsed,” Dave says flatly, tossing a file onto your desk without so much as a hello.

Your name isn’t Parker, neither first nor last. It’s a nickname given to you (unwillingly) by the tall man with dark eyes who looks down at you with a trace of amusement along his full mouth.

It’s what started this whole antagonistic relationship if you’re honest. Your first day on the job being introduced to the agency. Meeting every department head, learning names, faces. When you met Dave you’d been charmed by his winning smile, shaking his hand politely and even thinking distantly that if he weren’t wearing a wedding ring he’d be just your type with his soulful brown eyes and pouty mouth.

But then your eyes had slid to the large board on the wall, the one covered in newspaper clippings and strings and you’d started asking questions about the case. Your excitement had been evident; the questions pelted at a bemused looking Dave who scanned you from head to toe and announced that you were a Nosy Parker before excusing himself.

You hadn’t known what that meant and had offered a weak shrug in return before being whisked into the next department. When you’d returned home that evening and were able to use your phone you saw the definition pulled up on Google and you winced.

noun derogatory•informal noun: nosy parker; plural noun: nosy parkers; noun: nosey parker; plural noun: nosey parkers an overly inquisitive person.

You’d been embarrassed at being called that during your first day on the job in front of your superior. It made the following months tense as you navigated your position, learning from the woman Brenda whose job you were taking over. It made you second guess yourself every time you wanted to ask a question.  It wasn’t until Priya started and she’d asked all the same questions and been answered with level kindness that you’d realized asking questions wasn’t nosy or annoying, it was how everyone learned.

Dave York has called you Parker ever since that day and you have hated him every time.  

And now he stands beside your desk looking like some glorified accountant in his tailored suit shooting a supercilious look your way. He always wears shades of blue; navy, cobalt, baby blue and iceberg just to name a few. The worst part is it’s usually paired with a burgundy tie that clashes hideously. You know he’s not color blind, (you can’t be if you’re an agent), so you can only assume the choice is masculine ambivalence.

You open the file with a weary sigh. “Where in Algeria specifically?”  

“Isn’t that your job, Parker?”

“You have nothing else to go on?” you sneer up at him, opening the folder. “Some agent.”

“Officer,” Dave corrects with a smirk before resting his hands on either side of your desk, bent over so he can capture your eyes with his. You blink rapidly, noting that today he’s missed shaving a small spot on his sharp jaw. It’s barely noticeable and if he wasn’t this close you’d never have known. But he is this close and suddenly that’s all you can focus on.

“You’re right,” Dave says, voice dropping an octave. “It’s much better that I use my considerable talents sitting on my ass going through hours of audio that rarely ever turns out to be useful. My mistake.”

You’re not stupid. You know that those of you in the Language department are seen as lesser agents. Your knowledge in languages makes you an asset in the office, not necessarily in the field. And yet they would be nowhere without you.

“Considerable talents?” you scoff before glaring up at him. “Is that what your wife tells you? Spoiler alert, York, she has to say that since her lapse in judgment at the altar.”

The benign amusement flees from Dave’s face immediately. You wait for the biting retort, the angry reply, but are instead greeted with the sight of Dave clenching his jaw tightly. You see the muscle in his face tic angrily before he turns; broad shoulders rolling as he pushes from your desk and rejoins the other Protective Agents.

What the fuck was that?

You frown at his back, confused before looking back down at the folder. Otis has excused himself as well, likely heading back down to his department. He won’t be needed for the meeting this morning. You feel Priya’s eyes on you and your tilt your head to face her.

“What?”

“Haven’t you heard?” Priya says with a concerned look on her beautiful face. “Him and his wife divorced last year.”

What the fuck? Since when?

For as long as you’ve known Dave York he has worn the same simple gold band on his left hand. You’ve even heard him talking about her in passing with other officers: Catherine or Carol? You know they’ve been married a while.

Since when is he divorced?

“What?” Your eyes blow wide at this, turning to your friend. “B-but he’s still wearing his ring!”

“Yeah,” Priya nods with a wince.

Fuck.

You don’t feel good about that. Dave is an asshole but you both know better than to get personal. You’ve never mentioned his wife until today and it turns out that was a good instinct on your part. Dave never mocks the fact that you go home every night to an empty apartment because even a goldfish was too much commitment for you, too much of a distraction from your work.

When the large group heads into the conference room you try to catch Dave’s eye and mouth an apology. But he’s already at the far side of the room with his agent buddies murmuring something and tapping away at his phone.

Mina stands at the podium waiting for everyone to take a seat and quiet down. Then she does and the briefing is similar to how it is most days lately. The assassin taking down members of parliament all over the world. The team doesn’t know if it’s an individual or an organization based on its sporadic movement.

“He’s targeting all higher profile members of senate across the globe,” Crawford says with a tired roll of her shoulders. “And from what I’ve seen they are extremely organized. Meticulous in knowing how far they can push without being caught.”

You scribble notes into your notebook while most of the group either types away on their phones or laptops. You’ve always found handwritten notes to be the best – they are less likely to be intercepted and written in your shorthand means that only you understand them.

You have a small code book included at the front, code names with numbers attached for people you work with. Priya is FFC0CB because she wears pink lipstick every Friday and that’s the hex code for pink. CG01 is Otis for his resemblance to a paler Crispin Glover. 00DH is Dave York and it stands for Double O Dick Head. You’d been particularly amused when you’d come up with that one.

You catch a pair of eyes on you and glance up down the table to see Dave watching your frenzied writing before giving the smallest shake of his head before he looks back at Mina.

“We’re putting together a team,” Mina says and this makes your head jerk up. “No details as of yet but there will be extensive travel involved so please let that influence your dedication and decision.”

Priya shoots you a look, one that says how did you know? And you try to tamp down the smile building there. It pays to pay attention, that’s how. You watch the patterns, you listen to the important silences that come between what’s said and you watch the news religiously.

“Considering the details on this we encourage individuals from all departments to apply,” Mina says eyes sailing over the crowd. You feel your stomach tighten pleasurably. This is just what you wanted. You just know you’d be an asset on this division.

“Deadline to submit is this Friday at five. That’s all. Good luck.”

The group dissolves and you and Priya make your way back to your desks. You’re on cloud nine, already formatting your CV in your head. Priya is yammering on about something but all you can focus on for that morning is the thought that you are going to be going into the field. You’re sure of it.

Its somewhere after lunch when the earlier conversation with Dave suddenly creeps back into your mind. It makes you feel uncomfortable and distracted. You don’t enjoy being cruel, it’s not in your nature.

It’s this which takes you to the elevator and down two floors to the department Dave works for. You walk through the fairly empty space with ease, jealous at how quiet it is with most of the officers out on jobs or doing field work.

Dave’s office is at the far end of the department and you see the door is ajar which means he’s in. Part of you is relieved, the other half disappointed. You’d half been hoping the room would stand empty and you’d be able to scribble some sad excuse for a note by way of apology. Writing an email would never be an option – too many eyes surveying everything that goes in and out of the office communication hubs.

. Dave is sitting behind his desk with a folder sat in front of him. His dark eyes jot to you as you enter. Unlike you, Dave has an entire office. It’s not massive, but it’s enough. However where you would have taken advantage to brighten up the space, it seems Dave is content enough to leave it looking like an empty shoe box. No family photos line his desk, no colorful knick knacks that give any indication about his personality. Nothing. Just flat, and dark and intimidating like his gaze.

There are two other officers sitting in the chairs across from him and they chat quietly, something you shouldn’t be overhearing and so you give a short knock before stepping into his office. The conversation is immediately dead and they swivel to glance over at you.

“Hey Dave,” you say grimacing. “I just wanted to-“

“You have the Algeria notes yet?”

“No,” you say holding in an eye roll. How did he expect you to have that information so quickly? He’s staring at you now, a file opened on his desk that he closes when you enter more fully into the office. Suddenly you feel wrong-footed, unsure of how to broach what you wanted to say since he’s surrounded by the other agents. He tilts back in his chair, arms crossed. Any mirth he usually reserves for you is gone.

“What do you want then?”

“It’s just… uh,” you say, suddenly aware of all the eyes of the other Protective Officers on you and you falter. You don’t want to have this conversation in front of everyone. “Do you have a sec? To talk in private?”

Dave rights his chair before fixing you with a dark look.

“How about you stop flitting around from department to department distracting people from trying to do real work?” He says sharply, his dark eyes narrowed. “Pretty sure Google translate could do your job and it would be a helluva lot less annoying.”

The other agents sitting near Dave exchange uncomfortable looks as you blink back at him. Irritation floods you, searing heat down the center of your chest. As he continues to glare at you there is the unmistakable sensation of your teeth grinding together angrily.

“You know what York? You can get Priya to do your translating from now on,” you spit, turning from him and heading into the empty hallway. Your cheeks are burning and you feet a pit in your stomach opening up.

Fuck you hate Dave sometimes.

You make your way to the elevator almost spitting. You wish for nothing more than to scrub Dave York from the face of the planet.

“Hey.”

Dave’s voice is a low rumble behind you. You can feel the warmth of his body inches from your back. But you pretend you haven’t heard him. The two of you load onto the elevator.

“Priya doesn’t speak Arabic,” Dave tells you like you’re not already very aware.

You continue to turn from him, not bothering to engage. You don’t have time to fight with Dave, you need to remember the name of your basic training officer to see if he’ll give you a letter of recommendation.

“You better be nice to me, Parker,” Dave says airily when you don’t reply. “Since everyone knows I’m going to be chosen for the mission.”

“You’re not going to be chosen for this one,” you snipe back at him, thankful there’s no one else in the confines of the elevator to witness how petulant you sound. “You have to be a team player for that. Everyone knows you like to fly solo.”

“Maybe I’ve changed,” he taunts, large eyes fixed on the rising numbers glowing above the buttons. “And besides, who do you think Crawford likes better? Me; the decorated field officer? Or you, the Language Officer with too many yellow sweaters?”

You want to snap back at him but you have a moment of concern at his words. You’d never considered this entire thing would be a popularity contest. Dave gets way more face-to-face with Mina than you ever will just by virtue of his job.

And hey, what the fuck? You like your yellow sweaters. In a job that can be dull or depressing having a color like yellow popping around the office makes you happy. It makes you wish more of the officers stopped dressed in drab neutrals.

Without warning your hand reaches out, slapping the emergency stop button. The elevator jerks to a halt with Dave eyeing you from across the small space. He’s a trained officer and you wonder if his instinct to pull a gun is kicking in when you see his fingers twitch at his side.

“I’m tired of you calling me Parker and making fun of my sweaters and my job and everything else,” you snap.

“I’m tired of you pretending like you’re better than everyone in the entire operations department because you can speak a handful of languages.”

“More than a handful,” you bite back, offended. “I’m a goddam polyglot.”

“How amazing for you,” Dave replies dryly. He crosses his muscled arms over his broad chest and you can’t help but observe how wide his shoulders are when they strain under his suit jacket. He fixes you with a look halfway between irritation and amusement.

Everything with Dave is a game of chicken; who will get closest without giving up? He does the same thing with inter office politics, pushing you past your limit until you run off with your tail between your legs, just like earlier in his office.

“I want to make a deal.”

Dave’s interested in this immediately indicated by the small curl of his mouth. “Go on.”

“If I get chosen for this elite squad you need to stop calling me Parker,” you tell him. “You leave off about my clothes and you start treating me with respect.”

“I do respect you,” Dave insists, brows furrowed. “You think I’d let anyone else do my translations?”

“You just said Google Translate would do a better job than me in a room full of other officers.”

Dave gives a crooked smile and a careless half shrug. “Was a joke.”

“Wasn’t funny.”

You bite the inside of your cheek when you feel your eyes getting glossy. You don’t want him to mistake your angry tears for sad ones. It’ll make you look weak when in reality it’s your barely contained rage that boils over, making your face hot and your eyes misty.

Dave’s smile dims and he gives a nod. “Yeah. Fair. Sorry.”

The apology is new though, that’s a nice manipulative touch on his part.

You don’t say anything more, and even though you want to apologize for the joke about his wife something in your stubborn attitude forbids it. Makes it impossible to apologize to Dave’s smug face staring at you.

“Everything okay in there?”

 It’s the elevator repair team.  Dave gives you a look with a raised brow, almost like he’s letting you know that you’re inconveniencing a lot of people today, not just him. You shoulder past him, getting closer to the speakerbox.

“Sorry about that,” you say into it. “I hit the button by accident. All good here.”

The elevator starts up again and the two of you lapse into silence. Soon enough you’re at the right floor and you prepare to exit, your mind still stuck on how to get an edge over your competition when all you have is a CV.

“So what do I get if I win, Parker?” Dave asks, dark eyes scanning your face with bemusement clearly written there. “What if I’m chosen for the team?”

“We don’t need to worry about that,” you say as the elevator dings to a stop. “You won’t be.”

“If I win you get rid of those ridiculous rubber ducks on your desk,” Dave insists watching you exit the elevator. “And you have to do all my translations without complaint for an entire year. Even the boring shit your department makes the grunts do.”

You frown at the possibility of doing all of Dave’s interpretations and translations. That could easily pile up and make your long days even longer. But there is a challenge in his eyes, one that you find you can’t back down from. So as the elevators slowly close on his smirking face you nod.

“Fine. Deal.”

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#dave york fanfiction #dave york x you #dave york x reader #dave york smut #dave york x female reader #rom com #romantic comedy #the hating game #enemies to lovers #Window Dressing #Valentine #Happy Valentines #valentines gifts

[miguel-ohara-wifey]

I’ll find you

Chapter 2: Jobless Monday

Cowboy!Miguel O’Hara x fem!Reader

Rating: 18+, Angst, Hurt + comfort, & fluff

Warnings: portrayal of grief, portrayal of depression, mention of dead animals, mention of domestic abuse, mention of child labor, mention of child abuse, murder plot, misogyny, spoilers for Jane Eyre I guess

Word count: 2.6K

~~Fifteen years and 6 months ago~~

“It’s the only way to get the future we deserve…” Thomas whispered to you in the closet. Huddled by cleaning supplies and frail brooms. You both were cloistered in a cleaning supplies storage room in your soon to be father in laws factory. Thomas’s family were chemical industrialists, they mass manufactured perfume, bleach, and gas. Even more known for being disgustingly rich.

But considering what Thomas just told you. The stuffy humidity between you two wasn’t all that held your breath under your throat. You didn’t go along with what was asked of you just because it was your wealthy fiancé. 

“What?” You managed to choke out, scanning Thomas’s well kept visage. Oily slicked back hair, topping the man in a freshly trailered suit. He was pale and fidgety under all the fancy dress. 

“I know-“ “YOU KNOW WHAT!?” You screamed back at him behind the cover of the breaking wooden door. Still keeping it down enough for anyone on the other side not to catch anything. You kept on.

“How could you even fucking ask me that!?” You reviled back at him. “He’s a wretched man!” You roll your eyes so far in the back of your head you swear you catch a glimpse of your brain.

“Well I’ll believe that he’s an industrialist, he pays the kids here a nickel an hour…” your arms fold into each other below your chest. His father is a piece of shit, considering he called you “his son's whore” right as you first meet. Not even glancing at how he treats his employees as much as his property as the machines they operate for him. Thomas was a far kinder and more reasonable man. 

However, to help murder a human being, to place their heir to take over. This is some French novel bullshit Thomas desperately tried to convince you to help him with. 

He then lightly tangled his fingers with yours, breaking the wall you created between himself and you with your arms. Locking his eyes with yours in another soft embrace. 

“I have no one else to turn to, fathers treated me like his property his whole life. His dutiful little worker, like he has everyone else in this fucking place…you can help me change that. The minute he dies this is all ours, we can change it…”

He moves a stray hair from your bun to behind your left ear, “I’d do the same for you. All you have to do, is get me that poisonous plant…and when my parts are over. All these people will have whole new lives…” He then traces his hand over your stomach. A vague shape of a bump can be felt forming. 

“And for our baby too…” he finishes as your noses are now inches apart. A hole in your rib cage formed, despite the romantics of the scene. What it truly entailed, a weight was bound to your legs. As you flew down the waters of conflicting emotions and wishes. 

Thomas explained how couldn't shut down the factories but he’d improve conditions and explained his plans for increasing the workers' pay. All these mental schematics of what he’d do the moment the factory was written in his name. But in your hearts, the factories would be yours.

~~That Monday afternoon~~

You were awake for a couple of hours, but the weight in your chest kept you sinking in Miguel’s guest bed. Your face is dirtied by messy blush and dried tears, your face looking like a shitty canvas. As you look through the window you feel asleep staring at. The black of the Sunday evening with heavy sprinkling of stars. Was totally enveloped by the milky clouds of the daytime, with just a few small puffs of the pure blue sky escaping through the colorlessness. 

As your mind submerged in the gray sea of grief, being pushed down so deep all you could visualize was black. You recall when Mona learned to ride a horse, how she named her first horse snowball. The dimples framing her every smile, the pun book she carried around for years. How she’d collect plants to artistically study them, practicing drawing on dandelions. You had to carry her to bed when she fell asleep by her drawing desk many times. 

You couldn’t help but smile at the thoughts, at the memories swimming beside you. It was a comfort. Then a gentle knock on your open door threw you back to reality. 

“Hey, you didn’t eat breakfast. You should come out and get the lunch I got for us. Got some good rabbit…” Miguel sheepishly offered, you knew he was trying to help. You pushed yourself off the top of the comforters out of obligation of hospitality. You wiped your eyes after a long yawn.

“Okay, thank you.” You whimpered, Miguel gave a polite smile as you made your way past him down the hall. Once at the table, he neatly set out the plates. With some freshly roasted rabbit topped by garlic and basil. With lemonade in a see through pitcher centering the round table. His plate with the same sat across from yours. Once you meet the chair on the right of you, he sat on the other.

The clammer of metal utensils against porcelain plates, you lazily tore apart the seasoned rabbit with your teeth. You shot your eyes open, “Oh god this is so good-“ not meaning to sound so surprised in your compliment. Miguel smiled again “Thanks, took me half the day to catch it….” The hunger crushing you under your ribcage hit you twice as hard. Compelling you to shove as much of the meat into your mouth as possible. He started laughing, “Easy now no one's gonna take it from you…” you proceeded to eat like it anyway. The garlic giving a nice savory sensation across your tastebuds, meanwhile the basil a fresh sweetness splattered in your mouth. 

Despite spending a lot of your life eating fancy meals prepared by great chefs. This simple meal tasted better than all of it combined. 

“Thank you again, this is really good. I’m starving…” the rabbit you were currently chewing muffled your words. Miguel barely touched what was on his own plate. You spied so soon and stopped your assault on your own meal.

“Yes?” Enquiring puzzled, he shook his head with a nervous grin “Nothing.” He blatantly lied with an anxious crease framing his face. But considering all he’s done for you, you’d respect that he’d rather not say anything now. 

“I have questions…” you abruptly state, he tears off his first piece of the rabbit putting it past his lips. “Ask away.” He responds casually, you point at his fingers “How the hell do you have claws?” He paused after swallowing his cooked kill, considering what to say. “Its a long story, short version being I created a liquid that gives me talons. As well as inhuman strength, stamina, endurance, and so on…” he said as if it wasn’t the most insane explanation you’ve ever heard in your life. Not like you’d anticipate a normal reasoning to how a human man can grow talons through each of his finger tips. 

“Okay….” You breathed out, onto the next question “Just, who the hell are you?” Miguel raised his eyebrow at you, almost somewhat threatened by the question “What do you mean?” You frantically clarify “Who are you!?” That was a bad attempt at clarification. You’re sure Miguel won’t actually answer what you’re asking. But that doesn’t kill your persistence.

“How are you here!? Why are you here!? Do you work for the government!?…why did you save me?” The real question escapes from your lips after a few moments of quiet. Miguel’s suspicion dropped, pity rested in his blocky face. 

“For the last one, I saved you cause I saw someone in danger. So I helped…” Miguel's hand brushing against your shoulder that was nearest to him. You realized just how big he is compared to you, at most an inch above six foot in height. And his muscles make his visage dwarf you by a lot. His hand can cup almost your entire shoulder too. But it was a comforting size, considering he’s used his body to do nothing but shield you and save you. The feel of his skin against yours only shoots a warmth from your heart to the rest of your body. How his touch moves through every nerve and muscle in your form is intoxicating to boot. But you snap out of it when he breaks away.

“But for the others, I’d like my privacy.” You nodded still somewhat dazed from how he touched you moments ago. But regardless you decided to respect that. You look down at the two helpings of meat left on your plate, as Miguel’s barely started with his. From then on you two embrace the silence. Just enjoying a lovely meal with company. 

You can’t help but be intrigued by Miguel regardless. Wanting to dig behind his dark almond eyes to see the man beneath the mask. You don’t fear his intentions, he’s done the opposite of harm to you. Even if he did have bad intentions he’s had more than enough opportunities at this point to exploit you. But he hasn’t, you then spy around his home. 

You noticed how empty it was, sure there were the basic necessities of life. Stove, bed, toilet, and kitchen sink. However besides that and a few bookshelves, there’s nothing filling this cabin. You certainly haven’t heard anyone else inside the house besides Miguel. Not even a dog or cat, it’s truly just Miguel boxed into this lovely abode. With quite a few miles of thick forestry severing his connection to the rest of humanity. 

Miguel’s surely a character, all this skill and power, looks to boot. Yet he chooses nature as his only companion, but kept a guest bedroom in case anyone wished to fill this space with him. But by the partial dust that rubbed against your body as you laid on the guest bed. Something tells you you’re the first to do so in a long while. 

He hides his loneliness well, wearing polite awkward smiles to greet you. Humbly allowing you to make your presence known however you wish. But never pushing or begging for it. However his dimples are always carved by a hopefulness you’d come closer. That you’d speak with him for more. Even when his introverted silence and private exterior would suggest otherwise. You know Miguel’s type, you’ve been that way too for many years. 

So you throw him a bone, “For the sake of conversation, what do you read?” Miguel perked up, his dinner half done by the time you speak up. You swear you catch him blushing. “Not as much as I want to that’s for sure, can barely remember what I have read. What about you?” He’s hoping you can keep this going. His puppy eyes in your sights makes your heart flutter. This almost feels like a date. 

“Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice is my favorite of her work. Jane Erye’s just okay….”

~~One heated rant about Jane Eyre later~~ 

You and Miguel were sitting beside one another on the couch with tea cups centering the coffee table. As cooled green tea fills your cups, you conclude.

“THATS why the twist with his wife being in the attic this whole time is ridiculous and out of left field.” 

Miguel was entranced by you, just hearing you speak about the nutritional value of rice and he couldn’t look away. He’d barely be able to space out, just you yourself is enough to glue his mind to you. With his red button up shirt has a couple of its top buttons undone. With the sleeves folded back behind his elbows. You can’t help but be tangled by the sight of him, his laps spread about to massage his large thighs. Both his arms lining themselves along the top of the furniture you both sat on. 

You knew he was good looking, but he can make even sitting on a couch look hot. You then cough realizing how long he’s been listening. Slightly embarrassed you await whatever response he has. 

“Thank god you spared me having to read it then…” he chuckles, indulging your info dump. You gratefully smile as he grins back. 

“Miguel…” you say, tasting his name on your lips. As the joy of the moment dropped. “Sorry, I overstayed my welcome, haven't I?” You let your head fall at your feet. Becoming anxious at the thought of Miguel becoming annoyed with you. 

“No you haven’t at all…I’m guessing you have nowhere else to go?” You shake your head solemnly. As he continued, “You can stay here until you work something out…” you leered up to meet his eyes ``What? I can’t ask that of you-“ Miguel contradicted you “You’re not asking, I’m offering…” he bent down his head slightly. To make up the head and a half gap between your heights, even when sitting down. He eclipsed you by quite a margin. 

You knew you couldn’t tell him no, even if you had other places to shelter you. Being with Miguel is just euphoric. You haven’t felt this way since before you met Thomas. And the feeling hasn’t come back since Thomas…changed. 

You never felt a crawling under your skin at the sight of him. You didn’t jump upon hearing the sounds of his steps throughout the house. Miguel never would give you the silent treatment until he needed something from you. Even with a gun strapped to his thigh you never felt safer in your life. So you nod, swallowing tears back into your eyes saying.

“Okay, thank you…” Miguel’s smile fills his entire face, eats away the whole room so you can’t look at anything but the curve of his lips. After a moment of looking each other in the eyes. You spot the break of sundown through the window. You’ve talked for long yet it felt like a precious moment. 

Miguel had his own question, it hung out from his bottom lip. You could tell. So you cut to the chase “I’m sure you want to ask something..go ahead.” Miguel swallowed and moved his arms to his sides. His posture is notably stiffening. 

“Why did your husb-Thomas, want to kill you?” You grunted, a small volatile flame combusted under your collarbone. Igniting your heart like a match in a powered barrel. But it was muffled by your skin and bone, as well as your calm response. “I tried to run away with Mona, he found out. And tried to have me killed and make it look like an accident…” Miguel nodded understandingly. His hands folded together as his fingers nervously tangled themselves into each other. 

“Did he want to kill Mona too?” He almost whispered, like one would try to gleam their feet as gently as possible on the breaking ice of a frozen lake. From what you both saw it looked like she was shot in the crossfire. Neither of you knew his plans for her, and why he was in such a hurry to leave with her. 

“I….I don’t know.” You eventually choked out, a loud sniff punctuating your admission. You explained further looking down, “He never once paid attention to her when she was a baby or growing up. If there’s one thing Thomas despises it’s something or someone he can’t control….I assume he cared enough to try and kill me for leaving. But I just don’t fucking know.” Miguel apologetically frowned at you, nodding with a “Okay, thank you for explaining to me.” One socially inappropriate smile at him you chuckled 

“I appreciate it, Miguel.” He nods standing up, cracks his back the second after. Then get up to start the dishes. You don’t feel tired at all, you straighten your legs after pushing yourself off the couch.

“Hey, let me help you.” 

#Miguel O’Hara #Miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #spiderverse #spiderverse au #I’ll find you #18+ #cowboy!Miguel #cowboy au #au #miguel 'ohara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x fem!reader

[streaminn]

Wednesday realizing her budding romantic relationship with Enid is suddenly in jeopardy by two girls who are already upfront with their intentions is so funny though, like I can imagine her first thought being murder, this is no longer a love triangle this is the hunger games big prize being a wonderful and confident werewolf gf

Wednesday: (Threatening with a knife) get back, you savages! You had your chance!

Enid: Willa?????

Not that she would be so upfront and obvious about it, but I can IMAGINE Enid presenting her as her “roomie” and Wednesday just death glaring harder than she has done ever before, meanwhile Enid is just (understandably) lost and begging Yoko for help, and Yoko thinks it’s absolutely hilarious and there is already a betting pool on which shorty with an attitude will win

Listen, I think witnessing Enid be absolutely distraught for two years with two separate girls than she did with Ajax could be proof that Enid needs some love in her life

Like pheobe left Enid quiet when the second semester of junior year came in and she wouldn't say a damn thing abt her experience. The only proof that smth happened are those posts this pheobe did on Enid's phone and pictures that Enid would look at sometimes before she locked them away

Bc dammit, I feel so bad for the amount of whump I put her through so I'm letting her be chased and feel the love of someone that could've went so well

Unfortunately life don't work like that, soooo

Enid moves on, slowly then she meets Tara during the start of senior year and it's this whirlwind all over again. Except her ass got in the middle of a murder mystery that lasts for three to four days and Enid doesn't know if what she's truly feeling is romance or the high of nearly dying bonding them together

In the end, it doesn't matter and so they hug it out and Enid is thinking this might just be her love life, drifting from person to person and losing parts of herself to a what could've been

So when smth is could happen with Wenclair near the end of senior year, Enid is rightfully afraid because she doesn't want to lose wednesday. There's something terrifying about high-school ending and realizing that their friendship could end with it too

So when February rolls around with Wenclair still skirting along each other, the girls roll in and holy shit the way the gang were vibing in Jericho did not at all expect Enid to freeze

And yknow your chances are on the line because Enid isnt insecure. Okay that's a lie, she is a lil bit, but shes brave at times and it says something that when a girl with leather jacket walks in, Enid fucking dives behind yoko

Wednesday thinks it's a potential murder victim, maybe it's an old girl who bullied her loathed love

Except leather jacket goes "Enid!" with the biggest smile ever and is Enid looking shy!? The wolf is peaking out of Yoko's shoulder, giving a wave as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear with a nervous grin

The werewolf hasn't blushed since junior year, who tf is this girl

"pheobe," Enid breathes and oh hell no, the way Wednesday went from fingering her knife to full on grasping it has the rest of the gang looking at her

Safe to say Enid ditches them and Wednesday is left sulking at the table, glaring daggers at the back of the werewolf because what in the nine circles of hell is this!?

Enid's distracted the whole weekend after that and like okay, Wednesday understands, Enid can have friends but she misses her roommate like a man missing his lung. Everything is damn unbearable without her and so it's a relief when Monday comes around because Enid is studious, surely there is-

There's a college student introduced to them in biology class, said to be staying there for a week to figure out more about outcasts

Nevermore, ever so accepting and willing to bridge a gap between normies and outcasts accepted the offer off a student staying for a bit, absolutely ecstatic at this chance

Alright, normally wednesday wouldn't care until Enid freezes once again in the corner of her eyes.

Something drops in the seers gut and a horrible festering feeling churns

Yoko is out, having skipped the lesson so there is one empty seat next to the werewolf. Wednesday has no good reason to stab the teacher for their convoluted plan because it was simply understandable to put the new outlier in an empty seat

(she might spike their drink in pettyness however)

So Wednesday watches with a tight jaw as this normie went and slipped her hand into Enid's so easily that it left the watcher green with envy

"enid," tara says and she's looking at her roommate like she's the reason she lives. It's disgusting because wednesday recognizes it like it's her own face

"told you we'd meet again," enid chirps and she looks delighted. "I didn't expect it to be like this tho!"

It's another one, Wednesday thinks and her pen snaps in half.

#Enid x phoebe #Enid x tara #Enid x wednesday #ortegaverse

[yelenasdiary]

October Special Information

Okays, so after some thinking, I have decided to give something for everybody to read. So, I'm calling this 'October Special' which will include Kinktober, Flufftober & Darktober!

Below the cut, you'll find everything you need to know before sending me a request. Please read through this carefully, I know it's a long post with a fair bit of information but I'm trying to make this go as smoothly as possible for myself as the writer x.

As always, my blog is 18+ ONLY! Men & Minors, please DNI!

Requests -

~ The deadline to have requests sent is September 23rd (AEST). For anybody outside Australia, this would be September 22nd.

~ Sending a request doesn’t guarantee it will be written, I may get an overwhelming amount of requests for this & if that happens, I simply cannot write them all.

~ When sending a request, please state if you want Reader to be fem or GN! If you want Reader to have a penis in the fic, please mention if you want them to be Fem, GN or AFAB/AMAB.

Kinktober -

~ When requesting, please mark your request with "For Kinktober", if you don't I will just assume your request isn't for the event.

Here is a list of what I am comfortable with writing & what I am not comfortable writing. Please read these carefully, if you send a request that I am not comfortable with, I will delete it without an explanation.

Comfortable With: Daddy/Mommy kinks, Con Non Con, Character x Character, Character x Reader, Breeding Kink, Voyeurism, Desperation, Toys, Bondage, Double Penetration, Lactation Kink, Somnophilia, Exhibitionism. FAB! Reader with a penis and/or Character with a penis.

Not Comfortable With: Scat, Incest, Pedophilia, Character x Male Reader, Body Shaming, R*pe, Racism, Age Regression in a sexual setting.

I do not write smut for celebrity x reader. I only write smut for female fictional characters x reader.

Flufftober -

~ When requesting, please mark your request with "For Flufftober", if you don't I will just assume your request isn't for the event.

~I will write fluff for platonic, age regressed reader and family based fics! So when requesting, please state if the relationship within your idea is romantic, platonic, age regressed reader or family based (meaning Character x Sibling! Reader or Character x Daughter! Reader).

If you have any further questions, please don't hesitate to message me! x

Darktober -

~ When requesting, please mark your request with "For Darktober", if you don't I will just assume your request isn't for the event.

What I'm Comfortable With Writing: Dark Angst such as, gore, murder, kidnapping, mentions of SA, drugs, blood, childhood trauma, PTSD topics etc.

What I'm Not Comfortable With Writing: Details of r*pe. Like I mentioned above, I am fine with mentions but not detailing the event. Detailed racism, I’m okay with mentions such as “So and so was racist” & I will not write body shaming content in detail.

If you have any further questions, please don't hesitate to message me! x

Extra Details -

~ I will post a fic every Monday, Wednesday & Friday for this special, giving you all a total of 13 fics. Again, for all those outside Australia, this will be every Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday.

~ All fics will be posted at 5PM AEST. If for any reason I will be late posting, I'll make a post about it.

~ I will not have a seperate taglist for this, if you want to be tagged for any of my work, please leave a comment on THIS POST

Who I Write For -

If somebody isn’t listed here, it doesn’t necessarily mean I won’t write for them. Please remember that I DO NOT write smut for Celebrity x Reader. Smut is only for Fictional Character x Reader.

Yelena Belova (Marvel)

Wanda Maximoff // The Scarlet Witch (Marvel)

Natasha Romanoff (Marvel)

Kate Bishop (Marvel)

Agatha Harkness (Marvel)

Melina Vostokoff (Marvel)

Emily Prentiss (Criminal Minds)

Charlie Ross (The Little Drummer Girl)

Kelly Foster (We Brought a Zoo)

Jane Banner (Wind River)

Leigh Shaw (Sorry For You Loss)

Alice Chambers (Don’t Worry Darling)

Taylor Sloane (Ingrid Goes West)

Any Variant Character on THIS LIST

Florence Pugh

Elizabeth Olsen

Scarlett Johansson

+ More

With that, I can't wait to give you all something for all to read and enjoy! I'm excited to see what you guys come up with! If you have any further questions, concerns or if you're confused on anything, please don't hesitate to send me a message or ask.

#fanfiction #yelena belova #marvel #florence pugh #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #Kate Bishop #scarlett johansson #haliee steinfeld #Scarlet Witch #Kinktober #Flufftober #Darktober

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Dear Diary

Gender Neutral Journal Entity x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Diary monster, murders, no smut, not romantic, one-sided platonic, over protectiveness, general yandere behavior)  Word Count: 463 (I hope you all enjoy this little drabble, who doesn’t love a good murderously protective yandere to start off October?)  That journal you had recently gotten as a gift from a friend was no ordinary journal. In fact it was not a journal at all. It was a murderous creature that mimicked being a journal to get close to its unwary human prey. It slowly accumulated strength from feeding on the emotions written into it and when it was strong enough it would manifest in its full humanoid form and finish off its owner. It had been given to you during your birthday celebration, everyone knew how you loved to read and write and it was such a high quality journal. You started using it right away. Strangely you could not seem to go anywhere without it and were always writing in it. You used it as a diary, writing into it all your innermost thoughts and experiences that you did not want to share with any sentient friend. But the journal knew. It felt what you felt and absorbed all your thoughts and feelings as they became a part of it. It had all intimate knowledge of all of your struggles, and the emotions you felt from them, embedded into it. Despite all the trials you had managed to overcome in your life your soul remained kind. It quickly became fascinated by and protective over you. It simply had to protect a being as kind and gentle as you from the horrors of this world! It was itself a horror so it knew first hand that a monster might hurt someone as vulnerable as you. But that was okay, once it had enough energy accumulated you would have it to protect you! You write about your awful boss abusing and exploiting you and in general making your life miserable? How dare they!? Don’t worry, that boss would not be coming in on Monday. You write about how that bitch of a coworker stole your lunch again for the fourth time? Can’t you see they are trying to starve you to death!? Don’t worry, your diary knew how to protect you, it could do the hard stuff since you were too pure to. Oh, and if you ever write about someone physically hurting you in some way? Well, there would definitely be a new missing person in your town, and they certainly did not meet a quick or painless end. Anytime it deemed someone as needing to be eliminated it would just manifest into its humanoid form and slip out in the dead of night to take care of business before returning to the exact position that you had left it. It would never let you become aware of what it was, you were too fragile for that knowledge. And it was content with simply protecting you and being written in by you.

#yandere teratophilia #yandere terato #yandere diary #yandere journal #yandere exophilia #gender neutral yandere x reader #gender neutral yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere x reader #my OC #my OC diary/journal entity

[littlelioncub43]

Okay, I have some Ransom feels this Murderer Monday.

Ransom is working himself to the bone and will not stop. He’s barely eating and his sleep has been fitful and sporadic. You have had enough! You tie him up, not with rope but smooth silk ties and slide a soft blindfold over his eyes. From there it’s just the softest of touches. No teasing, no rush, just worshiping his body and until he is incoherent and whining for you to take the blindfold off so he can look at you when he comes. Aftercare is slow and lazy and involves hand feeding him with the softest admonishment that if he can’t take of himself, you’ll just have to do it for him.

I have so many soft feeling for this man that I probably shouldn’t!!!

Oh we definitely shouldn't, but he's adorable so... it is what it is.....

He agreed to a small break. So he can't really tell you how a quick snack in the kitchen ended with him stripped naked and lovingly bound to your shared bed while you absolutely showered him with tender affection.

It was torture.

"You've been working so hard, baby," you praise as your lips suck a gentle hickey into his hip.

Ok, maybe not torture, but it felt like it.

"You deserve a break," you continue, not waiting for him to try to form a response other than the little moans and whimpers he's been releasing. "You deserve to feel good."

"A-Aaaaah! Shit!" Ransom whimpers when your lips descend on his weeping tip, your soft tongue caressing the sensitive flesh there in an eager pace. He wishes so badly to be able to see you, but the darkness over his eyes makes this soooooo much better. For now at least. "More! Please!"

You hum in approval at his manners and envelope his tip, your lips wrapping around him perfectly. He's grateful that you're feeling generous when you start to bob your head to take more of him. He's extremely grateful when your hand cradles his balls just the way he likes it.

"Oh my god! Oh my god!" He cries out, his head thrown back into the expensive fluffy pillows, his strong arms pulling at the silk ties that hold him in place on reflex. You can't help but moan with him, moving your head and hand in tandem. You love when he's writhing like this, so lost in his pleasure that he can't keep still, making those pretty noises that he only makes for you.

"Fuck! Fuck! Oh fuck!" He's practically shouting now, his legs shaking as they spread a little wider. "Gonna cum! M'gonna cum!"

You release his dick with a tongue-filled suck, your hand replacing your mouth's eager pace.

"Do you wanna cum in my mouth or my pussy?" You ask through his moans, you watched as his abs contracted and relaxed over and over, he was clearly fighting off his high, it was adorable.

"Pussy!" He cries out, his back arching with the effort to hold himself back. Your hands release him and he can hear the sound of you undressing yourself. Now, he pouts again. "Wanna see you, please, need to see you when we cum."

"Such a needy boy, aren't you?" You tease with no malice, chuckling as you settle over him on your knees. When you pull the blindfold from his eyes, Ransom immediately takes in your naked form. He feels himself throb as his eyes traces the curves of your body.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he whines, almost pouting about it while he tugs at the binds again. You grin and give him a sweet kiss.

"You're so sweet," you coo and sit in his lap. The moan of shared relief you both let out fills the room, your own neediness taking over you. Before long, you were riding your lover into the mattress. Incoherent grunts and moans accented with the clapping of skin on skin and the squeaks of the mattress grew louder and louder as your highs approach rapidly.

"Ah! Ah! Fuck! Yes! Yes! Yes! Ransom!" You cry out, your fingers rapidly rubbing at your clit.

"Gonna cum! Gonna cum! Please! Please!" Ransom begs as his hips thrust up into you.

"Cum for me, baby, give it to me!" That's all he needed to hear. Whimpers and moans fall from his bitten lips as he fills you, his body trembling with pleasure. His moans shake as wave after wave of bliss takes over him, your hips still grinding to milk your highs as long as possible. He can feel his thighs twitching, his eyes rolling and his back arching. This was different than anything else he's experienced.

"H-Holy shit, I'm still cumming," he whispers in amazement when he feels himself still spilling into you. After what feels like forever, he feels the peak finally start to soften, his body turning into a puddle as he comes down. "Hooooooly shit!" He curses breathlessly, his eyes falling shut.

"I'll say," you giggle and carefully collapse into his chest, your heartbeats matching in their frantic rhythm. "How was it?"

"Fucking amazing," Ransom sighs, tiredness taking hold rather quickly. You're just as quick to notice. You gently shush his whine when you get up to clean him. Soon, he's feeling you gently shaking him awake. He was cleaned and dressed in his pajamas, a new pillow was propped beneath his head to allow you to cradle him to you better.

"Hey there, sleepy head," you speak softly, smiling at his groggy face. He really shouldn't be this adorable. "Eat a few bites then you can go back to sleep, ok?"

"Mmhmm," he nods without argument when he sees a small plate of fruit. He wouldn't turn down watermelon when he was this thirsty. When the juices drip down his chin, you're quick to wipe them away with a fond chuckle.

"If you won't take care of yourself, Ran, I guess I'll have to do it for you."

That sound like Heaven to him.

Comments and reblogs are always welcome! 💖

Dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

I no longer have a taglist, if you wish to stay up-to-date on when I post, follow @littlelioncub-library 💖

#romantic murderer monday #murderer monday drabble fest #murderer mondays #murderer monday #fluff #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fluff #little lion literature

[hp-bodiceripper]

ANONYMOUS MASTERLIST

Thank you all! All you magnificent creators, wonderful prompters, thoughtful commenters, generous kudos givers and rebloggers, everyone who’s been supportive and enthusiastic about this fest. Join us in celebrating our romantic, swoon worthy and steamy creations.

Reveals will happen in a week! You have until the 20th to catch up and take part in our Guessing Game.

Under the cut you find all our 2023 entries: 8 stories, 6 artworks and 2 podfics.

🖋 Fic

collarbones like a bow, skin an arrow to the heart

(Pansy Parkinson/Ginny Weasley, E, 4k) Gin’s adjusting the lighting for their next shoot when in walks the new model Luna was so enthusiastic about, and that’s when they know they’re in deep shit.

Cool About It

(Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, M, 16k) Harry is so excited for his first date with Draco. But what follows isn't so much a date as it is an all-night odyssey including a malevolent lift, a Gringotts heist, a Sleeping Curse, a trip to the kebab shop, a lack of dancing, a Muggle drug, a rooftop pool party, a black eye and, eventually, a sunrise over a Quidditch stadium.

Love Me Meow

(Arabella Fig/Minerva McGonagall, E, 2.5k) After the students leave for the summer, Headmaster McGonagall and the new Muggle Studies professor have a chance and sensuous encounter at the beach.

Nature pricks them on to ramp and rage

(Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, E, 21k) Lord Draco Malfoy may be a young man spending time in Dumbledore’s summer court, but that does not mean he needs to succumb to its licentious frivolity. He carries the burden of his lineage, the shadow of rumours, and the dignity of his betrothal to a good match. He is certainly not fool enough to be distracted by the dark curls and ready grin of the court’s stableboy, who seems to have taken up with every courtier who looks his way.

The Real Thing

(Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, M, 5k) Harry only means to cheer Draco up after a terrible breakup. He doesn't mean to fall in love.

this is how we become timeless

(Narcissa Malfoy/Lily Evans, T, 10k) Narcissa is in eternal servitude to the Dark Lord, bound by the tears of a burned-down phoenix. Lily belongs to the Order, bound by the tears of the same creature. They’re the only two people in the world in the position of time turners, tasked with teetering the outcome of the ongoing war into their respective side’s favor. They are light years away, yet they’ve never been closer.

Wild Horses (couldn't drag me away)

(Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, E, 36k) Koi no Yokan (Japanese) - The feeling of excitement you get when you first meet someone and know that you will eventually fall in love with them. A more realistic version of ‘love at first sight’, it roughly translates to ‘premonition of love’. A story of magic, horses, magical horses, and two men who fight all odds to find their way to each other.

Yesterday

(Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, T, 10k) Harry doesn’t intentionally kidnap Draco Malfoy. Really it’s debatable if you can even call it kidnapping but the git surely seems to think so.

🎨 Art

Harry And Draco Wearing Kilts

(Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, G, digital art) Our favourite wizards, dressed in traditional Scottish attire.

I Bloom Pink For You

(Narcissa Malfoy/Pansy Parkinson, M, craft) Pansy has been starved for love her whole life. All she needs is someone who will give her the approval she craves. An origami comic inspired by Schmem_14's fic.

Joy Exposed

(Fleur Delacour/Ginny Weasley, G, Digital art) Ginny and Fleur give an interview for Daily Prophet’s new Weekend Magazine and spend hours doing an accompanying photoshoot. When it comes to approving the selection of photos for print, they unanimously choose the candid one taken on their break, rather than all the styled and posed images.

Monday Murder Club

(Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Lavender Brown/Padma Patil, T, Digital art) The members of a crime-solving club find love and friendship amidst the blood.

The Professor's Passion

(Narcissa Black Malfoy/Hermione Granger, G, Digital art) Hermione is a professor and Gryffindor head of house. She loves her job... until Narcissa Malfoy is hired on the school's faculty, and is now head of Slytherin. God, that woman is insufferable. Hermione despises her so much she can hardly think about anything else. (She must hate her... that's why she always feels so hot and bothered when she's around, right? And does she have to be so damn beautiful?)

You Pierce My Soul

(Harry/Draco, M, digital art) Harry's eyes were on him almost as soon as Draco entered the ballroom. It was as if he'd been watching the door, and now Harry's eyes were wide and his mouth open.

🎵 Podfic

Masks Off

(Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, Teen, 3h 15 min) Draco had followed his parents to this Caribbean island as a matter of course, even though no one had told him what they were doing here or why his father’s ships were frequently attacked by masked pirates. And, honestly, Draco’d had no intention of actually finding out either.

wasps and honey by swoons

(Hermione Granger/Narcissa Malfoy, M, 1 - 1,5 hours) After ten years on parole in the Muggle world, newly widowed Narcissa Black is finally allowed to do magic again — as long as she can complete all the spells on the Ministry course list. Her Ministry of Magic representative? Hermione Granger.

Come play our Guessing Game!

#drarry #cissamione #narlily #ginsy #pancissa #fleur/ginny #pavender #minerva x arabella #hp femslash #hp rare pair #hpbodiceripper2023 #hpbodiceripper #masterlist #mod post

[withlovegvf]

babbler | Josh Kiszka

dad!josh x reader

summary: Your ten month old baby Hazel is a constant babbler. What will her first word be...dada or mama?

yns pov

Josh and I's little baby hazel has been babbling her head off for the past couple of months. She love to try to say every words that comes out of her family's mouth. "Come on baby, say Da-Da, Dada" Josh gives Hazel a big smile looking into her eyes. She's sitting up on his knees as he holds her by under the arms. Hazel gives him a grin with her two teeth that have come in.

I walk from the kitchen where I grabbed hazel her banana flavored popsicle I make for her snacks and sit with them on the couch. Hazel starts making grabby hands at the snack, I come close to them and cuddle into Josh and hand her the popsicle. I lean my head onto Josh's shoulder and he kisses my forehead. "I heard you trying to get her to say dada. Why have you been pushing her so hard?"

Josh sighs and shakes his head. "I don't know I'm just gone so much and with the band and the new album coming out and I just worry she won't know how much I care and love for my Hazel-baby" Josh nuzzles his nose into hazels cheek and neck. Hazel looks at me with a blank stare just gnawing on her popsicle.

I run my hand through his hair in a comforting way, trying to comfort him from his own thoughts. "Awe sugar she knows she loves you. She gets the biggest smile and lets out the loudest squeals when you come back from being gone. You're the only person she won't scream bloody murder at when she is woken up from her nap. That has got to count for something." Josh laughs and gives my cheek a kiss.

"You're right baby thank you. Just having a quick self pity moment but I'm okay now. Okay Hazy girl, Daddy's gotta finish packing for his weekend trip to Knoxville with all your silly uncles." Josh gave Hazel a squeeze and sat her down on her play mat to let her mess around. His turned to me and pecked my lips before walking to our bedroom to finish packing his duffel bag.

I get on the ground with Hazel to start playing with her. I take the popsicle stick that no longer had anything on it out of Hazels mouth. I look into her eyes and she gives me a small smile. I whisper, " Come on Haze say Dada, that would be an amazing present for when daddy gets back."

Once Josh had left, all I was doing was trying to get hazel to say dada. I was singing it in little songs I made up, saying it over and over until she was laughing super hard, and begging her to just say the simple four letter word.

Finally we made it to Monday morning and Josh was gonna be back home that night. Hazel was sitting in her highchair drinking her milk as I cut up her eggo waffle and strawberries. Once I was done, I drizzle a little bit of syrup on them and carry the plate over to Hazel. "Okay baby, you can only eat if you say Dada, say Da-Da!" Hazel looks up at me with her big brown eyes that she got from Josh. She starts moving her mouth, trying to say the letter D. "Come on baby, you got it!" Hazel looks a little frustrates as she tries. "Dddd...Da...Da. Da-da" I let out a huge gasp. "Yes baby good job! Dada!" Hazel continues to babble the word over and over the whole day. It was safe to say I was extremely excited for Josh to get home.

Once Josh is pulling into the driveway Hazel and I are standing on the porch in the cool summer night breeze while we wait for Josh to get out the car. He quickly grabs his bag from the back and starts coming toward us. "My beautiful ladies hello!" Josh comes up the porch steps and drops his bag. He cups my cheek and gives me a romantic kiss before taking Hazel from my arms. "Ugh leaving my girls is getting harder and harder. Hello Hazy, how are we doing?" Josh pecks her cheek as she squeals with a smile on her face.

They head inside and start playing on the living room floor with all her toys while I unpack Josh's bag. I've always helped with his luggage after a work trip as my way of helping with the traveling stress. Once I was done unpacking his stuff I walk to the living room to see what my little family was up to. Hazel was sitting on top of Josh's stomach as he blew little raspberries onto the bottom of her feet as she let out lots of little squeals and giggles.

I walk over and sit on the couch right in front of them. "Hazel I think it's time to show daddy what we were working while he was gone." Josh gives me a confused and looks back at Hazel. "What do you have to show me baby?" Hazel looks around with a blank face, obviously having no idea what we are talking about.

"Hazel say dada." Hazel starts moving her lips the way before you say D. Josh watches her with wide eyes. I point to josh as I get on the floor next to them. "This is Dada" Hazel looks at josh, looking like she's making the connection. "Da..Dada!" Hazel keeps saying it over and over and Josh has a teary look on his face. "That is the best gift a guy could get. Thank you." I nod and peck him on his lips.

"I didn't help her at all. She just loves her dad so much."

......

I hope you all enjoy dad josh as much as I do....ugh anyways ily all <3

-withlovegvf

#josh kiszka #josh x reader #dad josh #gvf #josh gvf #danny wagner #jacob thomas kiszka #sammy gvf #sam kiszka #jake gvf #danny gvf #josh fluff

[sinsiriuslyemo]

Title: Perfect

Pairing: Jim Gordon/Reader

Rating: PG-13 (language)

Summary: You should've known that Valentine's Day with Jim would be perfect, even when you hated Valentine's Day.

Notes: Happy Valentine's Day!

Warning: fluff and cheese incoming.

You had never been a fan of Valentine’s Day. Even when you were in a relationship, it had always seemed to you like a day that only benefitted corporate America. Not that you hated the excuse to be romantic with Jim, but the point was that you never really needed an excuse. The two of you were romantic with each other all the time. Part of you wanted to insist that you skip any silly Valentine’s Day celebration or grand gestures and just spend it the way you would spend any other Wednesday, but the look on his face when he proudly proclaimed over breakfast a few days before that he had thought of the perfect Valentine's Day activity kept your cynicism at bay. He seemed so excited. Who were you to yuck his yum?

“So, listen, what I was thinking was that we could recreate our first date,” he said as the two of you got into his car to head home on Monday.

You furrowed your brows. “Uh… are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Yeah, I thought it’d be cute and romantic.”

Your brows shot up over your eyes, but apparently he hadn’t noticed.

“We can go to that little Italian place, and then go for a walk in the theatre district,” he said, and your expression returned to one of bewilderment. “Maybe even stop at that same little street cart off of Monroe and get some —”

“That was our second date,” you said.

He narrowed his eyes, looking over at you as you came to a stop at a red light. “Wait a minute, are you saying you count what was supposed to be our first date as our actual first date?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?”

“Because we got called into a murder scene before we even got to the restaurant and then spent practically the entire night going over casefiles of similar MOs and waiting on DNA evidence,” he replied.

“Yeah, so? It was still our first date,” you insisted.

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “I say it stopped being our first date the moment we were interrupted and had to go to work.”

“Are you kidding? We got to spend the whole night together,” you argued with a smile.

“The whole night looking over other murders instead of eating at a restaurant. Yeah, some date. I didn’t even kiss you at the end of the night.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have kissed at the end of the first date anyway,” you teased.

“Oh really? Cause I seem to remember your hands wandering a bit on our do-over date,” he teased.

“I told you, you had dust on your pants,” you answered, trying to contain a smile.

“Oh, that’s right,” he conceded. “Anyway, that night was our first date. Not the one where we didn’t even get to go to dinner.”

“We did have dinner, it was just shitty takeout at the precinct. We still talked, we still got to know each other more. And we danced to the copy machine!”

Jim smiled at the memory.

“Why would you wanna erase that? That was romantic and cute in it’s own special way. I mean, okay, I agree, the murder was a bit too much blood for a first date —”

“You think?”

“Okay, but I don’t focus on the moments that weren’t ideal first date scenarios. I think about the conversation we had while we were waiting on the DNA to come back, and the shitty take out while we were going through old case files looking for similar MOs, and dancing to the copy machine! Seriously, who can say that they’ve danced to a copy machine?”

“Probably not that many people,” he mumbled, sighing after a moment, but apparently refusing to concede. “I still don’t count that as our first date. At best it was maybe a dress rehearsal.”

“A dress rehearsal?”

“Yeah, dress rehearsal,” he answered, the corner of his lips curling after a moment. “You wore that little black dress with the feather prints on it that buttoned down the front.”

You smiled to yourself as you remembered the look on his face when he first saw you in that dress. “I like that dress.”

“Me too,” he replied, pulling up to the curb in front of your building. “Hugged you in all the right places and showed just enough to make me want to undo all those buttons. It drove me crazy.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah.”

“I mean, I knew you liked it, I didn’t realize you liked it that much,” you said, getting out of the car and waiting for him to reach you on the sidewalk before you walked into the building together.

“I still think about you in it sometimes,” he murmured in your ear while the two of you made your way to the elevator.

Your cheeks warmed and you bit down on your bottom lip, slinking your arm around his. “You looked really good that night too. You should roll up your sleeves to your elbows more often.”

Smirking to himself, he followed you into the elevator and pushed the button for your floor, turning to you when the doors closed. “So you concede that was a dress rehearsal and not actually our first date?”

“No way,” you answered, smiling when he groaned.

“You’re telling me you had more fun that night than on our real first date?”

“Second date.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “You had more fun that night than on our next date?”

“Well played,” you replied. “It’s not about whether I had more fun, it’s that it was so memorable that I don’t want to let it go just because there was a little blood and a couple dead bodies.”

“A little blood?”

“Okay, a lot of blood. That night is still special to me,” you answered. “Even though it wasn’t what we planned, even though it wasn’t ideal, it’s ours.”

He sighed softly, but it wasn’t until the elevator stopped on your floor and you were standing at your front door, waiting for him to unlock it that he turned to you, opening the door to let you in and said, “Okay, you’ve convinced me.”

“Yes,” you whispered, grinning as he locked the door behind you both.

“That doesn't exactly help me though,” he said, tossing his keys on the foyer table. “I can’t recreate that night.”

“You don’t have to, we can recreate our second date like you wanted —”

“Yeah, but the whole romance of it was that I was recreating our first date,” he answered.

“Oh Jim, I don't care about that. I don’t care what we do as long as we’re together. I don’t need anything fancy, I just need you.” You took off your gun and badge and set them on the counter.

“I know, but we didn’t get to spend Valentine’s Day together last year,” he said.

“That’s cause Ramirez got the flu,” you replied.

“Well, still, it’s gonna be our first Valentine’s Day that we spend together. I just want it to be special.”

Smiling at him, you wrapped your arms around his trunk, resting your chin on his chest to look up at him. “It’ll be special no matter what we do because I’ll be spending the night with you.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” he replied, seeming to let it go.

Jim had arranged the schedule so that he would be off while you only worked one shift on Valentine’s Day, which was nice enough for you. You didn’t need anything extravagant to make the day special and you certainly didn’t need the entire day. Still, Jim would not be deterred; from the moment you got home at five thirty, you were greeted with white and red rose petals that led from the front door down the hallway. Instinctively, you smiled at the gesture, but when you looked up to find Jim, he was nowhere to be seen.

The cop in you kicked in for a moment after you called out to him, but got no answer. That was unusual — even when Jim was busy doing something, he would always answer when you called out to him after getting home, and you always did the same. There was a faint sound coming from the bedroom and you instinctively pulled out your gun, following the rose petals down the hall.

“Jim?”

Still no answer, but the noise was a bit clearer as you neared the bedroom. Music. And it was a song you vaguely recognized, but still couldn’t quite make out. Using your foot, you pushed the bedroom door open and scanned the room. Everything looked normal except for the music, which you now realized was coming from the adjoining bathroom. The lights were dimmed, but you didn’t see or hear any sign of Jim, and you started to think the worst. Raising your gun, you slowly made your way toward the bathroom, using your foot again to push the door open.

“Whoa!” Jim exclaimed, instinctively putting his hands up. “Hi. Can you put the gun down please, sweetheart?”

With a sigh, you lowered your weapon. “You didn’t answer, you scared the tits off me. I started to think something terrible happened.”

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to surprise you,” he said, coming up to you. It was at that point that you realized he was wearing a bathrobe. Looking around, you saw tea candles all around the bathroom, a bucket of ice with a bottle of champagne chilling inside it and a bowl of strawberries. The tub was filled with a steaming bubble bath, and the music that played made you grin to yourself as you began to recognize it.

“Wow,” you said.

“Yeah, wow. Let’s put the gun down,” he suggested, gently taking the gun from your hand and setting it on the vanity. “And let’s get your clothes off.”

“That song…” you said as he unbuttoned your flannel shirt.

Jim smirked at you. “It’s the one that was on the radio when we were coming back from the docks the day we met.”

“I can’t believe you even remember that,” you said.

He pushed your shirt over your shoulders, kissing one while he lowered your bra strap off the other. “Of course I remember that,” he whispered against your skin, one hand going to unhook your bra to pull that off as well. “I remember everything that has anything at all to do with you.”

You shivered as he lay kisses along the side of your neck, his hands busying themselves with unbuckling your belt before he unbuttoned and unzipped your pants. He pushed them down, waiting for you to toe out of your shoes before he helped you step out of your khakis and looked you over.

“Christ, you are so beautiful,” he purred, pulling you against him.

You hummed at the feel of his soft robe against your nipples, your hands moving to the sash on the front, untying it and pushing it open to expose his bare chest.

“This is really beautiful,” you said as you pushed the robe off of him.

“I’m glad you like it,” he said, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your panties. “I may have ordered dinner from that shitty take out place.”

“The one from our first date?” you teased, taking your underwear off the rest of the way before doing the same with your socks.

“Don’t start that again,” he replied, gesturing to the tub with his head. “Go on, hop in.”

The two of you sat on opposite ends of the tub, your legs intertwined while he reached for a champagne flute, handing it to you before he picked up the bottle from the ice bucket.

“How was first shift?” he asked playfully.

“Not bad. Actually pretty quiet, criminals must’ve thought to take the day off or something.”

“There’s a first,” he mumbled, pouring some of the bubbly drink into your glass before he poured himself one. Putting the bottle back into the ice bucket, he toasted with you. “Well, we have the rest of the night all to ourselves.”

“What’s on the docket?” you asked, lifting yourself a bit to pick out a strawberry for you to eat.

“I thought we could relax in the bath for a bit, and then have dinner while we watch a movie. You choose whichever film you want.”

“You’re gonna hate me,” you said with a wince, taking a bite of your strawberry.

“I could never hate you,” he replied.

“I kinda wanna binge-watch Dance Moms.”

He nodded and lowered his eyes. “Okay, I hate you a little bit.”

You laughed with the back of your hand over your mouth. “We can watching something else if —”

“No, no, it’s okay,” he assured you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I said you could choose. I meant it.” He picked up a strawberry for himself and took a bite.

“All of this is amazing, Jim. Thank you so much.”

He smiled back at you, seemingly satisfied with himself. The hand not holding his flute grazed along your calf, his thumb gently stroking your skin as he swallowed what was in his mouth. “Look, I know you’re not one for Valentine's Day celebrations —”

“I never said that,” you answered.

“I heard you talking to Stephens about it last week,” he said. “And you’re right about one thing, we don’t need a special day to be romantic. We never have. But if there’s an occasion that gives me an excuse to pull out all the big guns, I’m gonna take it every single time. Because you deserve it.”

You smiled at him, taking a sip from your flute. “That’s fair. And you really do romance so well, it’d be a shame for those skills to go to waste.”

He winked at you. “My thoughts exactly. And I’m even willing to overlook that you’re a Valentine’s Scrooge —”

You gasped playfully, using your heels to slide yourself closer to him. “I am not a Scrooge.”

“You snarled at the Valentine’s decorations in the lobby of the precinct just yesterday,” he reminded you with a smirk. “And rolled your eyes at the guy selling flowers off of seventh the day before. Face it, honey, you hate Valentine’s Day.”

There was a brief moment of silence as you let his words linger in the air, relieved that he didn’t seem to be taking your aversion to the holiday personally.

“Okay, so I do, a little bit “ you conceded. “You know it’s just an excuse for corporate America to cash in. If you love someone you shouldn’t need capitalism to tell you when to be romantic.”

“That’s true, and I’ll admit that chocolates are always way overpriced around Valentine’s Day.”

“Yes! They know. They know people will buy them, so they mark up the prices and then sit in their gaudy mansions and laugh their asses off because not only have they just made bank off of the hopeless romantics and the saps, but also people praise them for it. And don’t even get me started on the damn teddy bears.”

“Okay, no. Please do not talk about the teddy bears,” he begged, picking up a strawberry and stuffing it between your lips. “I want us to enjoy the night together, and as much as I love watching you get all riled up, I do not want to listen to you rant all night.”

You bit into the strawberry and turned to slide your bottom between his legs, your back to his chest. “Just so you know, if I ever find myself enjoying Valentine’s Day, it’s because I’m spending it with you. Everybody else can eat a dick.”

He snorted into his champagne flute as he took a drink, trying not to spit it out. Swallowing, he pressed his nose against your hair.

“All this though,” you continued, looking around the room with a lazy smile. “All this is amazing.”

“You like it?” he mumbled into your ear.

“Mhm,” you hummed, snuggling back against him. “It’s making me think maybe Dance Moms isn’t exactly the right tone.”

“I didn’t wanna say anything, but yeah, Dance Moms — however fascinating — isn’t exactly the most romantic,” he answered. He set down his flute and gently began to massage your shoulders.

“You’re right,” you said, relaxing against his touch. “How about Breathless? You said you’ve never seen it.”

“Yeah, I could go for that.” He dropped a kiss on your shoulder as his arms wrapped around your waist. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Jim,” you answered, turning your head to kiss his lips. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but you’re an amazing boyfriend. I’ve never been so happy.”

You felt his mustache twitch and just knew he was smiling.

“That makes two of us,” he whispered into your ear.

The two of you stayed in the bathtub a while longer, leisurely washing each other and taking small breaks to share a series of kisses every now and again. Eventually the water began to cool past the point of being comfortable, and Jim helped you out of the tub and into the shower to warm back up and rinse the bubbles off you. All the while, Jim doted on you with praises, kisses and sensual touches. Afterwards, he wrapped you in a fluffy robe that matched the one he’d had on when you came in.

He brought the bucket that held the bottle of champagne and both your flutes while you took your gun into the bedroom, setting it on the dresser. The two of you got dressed — you in a oversized t shirt and him in a pair of soft flannel pants — and went into the living room. Jim stopped off in the kitchen to reheat the takeout and bring it over to the couch before you played the movie.

After you finished eating, Jim excused himself to the bathroom while you picked up all the garbage from dinner, and poured you both some more champagne. When he came back out, he snuggled up with you on the couch, spooning you from behind and finished the movie with you.

All in all it had been one of the best Valentine’s Days you’d ever had, your feelings on the actual holiday notwithstanding. Though you had no idea that there was one surprise left.

When you walked into the bedroom later that night, there were rose petals and hershey kisses scattered on the bed, a full box of your favorite chocolates leaning against your pillow. He must have set it all up when he’d gone to the bathroom earlier. And even though you had already known it all along, you realized just how lucky you were to be with Jim Gordon.

#jim gordon fanfic #jim gordon x reader #jim gordan #gary oldman #valentines day #fluff

[roguegambitweek]

Rogue/Gambit Week 2023

Romy Week 2023

The results are in. Votes have been tabulated and the prompts assigned. Thanks to everyone who voted!

And now, here’s what you’ve been waiting for. The themes for Rogue/Gambit Week 2023 are…

Creative Prompts

Day 1 - Sunday, February 26th -  Battle Couple | Only One Bed

Day 2 - Monday, February 27th -  Cats | Arranged Marriage

Day 3 - Tuesday, February 28th - Family Dinner | Flirting

Day 4 - Wednesday, March 1st - Rogue messing with friends after she got her powers under control, but they don’t know it yet | Murder Mystery

Day 5 - Thursday, March 2nd - First Child | Fake Dating

Day 6 - Friday, March 3rd -  Valle Soleada | Enemies to Lovers

Day 7 - Saturday, March 4th - Golden Anniversary | Free Day

Fandom Prompts

Sunday - What brought you into Romy fandom?

Monday - ‘Their Song’ — What do you think Romy would choose for ‘their song’ and why?

Tuesday - Top Ten List — What’s your Romy top ten? Story arcs, fanfics, moments, lines, costumes, etc.

Wednesday - What is the ‘moment’ which exemplifies Romy for you?

Thursday - FanFic Rec Lists

Friday - For those who have been in fandom since the early days, share your memories—what were the prevalent fan theories, popular fanons, the ‘must read’ fanfics, fandom communities, etc.

Rules:

- This is a celebration of all things Romy! Your fanworks may cover any point of their relationship—from their early flirtations to their life together as an old married couple, from friendship to lovers.

- Rogue and Gambit do not need to be in a romantic relationship (friendship is great too!), but their relationship should be the primary focus.

- Feel free to draw inspiration from any medium which they appeared (the comics, the animated series, the movies, etc.).

- Please tag your posts #rogue/gambitweek2023 or #rogue/remyweek2023 within the first five (5) tags so they can be easily found and re-blogged on the Rogue/Gambit Week blog.

- Fanworks are not limited to fanfic, fanart, and fanedits. However you create, that is also a part of what makes a fanworks week successful. Yes, fic, art, and edits are the most common, but I’ve seen amazing fanworks accomplished in other ways. In our first year a short video was shared concerning what Gambit keeps in his pockets. In another fandom, I’ve seen someone shared why a particular musical score reminded them of the couple. I’ve seen people make text conversations between characters focused around that day’s prompt. Handcrafts, music, photography, cosplay, and countless other creative ventures can also be part of a fanworks week. Have fun creating. Please feel free to share.

- Any NSFW content must be placed under a ‘read more,’ otherwise it will not be re-blogged.

- You don’t need to post something for every day/every prompt Feel free to participate in as many days as you feel inspired. If you have created something, but are unable to post it on the assigned day, please post it when you can. It will still be re-blogged.

- You may combine days (as in cover two or more prompts with the same entry)

- You may have noticed, this year we have 2-3 prompts for each day. You do not need to use all the prompts in your submissions. (Though feel free to combine them if you feel inspired to do so).

A quick reminder, Rogue/Gambit Week takes place February 26-March 4, 2023. If you have any questions, please feel free to send an ask.

Have fun creating!

#rogue/gambitweek2023 #rogue/remyweek2023 #rogue #gambit #romy #anna marie lebeau #remy lebeau #romy week #prompts #fanart #fanfic #fanedits #fandom appreciation

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Writing request thing: Bucky + "friends kiss each other all the time, righr?"

OMG @bolontiku, this prompt grabbed me so hard, and I had so many different scenarios immediately pop into my head. This little shorty was the favourite way I saw this playing out. __________

It was obvious to everyone, except for maybe him, that you were smitten with Bucky Barnes. It didn’t help that he was weirdly affectionate with everyone on the team. With Steve, you got it. They’d been best friends for close to a hundred years. The lack of personal space between them made sense. It did with Natasha too, after all, they had some Red Room history that neither of them spoke about, but somehow had trauma-bonded them. With the rest of you, there were easy touches, affectionate shoulder bumps and sometimes, and this was where it was weird, kisses. Usually just on the forehead. But it seemed strange to you that this formerly-brainwashed murder machine had turned into the unofficial goddamn sunshine officer.

You were flopped on the couch watching the news, feet propped up on an ottoman when he popped over the back of it and flopped down beside you, slung his arm around your shoulder and pulled you close to kiss you on the cheek.

“How was your day, doll?” The low rumble of his voice hit you right in the sweet spot and you thought you might need to bit your tongue lest you moan and lean further into him.

“The usual. Nat beat the crap out of me on the mats, Clint killed me at the range, and I thought Steve was actively trying to kill me when we went on our run. Then I cleaned the table at poker this afternoon, and reminded them it’s my big brain that makes me so important,” you laughed.

“You even beat Tony?”

“I’m thirty-five thousand to the better because he’s too cocky. Might not be a big bet to him, but that’s going to my favourite charity,” you laughed.

“You didn’t consider going on a vacation?” He asked.

“Nah. Don’t have anyone to go with,” you shrugged. He squeezed you close. 

“I’d go with you,” he offered. 

“Yeah, but I want to go on a romantic vacation, with a view of a perfect turquoise beach, where it’s just as easy to lay in bed all day than head to the swim-up bar, and clothing in the room is optional,” you laughed, leaning into him. Bucky leaned away from you and smiled.

“Sounds good. I’m in,” he said, his voice just a shade lower, just a touch rumbly-er. A whole lot sexier.

“Oh but -”

“Sweetheart, I know dating is a lot different now than it was during the ‘30s, but I’m ready to take our relationship to the next step. I’d like to make us a steady thing. This sounds like the perfect opportunity,” he said.

“Oh.” You couldn’t find other words. You blinked and looked at him, and tilted your head, confusion washing over you. “Oh?” It was Bucky’s turn to look confused.

“Sweetheart, we’ve been dating for months now?” He asked.

“We have?” You asked.

“We have a standing Friday date night, we go to the pictures together every Monday. And Taco Tuesday?” He replied.

“Oh my god,” you breathed. You’d been dating your dream man for months and hadn’t noticed? He started laughing and pulled you in to kiss your forehead again.

“I don’t kiss anyone else. Do you?”

“But,” you paused, gaping. “But friends kiss each other all the time, don’t they?”

Bucky let out a loud bark of laughter. “I know I was out of it for a long time, but even I know that friends don’t kiss all the time. Maybe I moved slower than a modern girl like yourself likes,” he chuckled, leaning close enough that you could smell his mint toothpaste. “Maybe I should have done this sooner.” He closed the gap between you and pressed his lips against yours.

__________

@rampant-salamander

[orchidsncrake]

and watch them fall

pairing: joe goldberg/rhys montrose

rating: explicit

tags: au - canon divergence, s4 rewrite, obsession, strangers to lovers, POV Joe Goldberg, murder, bookstore owner Joe Goldberg, Rhys Montrose is a real person, developing relationship, slow build, eventual relationship, eventual smut, tags to be updated

word count: 3,512

chapter 2/?

ao3

A mugging. First, it was a mugging, and now, it was a jealous stalker. Only Malcolm Harding could afford to die twice. Joe squints at the TV critically, eyes trying to bore through the little screen tucked into the corner of the bookstore. The few customers mill about its cramped floor, fingers drifting over books they won’t buy, reading summaries and feigning interest. An older woman – she must be in her 70s – comes up to the counter and sets a cookbook down, then follows Joe’s gaze to the television.

“Could you turn it up, dear?” Joe nods and grabs the remote from beside the register, cranking the volume. The posh English accents bark into the small building, demanding attention.

" ...Police have arrested Maddie Key for the murder of Malcolm Harding, whose body was found in his flat in London on Tuesday. Law enforcement says Key has supplied a confession, claiming that she did not intend to kill Harding, but when he rejected her romantic advances, she flew into a rage. Law enforcement is seeking charges of stalking and murder, but Key’s lawyers are alleged to be pursuing voluntary manslaughter on grounds of insanity. The autopsy puts his time of death sometime late Monday. This story will be updated as law enforcement… ”

The old woman scoffs, and Joe returns the volume to a low murmur as Maddie Key’s mugshots flash across the screen.  She shakes her head and faces Joe as he rings up her book. “Who goes and kills someone they love? Doesn’t make any good sense to me.”

I do. “No sense at all, ma’am.” 

She nods curtly, makes a chuffing sound, and signs the receipt messily. She tucks the cookbook under her arm and looks at the TV on her way out. “Bloody psychos.” The bell chimes, and the woman is gone. Joe signs, fixing his hair momentarily before sliding out from behind the counter. The landline suddenly rings behind him, and he starts, clipping his hip into the counter’s edge in his haste to get to the phone. He hisses a swear, pressing his lips together in annoyance, and picks up.

“Subtexts, this is John speaking. How may I help you?”

“Oh, lovely. May I speak to the owner?” A feminine voice chimes loudly, making Joe recoil for a moment. He clears his voice and straightens his posture uselessly.

“Speaking.”

“Perfect!” She bubbles. “My name is Irene Crosby. I’m the PR representative for Mr. Rhys Montrose, I’m sure you’ve heard of him.” She pauses, expecting some sort of fawning and only getting shocked silence. “Well, Mr. Montrose is set to go on a second tour for his memoir since the first was such a hit, and I’m looking to connect a bit more with the common people of London for this one.” Real nice, lady. “And Mr. Montrose visited your bookstore a couple days ago and raved about how… quaint it was! Now, I’d like to offer you the honor of hosting a meet-and-greet for London’s next mayor in your very own bookstore!”

Joe stares at the phone. This woman works for Rhys fucking Montrose. The man he assumed he’d never see again because, hello, why would he?  He’s tempted to say no just because of her pretentious attitude or maybe go full American and hang up without another word, but he doesn’t. In his hand sits his connection to Rhys. Rhys wants to visit him. Or his bookstore, at the very least, which is still something. Still – would it be beyond stupid to accept and welcome him back here? What if he makes a fool of himself? Would it be even worse to decline? He doesn’t even want to imagine the impression that would give, especially if Rhys runs and gets elected. Then he’s just the guy who told the mayor to fuck off and hold his meeting elsewhere. He clears his throat and pinches the bridge of his nose, forcing his foot to stop tapping.

“When would this be?” He asks, trying to sound more rational than he feels.

“Oh, well, let’s see. It’s the 24th, and the tour is going until the 15th of next month… so, how about Saturday?”

Joe pulls the phone away from his ear to stare judgmentally. He smiles apologetically at a customer when they give him a look. “As in this Saturday?” “Yes, this Saturday. How does that sound?”

“Impromptu,” he blurts. The line goes silent for a long moment.

“Yes, well, you see,” Irene starts nervously. “Oh, alright. Mr. Montrose’s second tour has already commenced, and he wants to add your bookstore as a last-minute venue. This of it as an encore. He said the atmosphere would be charming for a smaller event, as he quickly tires of the extravagant panels.” She pauses for a moment. “So, what do you think?”

He should decline. Hosting a last-minute PR event for one of London's most famous men is a bad idea from every technical standpoint he can imagine. The store is too small, and there isn’t any seating other than some library-style tables and chairs in the back. Never mind the fact that Rhys is, all things considered, a complete stranger. Who sics their PR manager on a bookstore clerk they met once a couple of days ago? Crazy people, that’s who.

Still, is it not flattering to have made a good enough impression to get this opportunity? It’s a compliment, really, and a huge one at that. It’d be rude to decline. If it goes well, he may even be able to buy some armchairs for the store through publicity and increased sales. It’s practical. “What do I need to do to prepare?” Lunatic. 

“Oh, wonderful, Joe!” He cringes at the name but quickly reasons it as a misstep on Irene’s part. No deeper meaning, just a reckless disregard for the most basic information about a person she called. Next, he’ll probably be Jim. “I’ll send over a folder. What’s your email?” He rattles off the handle to her, listening to the smashing of keys in the background. One loud click and the noise stops. “Perfect! Please contact me if you have any questions. Mr. Montrose will be thrilled!” Joe opens his mouth to wish her goodbye or thank her for the opportunity, maybe even suggest a Xanax, but the line goes dead. He sighs, sets the phone in its base, and looks over the counter. The same customer squints at him suspiciously and then looks at the phone. 

“Witness protection,” he says before he can catch himself. The customer only grins, and Joe smiles back faintly. God bless cultural sarcasm. 

***

The clocks are really starting to piss him off. He stares at the ceiling, listening to the soft hum of the occasional car driving by his apartment. Going postal with a hammer on everything ticking in his apartment seems increasingly rational. He rolls over to look at his alarm clock – digital and silent, thank god – and groans. 4am. What an awful time of night. The only people awake now are petty criminals, insomniacs, and bookstore owners obsessing over the potential next mayor. He feels ridiculous even as his mind whirs, throwing imagined images of and conversations with Rhys at him. He knows it’s absurd, and yet he can’t sleep to stop it. Sleeping means closing his eyes, and closing his eyes means being greeted with an absurdly charismatic smile and gunmetal blue eyes. He shouldn’t even know how to imagine his face with such detail, but the television is constantly streaming an interview with him or showing off pictures of his stupid fucking face. Or maybe he’s constantly watching that one news channel and hasn’t changed it in a week. Either or.

He swears and rolls onto his back again, blinking at the ceiling. The irrational anger part of sleeplessness is beginning to kick in, making his skin feel too tight. His own breathing pisses him off. He squirms a bit and lays his hand over his abdomen limply, the other pressing against his eyes. Why had Rhys sent his hyperactive flying monkey on him? And complimented its ‘ambiance’ of all things. As much as he loves it, the only time the media would praise his bookstore would be in retrospect once it’d burnt down. Oh yes, such a lovely little place with its lack of floor space and suffocatingly tall shelves. Such a shame it’s all ashes now. Now, onto Jack with the weather. 

It had to have been to see him, hadn’t it? Joe thrashes out with his foot, tugging his comforters to one side, and removes his hand from his face. He knows he has a certain tendency for presumption, but he can’t discern any other reasoning. London is full of bookstores with nicer atmospheres and more reliant HVAC systems – so why his? He can’t imagine he’d charmed Rhys to that degree or even charmed him at all. Joe’d felt like the one on his back foot when they’d met, vulnerable to the flurry of unfailing comebacks and the smile that reached his eyes. He wonders if Rhys is always that lighthearted, or was it just for his public image? He clearly cared about it, if his attire was anything to go by. He had only been wearing a sweater and slacks, an admittedly casual outfit, but they had been noticeably well-fitting. A tailor, then? However, Joe doubts all the credit is due to the clothing. He’d read from some particularly invasive article that Rhys follows a strict workout routine, including but not limited to calisthenics and ungodly amounts of cardio. That has to do the body good–

Oh, what the fuck? 

That’s… new. Not entirely welcome, either. Joe yanks his hand back from where it’d been creeping down his abdomen and stuffs it under his leg as if it needs to be restrained. As if it’s not part of him. He stares at himself incredulously, shocked by his own train of thought. He shifts and realizes, mortified, that he’s half hard. What is that about? He – he doesn’t like men. Even when Cary, who is objectively the prime specimen of masculinity, had stood in front of him jerking off (a memory that softens him a bit, thankfully), he’d felt nothing but uncomfortable. Why is it now that he’s fantasizing about another man’s body? It wasn’t really fantasizing, was it? Can’t a guy just idly wonder about another’s workout routine? Sure, but you can’t then wonder what he looks like naked and try to jack off about it.

Joe groans, throws the comforters back impatiently, and sits up, running a hand through his hair. 4:30 am. His socked feet thud dully on the floor as he pads to the bathroom, almost making the mistake of turning the light on. He yanks his hand back, not wanting to be flashbanged. He pisses quickly, happy for once that his hamster-wheel of a brain is a turn-off, washes his hands, and wipes them on his sweats. Joe freezes a step out of the doorway. A dark figure ducks out of his periphery, and his head is consumed by his own heartbeat. Had he left the door open?

No, of course not. He’s better than that. Still, as he slides down the hall quietly, he tests the knob. Still locked. He’s not hallucinating, is he? He’s unsure if he’d rather have that or someone in his apartment. Reaching the junction between the hall and the living room, he cranes his head in, half expecting to be hit from behind. It doesn’t happen, and air rushes from his lungs in relief. Emboldened, he scans the entire room and decides it’s empty. As he turns back to the bedroom, the wind whips into his apartment. He furrows his brows and returns to find a window open a few inches. Confused, he shuts it firmly and locks it. Odd

That handled, he pads back and crawls into bed, turning his alarm clock to face the wall. His pillow is warm, and he flips it and smashes his face into it. It strikes him for the umpteenth time how ridiculous it is that to fall asleep, you have to mimic it when the last thing he wants to do right now is lay motionless and control his breathing. The strife of being alive, he supposes. He doesn’t know what time it is when he finally falls asleep, but the last thing he registers is the tweeting of a bird and the flash of rage that goes with it.

***

The email from [email protected] (how much did she have to pay to get that handle?) arrives promptly in his inbox at 8am. Joe’s phone dings where it sits on the counter as he makes coffee, and he reaches for it, browsing through the slew of PDFs and links attached. He would think he’s being visited by the queen with how exhaustive it all is. The message of each is essentially the same: don’t ask for personal photographs, no recording, and don’t tell your friends. He half expects to find a DNR at the bottom of the list, but he doesn’t. Joe’s phone returns to the counter when the coffee maker bubbles loudly, going about preparing a mug and pulling out the creamer. The kitchen reeks of cheap coffee, but it’s welcome. White blooms up from the mug’s bottom as he sweetens it, then returns everything to its rightful place and settles at his dining table. 

He reads the lists carefully on his laptop and finds that most of what he’s instructed to do is clean. While vaguely offensive because it presumes that he doesn’t ordinarily clean, it is easy enough. He’s to close the bookstore all day Saturday, and the event will start at 11am. The PR team will arrive at 9am, and Rhys himself will be at 10am. It runs until 4pm, leaving an hour after for the unofficial signing session (presumably to affluent customers who have enough money to presume time doesn’t apply to them; evidently, it doesn’t). Another hour after that is allotted to disassembling whatever decorative banners and balloon nonsense the PR team will desecrate his bookstore with. That means eight hours of Rhys in his bookstore, and even the presumed presence of Irene the Hurricane can’t dispirit Joe.

He’s suddenly acutely concerned about what he’ll wear. He wrinkles his nose as he sips his coffee, disgusted at himself. He’s thinking like a teenage girl, but he wants to be presentable for the event. Isn’t that reasonable? A possible mayoral candidate is going to be in his store, and it’s an excellent opportunity for publicity for Rhys and Subtexts, and it’s only reasonable to look good when he knows there’ll be cameras–

Fuck! Cameras! How could he have been so stupid? He can’t be surrounded by cameras; he’s supposed to be dead. While highly effective in obscuring his face, the beard isn’t cover enough, especially when he’s going to be in close quarters with the literal press. And he didn’t exactly ‘die’ under unassuming circumstances. He doesn’t have the luxury of melting into the muddled group of the nameless dead. He sets his mug down and scrubs his hands over his face, eyes darting to his phone. He could cancel. He could call Irene, curtly call everything off, and then hang up before she tries to convince him otherwise. But what would Rhys think? 

He can’t think about Rhys right now. He needs to do the reasonable thing and continue disappearing into London. Oh god, what if someone recognizes him in the back of a photo, and it gets back to the States? He’d have to run again to some even less favorable corner of the world. What if he had to hurt someone to get away? That’s precisely the last thing he wants, and he’d have to uproot his life all over. The skin of his face tightens as panic sets in, and he hardly notices that he’s rocking in his chair. His phone screen suddenly jumps to life, ringing deafeningly into the room. He blinks at the name, finding there is none. Just an unknown number. He’s unsure what possesses him, but he lunges for it, fingers fumbling over the screen until he accepts the call.

“Jonathan Moore?” His voice is shakier than he’d like it to be. The voice that hums over the line almost makes him drop his phone.

“John? This is Rhys. Rhys Montrose.” Joe stands up abruptly, almost knocking his chair over. He catches it with a bitten-back curse, then smooths his hair. He can’t think of what to say.

“Oh, Mr. Montrose. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you. I got a call from Ms. Crosby-”

He gets cut off by warm laughter. The sound seeps into his chest, soothing his panic like honeyed tea. He exhales heavily, lets his shoulders droop, and slumps back into his chair. “Please, just call me Rhys,” he says. “Irene told me you agreed to hold the event, and I wanted to call you to thank you myself.”

“Oh–,” Joe starts, then takes a breath again. He just needs to quit panicking; he’s not some prey animal, and Rhys doesn’t bite. “I appreciate that. I was surprised to hear from her.”

“Ah, yes, well, it was admittedly an unusual ask. An impulsive one, at that.” Rhys exhales, sounding timid. Joe cocks his head curiously. “Which is why I was so pleased to hear of your acceptance. I trust you got the email from her this morning?”

“Yes, I did. I’ve been reading through the PDFs, though I’m only part way through.”

Rhys laughs, and Joe can imagine his smile. “To be entirely honest with you, most of them are bullshit.” Joe straightens at Rhys’ swearing. He doesn’t know why he likes it so much. Must be the accent. “It’s all largely bureaucratic and functionally useless. As long as you don’t outright stab me, you should be fine.”

Joe grins, air puffing from his nose. “That’s a pretty low bar to set. What if I had a history of stabbing mayoral candidates?” He knocks his palm into his forehead as he says it. Really?

“I’d still be safe, wouldn’t I? I don’t fit the M.O. quite yet.” Oh, he’s funny now.

Joe taps his forehead a few times, scolding himself. It doesn’t stop him. “I guess you’ll escape the event unscathed.”

Rhys’ voice rumbles with laughter. “From you, at least. Fans can be a bit touchy, but luckily, I have a cockney goon-squad to deal with that.”Goon-squad? “Now, I don’t mean to hold you too long–” Please do. Wait, what? “– so I’ll let you get your day started. Thank you again for accepting. I think it’ll do the book well. I’ll see you Saturday, yeah, John?”

Joe swallows, trying and failing to find a way to extend the conversation. “Yeah, I’ll see you Saturday. Uh, good luck with your ‘goon-squad.’”

Rhys laughs. “I knew I wasn’t going to get away with that.” The call ends.

Joe drops his phone on the table and plants his elbows just to facepalm. Did he just threaten to stab Rhys? He drops his hands and stands up to wash his mug. Mortifying, unintentional threats aside, it had been thoughtful of Rhys to give him a call. Not only thoughtful, but it had dissolved all worry about the event, probably dangerously so. He could dodge a few cameras, couldn’t he? He’s evaded the less-than-rigid line between life and death (at least legally). The English paparazzi are nothing in comparison.

Joe sighs and sets the mug on the drying rack upside down. It had been irrational to panic and even crazier to consider canceling. He can’t do that to Rhys, not when the other had specially requested his bookstore. It would be rude. Worse than that, he’d forfeit a second chance to talk to him. He needs to meet Rhys again. He couldn’t read Rhys as well as he could the others, and the not knowing is killing him. He shakes his head at the grouping; Rhys is not one of them. He’s different. Rhys could be a friend, a confidant – well, maybe not that far. Rhys may be remarkably intelligent even in the first meeting, but he surely wouldn’t be down for befriending a serial killer. No matter how much of a progressive he is.

That settles it, then. Joe’ll clean, help decorate, and hide the corner as the media have their field day. He doesn’t think that’d come off as too weird. What else would a bookstore owner be around a celebrity and his followers but awkwardly-almost-creepily shy and holed up behind the counter? He looks up at the clock; 9am. Picking up his keys, he makes for the apartment door and then locks it behind him. He gazes down the stairs at the wooden floors of his bookstore. Time to clock in, sell books, pretend to care about unprompted personal anecdotes, and not obsess over the fact that Rhys will be back in a matter of days.

#my work #goldrose #joe goldberg #rhys montrose #you netflix #joe x rhys #fanfiction

[absolutebl]

10 BEST Low Heat BLs - Soft & Sweet (Safe to Watch with Parents)

Not sure I am the right one to answer since I'm the opposite of a prude but I'll give it my best shot. Please keep in mind that these are romances, so there will be at least a kiss (in most of them), I'm thinking Disney level, so they might also be okay for kids, but as I always say with kids, you know your kid best, you have to judge what they are okay to watch. 

1. Cherry Magic 

AKA 30 Years of Virginity Can Make You a Wizard AKA 30-sai made Dotei Da to Mahotsukai ni Nareru rashii AKA Cheri Maho

Japan 2020 - CrunchyRoll or Fan Subbed 

The sweetest fluffiest magical realism BL, packaged as a pinning office romance, very low heat (practically chaste) but the cutest. It’s truly great. It’s not in my top 10 of all time list simply because the heat level is too low for me, personally. 

No kisses for the leads, side couple kiss is v dead fish. 

2. Light On Me 

Korea 2021 - Viki 

Korea does an elegant pastiche of traditional live action yaoi but all tropes are cleverly deployed to bolster one of the most riveting love triangles ever put on screen… and I don’t like love triangles. LonM strategically tailors classic BL tropes to 2 different semes resulting in pristine pacing, plot, and character development, explicitly serving narrative a-not just to tick boxes. LoM is a master class in this technique. (If you write fanfic or romance you should study this show.) Full review. 

Very low heat, Korea in peak chaste form (pre their 2022 “oh, boys can kiss” epiphany). But there is dildo humor. 

3. My Love Mix Up 

AKA Vanishing My First Love AKA Kieta Hatsukoi 

Japan 2021 - Viki 

Completely adorable absolute chaos bi disaster muffin falls accidentally and completely in love with his classmate, hijinx and friendship result. What’s great about this BL is that it deals with things like homophobia, asexuality, and one sided affection in an extremely gentle and palatable way. Perhaps sometimes too subtle, but I believe this is a great show for younger audiences, particularly if you want to spark conversations about identity, sexuality, authority, truthfulness, and consent. Oh and it’s funny. 

No kissing at all. 

4. Seven Days: Monday-Thursday & Friday-Sunday

Japan 2015 - grey

Never doubt my ability to recommend this show. One of the best live action yaois ever made, with perfectly structured angst, fantastic characters and acting, and no problematic tropes (rare in Japanese BL). 

The leads have excellent chemistry although it’s low heat there’s still some really cute mutual kisses. 

5. Wish You: Your Melody in My Heart (movie)

Korea 2020 - Viki

Set in the music industry featuring a talented singer and the pianist who falls in love with him (and his music), subtle and achingly adorable. High production, low heat, short run, very tame, and Korea, so more of a western style. It’s not the most logical story though. No coming out, exists in the “Korean BL bubble universe” where everything is just fine and dandy with the gays.

Kisses but they tame and no sexy.

6. He’s Coming To Me 

Thailand 2019 - YouTube

Boy and ghost boy fall in love, must solve ghost’s murder. Peak pining but also pretty tame, features my favorite sweet but important coming out sequence. The third in my precious triumvirate of unbeatable Thai BLs, that are only nominally BL because the story, acting, and production values are so good. (Together with UWMA & 1k*).

One (maybe two) soft romantic kisses. Nothing else possible. 

7. Restart After Come Back Home 

AKA Risutato wa tadaima no ato de 

Japan 2020 - grey

Atmospheric study in rural Japan meets complex family dynamics built on a romance framework of city boy meets country boy, grumpy/sunshine. It’s beautiful and icy sweet. Slow moving in places but ultimately worth the patience. Full review. 

Low heat, low angst, very pretty. 

8. My Ride 

Thailand 2022 - GaGa

Thai BL grew up with this pulp - a truly lovely and special little show featuring the extremely rare pairing of sunshine/sunshine AKA a cinnamon roll couple. Mature explorations of relationships using one of the softest, sweetest and most innocent friends to lovers vehicles. Kindly, overworked doctor meets broken-hearted motorcycle taxi driver in an “other side of the tracks” slow burn romance. The support cast is excellent, making for great friendship groups and family dynamics. With honest queer rep that adds to, but doesn’t impede the story, and genuine conversation about the nature of class, wealth, and classism, not to mention communication, honesty, and respect for boundaries, you can’t go wrong with this show. In other news, I am a sucker for a single dimple. Full review.

One sweet kiss at the end. 

9. Mr. Unlucky Can Only Kiss

AKA Mr. Unlucky Has No Choice but to Kiss! AKA Fukou-kun wa Kiss Suru Shikanai!

Japan 2022 - Viki & GaGa & indie subbed

Mr Chronically Unlucky (another adorable chaos muffin) and Mr Always Lucky end up dating after they meet at uni orientation. It’s JAPAN yet they kissed in the first episode. What freaky alt-reality did I enter into? That’s all they kiss tho, over which I was a touch disappointed. Still I spent far too much of my time with this show biting my knuckles and squealing “THEY’RE SO CUTE!” It is very slapstick Japanese style comedic (light) BL reminds me of Cherry Magic. So if you like that style of BL you’ll adore this show. 

Amusing story: I paused mid the most tooth-achingly adorable first date in the entire universe and Viki was like “something missing?” and I was like “MY HEART YOU BASTARDS” 

One kiss beginning and some shirtless lust. 

10. What Did You Eat Yesterday

AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta?

Japan 2019 - grey  

A not really BL about middle-aged gay couple who live together, one of whom loves to cook and the other who loves to eat. That’s it. That’s all that happens. There’s a bit of coming out drama, but hardly really drama. It’s all very repressed but also incredibly restful and calming. Like classical music.

No kisses, some casual domestic affection. 

Other Options 

A Tale of Thousand Stars (Disney style ultra romantic kissing, implied sex)

La Cuisine (couple soft kisses at end)

Silhouette of Your Voice AKA Hidamari ga Kikoeru AKA I Hear the Sunspot  

Oh Boarding House (kisses are perhaps too good)

Great Men Academy (GREAT but not BL) 

2 Moons original (boring) 

His the series (boring) 

First Love Again (multiple kisses) 

Ingredients (emotional support grocery store commercial) 

Love Class (that plot) 

Tinted With You (historical) 

Nobleman Ryu’s Wedding (historical) 

Behind Cut (confusing) 

Old Fashion Cupcake (but that ONE kiss is a DOOZIE, there’s a lot of thirst in this one)

Others That are (technically) Lower Heat but I’m not sure I’d rec for other reasons 

HIStory My Hero (odd) 

My Dear Loser: Edge of 17 (side couple) 

The Untamed (censored bromance, violence)

Word of Honor (censored bromance, violence)

My Esports Genius Brother (China is so weird around censorship)

Friend Forever (sigh, it could have been good) 

Absolute BL 1 & 2 (parody, not a story) 

DNA Says Love You (very complex, slow start) 

Bad Buddy (bully, forced outing) 

Bite Me (boring af) 

Love Sick (side character issues also v long) 

Nitiman (poor ending)

Given (terrible singing) 

SOTUS (bully) 

2gether (I have issues with Green) 

Mr Heart (stalker) 

Color Rush (suicide) 

Where Your Eyes Linger (whipping boy) 

Puppy Honey (side couple) 

There is A LOT of low heat stuff. It’s way more common than high heat. 

More Like This:

BL series to get my very conservative, very religious mother to watch? (PGish: sweet & clean)

Heat & Angst in BL + Terms Explained 

Why Such A Limited Range of Sex Acts in BL? 

The opposite: HIGH HEAT BL and 11 BLs with the BEST Chemistry  

Recs are dated Aug 2022 no responsible for BLs airing after that date. But please do rec in comments. 

(source)

#low heat #chaste bl #sweet bl #soft bl #Japanese bl #live action yaoi #adapted from a manga #Kinou Nani Tabeta? #What Did You Eat Yesterday #rakutan viki #on viki #GaGaOOLaLa #Fukou-kun wa Kiss Suru Shikanai! #Mr. Unlucky Has No Choice but to Kiss! #Mr. Unlucky Can Only Kiss #Mr Unlucky #Thai BL #My Ride the series #Risutato wa tadaima no ato de #Restart After Come Back Home #romantic bl #He’s Coming To Me #GMMTV #korean bl #KBL #K-BL #Wish You: Your Melody in My Heart #Seven Days #no kissing #Kieta Hatsukoi