#I can’t wait to put them all over my things! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hockeyluvrr · 1 day ago

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BLENDER || lh43

MAIN MASTERLIST

summary: Love was never the problem-but distance, doubt, and heartbreak were. You tried to hold on. So did he. But when love stops being enough, what's left?

based on the song BLENDER by 5SOS

warnings: arguments, emotional tension, swearing, miscommunication, jealousy, confrontation, desperation, uncertainty, breaking up, heartbreak, emotional limbo, unresolved feelings, basically all the basic angst stuff lol

notes: holy shit, this came out of nowhere ngl... this is my longest fic yet and I love it so much. shoutout to my 5sos girlies, this is for you (mostly me though 🤭)

word count: 6,410

The fight had been over for an hour, but your phone was still buzzing.

LUKE: can you just pick up?

LUKE: i don’t want to end the night like this.

LUKE: please.

You stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the notification. Your body still felt tight, wound up from everything you’d just screamed at each other. The distance was getting to both of you. Maybe it had been from the start.

This was supposed to be easy. A summer fling that accidentally turned into more.

You met Luke last July, when the air was thick with humidity and the nights bled into each other without much consequence. You didn’t think twice when it started—just a guy and a girl caught up in something fun, something fleeting.

But then August came, and instead of ending things, you found yourself tangled in his sheets, whispering promises neither of you had planned to make.

So now, months later, you were here—staring at his name on your phone, wondering if loving someone like this was supposed to feel like free-falling with no parachute.

Another buzz.

LUKE: i’m calling.

The screen lit up with his name, and you swore under your breath before finally answering.

“What?”

A beat of silence. Then, his voice—tired, frustrated, but still laced with something soft. “You actually picked up.”

“I figured you weren’t gonna stop until I did,” you muttered, shifting in bed. Your voice came out flat, but you weren’t sure how else to talk to him when your heart was still beating too fast from the argument.

Luke exhaled sharply. “I don’t get why you’re acting like I don’t care.”

“You don’t get it because you’re never here.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, raw and aching.

His silence was louder than the words themselves.

“Y/N…” He sounded exhausted. “You know I can’t just—”

“I know, Luke,” you cut in. “I know you have a career. I know you can’t just drop everything for me. But I’m tired of feeling like I’m the only one trying.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” You sat up, gripping your blanket. “I call. I text. I make time. But when was the last time you put in the effort? When was the last time you planned something instead of just squeezing me in when it was convenient?”

His breath hitched, like he wanted to argue but didn’t have the words.

The silence stretched.

You should’ve let it sit. Let him stew in it. But instead, your voice broke when you whispered, “Do you even miss me, Luke?”

The question must’ve hit him harder than anything else, because when he spoke again, his voice was hoarse. “Are you serious?”

You didn’t answer. You weren’t sure you could.

“Of course I fucking miss you,” he snapped. “Every damn day. But I can’t just—” He cut himself off, cursing under his breath. “I don’t know what you want me to do, Y/N. I can’t fix the distance. I can’t fix my schedule. I can’t—”

“I don’t want you to fix it,” you admitted, voice cracking. “I just want to matter enough for you to try.”

The silence came back, heavier than before.

You closed your eyes. “I can’t do this right now.”

“Wait—”

“I need space, Luke.” Your throat tightened. “Just… goodnight.”

Then, before he could say anything else, you hung up.

You threw your phone onto the nightstand and curled up into yourself, letting the weight of it all crash down.

Outside, the city lights flickered through your window, but they didn’t feel warm. Not tonight.

Not when you weren’t sure if this was just another fight—

Or the beginning of the end.

———

You didn’t sleep.

Not really, anyway. You drifted in and out, your mind replaying every second of last night’s fight, twisting his words in a way that left a hollow ache in your chest.

By the time morning rolled around, your phone was still dark. No texts. No missed calls.

Luke had listened when you said you needed space.

You weren’t sure if that made you feel better or worse.

With a deep sigh, you pushed the blankets off and sat up, rubbing your hands over your face. The apartment was quiet, save for the occasional hum of traffic outside. It felt unnatural, like the silence had taken up permanent residence in your head, stretching far beyond last night.

You hated how much you missed him.

Even now, your body was wired to check your phone first thing in the morning, waiting for one of his lazy, half-awake messages. Morning, pretty girl. Wish you were here. Call me when you wake up.

But today, there was nothing.

It shouldn’t have surprised you. You were the one who ended the call. You were the one who asked for space.

So why did it feel like he was the one pulling away?

With a groan, you flopped back onto the pillows and stared at the ceiling, replaying the fight in your head. Maybe you’d overreacted. Maybe you should’ve let him explain instead of throwing accusations like knives. You knew his schedule was hell. You knew long distance wasn’t easy.

But at the same time… when was the last time he really made you feel like a priority?

Before you could spiral any further, your phone buzzed.

Your heart jumped.

But when you grabbed it, the screen didn’t show Luke’s name.

It was your best friend, Riley.

RILEY: u up? brunch. now. no excuses.

You hesitated. Normally, you’d decline, opting to stay curled up in your thoughts. But today, with the weight of last night still pressing on your chest, you needed the distraction.

YOU: be there in 20.

—

The café was small and familiar, the kind of place you and Riley had claimed as your own years ago. The smell of coffee and syrup hung thick in the air, and the morning crowd buzzed around you.

Riley spotted you before you even reached the table. “Oh, yeah. You look rough.”

You rolled your eyes as you dropped into the seat across from her. “Thanks.”

She pushed a mimosa toward you. “Drink. Then talk.”

You didn’t argue. One sip turned into two, and before you knew it, you were spilling everything—how Luke had called, how you fought, how you hung up first. How he hadn’t texted since.

Riley frowned. “So you told him you needed space, and now you’re mad that he’s giving it to you?”

You groaned, slumping in your seat. “Not when you say it like that.”

“Well, how else am I supposed to say it?” She arched a brow. “Did you expect him to blow up your phone? Show up at your door?”

You hated that you didn’t have a good answer.

Riley sighed, softer this time. “I get it, babe. I do. Long distance sucks. And I know you’re tired of feeling like you’re the only one putting in the effort. But you guys love each other, right?”

Your stomach twisted. Love.

Neither of you had said it yet.

Riley noticed your silence and leaned forward. “Wait. Have you guys even talked about—?”

“No,” you cut in quickly, suddenly regretting this conversation. “It’s not like that.”

She gave you a knowing look but didn’t push. “Okay. So what is it like?”

You exhaled, running a hand through your hair. “It’s…” You struggled for the right words. “It’s messy. It’s intense. It’s too much but never enough at the same time.”

Riley nodded like she understood, even though you weren’t sure you did.

For a second, neither of you spoke. Then, she reached for her phone.

“What are you doing?”

She didn’t answer right away. Then, with a pointed look, she turned the screen toward you.

Luke’s latest Instagram post stared back at you.

Your chest tightened.

It was a photo of him at practice, mid-laugh, sweaty and effortless in a way that made your heart ache. The caption was simple. Back at it.

Nothing dramatic. Nothing emotional.

But all the comments blurred together in your head. Can’t wait to watch you this season! Missed you on the ice! Looking good, Hughesy!

It was a reminder that, while you were sitting here overthinking everything, Luke was out there living.

Like last night never happened.

Like you didn’t happen.

You swallowed hard. “So what? He’s just… moving on?”

Riley gave you a sympathetic look. “Or maybe he’s just waiting. For you to reach out first.”

You stared at the screen, your stomach twisting into knots.

Maybe she was right. Maybe you should text him.

Or maybe the cracks were already too deep to fix.

———

It had been three days.

Three days since the fight. Three days since you hung up on Luke. Three days of absolute silence.

You told yourself you wouldn’t be the one to break first. If he cared, he’d reach out. If he wanted this to work, he’d try.

But every hour that passed without his name lighting up your phone chipped away at your resolve.

You were starting to wonder if maybe this was how it ended—not with a dramatic goodbye, but with a slow, suffocating silence that swallowed you whole.

And yet, even with the weight of it pressing down on your chest, you still couldn’t bring yourself to text him first.

Instead, you did the worst possible thing.

You checked social media.

Luke wasn’t the type to post often, but his teammates were. And there he was—in a video on Jack’s story, laughing in the background, surrounded by friends, a drink in hand like the last three days hadn’t meant anything to him.

You stared at the screen, your grip tightening on your phone.

Maybe this was stupid. Maybe you were reading too much into it.

But the longer you watched, the worse it got.

Because then she appeared.

A girl you didn’t recognise—blonde, wearing a Devils jersey far too oversized to be her own—sidling up next to Luke, whispering something in his ear. He didn’t move away. Didn’t look uncomfortable. Just smirked, shaking his head at whatever she said before taking another sip of his drink.

Your stomach twisted.

The worst part wasn’t the fact that she was there. It wasn’t even the fact that Luke didn’t seem to mind.

It was the fact that, for the first time since you met him, you had no idea where you stood.

You weren’t his girlfriend, not officially.

Not really.

Because when the summer ended, neither of you had wanted to put a label on it. You told yourselves it was easier that way—no pressure, no expectations, just whatever this was.

But now, as you watched him on that screen, looking so effortlessly unbothered, it hit you like a fucking freight train.

Maybe you’d been wrong.

Maybe you weren’t something worth holding on to.

The buzzing in your head was so loud that you almost didn’t hear Riley calling your name.

You blinked, barely processing that she was standing in the doorway of your apartment. “Are you even listening?”

You swallowed hard, locking your phone before she could see the screen. “What?”

She sighed, stepping inside and dropping onto your couch. “I said we’re going out tonight. You need a distraction.”

“I don’t need a distraction,” you muttered, even as you stared blankly at the wall.

Riley rolled her eyes. “Okay, so what? You’re just gonna sit here all night, refreshing Instagram like a psycho?”

Your silence must have been answer enough.

She groaned. “Y/N. Come on. I love you, but this? This isn’t healthy. You don’t even know what’s going on.”

You clenched your jaw. “I know enough.”

She gave you a long look, then sighed. “Fine. If you’re not gonna let it go, then at least don’t let him be the only one having fun tonight.”

You hesitated.

Riley saw the crack in your resolve and jumped on it. “Just a couple drinks. That’s all I’m asking.”

You weren’t sure why you agreed. Maybe it was the fact that you’d barely left your apartment in days. Maybe it was the need to feel something—anything—other than this ache in your chest.

Or maybe, deep down, it was the smallest, most pathetic part of you that wanted Luke to see you moving on, too.

———

The bar was packed. Music pulsed through the speakers, and the air was thick with the smell of alcohol and too many bodies crammed into one space.

It should’ve felt suffocating.

But instead, with a drink in your hand and Riley’s laughter ringing in your ears, you almost managed to forget.

Almost.

At least, until your phone buzzed in your pocket.

You knew who it was before you even checked.

LUKE: are you out?

Your heart nearly stopped. After three days of nothing, this was how he chose to reach out? Not an apology. Not an explanation. Just that.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and typed back before you could think better of it.

YOU: why do you care?

His response was instant.

LUKE: where are you?

You stared at the message, pulse pounding in your ears.

He had no right to be asking that. Not after ignoring you. Not after letting you sit with the weight of this fight while he went out, acting like he didn’t care.

So instead of answering, you did the stupidest thing possible.

You let some guy buy you another drink.

You didn’t know his name. Didn’t care. He was tall, attractive, and most importantly—he wasn’t Luke.

And if you felt the burn of guilt in your chest when he leaned in closer, when his fingers brushed against yours. You shouldn’t even feel guilty, right? Luke’s been doing the same thing.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Until your phone buzzed again.

LUKE: Y/N.

One words. Your name. That’s all it took to make your breath hitch.

Because suddenly, it wasn’t just a fight. It wasn’t just a rough patch.

This was a game.

———

The tension had been simmering all night.

It started with Luke’s text. One simple word that crawled under your skin, wrapping around your ribs like a vice. But what pissed you off the most wasn’t the message itself.

It was the fact that he suddenly cared.

After three days of silence. After her in his Instagram story. After making you feel like you were the only one suffering through this distance.

And now, here he was, acting like he had a say in what you did.

So you ignored the text.

And maybe you let that guy keep flirting with you a little longer than you should have. Maybe you let his hand linger at the small of your back when he leaned in to talk. Maybe you even laughed a little louder, tilted your chin just enough that if Luke somehow saw—if he was watching—he’d know exactly what you were doing.

It was petty. It was reckless.

But so was loving someone who could make you feel this small.

The tension cracked the second you stepped outside the bar.

Luke was waiting.

You nearly tripped when you saw him, heart slamming against your ribs. He was standing near the curb, hands shoved into his hoodie pockets, jaw clenched so tightly it looked like he was trying to grind his teeth into dust.

Your stomach flipped. He was here. He actually came.

But you weren’t sure if that made things better or worse.

His eyes locked onto you immediately, flickering down to the guy who had followed you out. And in that moment, the simmering tension didn’t just build. It exploded.

“The fuck is this?” Luke’s voice was low, controlled—but you knew him well enough to hear the storm brewing beneath it.

You blinked, still caught off guard by the fact that he was here. “What?”

Luke’s jaw tightened. “Who the hell is he?”

The guy next to you—God, you didn’t even remember his name—shifted awkwardly. “Uh—”

“Not your business, Hughes,” you cut in before he could finish.

Luke’s eyes snapped back to you. “Not my business?”

“You heard me.” Your pulse was pounding, but you forced yourself to hold your ground. “You don’t get to disappear for three days and then show up acting like you have any right to be pissed.”

Luke let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “That’s funny, because I could say the same thing. You tell me you need space, ignore me for days, and then I see you all over some guy?”

“I ignored you?” You scoffed, anger bubbling to the surface. “That’s rich, Luke. Where the hell were you? Oh, right—too busy playing NHL golden boy, letting some random girl hang off you—”

“What girl?”

The fact that he had the audacity to act confused made your blood boil. “Don’t play dumb.” You crossed your arms, nails digging into your skin. “The blonde. The one in your jersey.”

Luke stared at you for a moment, then let out another disbelieving laugh. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Dead serious.”

“She’s Jack’s friend. She was at the game. I barely talked to her.” He shook his head, eyes dark with frustration. “Jesus, Y/N. You saw a story and what—just assumed the worst?”

You hated the way your stomach twisted at that.

Because maybe—just maybe—he was right. Maybe you had let jealousy cloud your judgment. Maybe you had let the silence between you turn into something uglier than it was ever meant to be.

But that didn’t change the fact that this wasn’t just about her.

It was about everything.

The late-night calls that were always cut short. The weeks without seeing each other. The way it felt like you were constantly reaching for him while he was always a step too far away.

“You let me assume the worst,” you muttered, voice shaking despite yourself. “Because you never do anything to prove me wrong.”

Luke’s expression flickered—just for a second. And in that second, you saw it. The guilt.

But then, just as quickly, it was gone.

“What do you want me to say, Y/N?” His voice was quieter now, raw around the edges. “That I wish I could be around more? That I fucking hate the distance just as much as you do?” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You act like this is easy for me. Like I don’t miss you every goddamn day.”

Your throat tightened. “Then why don’t you act like it?”

He stared at you, breathing hard, like he was trying to find the right words—but they never came.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it?

There was always so much left unsaid.

Neither of you spoke. The tension that had been simmering all night was now crackling in the air between you, but this time, there was nowhere left for it to go.

The guy you had walked out with cleared his throat. “Uh—”

Luke’s head snapped toward him. “Leave.”

“Luke—”

“No, it’s fine.” The guy held up his hands, clearly deciding that whatever this was, it wasn’t worth the drama. “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

You didn’t watch him leave. You didn’t even care.

Because all of your attention was on Luke.

On the way his shoulders were tense, his fists clenched at his sides, his eyes locked onto yours like this was some kind of battle neither of you knew how to win.

Finally, after what felt like forever, you exhaled. “So what now?”

Luke hesitated.

And that hesitation—that tiny moment of uncertainty—made something inside you crack.

Because if he didn’t know, then maybe you already did.

Maybe you’d known for a while.

Maybe you just hadn’t wanted to say it out loud.

You swallowed hard. “I can’t keep doing this, Luke.”

His face fell.

You regretted the words the second they left your mouth.

I can’t keep doing this, Luke.

Because now they were out there, hanging heavy in the space between you, and you couldn’t take them back.

Luke’s face twisted, like the weight of them had hit him straight in the chest. He shifted slightly, like he wanted to move closer but didn’t know if he was still allowed to. “You don’t mean that.”

Your throat tightened. Didn’t you?

“I don’t know,” you whispered, voice barely audible over the hum of the city around you. “I don’t know what I mean anymore.”

That seemed to snap something in him. His jaw clenched, frustration bleeding into his voice. “So what? You just want to walk away?”

Your stomach twisted. That wasn’t what you wanted—not really. But maybe it would be easier. Maybe it would hurt less than this constant, suffocating ache in your chest.

“I don’t want to,” you admitted, voice cracking. “But, Luke… I don’t know how to keep this from falling apart.”

He exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. “Then we figure it out.”

You let out a hollow laugh. “And how do we do that? Because I’m fucking exhausted. I’m tired of feeling like I’m the only one fighting for this.”

That made something flicker in his expression—something wounded. “That’s not fair.”

You scoffed. “Isn’t it?”

His eyes darkened. “You think I don’t fight for this? You think I don’t want to be with you?”

“I think you want me when it’s convenient.” The words came out sharper than you intended, but you didn’t take them back. “When you have time. When it doesn’t get in the way of your schedule.”

Luke took a step closer, shaking his head. “That’s bullshit.”

“Is it?” You could feel your control slipping, the frustration bubbling over. “Because I spend every day waiting for you to call, waiting for you to show up—and half the time, I’m left wondering if you even remember I exist.”

Luke’s brows furrowed, his expression torn between anger and something softer, something that looked like guilt.

“You don’t get it,” he muttered, voice tight. “You have no fucking clue how hard this is for me too.”

“Then tell me.” Your voice cracked, raw and desperate. “Because all I know is that I feel like I’m constantly reaching for you, and you’re never there.”

Luke let out a frustrated breath, his hands flexing like he didn’t know what to do with them. “I don’t know how to do this, okay? I don’t know how to give you everything you deserve while I’m a thousand miles away.”

Your chest ached at the confession, at the vulnerability underneath the frustration. But it didn’t change anything.

“I’m not asking for everything, Luke.” Your voice softened just slightly. “I’m just asking for something.”

Luke shook his head, exhaling sharply. “I—fuck.” He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, like he was trying to pull himself together. “I don’t know how to fix this, but I can’t lose you.”

Your heart clenched.

Because that was the problem, wasn’t it?

Neither of you knew how to fix it. But neither of you could bear the thought of letting go.

Luke’s gaze searched yours, desperate and pleading. “Tell me what to do.”

Your throat felt tight. “I don’t have the answer.”

For a second, neither of you spoke. The tension was suffocating, your emotions teetering on a knife’s edge.

Then, suddenly, Luke moved.

He reached for you like it was instinct, his hands cupping your face, his forehead pressing against yours. His breath was shaky, his grip almost too tight—like he was afraid you’d slip right through his fingers.

“I love you.” The words were barely above a whisper, but they hit you like a punch to the chest.

Your breath hitched.

Because he’d never said it before. Neither of you had.

You felt your resolve cracking, splintering under the weight of those three words.

But love wasn’t always enough.

And as much as you wanted to believe this was the turning point—the moment everything changed—you weren’t sure if this was a beginning or just the messiest part of the end.

Because Luke had never said those words before.

And you’d spent so long wondering if he ever would—if he ever could.

Now, here they were, hanging in the air between you like a lifeline you weren’t sure you could reach for.

I love you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling the way his hands trembled against your skin. He was holding you so tightly, like he thought you might slip through his fingers if he let go.

And maybe he was right.

Because as much as you wanted to say it back—as much as you felt it—you weren’t sure love was enough to fix this.

Your throat felt tight. “Luke…”

He shook his head quickly, like he already knew what you were going to say. “Don’t. Just—don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

Your heart twisted. “I do mean it.”

Luke’s breath hitched, but before he could say anything, you continued.

“I love you, Luke.” The words tasted like the truth, and you hated how much it hurt to say them. “But I don’t know if that changes anything.”

Luke exhaled sharply, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes were desperate, searching. “Of course it changes things.”

You swallowed hard. “Does it?”

He blinked, like he hadn’t expected you to ask that. “It has to.”

Your chest ached. Because you wanted to believe that. You wanted to believe that loving each other was enough to make the distance bearable, to make the jealousy fade, to make the ache in your chest disappear every time he left.

But love wasn’t a bandage. It didn’t erase the late nights spent staring at your phone, wondering if he’d call. It didn’t undo the fights, the silences, the way you felt like you were constantly fighting a battle you didn’t know how to win.

Luke must have seen the hesitation on your face because his grip tightened. “Y/N, I need you to tell me what to do here.” His voice was quiet, but it was raw, edged with frustration and fear. “Because I don’t want to lose you, but I don’t know how to make this work.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know either.”

And that was the problem, wasn’t it?

Neither of you had the answers.

You loved him, and he loved you. But love alone wasn’t fixing anything.

Luke clenched his jaw. “So what? We just give up?”

You inhaled sharply. “I don’t want to.”

“Then don’t,” he pleaded. “Stay.”

Your heart cracked straight down the middle.

Because God, you wanted to stay. You wanted to hold onto him and pretend like love was enough. You wanted to ignore the distance, the fights, the uncertainty.

But how much longer could you keep pretending that love was enough to stop this from falling apart?

Tears burned at the back of your eyes. “Luke, I don’t know how to keep doing this.”

His expression twisted, something breaking in his gaze.

Neither of you spoke for a long moment.

The silence felt heavier than ever before. Stretching between you, thick and suffocating.

Luke’s hands were still on you, but his grip had loosened—like he knew, deep down, that he couldn’t hold on forever.

But neither of you were ready to say it out loud.

Not yet.

“I can do better,” he said suddenly, voice hoarse. “I’ll—fuck, I’ll make more time. I’ll fly out every chance I get. I’ll call more. Whatever you need.”

Your chest ached at the desperation in his voice.

Because he meant it. You knew he did.

But the problem was never him meaning it.

The problem was reality—the way life always seemed to get in the way, no matter how much either of you wanted to pretend otherwise.

You swallowed hard. “Luke…”

“Just give me a chance,” he pleaded. “One more chance to make this work.”

You hated how badly you wanted to say yes.

Because you did. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that one more try would be enough. That if you just held on a little longer, fought a little harder, things would get easier.

But history had already proven otherwise.

Still, when you looked at him—at the raw emotion in his eyes, the way he looked at you like you were slipping through his fingers—you couldn’t bring yourself to say no.

Not yet.

You exhaled shakily. “Okay.”

Luke’s shoulders sagged with relief, and before you could second-guess it, he was pulling you against him. His arms wrapped around you tightly, his face buried in your hair, like he was trying to memorise the feel of you against him.

“I love you,” he murmured again, like saying it enough times would make everything okay.

You squeezed your eyes shut, gripping the back of his hoodie like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

“I love you too,” you whispered.

And you did.

But deep down, you had a sinking feeling that love wouldn’t be enough to save you.

Not this time.

———

You should’ve known it wouldn’t last.

For a little while, it almost felt like things were okay. Luke called more, sent you stupid texts throughout the day, made an effort to remind you that he wanted this, that he wanted you.

And maybe that should’ve been enough.

But it wasn’t.

Because even when he was trying—when he was doing everything he promised he would—the ache in your chest never really went away.

It wasn’t just the distance. It was the exhaustion. The weight of trying so hard, only to feel like you were running in circles.

Like you were holding onto something that was already slipping through the cracks.

And now, standing in his apartment, you felt the final thread start to snap.

Luke was frustrated. You could see it in the way he raked a hand through his hair, in the way his jaw kept clenching like he was trying to hold something back.

“Jesus, Y/N, what else do you want me to do?” His voice wasn’t raised, but it was edged with something sharp, something tired. “I’m trying. I’m here. What more do you want?”

You exhaled shakily, heart pounding against your ribs. “I don’t know.”

Luke let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You have to know. Because I can’t keep guessing what’s going to make you happy.”

Your stomach twisted. “This isn’t just about me.”

“No? Because it sure as hell feels like I’m the only one bending over backward to make this work.”

That stung.

Because you had been trying. You had been fighting for this.

But maybe that was the difference.

Luke thought fixing this was about doing things—calling more, texting more, showing up when he could. And sure, those things mattered. But that wasn’t what was breaking you.

It was everything in between.

The distance that couldn’t be closed by a few extra phone calls. The silence that still felt heavy, even when you were together. The way you still felt alone, even in the moments he was right in front of you.

It wasn’t about effort anymore. It was about the fact that maybe—just maybe—you weren’t supposed to keep fighting for something that hurt this much.

Your throat felt tight. “I don’t think we can fix this.”

Luke froze.

For a second, neither of you spoke.

Then, his expression hardened. “So that’s it?”

Your chest ached. “Luke—”

“No, seriously. That’s it?” He let out a sharp breath, stepping back like he couldn’t stand being this close to you anymore. “We hit a rough patch, and you just decide it’s not worth it?”

Tears burned at the back of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “This isn’t just a rough patch.” Your voice wavered. “We’ve been fighting for months. We keep trying, and it’s not working.”

Luke shook his head, eyes dark with frustration. “No. You keep doubting us. You keep looking for an excuse to leave.”

That felt like a slap.

“Do you think this is easy for me?” Your voice cracked. “Do you think I want to feel like this? To feel like I’m constantly begging for something that’s never enough?”

Luke’s expression flickered—like maybe, just maybe, he finally saw how much this had been hurting you.

But the worst part?

You knew it was hurting him too.

That was what made this so fucking unbearable.

Because this wasn’t about not loving each other.

It was about the fact that love had stopped being enough.

Luke’s hands flexed at his sides, like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if he should. His voice was quieter when he spoke again, but it still felt like a punch to the gut.

“You really want to do this?”

No.

God, no.

But what choice did you have?

Your chest felt like it was caving in, but you forced yourself to nod. “Yeah.”

Luke inhaled sharply, like he’d been punched.

And just like that, it was over.

The fight drained out of him all at once. His shoulders slumped, his eyes flickering toward the floor. “Okay.”

You weren’t sure which hurt more—the frustration, the fighting, or this.

The emptiness.

The realisation that there was nothing left to say.

You swallowed past the lump in your throat. “I should go.”

Luke didn’t stop you.

And somehow, that was the worst part of all.

———

The apartment felt too quiet.

Your suitcase sat half-open by the door, clothes spilling out of it. You hadn’t unpacked since you got back a week ago, pathetically trying to cling onto something you weren’t ready to let go of.

But what was left to stay for?

Your hands shook as you opened it further, starting to finally unpack. Your chest felt hollow, like the fight had carved out a part of you that you weren’t sure would ever feel whole again.

You had been the one to walk away.

So why did it feel like you had just lost everything?

You had told yourself that this was the right decision. That love—no matter how deep, no matter how real—wasn’t always enough. That some things just didn’t work, no matter how badly you wanted them to.

But God, it hurt.

Your phone sat on the bedside table, untouched since you got back to your apartment.

Luke hadn’t called.

And you weren’t sure what hurt more—the idea that he was too angry to reach out, or the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he had already accepted this.

That he was ready to let you go.

You weren’t sure you were ready to let go of him.

But you had already done the hardest part. You had walked out of his apartment, out of his life.

Now, you just had to figure out how to live with it.

———

The silence in the apartment was unbearable.

Luke had never noticed how loud it was when you were here—the hum of your voice on the phone, the sound of your laugh echoing from the other room, the way you always seemed to fill the space in a way he never had.

Now, it was just quiet.

And he fucking hated it.

His hands flexed at his sides as he paced the living room, jaw clenched so tightly it hurt.

You were gone.

And it wasn’t a stupid fight. It wasn’t a rough patch.

This time, you weren’t coming back.

Luke had thought about calling you. Had stared at his phone for so long that his vision blurred, the screen taunting him with your name.

But what would he even say?

That he was sorry? That he still loved you? That he wanted to take it all back, but he knew deep down that nothing had changed?

That no matter how much he wanted to fix this, some things just weren’t meant to be fixed?

Luke sat down heavily on the couch, staring at the door like he half expected you to walk back in.

But you wouldn’t.

And he wasn’t sure how to live with that.

———

Time was supposed to make this easier.

That’s what everyone told you. That eventually, the ache in your chest would dull, and one day you’d wake up without the weight of him pressing against your ribs.

But weeks had passed. Then months.

And Luke still felt like a ghost in your life.

He was everywhere and nowhere all at once. In the song that played in the coffee shop, in the hoodie still shoved in the back of your closet because you couldn’t bring yourself to throw it away. In the fleeting moments when you reached for your phone before remembering that he wasn’t yours to call anymore.

You had moved on, technically. You did all the things you were supposed to do—went out with friends, filled your days with distractions, pretended like the hole in your chest wasn’t still there.

But every time you saw his name in a headline, every time you heard his voice in an interview, it hit you like a punch to the gut.

Because you still missed him.

And no matter how much time passed, you weren’t sure you’d ever stop.

———

He didn’t talk about you.

Not to his teammates, not to his family, not even when Jack asked in that quiet, careful way that made Luke’s jaw tighten.

Because if he didn’t talk about you, maybe he could pretend like he wasn’t still thinking about you.

Like he didn’t check his phone some nights, scrolling mindlessly, hoping to see your name somewhere even though he knew he wouldn’t.

Like he didn’t still hear your voice in the back of his head sometimes, teasing him, laughing, telling him you loved him.

It was pathetic, probably. Holding onto something that was already gone.

But Luke had never been good at letting go.

He threw himself into hockey. Into practices, games, anything that kept him too exhausted to think about the way his apartment still felt empty without you.

But some nights, when the adrenaline faded and the silence crept in, he wondered.

If you still thought about him. If you still missed him the way he missed you.

If this was really over.

Or if maybe, just maybe, it never really would be.

#luke hughes angst #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes fic #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes #lhughes #lh43 #new jersey devils #nj devils #devils hockey #hockeyluvrr

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lightlycareless · 1 day ago

Text

just had to get it out of my system 2.0

warnings: none too grave. naoya unintentionally makes you feel insecure about your weight.

Naoya, the I’ve never had an official girlfriend before so I gotta make the best of it, deciding to show off his muscles by carrying you.

Naoya, the doesn’t know how to shut up not even for his own good, unsurprisingly ends up saying insensitive things to you when realizing he can’t carry you as effortlessly as he wanted—and if that wasn’t enough, he also had to be quite dramatic about it.

“Oh, Y/N—! You really have to lay off the mochi!” He jests, finding no unwarranted cruelty behind his words nor the hurt in your eyes as he continued to tease you. “You’re quite heavy—"

Naoya, whom even after you manage to jump down from his grasp and storm away, doesn’t find anything wrong with his actions. His words hadn’t come from genuine malice, after all.

But it’s not until the love-deprived Naoya, the one that quickly had come to realize he couldn’t live without you after seeing you for the first time, suffering the greatest of tortures at your persistent silence, that he finally realizes his mistakes.

That, alongside the consistent threats from your siblings, who were just waiting the slightest mishap on his part to prove their accusations, pushed him to do so.

However, Naoya didn’t even give them chance to retaliate, swiftly showering you with gifts to showcase how regretful he was—and how it was ok for you to indulge in the mochi you’ve dejectedly avoided since then.

And, of course, making it his personal challenge to demonstrate you weren’t too heavy, but rather, he was too weak.

How he managed to do such feat in such little time only serves to refute the misconceptions your siblings and friends had of him (or more like no longer applied) and once more show how utterly devoted, he was to make you happy.

“I need you to help me with something.” Naoya suddenly says, his request, while bold, doesn’t startle you.

“Hm? What is it?” you ask. “Is it paperwork again?”

“No, nothing like that. Just… stay there and—” with one swift movement, Naoya lifts you up, making you squeal and instinctively hold onto his shoulders, a combination of fear and shame envelopes you soon enough where you’re begging him to put you down.

“Please, just—let me go!” but he remains, only to continue surprising you upon realizing he wasn’t carrying you with both his arms, but rather… just one.

It’s confusing to you, to say the least; you didn’t know whether to indulge in your shock and gush at his undeniable improvement— or wonder why he insisted, after all, didn’t he label this endeavor agonizing to perform…?

Naoya wins you to it, however. Concern was written all over your face, there was no way he couldn’t point it out.

“You should know by now that I never back up from a challenge.”

“I didn’t know carrying me was a challenge…” you pout. “Seemed like punishment.”

“Oh, princess, having you like this can only be a pleasure.”

“Alright, alright!” you fluster, urging him again to put you down before a crowd gathers. “If you wanted to show off there were a million other ways to do so… instead of calling me fat and then working out to prove yourself wrong.”

“Fat? I never called you fat.” Per usual Naoya fashion, he would attempt to gaslight you and act as if that sensible moment had been nothing but a figment of your imagination, or, in this case, a misunderstanding. “I meant to say that’s how I get whenever I see you.”

“What? What do you mean that’s how you get? How can you get fat—” the understanding of his subtly crude words suddenly hits you, making the redness in your face burn even brighter as you decisively fight against his hold, just to avoid the embarrassment. “Oh, my god… You’re gross!!”

“Well, you can get as angry as you want, still doesn’t lessen the truth.”

“…When are you ever going to stop being gross?”

For someone like Naoya, you might as well be requesting the impossible.

But who are you kidding? It wouldn’t exactly be your Naoya if you asked him to be literally anything else but his genuine self.

And you’re not that far off either when it comes to perversions, he’d come to learn delightfully so in due time—but that’s a story for another time 😊

he didn't see anything wrong with his words at first until he heard someone (like one of his friends or relatives) say the same thing towards you and THEN was he like UH NO.

#naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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solarmorrigan · 2 days ago

Note

3 & 4 steddie? I love everyone's takes on eddie interacting with steve after the halloween party in s2💛

So! A thing about me is that I'm actually not always comfortable writing about drinking. The "why" of it is kind of a moving target, and I really should have just nixed "drunk" as an option in the tags, so that's my bad D: But! I think I got the rest of your prompt in pretty alright??

4. Cry - Eddie &/ Steve

Eddie had only been looking for a quiet place to smoke. Business is great at parties like this, but sometimes he needs a break from all the hubbub. The backyard had been milling with people, but as Eddie had trailed out towards the edge of the property, close to the tree line of the woods behind the house, the crowds had dwindled to nothing, leaving undisturbed peace in their wake.

At least, Eddie had thought so.

It takes a minute for him to notice the new noise – the soft, inconsistent huffs of air working counter to the sound of the whispering breeze. It’s the sound of someone gasping, he realizes, cold anxiety beginning to pool in his gut.

Is someone hurt? Had some drunken idiot wandered out back here, maybe fallen or run into a tree and injured themselves? Were they too hurt to get back up? But, no – as Eddie gets closer to the source of the noise, it becomes clear it isn’t pained gasping, it’s the hitched-breath sound of sobbing.

And just as he starts to think maybe he should just give this person their privacy, let them have a good cry in peace like they clearly intended, he rounds a tree and sees exactly who it is that’s come out into the woods in their lament.

He can’t see the face, but even in the half-light spilling out from the house, the head of hair is unmistakable: Eddie’s just crashed Steve Harrington’s private backwoods breakdown.

For a moment, Eddie is frozen, unsure of what to do. He feels a little like Actaeon stumbling across Diana bathing in the forest, and at any moment he’s going to be turned into a stag for witnessing something he shouldn’t have (and take that, Mrs. Davis – he does pay attention in English class. To the cool parts, at least). Except it doesn’t seem like Steve has noticed him yet, still wrapped up in whatever’s got him miserable, so maybe Eddie can just make a clean getaway? Pretend none of this ever happened?

Intending to do just that, he takes one careful step back and puts his foot down directly on what is apparently the loudest twig in existence. The crack of it rings out like an alarm, and Steve’s head snaps up, his cheeks shining wet in the low light, glancing around frantically until his eyes land on Eddie.

“Uh,” Eddie says, raising one careful hand in greeting. “Hey.”

That seems to knock Steve back into action. He swears, reaching up to wipe roughly at his face, running a hand through his hair, probably trying desperately to look like he hadn’t just been crying. Eddie figures he should probably let him, give him some plausible deniability, pretend he hadn’t been able to see anything in the dark, that he hadn’t heard anything at all. Except now that he’s here, Eddie finds he can’t quite leave well enough alone. He’s curious.

And maybe he feels a little bad for the guy. Just a little. He looks sort of devastated from where Eddie is standing, eyes wide and wet, cheeks red, hair disheveled (but still goddamn pretty. How is that even fair?).

“You, uh… You okay?” Eddie tries, feeling a little lame in the attempt.

“Yeah,” Steve snaps, running a hand down over his face again. “I’m fine.”

Clearly.

“Did you come here with someone?” Eddie asks. “Like… someone I can go get?”

“What? I’m not drunk or anything, man, I’m fine,” Steve huffs, leaning back against the tree he’d been half-hidden behind, shoulders still slumped.

“No, yeah, I just – like, whatever’s going on with you, I figured maybe a friend would be… better,” Eddie says, waving a hand vaguely at Steve, who scoffs at him. “Wait– Wheeler. You came with her, didn’t you?”

That doesn’t get an answer – not a verbal one, anyway. All Steve does is sniffle and glance away.

“Ah,” Eddie finds himself nodding, speaking before he can stop himself, “trouble in paradise?”

Steve scoffs again. “You know what?” he asks harshly. “When your girlfriend says you’re bullshit, and that your love is bullshit, and blames you for her friend dying, you start to think that maybe there was no paradise to begin with.”

Eddie blinks. That’s a lot to process. “I thought Holland ran away?” he asks after a moment, because apparently that’s the thing to focus on.

“Right. Ran away,” Steve spits out, and that’s – hm.

What do you know that I don’t, Steve Harrington? Eddie wonders.

He doesn’t ask, of course, because nosy as he is, Eddie also has a healthily developed sense of self preservation, and this seems like the sort of thing he shouldn’t be prying into.

“That’s kinda fucked up, man,” he says instead. “She seriously accuse you of that?”

Steve shrugs, says nothing, but still looks miserable enough that Eddie would believe it. Whatever went down between Steve and Nancy had clearly been a hell of a mess. He isn’t entirely sure why he cares (his persistent soft spot for strays is honestly a bitch sometimes), but he finds he doesn’t want to leave Steve like this, depressed and alone in the woods on Halloween.

He reaches into his jacket pocket and withdraws his pack of cigarettes, shaking two out into his hand. Steve tenses when Eddie takes a few steps closer, but the only thing Eddie does is offer him a cigarette. There’s a moment of confused staring, eyes flicking between Eddie’s face and the cigarette in his hand, but eventually Steve reaches out to take it.

Eddie takes a chance, leaning in a little closer to offer him a light, and Steve takes it, the warmth of his face near Eddie’s cupped palm feeling almost as strong as the flame from the lighter.

Eddie drops his hand as soon as the cigarette is lit. He needs to get a grip. He lights his own cigarette and takes a drag.

“Thanks,” Steve croaks once he’s blown out his first breath of smoke.

“Don’t mention it,” Eddie replies.

They smoke in silence for a minute, watching the backlit figures of drunken teenagers churn in and out of the house before them.

“Maybe she’s right,” Steve finally says.

“Hm?” Eddie glances over at him, but Steve is glaring at the ground.

“Love,” Steve sneers. “Maybe it’s really just bullshit.”

And something about that just hits Eddie wrong. Maybe he’s never believed in love, as such—not the way it’s described in poetry or sung about in ballads or written about in shlocky romance novels—but Steve clearly does. Anyone who’s been around him and Nancy for more than a minute in the last year could see that. For it to be otherwise feels like it goes against the natural order.

“Nah,” Eddie says. “Love is out there, man. The real shit, y’know? Stuff worth fighting for.”

Steve lets out a little snort, more amused than derisive, flicking ash off the end of his cigarette. “You’re not a romantic, Munson,” he says, so sure of himself – which is fair.

“Oh, I’m a cynic through and through, baby,” Eddie says, grinning when Steve gives him a little laugh. “But you – you’re a romantic. You don’t really believe that love is bullshit. And you shouldn’t.”

Subsiding, Steve leans back against his tree, taking another drag of his cigarette like he’s stalling for time. “Why do you care what I believe?” he finally asks.

Eddie shrugs. “The world needs people like you. Romantics. Dreamers. You keep people like us pessimists from collapsing beneath the weight of our own dark souls.”

“What?” Steve coughs out, really laughing this time, and Eddie smiles right along with him.

“Just saying,” he offers.

Steve shakes his head. “Okay, drama kid. And I’m guessing people like you – what? Help people like me keep our feet on the ground?”

“Sure,” Eddie says. “Everyone needs a rock now and then. A nice solid foundation to start from.”

“Hm,” Steve hums, finishing off his cigarette as Eddie does the same. “Well – you’re, uh. You’re a pretty good rock, Eddie. Thanks.”

“Yeah, man,” Eddie says, pretending that the weird little compliment hadn’t made him light up just a bit. “Don’t mention it.”

And Steve doesn’t, but the smile he gives Eddie – well. What’s something else.

#steddie #pre-steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #fun fact: I'm taking an art history class right now and Titian's Diana and Actaeon was on the midterm #and thinking about Eddie dramatically recalling that story as part of his internal monologue is how I ended up with this fic #answers from solar #anonymous #solar wrote

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spencerfuckngreid · 3 days ago

Text

Burning Up || Spencer Reid + 18

· Pairing: Spencer Reid/Reader · Category: Angst, Smut · Warning: Soft sex, happy ending. · Words: 3082 · Summary : A tension exists between you and Spencer. He actively resists and maintains distance every time you come near. He has an internal conflict between what is right and what is wrong. · Inspiration: Song: "Burning Up" Madonna

· Spanish on Wattpad. English isn't my first language, be kind! · Masterlist · TikTok

The room was charged with a subtle electricity that always seemed to build between you two. The rest of the team had already left to rest or go over leads in other areas, leaving you alone with Spencer.

You had tried to focus on the files in front of you—the photographs, the scattered notes on the table—but your eyes kept drifting toward him. Seated across from you, hunched over his notebook, Spencer scribbled something with the intensity of someone trying to find a logical way through chaos.

It was that intensity that drew you in—it always had. Spencer had an aura that made him seem untouchable, as if his mind operated on a level no one else could reach. And yet, the more time you spent near him, the clearer it became that there was something beneath the surface. Something vulnerable. Something passionate. Something he worked hard to bury under layers of professionalism.

"Don't put me off, 'cause I'm on fire."

The lyric echoed in your mind, and you bit the inside of your cheek to suppress a smile. The irony wasn’t lost on you.

"Y/N, are you listening?" His voice pulled you from your thoughts.

You blinked, realizing you'd been staring in his direction—though not directly at him. "Yeah, yeah… of course. What were you saying?"

Spencer frowned slightly, adjusting his glasses with a quick motion before pointing at the map spread out on the table. "I said that the profile suggests the suspect will likely return to where it all started. It’s a pattern that—"

"Uh-huh, I get that," you interrupted gently, leaning forward to get a better look at the map. "But what if that’s exactly what he wants us to think? What if he's breaking the pattern on purpose? I know it’s not typical… not a common choice… but at this point, we should at least consider it."

Spencer studied you, his brown eyes scanning you with curiosity. He always appreciated a fresh perspective, but this time, his gaze lingered a little longer than necessary before shifting back to the map.

"Do you wanna see me down on my knees?"

The lyric hit you harder this time, making you press your lips together. There was something about the way he always pulled back whenever you got too close that only made you want to push his limits even more.

"It’s a possibility..." he finally said, breaking the silence. "But the pattern is the only solid lead we have right now."

You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms as you looked at him, frustrated. "Always so logical, Doctor."

"It’s my job," he replied without looking up, his attention still on the papers.

"And it’s also what keeps you safe, isn’t it?" The words slipped out before you could stop them.

Spencer’s head snapped up. "What do you mean by that?"

"You hide behind logic, Spencer," you said, leaning forward. "It’s your shield. But some things aren’t logical—you can’t just avoid them because they scare you."

He blinked, caught off guard by your bluntness, but before he could respond, you pushed yourself up from your chair. "I’m getting coffee. Do you want anything?"

He shook his head but didn’t say anything else. As you walked out of the room, you could feel his eyes on your back, and it only made you want to turn around and challenge him again.

"I'm burning up, burning up for your love," you thought, clenching your fists as you made your way to the coffee machine.

The words you had thrown at Spencer still echoed in your mind as you waited for the coffee to finish brewing. You had crossed a line, and while you didn’t regret it, you knew he wouldn’t just let it slide.

Back in the conference room, Spencer was exactly where you had left him—except his posture had changed. His back was stiff against the chair, and his pen, usually in constant motion, lay motionless on his notebook. When you closed the door behind you, he looked up, his expression more guarded than usual.

"What was that all about?" His tone was colder than you expected.

"What was what?" you asked, trying to keep your tone light as you walked closer.

"That whole thing about me hiding behind logic." Spencer stood up to face you, adjusting his glasses. "I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, but if this has anything to do with—"

"—you and me," you interrupted, setting your coffee down on the table with more force than necessary. "That’s exactly what it has to do with."

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, it seemed like he was going to argue. But instead, he looked away, his gaze dropping back to the papers. "There is no 'you and me,' Y/N. This is work, and the only thing that matters is solving this case."

The way he said it—so sharp, so final—should have made you back off. But instead, it only fueled something inside you, a need to break through that carefully crafted façade of perfection.

"Are you really going to keep pretending you don’t feel anything, Reid?" you asked, stepping closer. "That you don’t notice how the air changes when we’re in the same room?"

"What I notice," he started, pushing himself up from his chair, "is that you’re crossing lines you shouldn’t be crossing."

"That you want to want me, but you can't let go," you thought as you watched him. You could see the way his self-control tightened, as if every word was a struggle to hold his ground.

"Maybe those lines shouldn’t be there," you said softly, taking another step forward. You were close enough now to catch the light, clean scent of his cologne.

"Y/N, stop..." His voice was low, as if he were speaking more to himself than to you.

"I can’t stop." You moved even closer, forcing him to step back until his back met the wall. "And neither can you, so stop trying."

He lifted his hands slightly, as if to create some invisible barrier between you, but his eyes betrayed the war raging inside him. "This isn’t right," he said, his voice laced with an intensity that almost made you hesitate. "We can’t do this. I can’t do this."

But he didn’t move away. His hands remained raised—but he didn’t touch you, didn’t push you back. His eyes stayed locked on yours, and the tension in his body was almost tangible.

"Then say it," you challenged, your voice barely above a whisper. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel anything. Tell me you don’t want—"

His lips parted, like he was about to say the words. But nothing came out. Instead, his breathing quickened, and his hands slowly dropped to his sides.

"That’s what I thought," you said, your tone victorious but laced with quiet softness.

Spencer closed his eyes for a moment, as if gathering every ounce of willpower. "This is a mistake," he murmured finally.

"Maybe." You leaned in just enough so that your face was inches from his. "But some mistakes are worth making."

Spencer took a deep breath, as if trying to steady himself, but it wasn’t working. "This can’t happen," he said more firmly, stepping to the side to put space between you. "Not just because it would be inappropriate, but because… because it wouldn’t work."

You followed him, moving back into his path, challenging every barrier he tried to put up. "It wouldn’t work? Or you don’t want it to work because it would complicate your perfect, structured life?"

"It’s not that!" The words came out too fast, too forceful. He immediately glanced toward the door, as if worried someone else might have heard. Then, in a lower voice, he added, "This isn’t about avoiding complications. It’s about doing the right thing."

"And what if the right thing doesn’t feel right?" you challenged, tilting your head.

"Then we ignore it," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest as if that could shield him from the weight of your words.

"Do you wanna see me down on my knees?"

The lyric echoed in your mind, giving you the push to take this one step further.

"You’re not as good at lying to yourself as you think, Spencer," you said, stepping closer again. "Not with me."

"Y/N," he murmured, and this time, there was something almost pleading in his tone. "Please, don’t make this harder."

"Harder for who? You?" You held his gaze, unwavering. "Because for me, this is simple. I know what I want. And what I want is standing right in front of me."

The color in his cheeks deepened, but his posture remained rigid. "It's not that simple," he said, though his voice no longer carried the same conviction.

"Why not? Why are you afraid of feeling something you can’t control? Why won’t you admit that you’re already feeling it?"

The silence that followed was deafening, and for a moment, you thought he might give in. But then, Spencer stepped back, putting the smallest but most significant distance between you.

"I can’t do this," he said, his voice low, as if each word drained his energy. "Not with you. Not now. I’m sorry."

Disappointment tangled with frustration, but you knew he wasn’t running because he felt nothing. He was running because he felt too much.

"Fine. Have it your way," you finally said, stepping back. "I won’t push you anymore. I just... I can’t pretend this isn’t happening. If you’re ever ready… tell me. But I won’t wait forever."

Spencer looked at you, his eyes reflecting the war within him, the battle he couldn’t put into words. He didn’t stop you as you gathered your things and walked out of the room.

Out in the hallway, you leaned against the wall, exhaling slowly. "I'm burning up, burning up for your love," you murmured to yourself, letting the song finish the sentence you couldn’t say out loud.

—

The hotel room was dimly lit, the only glow coming from the small bedside lamp. You had tried to distract yourself with case reports, but the words on the screen blurred into meaninglessness. Every time you closed your eyes, the confrontation replayed in your mind: the conflict in Spencer’s gaze, the way he said no… but also how he hadn’t been able to step away until the very last second.

"Unlike the others, I'd do anything."

The lyrics echoed in your head like a taunt, mocking your attempts to stay calm.

You got up from the bed, unable to stay still. There was something suffocating in the air, a mixture of regret and longing that kept you moving, as if pacing back and forth could silence the thoughts running wild in your head.

Across the hall, Spencer sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. His hair was a mess, his glasses sitting on the table beside the phone. He hadn’t even tried to sleep—how could he, after what had happened?

He had gone over every word, every look, searching for a logical angle, a way to make sense of what had transpired. But there was no logic that could save him from what he felt: guilt, yes, but also an unrelenting desire burning beneath his skin.

"This can’t happen," he whispered to himself, as if saying it aloud could make it true. But even as he spoke, his eyes drifted toward the door, as if something—someone—on the other side was pulling him in.

At some point during the night, your paths crossed again. Maybe it was chance, or maybe it was inevitable. When you opened your door to step out for some air, you found him in the hallway, his face pale, his eyes dark.

"Spencer," you whispered.

"I needed… to walk," he said, though it was obvious he was looking for something more than that.

Silence stretched between you, thick with everything neither of you dared to say.

Until finally, he shook his head. "I shouldn’t be here."

"But you are." You took a step closer.

His gaze locked onto yours, and for a moment, both of you stood frozen, caught in a place with no turning back.

"It’s too much," he admitted in a breath, his voice cracking slightly. "I don’t know how to handle it."

"You don’t have to handle it," you murmured, stepping close enough that he could feel your warmth. "Just… go with it."

Spencer didn’t move, as if fighting every instinct in his body. But when he finally looked up at you, there were no more defenses in his eyes—only raw, consuming desire.

"I can't keep pretending," he murmured, stepping toward you.

"Then don’t," you whispered.

The space between you disappeared in an instant. His mouth found yours with a desperation that stole your breath, his hands gripping your face as if afraid you’d vanish. Spencer had always been methodical, in control—but in that moment, there was none of that. He was pure fire, everything he had suppressed finally unleashed.

Your hands clutched at his shirt, pulling him closer as you stumbled backward into the room. The door slammed shut behind you, but you barely noticed. All that mattered was the weight of his body pressing against yours, the way his breath mingled with yours, the low, ragged sounds escaping his throat.

"This is insane," he muttered against your skin, though his lips kept moving along your neck.

"I think you need a little insanity," you teased, breathless, fingers tangling in his hair as his hands roamed your back with a frantic kind of urgency.

For Spencer, this moment felt like crossing a line he had never thought he would. But in the end, he realized he had been standing on the edge of that line since the moment he met you.

The air was thick, heavy with heat. His breath mingled with yours, uneven, as his lips traced your neck, alternating between kisses and gentle bites that made your head spin.

"This isn’t—" he started, his voice a whisper against your skin. But there was something desperate in the way he touched you, as if he needed to feel you, to confirm that this wasn’t just a dream.

There was no time for more words. Spencer’s logic, his self-control, his professionalism—everything unraveled. With a near-violent impulse, you pushed him toward the bed. Clothes—an obstacle neither of you could ignore—began to fall away between kisses and gasps. Every movement was a battle, a push and pull between his deeply ingrained restraint and the undeniable force of desire. But now, in this space, nothing was holding him back.

Your body burned under his touch, and though he tried to keep his distance, his hands betrayed him, exploring every inch of you, his palm gliding over your torso, down to your waist, as if he was finally allowing himself to have you. This wasn’t the distant, controlled Spencer you had known. This was a man on the edge—of need, of madness—consumed by what he felt for you.

"Y/N," he whispered between kisses, his voice raw, as if clinging to your name was the only thing grounding him. "This... I can't..."

You didn’t let him finish. You silenced him with a kiss, deep and hungry, and he laughed into your mouth. There was no case to solve, no walls left to break down. Just the need to be together, no more excuses.

With a determined move, you pushed him back, taking control, feeling the way he yielded under your touch. Spencer was completely in your hands, and for the first time, he didn’t seem to want to fight it. His grip on your back tightened, pulling you against him as if he needed the physical connection, the proof that this was real.

"I don’t know if I can handle what I feel," he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. But when his hands found your face and he kissed you with a raw, burning intensity, it no longer mattered what he thought.

You moved with him, and the world blurred away. The softness of the bed beneath you, the heat of his body against yours, the way his lips trailed lower, leaving a path of fire across your skin... The rhythm between you was frantic, yet tender, as if both of you were trying to prove that this wasn’t a mistake, not like Spencer had tried to convince himself before.

Spencer paused for a moment, breathless, exhausted, looking down at you. "Y/N..." Everything was clear in that instant.

"Yes," you whispered, cupping his face, pulling him closer. And in that kiss, nothing else mattered. No words were needed. Everything between you finally made sense.

When the morning light filtered into the room, the silence between you had shifted. Spencer lay beside you, staring at the ceiling as if searching for patterns, lost in thought. Reality had changed—you had changed—and you both knew it. His mind was running a thousand miles per hour.

"I can’t... I can’t promise this won’t get complicated," Spencer murmured, his voice quiet but filled with the resistance that defined him.

"You don’t have to promise anything," you said, turning to face him, resting a hand on his chest, gentle. "What, you expect this to be easy? That sounds boring." You teased.

He gave a subtle, lopsided smile, and somehow it put him at ease, helping him come to terms with the situation.

The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable. Neither of you knew what would come next, but for now, all you could do was accept it. The tension that had defined your relationship until now had transformed into something else entirely.

"You know you got me burning up, baby."

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coquitokisses · 16 hours ago

Text

Oh, baby! | Dean Winchester

Pairings: Dean Winchester x female!reader

Summary: reader had a one night stand with Dean and they find out she’s pregnant

Word count: 1.4k

A/n: I gotta be honest, this is from a fanfic lmao, which is supposed to be a crossover of Teen Wolf and Supernatural, but I haven’t published it yet and I’ve been wanting to write something about Dean for a whileee so I decided to just edit this lil thing I had and post it here cuz why not?

“Hey, Cas, you’re back.” You smile sweetly at him once you saw him as you made your way to the library to help Sam with research

“Hi, y/n.” He replied with a small smile that soon turned into a confused frown

You noticed. “Everything okay?”

“How do you feel?” He asks

“I’m fine.” You replied, not understanding his sudden worry

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Cas, why? What’s wrong?” You questioned feeling a little alarmed by the way he was asking

“It’s just that I feel another presence.” He said

“Another presence?” Sam took his eyes off the laptop to look at Castiel

“What do you mean another presence?” Dean’s voice was soon heard throughout the library

“Is it bad?” You ask

“No,” Castiel shook his head. “It’s inside you.”

“Inside me?!” You were so confused right now “But what is it? Is it bad?”

“Is she okay?” Sam asked somewhat worried after hearing Castiel’s words

“She’s fine,” he replied and then looked at you “Can I?” he raised his hand

You nodded giving him permission to do whatever he had to do. Castiel put a hand on your forehead and then began to lower it down your body, but without actually touching it, until it reached your belly.

“Can I?” he looked at you, you just nodded

He placed his hand on your belly and that’s when he realized what was the presence he was feeling.

“It’s a baby,” he said, removing his hand

You almost choked. “I’m sorry, WHAT?!”

“A.. baby?” Sam was dumbfounded

“Wait, wait, are you sure?” Dean looked at Castiel

“Very sure,” the angel nodded

“It can’t be...” you put one of you hands on you chest. “Oh my God..”

“Are you really sure?” Dean asked again

“Yes, Dean, I am one hundred percent sure that I feel a baby’s presence.” Castiel snapped back

“This isn’t happening.” Dean ran his hands over his face “This is.. this is simply not happening.”

“Please don’t tell me you guys…” Sam looked at you both

“Sam, just shut up for a minute, okay?” Dean replied

“I- I need to get some air.” You muttered as you walked backwards like three steps and then turned around heading to the stairs

“Y/n wait!” Sam called out but you ignored him

You got out of the bunker and you took a deep breath trying to calm yourself down and not have a panic attack.

“This can’t be real..” you murmured to yourself

You raised your hands to your belly and you’re just standing there in shock.

Of course you wanted a family, but you knew that it was probably not going to happen due to the fact that you’re a hunter and you’ve been hunting basically your whole life. You knew how your life was gonna end. And you made your peace with that. Kinda.

Worst thing about all of this is the fact that Dean is the one who got you pregnant. You two used to hate each other, but throughout the years, you’ve learned to tolerate each other and well, you’ve basically been working with them since they had to deal with the angels pretty much.

He’s always had a crush on you and you knew it, but it wasn’t really that serious. He usually just flirted with you and most of the time you just ignored him.

Until a few weeks ago, while you guys were finishing up a case that Sam decided to let you two handle so you could work on your communication and your anger issues, because the week before that, you have to admit that you were both butting heads every five minutes, and it was driving Sam insane. So he sent you both to deal with a shapeshifter case in Wyoming and with a little assignment to work on your issues and stop behaving like kids. His words.

And you did worked your issues out. You just didn’t think it was gonna be by having sex, but hey, you weren’t complaining at all. He was perfect. And it was the best night you’ve ever had in a while.

And here are the results of that hook up.

It’s clear to say that neither of you are prepared, mentally nor physically prepared to have a kid.

And besides, how were you gonna raise a kid together if you can’t even get along for more than two days?

You got on your car and decided to go for a ride, just to clear your head. And while you were at it, you bought like two boxes of pregnancy tests just to be one thousand percent sure and because you would believe it more once you see it yourself.

You got something to eat after that and decided to use the bathroom at a gas station so you could take the pregnancy tests.

While you waited on the results, you were walking around in the small bathroom, thinking what the hell you were gonna do.

After a few minutes of talking to yourself internally, you decided to take a look at the four pregnancy tests.

“Oh god..” you muttered under your breath seeing the plus sign on the tests

(…)

After a while of just driving around, you finally decided to get back to the bunker. Once you open the door, Dean’s head turned to look at you immediately.

“Where were you?” He asked, leaving the book he was reading on the table

“I was getting rid of the little creature,” you replied

“Y/n.” Dean gave your a stern look

“I’m kidding.” You rolled your eyes. “I went for a ride and to get something to eat, anything else you want to know?”

You walked to where he was and put your hand inside the pocket of your jacket.

“In case you thought Castiel was lying...” you took the pregnancy tests out of your jacket pocket and placed them on the table. “It’s quite real.”

Dean looked at the tests in front of him realizing that this was really happening. He did believe Cas, but seeing the positive pregnancy tests, definitely made his mind finally fall into the acceptance that this was real. Very real.

Dean sighed. “Look, I know you’re not completely happy with this situation, believe me, I’m not either, but..-

“But we already did it and now we have to take responsibility, I know,” you said taking off your jacket “What I’m still trying to figure out is how you and I are going to raise a baby”

“I don’t know either.” He sighed

“This wasn’t supposed to happen” you pulled out a chair so you could sit and then you brought your hands to you face

“I know...” Dean said in a soft voice and leaned a little so he could look at you. “Hey,” he gently took you by the wrists, removing your hands from your face. “You’re not going to be alone, I’m not going for a pack of cigarettes and never come back.”

That made you laugh a little. “I know you won’t.”

“I’m just.. scared.” He admitted “Scared to raise a kid, scared that I might turn out like my dad and I don’t want that..”

“You’re not going to be like your father, Dean.” You said softly “And I’m scared too, like, I’m gonna be carrying a baby inside of me for the next nine months, I’m terrified that I won’t be a good mom.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re going to be an amazing mom.”

You smiled a little. “That’s kinda comforting.”

“I think we can make it work if we make the effort.”

“We hate each other.” You roll your eyes

He scoffs. “Speak for yourself, I don’t hate you, sweetheart, like, at all.”

You chuckle. “Don’t lie to yourself, you only wanted to get in my pants.” You joked

“Well yeah, but I don’t hate you.” He shrugged

“I don’t hate you either, you’re just.. very annoying.” You said

“You are too.”

You roll your eyes. “Right.”

“In all seriousness,” he started saying “I think we should give it a try.” He looked into your eyes “And you know, we would also be getting out of this life and finally getting a normal one.”

“That does sound nice.” You nodded

“It’s up to you, babe.” He said

You could see in his eyes that he was dead serious about this. He wanted this. He wanted to give it a try with you.

And after a few seconds of thinking, you finally responded.

“Let’s do it then.” You said and he smiled “But we’re not getting married.”

“I’m fine with that.” He said with a shrug which made you smile

main masterlist

A/n: I think I can make this into a small series, should I? 👀

Likes, comments and reblogs will be appreciated! <3

divider creds @hyuneskkami

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #supernatural #supernatural fic #jensen ackles #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #fluff #sam winchester #castiel

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in-hos-wife · 1 day ago

Text

It’s not just us anymore

Hwang in-ho x pregnant wife reader

Summery: after a argument with your husband in-ho he agrees to let you join the games with as two spies instead of one, but there are a lot of rules he put in place to keep you safe some of which you don’t know yet.

(The person who requested this @goingmerry69 )

Word count: 1,981

Tw: guns, murder, death, the normal squid game stuff, some changes in canon but when is there not, not proofread

You and your husband separated and joined the line of people who just played red light green light so both of you will blend in with the player in-ho made your background you both were lovers who came to the games because you needed money for your baby and a life without telling each other so when the vote came you were instructed to vote to stay and so you when your number was called you did and went to the side with the big o on the ground and then you here the one get called you look up to see your husband he waits a second being yelled at by both side to choose them you look up and it’s 182 and 182 a tie he would choose and you already knew the answer so you weren’t even surprised when he pressed the button with the o and your said literally cheered very loudly. After you all separated you watch you husband talk to Gi-hun and his friend who you don’t know the name of all you know is his player number which is 390 but you listened in to your husband and Gi-hun talk, you quietly chuckle when In-ho makes a joke about the second game the and the umbrella cookie. You already miss him but rule number 1 don’t go up to him at all till after the second game so you eat dinner and get ready for bed but you can’t sleep not only is your pregnancy making it hard to sleep, the mattress is hard and small and just not comfortable at all compared to the mattress in-ho bought for you guys after you told him you were pregnant but it wasn’t just those the main fact is that your alone, in-ho is not next to you cuddling you, holding you like your his life line. That’s when you hear his voice you listen in and hear his talking about why he was here and he bring up being married and her being pregnant and how he needed money to give you both a good life you to lock eyes and you go back to laying on the other side of your body.

You know the next game is a team game you know which one your playing rule number two make a good team with the number he gave you before you joined the ones good at the games other then the ones you choose of course it’s based on what he thinks but he told you the guards had one rule if they shoot you they all pay so you know your safe but rule number three don’t act like you aren’t scared it will give away your passion. So after you played you sat by where gi-hun and in-hos group sits and wait till they are done with there. As they walk out you sit there trying to remember what his fake name is. Rule number four never call him in-go even when alone you don’t know who’s listening. As they walked closer you here a voice “y/f/n??” You hear in/ho and then it clicked “young il? What are you doing here??” You look at his group you see gi-hun his friend, a marine who’s player number in 388 and another pregnant girl who’s number is 222. “I could ask you the same thing I’m here for you! And the baby” he holds you, oh how you missed it “for us I’m doing it for us!” His group looks at you and you guys then hug “she’s joking our group” in-ho looks at gi-hun and gi-hun nods then in-go whispers to you “rule five you don’t leave my side” you look at him. He didn’t tell you that rule but you aren’t complaining. As you guys vote he votes to leave so you you do to and so the players 222, 388 and gi-Hun but player 390 votes to stay which shocked all of you but that’s how people work sometimes. You sit by his side as you eat player 390 sat away from you all and gi-hun tells player 388 to tell him to come over when he come over and we’re all eating together you all tell each other your names 390 is Jung bae, 388 and dae-ho and 222 is Jun-hee, while you're eating in-ho give Jun-hee his Milk and so does gi-hun. In ho gives you some of his food while Jung bae gives Jun-hee his milk as well. In-ho hold you close to him and you lay on him who do you miss your bed and your shower your both taking a long one when this is done. You know what the next game is and you know only one hundred people will survive so you won’t let in-ho out of your sight. Gi-hun starts talking about how people will attack so you all have to prepare and that he will take first watch Jung-bae will take second and young-il will take third and you prepare for the third game mingle.

You don’t sleep peacefully but you’ll manage it was better when in-ho was with you but then you ate breakfast and got ready for the third game “remember to stay with me” in-ho says holding your hand as you both walk into the room with a big carousel where you would stand and 50 rooms. When you all got on the platform it started spinning which made you cling onto your husband. In-ho held you so you wouldn’t fall then it abruptly came to a stop and the robotic voice said the number ten. You hear a group yell four and you yell six and both your groups run to the door as you all got in go-hun stayed by the door after he closed it, you all sat there quietly waiting for the shooting to start and it did. You knew it would but it still scared you so you clung to in-go he knew it wasn’t you just acting he can tell the difference so he holds you close to him. When the shooting stops and the doors unlock you all leave and go back to the platform and you stay right next to in-ho, as it stops moving again the robot voice says 4. You all look at your group of six and in-ho grabs you “we’ll go find some people you four go!” He said and you both grab two people and ran to a door before the time ran out you know you two wouldn’t die if you didn’t find anyone but a rule was to act the part at all times even now you sat in a room with to random strangers so when the door opened you and him left and you hear Jung bae yelling “young-il! Y/f/n!!!” As he tells you both follow the voice and in-go yell Gi-Huns name and when you both got back to the group and started making sure everyone is ok “you know if the number is 8 we won’t need anyone else” you all look around at each other and the Jung bae laughs “because they are both pregnant” when he says that the rest of you start laughing “not even a dad yet and your already cracking jokes” you look up at in-ho “hey i became a dad when you told me you were pregnant” he says holding you as you all walk back to the platform and when it stops the robotic voice says three you, in-ho and gi-hun. As you thee are running to the door in-ho grip on you loosens and he didn’t realize till he heard you yelling while two people were dragging you into a room he’s gonna make sure they don’t make it through the next few rounds him and gi-hun grab player 149 who was separated from her son and go to a room when the round was over you ran over to in-ho and the group and he keeps you in his grasp not allowing you to move but you didn’t care

when you all got back to the platform you see how close player 007 is holding his mother you don’t know why but it’s probably the same reason in-go won’t let you go as the platform some to a stop the robotic voice says 6 and in-ho grabs you and you gi-hun, Jung bae and in-ho with player 246 find one more person and get into the room when the round is over you meet up again and realize player 095 didn’t make it. You felt bad for player 120 but things like this happen in this world that’s what in-ho told you to tell yourself. You all got on to the platform and in-ho holds you as him and the group talk about what the next number will be “it will be 2” in-ho says “why do you say that” gi-hun asks “there are 126 people left and fifty room two a room will make it to where only 100 make it out” while in-go says that in-ho grabs you and the platform stops and the robot voice says two and he grips your hand and runs while you guys get into the room he throws a guy out and you hold the door close then you hear in-ho “get out” then you hear another player “we were here first!” As your holding the door back you look to your husband and see him on the ground choking out the player who wouldn’t leave as it counts down you hear a crack then the timer hits one your husband just snapped his neck “i thought there was a rule against killing others?” You look at in-go as he stands up “well my love sometime rule are meant to be broken and it’s not just us anymore” he says holding your tummy “and we have to stay in character remember” you look at him “so a rule you didn’t put in place can be broken but the rule you did can’t be” he nods and you guys go back to the group and back to the room getting ready for the night.

While you guys were eating there was a big fight in the man’s bathrooms and both side were getting angry after the votes gi-Huns makes a plan to rebel to hide under the bed during light out then fake dead to get the guards guns you look at in-ho who nodded telling you to play along so you both did. You hid under the bed bunks and then he faked being dead with the other then when they were get people he looked at you like he expected you to join so you did as you guys went through the hallways you all hide then in-ho grabs you and a two others while you guys walked up to gi-hun h hand in-ho his last thing of ammo and you four walk to the other side and as they were walking in-ho holds you back and pulls out his gun and shoots both of them he get on the walker talkie “gi-hun…..I’m sorry, they got us” you hear as gi-hun yell young-il a few times then in-go switches the station to the guards “let’s rap this up” in-ho brings you up to to the room “go to bed my love and I’ll be back before you know it” you look at him “what are you gonna do?” He looks at you and smiles “last rule my love don’t question me…I’ll tell you when I come back” and with that he get into he’s all black uniform and black mask and gose to do what he need to and you finally rest peacefully after showering and Chang because you know you husband will be back.

#squid game x reader #squid games #front man #hwang in ho x reader #front man x reader #young il #young il x reader #in ho squid game #in ho x reader #hwang in ho

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alwayssassydreamer · 21 hours ago

Text

Good Things Go

A/N: dearest Anna I hope you're happy now because this gave me a lot of headaches 😅, got a little longer than planned

Song Prompt Challenge

Say I hate you when I don't Push you when you get too close Only you can save me from my lack of self-control And I won't make excuses for the pain I caused us both So thank you for always standing by me even though Sometimes bad things take the place where good things go

Summary: you've been working for Crocodile for years now and became his most loyal agent though your recklessness during missions often leads to arguments, things get even more complicated when you realize you've fallen for your boss

Warnings: tension, but actually i don't know what to put here, kissing

Characters: Sir Crocodile x GnReader

Crocodile sat behind his desk, his golden hook resting casually against the edge, his cold eyes studying the papers in front of him. The air was thick with tension, as it always was when you were in the room with him.

He was erratic, not the calm, controlled demeanor you were used to seeing. He was angry, frustrated, and you knew you were at the center of it all.

You had been his loyal agent for years, weathering every storm by his side, even when he pushed you to your limits. But this time, it was different. The unspoken feelings that had lingered between you both for so long had come to the surface, and they were threatening to destroy everything.

You had seen it all—the times he pushed you away, the cruel words that had been spat in your direction. But each time, you stood your ground, never backing down, never leaving. You had always been his, always kept your loyalty intact, no matter the cost. You had been by his side through countless missions, through moments where you both bled, fought, and schemed together.

You never backed down from a challenge, never hesitated when given an order, even if it meant risking your life. But lately, things had felt different. You had begun to notice the sharpness in Crocodile's gaze when it landed on you, the brief moments where his usually composed demeanor cracked, revealing something darker and it unsettled you.

You stood across from him arms crossed, waiting for him to scold or lecture you again. You’d just returned from a mission, and as usual, you had some… differences of opinion regarding the execution of his orders.

"That wasn’t the plan," Crocodile muttered, his voice low but laced with frustration. His eyes narrowed as he glanced up at you. "You’re always improvising, always pushing my limits."

You straightened up, uncrossing your arms with a smirk playing at the corner of your lips. "It worked, didn’t it?" you replied, your voice calm but with a sharp edge. "Sometimes a little improvisation is necessary, boss. You can’t always follow the script."

His lips curled into a sneer, his eyes flicking over you in a way that sent an unsettling twinge of awareness through your chest.

He didn’t like your unpredictability. He never had. And yet, despite the clash of personalities, you had remained his most loyal agent. You were good at what you did, and he knew it.

He had never said it aloud, but you could feel the weight of his expectation and his distaste for your constant push against his authority.

He leaned forward, his golden hook tapping rhythmically against the wood of his desk. His gaze was sharp, piercing through you as if he could see straight into your thoughts. "You think you’re untouchable, don’t you?"

You didn’t flinch. "I think I’ve proven that I’m capable. That’s why you keep me around, boss."

His eyes darkened, and for a brief moment, there was something in them - something deeper, more dangerous. "Don’t mistake my tolerance for fondness," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I don’t have room for attachments."

You raised an eyebrow, stepping forward slightly, your heart pounding in your chest. You weren’t afraid of him at least, you didn’t let it show. "Is that so? Because I’m loyal to you, Crocodile. That’s something you can’t seem to shake off, no matter how many times you try to push me away."

For a moment, the silence between you both was palpable, heavy with unspoken words. Crocodile’s jaw clenched, his fingers twitching as if to reach for something, something that would silence you.

But he didn’t. Instead, he stood up slowly, towering over you with his usual imposing presence.

"Is that what you think?" he murmured, taking a step toward you. "That I want your loyalty?"

You met his gaze, unflinching. "It doesn’t matter whether you want it or not. I’m here, and I always will be."

His lip curled into a bitter smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "You’re a fool."

You weren’t the type to back down. Not from anyone, especially not from him. "I’m no fool, boss. You’ve pushed me to my limits, time and time again. But I stay because I know what we have is more than just loyalty."

His expression hardened at your words. He was silent for a long moment, his eyes never leaving yours. And just when you thought he would walk away, dismissing you as he always did, something shifted in his demeanor. His hand reached out - too quickly, too harshly - and grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you closer.

"You think I don’t know what you feel?" he hissed, his voice laced with both anger and something else - something you couldn’t quite place. His grip on your wrist tightened as he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. "You think I don’t know about the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention? The way you linger just a little too long? The way you care too much?"

Your heart raced. He was right. You had tried to hide it, tried to bury the feelings that had grown inside you. feelings that had no place in this world you had chosen to live in. But Crocodile, for all his faults, always saw through you. His sharp mind never missed a thing, not even your most carefully guarded emotions.

"Don’t," you whispered, your voice a little shakier than you intended. "Don’t pretend like you don’t care."

For the first time, you saw it a flash of something unreadable in his eyes. It was fleeting, but it was there: the barest hint of vulnerability, quickly masked by the cold indifference that was so characteristic for him. He let go of your wrist and took a step back.

"You think I need you, don’t you?" His voice was colder than ever, as if he were trying to convince himself. "You think that because you’ve stuck around, because you’ve followed orders, that I’m... attached to you."

You didn’t answer him right away, letting the silence linger between you two. Your feelings were complicated, too complicated for words, but it didn’t matter. You had already known, deep down, that he’d never admit to it, and maybe never would you. But you were his. And no matter how far he pushed, no matter how many times he tried to reject you, you wouldn’t leave.

"I don’t need your acknowledgment," you said quietly, your voice steady. "But I won’t abandon you. Not when it matters most."

Crocodile’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a dark smirk. "You really are a stubborn one."

You smirked back, your gaze never leaving his. "You should know by now, I don’t back down. You always push me away, Crocodile. You tell me you hate me, but it's all just a shield, isn't it? You say things you don’t mean, and I’m the fool who keeps standing by you."

Crocodile’s gaze softened for just a moment, but the harshness quickly returned. He stepped closer again, his voice low and threatening. "I push you because it’s easier than admitting that you’ve somehow become the one thing I can’t control. I push you because I can’t stand the thought of you seeing me as anything more than the monster I’ve become."

Your heart skipped a beat. You had never heard him speak like this before. Never seen this raw, vulnerable side of him. It both terrified you and made you want to reach out to him, to pull him from the darkness he was drowning in.

His golden hook glinted in the dim light, but it was his eyes that held you captive. There was a desperation in them, something that made your pulse quicken, something you hadn’t expected to see.

"I say I hate you when I don’t," he murmured, his voice hoarse, almost pleading. "I push you when you get too close. But the truth is… only you can save me from my lack of self-control. And I won’t make excuses for the pain I caused us both."

The words hung in the air like an unsung confession, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. Everything that had been left unsaid between you both was finally spilling out, raw and unfiltered. You could see it now - the darkness that had clouded his heart, the fear of being loved, of being wanted, of being needed.

You felt a lump form in your throat, your emotions a tangled mess of longing, frustration, and something deeper

"I stayed," you whispered, your voice barely audible, but strong with the weight of your emotions. "I stayed, not because you need me, but because I need you. And maybe that’s what hurts the most."

For a moment, the harshness between you vanished, replaced by something quieter, more fragile. "I’ve always known," he said quietly, his gaze never leaving yours

You stepped closer, closing the distance between you, your voice soft but unwavering. "Sometimes bad things take the place where good things go," you whispered, your words carrying the weight of everything you had both been through

He moved his hook closer and gently lifted your chin with it uncharacteristically careful not to hurt you. "Thank you," he said, the words strained, as though forcing them past years of hardened pride. "For always standing by me… even when I gave you every reason to leave."

Your breath hitched at the sincerity buried beneath the rough edges of his voice. You had never expected him out of all people to show you such a.....vulnerability.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as he removed his hook from you. "You made it hard, you know that? Pushing me away like I was poison. Acting like I was nothing but a pawn when you damn well knew what I feel for you."

He didn’t flinch at your words. Instead, he nodded, as though agreeing with every accusation you hurled.

Your fingers curled into his coat, pulling him down to meet your gaze. "You’re an insufferable bastard, Crocodile," you murmured, your voice thick with the ache of everything you had endured. "But I stayed. Not because I’m weak, but because I chose to. I choose you—flaws, scars, and all."

"I won’t promise I’ll change," he admitted, his voice low but steady. "I’m still the same ruthless man who’ll destroy anything that stands in my way ."

"I don’t need you to change," you whispered fiercely. "Just let me stand by you. Let me fight beside you, not against you."

You tilted your head slightly, your voice soft but challenging. "What now, boss? Going to push me away again?"

His lips quirked into a dangerous smirk, one that sent a shiver down your spine. "Not this time," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "I’ve had enough of that game."

Before you could respond, his mouth was on yours, hot, demanding, and unapologetic. The kiss was fierce, a raw clash of wills as much as it was a surrender. He tasted of smoke and danger, a combination that had always drawn you in, even when you knew better.

You matched his intensity, your hands fisting in the fabric of his coat as you pulled him closer. The years of unresolved tension ignited between you, burning away every doubt and hesitation. His hook pressed lightly against your back, the cold metal a stark reminder of just who you were tangling with - a ruthless, dangerous man who had somehow become the center of your world.

Crocodile’s free hand slid down to your waist, gripping you possessively as if staking his claim. His control, usually so unyielding, seemed to fray at the edges as he deepened the kiss, his breath ragged against your lips. You gasped when he pulled back slightly, just enough to speak, his voice full of desire.

"You drive me insane," he growled, his forehead pressing against yours. "Always have."

A breathless laugh escaped you, your heart racing. "Good. Otherwise things would be boring and you know that I don't do boring." You teased.

"You're mine," he declared, his voice rough but resolute. "And I'll destroy anyone who tries to take you from me."

A thrill shot through you at the possessiveness in his tone. But you weren’t intimidated, you never had been. Instead, you met his gaze with unwavering confidence. "Damn right I am. And you're mine, you handsome bastard. Don't forget that."

His low chuckle sent a shiver down your spine. "You really are trouble," he murmured, before capturing your lips again in another searing kiss.

#one piece #sir crocodile x y/n #sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile one piece #sir crocodile #one piece x reader #one piece x you #spotify #song prompt challenge #sir crocodile op #crocodile one piece #op crocodile #crocodile op

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edamameimei · 2 days ago

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Perhaps, Even This —chapter 14

A year ago, you were known as your friend group’s “sunshine.” You were able to light up a whole room with your energy and everyone could rely on you for your quick wit and easy humor. You lived life simply one day at a time. However, seemingly out of nowhere, that all changes. Now a Junior in university, you find it extremely difficult to do all the things you used to do. Especially being the Resident Assistant for the Geffen Dorms. New residents begin to move in and one them is a girl you could only describe as “radiant." Her name is Megan Skiendiel, and at first, you don’t welcome the positivity but as you two continue to meet and hang out, you find yourself becoming the person you used to be. Will you be able to be that person you were a year ago? Or will everything just stay the same?

14. sounds good

half written (wc: 1029)

When the clock finally strikes 12 AM, you sigh in relief. You can finally clock out and go to bed. You begin to feel bad for the next person who has to take over your shift, knowing it can only get crazier from this point on considering it is still the peak of Halloween night. You pick your stuff up, not even bothering to wait for the next person to come and take over. You’re tired and it is no longer your problem.

That is, until you hear that obnoxious beep, meaning a resident has just scanned into the building.

You let out an aggravated huff, turning around to hopefully not see a drunk resident on your clock. What you’re met with is much worse, however. Standing in front of you is Megan, with her heels in her hands and her makeup slightly runny. The sight makes your eyes soften, especially when you begin to notice that the younger girl seems to be in a bit of distress. You tilt your head, concern written on your face. “Are you okay?” Megan smiles but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. For the first time since knowing her, she doesn’t seem as excited as she usually is. Her hyperactive energy seems depleted and she just isn’t herself.

You walk towards her, a frown evident on your lips. You grab her heels and place a hand on her shoulder. In other cases, you would turn the other way. Being a Resident Assistant for a college dorm is not for the weak. There are days where you often ignore the clinking sounds in resident’s bags when they pop out then pop right back into the dorm hall. You try to ignore the glazed over look in their eyes when you’re required to do your one-on-one checks ins with your residents. It’s just too much paperwork and you are only one person in charge of 20 other college kids. You really rather not put more on your plate.

But this was Megan. And you hate to admit it but the ginger girl really did sneak her way into your life.

That’s how you find yourself walking her to her dorm that is only one floor away. You tell yourself you’re only doing it because your own room is only a few doors away and you just want to make sure she can’t get into more trouble. But Jen would say otherwise. So, you’re grateful that the girl isn’t around to give you shit for this.

The walk is silent for the most part. You find it strange that Megan isn’t talking your ear off and for some reason, you want to end the silence. It was driving you crazy. But, when you two finally get back to her dorm, she finally speaks. Her voice is quiet and for some reason it kills you. “Parties aren’t really my thing… I’m starting to notice.” You look at her, letting a chuckle escape your lips. “Really? I thought you’d love em’.” Megan shrugs, running a hand through her hair. “Me too… But I guess…” She trails off, biting her lip. After a moment, she just shakes her head, looking down to dig in her purse for her keys to her room. You furrow your brows at her sudden silence and place a hand on her shoulder. “Megan?” She doesn’t look up though. When she finally finds her keys, she quickly unlocks the door and looks up to give you another small smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, y/n…” She makes a move to walk inside but before you can stop yourself, you grab her wrist gently. She looks at you again, her lip trembling slightly.

The sight of her being so vulnerable overwhelms you. You pull her into a tight hug, holding her tighter against you when you feel her body shake slightly. She was crying. She buries her head into the crook of your neck and holds onto the collar of your Geffen Dorms polo shirt. Her voice cracks as she speaks through her tears. “Maybe I’m just too much sometimes…” You bite your lip at her words because you know exactly how that feels. And you hate thinking about Megan knowing that feeling.

Sure, she’s quite clingy. And can in fact get on your nerves most days. But every single time, Megan manages to put a smile on your face. Seeing her walk through the entrance of the dorms makes something inside of you light up. When she smiles at you, basically skipping towards you, it causes pieces of the facade you’ve created to fall. You’re still not sure if that’s a good thing but right now, you can’t bring yourself to care.

You have to see Megan smile once before you go to bed. It’s a must.

You pull away slightly from the girl, one of your arms around her waist and the other reaching up to place a hand on her shoulder. You tell her quietly, “I think… You’re enough.” She lights up at your words and pulls you back closer, hugging you so tightly that you feel a bit lightheaded by her presence. The feeling scares you shitless. After a few moments, you pull away completely, your cheeks flush and your thoughts going 100 mph. You look away, rubbing the back of your neck as you chuckle nervously. You hear Megan giggle and you know you’ve successfully completed your mission for the night. You murmur softly, “well… I’ll let you go to bed…” You look back at her to see the ginger girl smiling brightly and you can’t help but feel relieved. She nods, placing a hand on the handle of her dorm and before she goes inside, she looks at you one last time. “Tell your friend Soobin thank you for me by the way… He walked me home!” You give her a thumbs up and she nods, smiling one last time. She goes into her room and once the door clicks, you let out a loud sigh.

You tiredly make your way towards your own room. Before unlocking the door, you take your phone out and go to your messages.

a/n: sad megan but reader makes it all better <333 lmk what you guys think! also u haven't seen it already, i posted a sophia x reader fic yesterday if you're interested :)

requests are open

prev ✿ masterlist ✿ next

#katseye x reader #katseye smau #katseye imagines #megan skiendiel #daniela avanzini #manon bannerman #lara raj #sophia laforteza #jeong yoonchae #katseye #megan skiendiel x reader

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honeypiehotchner · 1 day ago

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The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part twelve

I need y'all to know that I'm writing part 18 rn and it's getting GOOD I can't wait this fic is so fun to write and I'm so happy you guys are loving it as much as I'm loving writing it!!! 🤭💞

Warnings: once again they're...getting along? never fear they still argue though, things are...about to get crazy, (i hope we are picking up on the subtle moments of attraction bc they're only going to get worse xoxo)

After three days of straight paperwork — and one annoying HR meeting because someone from a different department must’ve heard you and Hotch arguing and decided to tattle — you’re going insane. You need something else to do besides sit in a chair staring at files all day, listening to Morgan and Reid bicker, and glaring at Hotch every time you catch him looking at you through his office window.

You’ve heard nothing new from the case in Alabama. Radio silence from the unsub. Radio silence from the police. Nothing new from the sketch Lila helped with, too. Nothing at all, with anything.

You’re going stir crazy.

You need a new case to come in. Given what Strauss told you in that meeting, you expect a new case to come in any minute.

What you do not expect is to come back from lunch on the fourth day to find Strauss in Hotch’s office, or for them to be arguing. With the door open, for god’s sake, so everyone in departments three floors down can hear.

You don’t think before you haul ass up the stairs, especially not after you hear your own name in the midst of their poor attempts to not shout, turning everyone’s heads. Your mind immediately conjures up the worst case scenario: that they’re arguing about your father, about how Strauss let you seal that part of your file, and somehow Hotch found out that she let you, and now it’s all getting blown out of proportion.

You can’t make out the source of their arguing, though, because they’re just shouting nonsense at one another, bordering on insults.

Jesus, is this what it sounds like to everyone else when you and Hotch argue?

Strauss and Hotch both stop bickering as soon as they spot you hovering in the doorway. You raise your eyebrows at them like a parent catching two siblings in the middle of an unnecessary fight — which isn’t that far off the mark.

“Ma’am,” you nod to Strauss. “Hotch,” you look over at him. “I heard my name. What’s going on?”

Strauss answers, turning toward you, “Richard Monroe has stopped cooperating with the authorities. He’s said he’ll cooperate again, but he wants to speak with you first.”

“No,” Hotch says firmly, one hand planted on his hip, his other hand pointing an accusatory finger in Strauss’s direction, then at you. “There is no reason for Richard to speak with her.”

“Why not?” you ask, trying to keep your tone on the calmer side, at least while Strauss is present. “If it’ll make him cooperate, I’ll talk with him.”

“Thank you,” Strauss says, relieved, before turning to give Hotch a lethal glare. “See? I told you you’re getting worked up over nothing, Aaron.”

“I’ll be fine,” you say, whether to assure yourself or Hotch, you have no idea. “It’s one conversation. It’s not like I haven’t spoken to him bef—”

“It’s not just one conversation,” Hotch fumes.

“Stop acting like I can’t handle this job,” you argue.

Hotch almost looks offended. “That’s not what I’m—”

“I don’t care what it is,” Strauss shouts over the both of you. “Agent, you’ll speak with Richard tomorrow. I’ve already scheduled it, and I’ll forward you the details. Hotch, I’ll let them know you’ll be attending as well.”

“Excuse me?” Hotch says.

“What?” you blurt at the same time. “I don’t need him to come with me.”

“Well, you’re not allowed to go alone, and frankly, Aaron, if it bothers you so badly, you should go with her, as Unit Chief,” Strauss says, her phone ringing in her pocket halfway through her sentence. “I’m late for a meeting. This is settled. Understood?”

Hotch looks like he’d rather put his own foot up his ass until he tastes the sole of his shoe. “Understood.”

“Yes ma’am,” you nod, stepping aside to let Strauss leave. “Thank you.”

You don’t bother waiting for Hotch to speak before inviting yourself into his office all the way. It takes everything in you not to slam the door behind Strauss. He yanks the blinds closed with just as much anger, chest practically heaving. You’re surprised he didn’t rip them off the wall with the force.

“What the hell was that?” you hiss. These walls, no matter how much you wish they were, aren’t soundproof, and by now you’ve probably attracted the attention of the entire goddamn floor, let alone your nosy teammates who are returning from lunch.

“I might ask you the same thing,” Hotch fires back, rounding his desk. You know what he’s doing, trying to tower over you and intimidate you. It won’t work, not with you. He should know that by now. “Did you know about this?”

“About Richard Monroe being a manipulative piece of shit? Of course I’ve known— I’m not a fucking idiot, Hotch.”

“I never said you were! Stop putting words in my—” he curses, pinching the bridge of his nose before resting his hand on his hip. “I don’t want you speaking to him.”

“Why?”

“Do I need to remind you what happened in that interrogation room?” Hotch says, voice surprisingly calm for how angry you remember him being that day. “He recognized you and you won’t tell me why—”

“Because I don’t know why,” you shoot back. It’s the honest truth, even if there’s pieces of information you could share. But you don’t want to; you’re not ready. “And I don’t know why you don’t trust me, but it’s grating on my nerves, Hotch. You say I’m a valuable asset to this team, yet you’re acting like I’m not capable of speaking to an unsub that I've spoken to before — for an hour.”

His chest is heaving, but he doesn’t say a damn thing. He just keeps standing there, looking down at you, clenching his jaw.

“I’m going to speak with Richard Monroe tomorrow,” you say, standing nearly toe-to-toe with Hotch. “Whether or not you join me is entirely up to you. But if you’re just going to act like this, then,” you gesture between the two of you, shaking your head. “Don’t bother coming. I’ll get someone else to go with me. You can call out sick for all I fucking care.”

You storm out of his office then, slamming the door behind you so hard you’d be surprised if the window didn’t rattle.

You jump when you realize Rossi is standing in his office doorway, watching you.

“What?” you snap. You don’t mean to take the frustration out on him too, but it’s hard not to when he’s lurking like that.

Rossi raises his eyebrows, backing into his office without another word.

You can’t deal with this right now.

Hotch’s door opens behind you and you spin around, freezing when you’re face to face with him. His expression is as unreadable as it always is, but you know he’s pissed at you.

“I’m going home to rest up before tomorrow,” you say, making sure your tone conveys it not as a request but a statement of fact. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Hotch nods once and that’s good enough for you, so you turn and head for your desk, gathering your things.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” you say, flashing a tight smile to the rest of the team. “Bye.”

“Um…bye…?” Reid looks around to be sure everyone is as confused as he is. They are, but they all shrug, letting you leave.

Up the stairs, Hotch watches you go, knuckles white from where he’s gripping the railing. He shouldn’t have let you go so easily, but you both need to cool down, and if you’re really going to do this tomorrow, you need your rest.

From beside him, Rossi pointedly clears his throat.

Hotch turns his head, following Rossi’s silent request to follow him into his office. He pushes the door closed behind him.

Hotch starts to pace, then stops in the middle of the room, lifting his arm and dropping it in a what the hell gesture. “She’s going to speak with Richard Monroe tomorrow.”

“I heard,” Dave smirks. “And you’re going with her?”

“I have no choice, do I?” Aaron replies, rubbing his forehead. “I’ll have to tell her tomorrow. If he says anything else about recognizing her—”

“Are you sure he wasn’t saying that just to get a rise out of her? She’s a new agent, she’s attractive—” Rossi cuts himself off when he sees Hotch’s glare. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes,” Hotch says. “I know.”

“She doesn’t know him, Aaron,” Dave says. “How would she? He’s a serial killer who’s been on the run—”

“He knows things about her childhood, Dave,” Hotch cries. “If he knows about the kidnapping, and her father, then who knows what else he’s heard— who knows what he’ll do—”

“Aaron,” Rossi shakes his head. “I know you want to help her, but you can’t protect her, and she can take care of herself.”

“I know she can,” Hotch says, dropping his hand in defeat. “I know.” You’ve been taking care of everything ever since he first met you. He knows you’re more than capable.

He just doesn’t want to find out what happens when you face something you can’t handle alone — and if he’s the one who lets you go at this alone, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

He can’t shake the gut feeling that you’re in way over your head and you don’t realize it. Because you don’t even know what you’re dealing with.

+++

You hardly sleep at all, so you’re in a piss poor mood the next morning, and you blame Hotch for it. Naturally.

So, of course, it also irritates the fuck out of you when you arrive at the office and there’s a coffee waiting on your desk. And an apologetic looking Unit Chief standing next to it, identical coffee cup in hand.

You toss your purse down in your chair, glaring at Hotch. “Are you in a better mood today?”

“Peace offering?” he says instead, gesturing to the coffee on your desk.

“Did you poison it?”

He stares at you tiredly.

You pick it up, keeping your eyes on him as you inhale the steam still rising from the hole in the lid. “What is it?”

“Your favorite,” he replies. “Thought it might make the drive easier.”

“Oh?” You smirk. “Am I driving?”

“No,” he scoffs — which oddly almost sounds like a laugh.

You snicker, bringing the cup to your lips. You don’t miss the way Hotch’s eyes follow the motion, or the way they get stuck on your lips before he averts them, like he senses he’s been caught.

It takes everything in you not to call him out on it. You settle for tasting your coffee and letting out a noise of surprise.

“What?” Hotch asks. “Is it wrong?”

“No, it’s good,” you reply quickly. “It’s right. Thanks.”

He nods once. “Good. Um, I’ll be in my office. We’ll leave in about an hour.”

“Sounds good to me,” you nod, raising your cup in cheers. “See you in a bit.”

Hotch heads up to his office without another word, leaving you with a whole world of confusion.

He’s buying you coffee now? Seriously?

Thank god no one else was here to witness that. You’d never live that one down if Morgan heard all of it.

You shove your purse aside and sit down, putting your head in your hands. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself, continuing the long process of mentally preparing for speaking with Richard Monroe today.

“Long night?”

You raise your head to glare at Morgan, but it holds no real heat. You’re too tired and you’re not even mad at him. “Don’t even get me started.”

His mouth forms an ‘o’ as inhales sharply. “That bad, huh?” He drops his bag next to his desk, instead coming over to prop himself on the edge of yours. “Talk to me.”

“Morgan,” you sigh, dropping your head back into your hands. “Not today, seriously.”

“What’s happening today?” he asks. “You never did say why you left so suddenly yesterday.”

You lift your head and glance toward Hotch’s office, slightly relieved to find his door closed and his head turned down toward paperwork on his desk. When you look back at Derek, he does the most not-subtle look over his shoulder at Hotch before looking back at you.

“No.”

You lean back, eyebrows furrowed. “No what?”

Morgan starts to grin. “You two finally get your shit together?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I see how it is,” Morgan chuckles, lightly tapping your shoulder. “Come on, tell me. Who made the first move?”

“Get off of my desk,” you say through gritted teeth, shoving his leg. “Nothing happened. I have to go speak to Richard Monroe today and Hotch is coming with—”

“What?” Morgan asks, incredulous. “Richard Monroe? Why him?”

“Because he’s not cooperating with the investigation anymore but says he will if he speaks to me first,” you explain like it’s nothing — because it is. “Strauss told me about it a couple weeks ago.”

“No,” Morgan shakes his head. “I don’t like the idea of this.”

You roll your eyes, grabbing your coffee. “Now you sound just like Hotch.”

“Good,” Morgan slides off your desk, shrugging. “‘Cause this doesn’t sound like a good idea. You had a panic attack after talking to him.”

You shake your head. “That’s not—”

“I know what those look like,” Morgan argues. “Whether or not that’s what you call them, that’s what they are.”

“Leave it alone,” you warn.

He holds up his hands in surrender. “Alright. Just— You know the drill. Call me if you need me. And try not to kill him,” he adds with a quick glance up to Hotch’s office.

“No promises,” you reply, tipping your coffee back.

+++

When Hotch comes down to the bullpen an hour later, you notice everyone’s eyes zeroing in on his coffee, then yours, taking note of the matching cups. Prentiss is first to raise her eyebrows at you. You give her a look that just says don’t. She says nothing, but her smirk tells you she’ll be messaging the group chat about it later.

“Ready?” Hotch asks.

“Yep,” you nod, grabbing your purse and standing. You offer a mock salute to the rest of your team. “See you on the other side.”

Morgan laughs, shaking his head at you. “Try not to kill each other. Please.”

You and Hotch roll your eyes at the same time, freezing when you catch the other doing it.

It takes a surprising amount of effort on your part to not smile.

You swipe your coffee off your desk, downing the last remaining drops as the two of you walk toward the exit. “Thanks for this again, by the way,” you say quietly, tossing your empty cup in the trash can in the hall. “You didn’t have to.”

“It’s not a problem,” he replies, tossing his as well while you hit the down arrow on the elevator.

The silence blankets you both inside the elevator as you stand as far apart as possible. Like you both know you need to cherish your personal space before you’re stuck in a car together for three straight hours — one way.

Since Hotch is driving, you head toward where you know his car will be in the parking deck. The spaces aren’t even assigned; he’s just a creature of habit. You, on the other hand, hardly ever park in the same spot. Hotch has always wondered why.

“If this radio turns on and starts playing some classical music bullshit, I’m going to be so disappointed in you, Hotchner,” you tease as you buckle yourself in.

Hotch says nothing as he turns the key in the ignition. A second later, The Beatles’s white album fills the car. Namely, the song “I Will”.

“Seriously?” you grin. “The white album?”

“What’s wrong with it?” he asks, immediately on the defensive.

“Nothing,” you hum, looking out the window. “I’m partial to Abbey Road.”

“Of course you would be.”

Your head whips toward him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs. “Nothing.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s smiling.

You narrow your eyes before turning your head, biting back your own smile for the second time this morning.

Maybe you are warming up to each other — slightly — or maybe it means nothing.

Whatever it is, you don’t have time to think about it today. You have a serial killer who wants to speak with you, who somehow knows who you are despite you having never met him before, and the only explanation must have something to do with your father — who Hotch still knows nothing about.

#aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #The Gambit #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner angst #hotch x fem!reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #angst angst angst #aaron hotchner

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chicgeekgirl89 · 2 days ago

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Thanks to @ironheartwriter, @tellmegoodbye, @heartstringsduet, @annoyingcloudearthquake, @strandnreyes, @henrygrass, @whatsintheboxmh, @paperstorm, @emsprovisions, @lemonlyman-dotcom, @nisbanisba, @carlos-in-glasses, and @carlossreaders for the tags!

Something from the sicky snowy fic (sorry Lemon!!!):

“Hi?” T.K.’s mouth is full of fruit, his voice coming out garbled. “Stop eating all our snacks. They have to last four days.” T.K. swallows and wipes the back of his hand over his mouth. “You picked good snacks. I can’t help it.” “Maybe I should give you something else to do with your hands.” He lets his voice drop low, his hands running up T.K.’s thighs as his thumbs trace the inseam of T.K.’s jeans. T.K.’s whole body melts and Carlos wants to sigh in relief at finally having time and space to focus on each other and nothing else. He loves their little family, but ever since T.K. went back to work last year, he’s missed having time just the two of them. It was the right time, Jonah being in school means their work lives can be a little more stable, and T.K. had been itching to get back at it, but still. It was nice to come home every night to his husband waiting. Now their shifts sometimes don’t line up. “Mmm yes,” T.K. leans forward, their lips meeting softly. It’s crazy how much he loves this still after all these years together. He never gets tired of T.K.’s body, his mind, his heart. Everything about him is still as sparkling as the day they met, and Carlos truly isn’t sure how he could live without him at this point. “Wait.” T.K. puts his hands on Carlos’ chest and pushes back, eyes searching his. “You mean sex right? Doing sex things with my hands? Or are you joking and you really just want me to help cook dinner?” “I mean,” Carlos leans closer, “imagine it’s our honeymoon all over again.”

It's late, so open tag!

#Tarlos #911 Lone Star #WIP Wednesday #Sicky Snowy Fic

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555aturn · 1 day ago

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Whispers of Zaun⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

chapter one

summary- As the apothecary navigates another day in Zaun, tending to customers, reminiscing about lost loved ones, and adopting a stray black cat named Hex, she finds solace in the quiet routines of her shop. But when a bloodied Sevika appears at her doorstep in the dead of night, it marks the beginning of an unexpected entanglement-one that neither of them is prepared for.

warnings- talks about death, injuries, and blood (nothing too graphic i promise my sweets) SLOW BURN

minors do not enter!!!

word count- 2.1k

The shop was always quiet on Thursdays. Only a couple of customers trickle in and maybe one or two women hoping to escape the evil men that remain in their lives. I was putting away my tarot cards when the bell rang at the entrance of my shop, indicating someone had come in. I sigh and walk towards the front, walking through the beaded curtain that separates me from my home and my business.

It was Ran, one of Silco’s henchmen. Ran is actually one of the few people from Silco’s squad I tolerate; they're always very nice and have great manners… unlike the rest of the bunch.

“Ran! Darling, what do I owe the pleasure?” I stood behind the wooden countertop. “Ah well, I wish it was just to chat, but Silco said he wants a few potions.” Ran said while messing with their jagged black hair.

“Hm, of course… duty calls. What does he need?” I asked. Ran handed over a thin brown paper with a lengthy list of things he wanted. I sighed.

“Well honey, would you like some tea while you wait? A new shipment of lavender came in.”

Ran nodded, and I smiled, opening a fresh pack of lavender. As I handed Ran the steaming mug I took the list from my pocket and got to work.

The familiar motions of measuring herbs and bottling mixtures usually kept my mind steady, but today, my thoughts drifted.

Maybe it was the scent of lavender—Vander always said it reminded him of simpler times. Or maybe it was just the weight of Zaun pressing in, the way it always did when things got too quiet.

It has been about a year since Vander died and Silco officially ran the lanes. It was tragic, Vander’s passing, and he gave the people of Zaun hope. I haven’t been to The Last Drop since he died. The memory of him still haunts me; but, I can’t hear his laugh anymore, and I’m starting to forget what color eyes he had. Vander and his kids used come to my shop, and we’d catch up. Vander was older than me by almost ten years, but he helped me get up on my feet when my dad died. My dad was all I had, and Vander reminded me of him.

Powder and Vi once knocked over a whole shelf of edible glitter dust, and it was the best day ever. I closed early, and we spent the day cleaning up. A tear slid down my cheek at the memory. I hear rumors that Vi and Powder are dead or that they fled Zaun together but something always washes over me whenever I think about the two young girls. Like a warm sheet, it cocoons by body almost like Janna wants me to know they are alive. I hope it’s true.

“Alright, so I’ve got everything Silco asked for. I packaged the peppermint, lavender, and chamomile in separate bags, and the blood harrow philtre is this glass bottle. You must be careful with this vial, Ran; it is a venomous liquid, understand?” Ran nodded, and I handed over the items to them.

“That will be 7 valors, please.” Ran handed me the paper notes and waved me goodbye.

I sighed as I sat on my burgundy sofa that’s placed to the left of my wooden counter. All that thinking back on the past made me want to smoke a cigarillo. That is one nasty habit I picked up after Vander’s death. I reached into my skirt pocket for my lighter and then into the drawer of the table adjacent to the sofa.

I took a long drag and leaned back, my right arm finding solace on the back of my sofa while the other was occupied with holding my cigarillo. I have grown to love the bitter taste of the tobacco that lingers in the back of my throat for the rest of the day.

Three more customers in need of my services came by the shop, now it’s closing time.

It is unfortunate with Silco roaming around and him having me in his clutches, but, with me being one of his ‘allies’—that is what he called it. I had some special advantages as well. He set me up with a connection to Piltover so I can get regular shipments for products or ingredients. Last year I got a bathtub. It was definitely one of my selfish requests, but I was chatting with one of my clients from Piltover, and I was amazed when she mentioned she took baths regularly.

I turned the faucet to where the water would be lukewarm. I reached under my sink for the bag of rosebuds I keep for occasions like this. I took a handful and sprinkled them into the water, then I undressed.

I slipped into the warm water and let out a sigh of content. The floating rosebuds made the bath water a very light pink color, which made the bath all the more soothing. Having a bath almost makes me forget the struggles I’ve been through and how the city I live in could be destroyed at any moment. The many scars that litter my body bring me back to the brutal reality.

Even after a nice long bath, my mind refuses to settle.

Sleep can’t seem to want me tonight. I begrudgingly slip out of bed to sit outside on the curb to smoke another cigarillo. I sat there zoning out for a long ten minutes, as I was about to stomp it out; something soft brushed against my leg. I froze up and looked down. It was a black cat; the feline couldn’t be more than a year old.

“Well, hello, sweet baby, what are you doing out so late? It’s not safe.” I cooed at the creature as if it could understand the words I am saying. “You should come inside.” We fell asleep cuddled up to each other.

Two weeks have gone by since I have officially or unofficially adopted the cat from the curb. I found out the feline is a female. So I named her Hex. Hex likes to terrorize and hiss at almost every customer that walks through the door. Since she is so little, no one seems to mind.

Hex has settled into my shop as if she's always belonged here, weaving between shelves and perching on the counter like she owns the place. She's become my little shadow, a comforting presence in the quiet moments. But quiet never lasts long in Zaun.

Last week, two of Silco's men came by, demanding twice the usual order.

Something must not be going his way at headquarters. The thought almost made me smile—nothing pleases me more than a powerful man being knocked down a peg.

The day has only just started. The morning has always been my favorite. The undercity is never truly silent, but the early hours are as close as it gets—just the distant clatter of pipes, the hum of chem-lights, and the rhythmic drip of condensation from overhead metal beams.

I go grab a candle to light at the entrance of the shop, a habit from old Zaun, a quiet offering to the wind. Then I got to work.

Dried herbs rustle as I sort them into neat bundles. Glass bottles clink as I arranged them on shelves. The air fills with the scent of lavender, dried citrus, and something earthier: Zaun-born remedies, meant to soothe the people the chem-barons would rather forget.

Hex watches from her perch, tail flicking in lazy approval. I giggled at the feline. “All chipper because no one has come yet, hm? Did you scare away all my customers?” I jest with the cat. I must have spoken too soon because my bell jingled. One of my regulars, Seraphine, a bubbly young woman who comes in at least once every other week.

“Seraphine! My dear, welcome back.” I walked out from behind the counter to hug her. “Hi! Sorry I didn’t come by later. I have plans…a date, actually, which is why I’m here.” Seraphine said to me with a pearly white smile.

“A date? Oh my goodness, darling, that’s marvelous; good men are hard to come by here.” I smirked at her knowingly. Gosh, I have had my fair share of horrible men. Thank Janna; I like women too.

“Yeah, I know; he’s from Piltover.” Seraphine squealed at the top of her lungs. Hex hissed at her. I was shocked, my eyes wide. “Wow, honey, that’s something…So what do you need from me for this date?” I walked back behind the counter. “Well, miss, I was hoping you had some sort of pheromone perfume or something. I want this man to be obsessed and head over heels for me.” She said with another big smile.

“Well, hun, I have just the thing.” I said with a wink as I disappeared into the back. “Use it wisely, dear; remember, a little goes a long way. I handed her a red elixir in a heart-shaped glass vial. “Don’t put it on yet; wait at least five minutes before you see him.” I said with a warm smile.

“Thank you so much!” Seraphine jumped up and down and gave me a hug. “Of course, dear, it’s on the house, you'll pay me with the whole story next week. I want all the details!” I say as she practically runs out the door, her bubblegum pink hair bouncing as she goes.

Today had been good, so I rewarded myself with another lavender bath. Once I got to bed Hex jumped up, she curled up beside me, her tiny body warm against mine, and we drifted off together.

Until there was a heavy knock at my front door.

I threw a robe over my body, since I was only in a pair of panties, and walked to my door. I looked through the peephole; shockingly enough, it was Sevika. Silco’s right hand. I reluctantly opened the door. She was bleeding.

“What do you need?” I said, moving out of the way to let her through. Gosh, she was so tall.

“Hmpf, well, I am obviously bleeding.” Sevika said in a gruff, matter-of-fact tone.

“No shit, you’re ruining my clean floors.” I muttered to myself as I gathered the proper materials to bandage her wound and some remedies to help with the pain.

Shimmer was always a last resort for me. I hated the thought of using it. Silco had me keep it for him at the shop. His men frequently took it.

Sevika has sat herself on one of my chairs and thrown her red cloak onto the floor, coincidentally soaking up her puddle of blood. Was she trying to be helpful? I shook my head and kneeled beside her. The wound was, in fact, more than that. There was a huge gash on her flesh arm. Very deep from the looks of it.

“What caused this?” I asked as I started pouring rubbing alcohol into the gash. She didn't answer my question, just clenched her jaw and stared at the floor. Whatever had happened, it wasn't just another job gone wrong.

“Fuck—” Sevika cursed as I tightened her bandage. “Alright, you’re all, uh, patched up; you can sleep on the sofa; it pulls out—” “I’m not staying.” Sevika cut me off. “But you’re in no condition to go anywhere else just for the night.” I insisted, and Sevika rolled her eyes but made her way over to my sofa on the left side of the store. “Here, let me help.” I said as I pulled out the second half so she could properly lay down. “Would you like some tea?” I asked her and yawned. “I don't wanna take any of your potions.” Sevika scoffed. “It’s not a potion, just chamomile tea to help you sleep and help with the aches. I can give you hibiscus in the mornin for the swelling.” As I finished my sentence, Sevika was already snoring. Guess she didn’t need it. The only other sounds that could be heard was Sevika’s prosthetic arm making soft whirring sounds and Hex purring at my feet.

I unfolded the fuzzy blanket I had on the sofa and laid it over her. I just realized I never really interacted with Sevika much before this; yeah, she was Silco’s right hand, but she has only come to the shop twice and didn’t say a word to me. Until tonight, I wondered why she came to the shop and not to Silco directly.

#sevika smut #arcane #sevika #sevika x reader #lesbian #wlw #witches #witchy!reader #arcane zaun #wlw post #potions #silco #arcane silco #ran arcane #hex cat #sevika x y/n #sevika x you

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blurry-lock · 1 day ago

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Writer writer more shidou please :3 (i love your fanfics sm they give me hope for the shidou tag)

Tysm anon!! That’s so sweet 🥺🫶 recently i’ve been inspired by a lot of songs so i’ll try to write more!! this time I decided to write a little bit of angst >:)

ROBBERS

“But if you just take off your mask, you'd find out everything's gone wrong…”

What you need to know: based on the mv of robbers by the 1975, established relationship, shidou and reader are criminals and troublemakers, blood, gun and wound mentions, angst, cursing, gn reader, slightly suggestive

Wrd count: 2k

He had a face straight out of a magazine. That’s what you thought every time you saw Shidou, even when he was beating someone or when you ran from the cops, it was the kind of love that everyone would bet it’ll end up wrong. You loved each other madly, you found beauty in the chaos Shidou was capable of, the same chaos that would end up destroying you eventually. You and Shidou were both runaways, living in an abandoned house with 2 other runaways, Aiku and Sae that became your friends in no time. You were all living based on deals, gambling and sometimes even stealing, to this day none of you faced any repercussions making you not afraid of anything.

But living this life sometimes got you thinking at night about what if things turned out different for you? Being a troublemaker knowing you do bad things and feel no remorse until recently was getting surprisingly tiring, ever since you started thinking about a dream that kept nudging you from the back of your head.

“What if we formed a band? A real one.” You blurted out as you were lost in thought. The three of them stared at you with widened eyes as you were sitting on the living room talking about random stuff.

It wasn’t a crazy idea, you sometimes pretended you were in a band and played with some robbed instruments you had. Aiku had a bass, Sae an electric guitar and your boyfriend, Shidou had drums (stealing the drums was a crazy experience you almost got caught) and your singing skills were not that bad actually.

“Oh? That’s honestly a good idea, sweetheart~” Shidou chuckled, putting his arm over your shoulders.

“Sounds nice, a lot of girls and guys would give me attention.” Aiku chuckled and smirked at the thought.

“And how? With what money? People will eventually found out what we do…” Sae raised an eyebrow, although internally he liked the idea.

“I… I want to stop having this life, that’s why I suggested the idea of making a band.” You looked down, afraid of their reactions.

“That won’t be easy hun.” Aiku chuckled. “But… I admit I like the idea of starting a new life”

“But doing this is so easy and fun…” Shidou winced and pouted softly, but when he looked at you and seeing your slight frown at his words his heart ached slightly. He was a criminal and a very problematic one, but before any of that he was your boyfriend and he would do anything for you with no objections.

He sighed and smirked at you. “But being with you is more fun, can’t deny I like that idea so count me in~”

You three turned your heads to Sae, waiting for his response.

“Ugh… fine” Sae rolled his eyes, but a subtle smile could be seen on his lips.

Shidou stood up on the coffee table and looked at the three of you. “Let’s do a final robbery, we’ll get some money and with that we can form the band.”

“Are you sure?” You looked at him with unease, you didn’t know why but you had a weird feeling in your gut about this.

Shidou looked at you fondly, a look that always made you weak along with his signature smirk as he leaned closer to you, he held your chin and you could feels his lips brushing against yours as he spoke in a low and soft tone.“You trust me?”

Your breath hitched, you still felt uneasy but you trusted Shidou with your life so you nodded, he nodded back and pecked your lips.

“Oh my god get a room.” Sae rolled his eyes which caused you to chuckle and pull away.

“So, are you in?” Shidou turned to look at Aiku and Sae.

Everyone agreed and for the next days you proceeded to form a plan for your final robbery. The plan was simple, going to the convenience store that was in the outskirts of the city, empty the cash register and ATM. You done this multiple times, but for some reason this time felt different.

“Hey sweets, look!” Shidou entered your shared bedroom and sat on the bed while you were laying down. It was the night prior to your robbery and for the first time you were anxious.

You slightly lifted your head to look and widened your eyes when you saw what he was holding. “WHAT THE FU- Shidou Ryusei!” You slightly lowered your voice as the other two were probably asleep in the other rooms.

“The full name? Not even babe or love?” Shidou pouted, slightly teasing you.

“Why do you have that? We are just taking some money, not killing someone!” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Just in case, ya know?” He teased again, looking down at you and toying with the revolver.

“Shidou.” You sat on the bed and glared at him. Yeah, you were a troublemaker but this was beyond your limits specially now that you were trying to pursue your dream of forming the band and you also didn’t want him doing anything stupid.

Shidou slightly widened his eyes, this was the first time he saw you being so serious about something and the fact you called his last name was enough for him to understand you weren’t playing. He stared at you for a few seconds before sighing.

“It’s not even loaded see?” He showed it to you and then placed it on the nightstand. “It would make things easier, just to scare them.” He looked at you like a scolded student and buried his head on your neck, breathing in your scent.

You sighed and your gaze softened as your hand instinctively started caressing his hair. “Just don’t do anything stupid, okay?” You mumbled, the weird feeling still lingering on your gut.

“Fine, fine…” he hummed and nuzzled his head in your neck, letting out a content sigh at the feeling of your hand in his hair.

“And promise me something…” You slightly tugged his hair, gaining a soft wince from him. “After the robbery, you’ll get rid of that thing, okay?”

“Promised.” He nodded and planted a soft kiss on your neck.

You nodded back and lay down on your bed again, looking at the ceiling followed by Shidou who straddled your lap and looked down at you, raising an eyebrow. “I may be stupid sometimes, but you definitely have something.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” You looked up at him, trying to mask your uneasiness.

“Okay i’m not that stupid sweets, something’s on your mind, I know ya!” He crossed his arms and stared down at you. Shidou was right, he knew you too well to not notice, to the point you sometimes thought he even knew you better than yourself.

You sighed and extended your arms, just wanting a hug from him right now and he more than gladly hugged you, all his weight on top of you as he did, not that you minded, you were used to it by now.

“Everything is gonna be fine, kay?” He spoke softly as he left soft kisses all over your neck until he got too excited and bit you.

“Ryusei!” You groaned slightly as you tried to pull him away obviously to no avail.

“Hm? You don’t complain when we are-“ He couldn’t finish the sentence when you slightly tugged his hair. “O-okay I get it! Why you always mess with my hair damn…” You chuckled softly and caressed the spot you tugged.

He lifted his head and stared at you with a half-lidded gaze, making you squirm every time he looked at you with those pretty pink eyes he looked so cool.

“You’re probably thinking i look very cool and handsome, right?” He teased you as he flashed his usual lazy smirk.

You rolled your eyes playfully and smiled softly at him, you still feel slightly uneasy but Shidou always made you feel better, even with his nonstop teasing.

—

The day finally arrived, Shidou and you were leaning against your getaway car. Aiku on the wheel and Sae besides him watching out for any cops.

“Ready sweets?” Shidou looked at you with his usual laidback expression and as he lowered his gaze to your hands he noticed they were slightly trembling. He took your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand gently. “Hey, look at me.”

You looked at him and nodded letting out a shaky sigh, he ruffled your hair with his free hand and kissed the hand he was holding. “I’ll protect you even it’s the last thing I do.”

Your gaze softened and you pecked his lips before covering your face with a mask. “Ready”

Shido smiled and did the same, still holding your hand as you both ran and got in the convenience store. Meanwhile the other two were waiting outside a little impatiently, Aiku drummed with his fingers the steering wheel and Sae looked out the window, both silent.

After a minute or two they heard a shot, which made them both turn their heads to the store.

“Didn’t Shidou say his weapon wasn’t loaded?” Aiku furrowed his eyebrows as he stared at the store nervously.

The store door opened as the both of you got out, the sight making Aiku and Sae’s stomach drop.

There you were struggling to carry Shidou as you try to make it to the car, bloody hands as he pressed them onto his stomach. Once you made it in the car you turned your head to Aiku and Sae with fear.

“W-what the fuck just happened?!” Aiku said as he drove away as fast as he could.

“S-shidou pulled out the gun to scare the cashier but-“ You contained a sob as a crazy amount of tears rolled down your cheeks. “T-the cashier… he had a gun too…”

“You need to drive to the hospital” Sae looked at Aiku, shocked and desperate.

“N-no… we can’t-“ Shidou hissed in pain as his hand kept pressing the wound, useless as the blood didn’t stop from coming out. “Just… drive to the house and we’ll see what we can do.” He panted and rested his head on the window.

“Shit. This isn’t right…” Aiku mumbled nervously but listened to his petition.

“R-ryu…” You rested your head in his chest. This couldn’t happen, not now that you were about to pursue your dream.

You should’ve listened to your gut.

“Don’t worry sweets, am still here” He weakly smirked as his breath came out in sharp pants.

He wasn’t going to last long, you all knew it as he already lost a lot of blood and the place were he was shot was dangerous, there was nothing you could do. The rest of the ride was silent, only the sharp breathing of Shidou and your soft sobs filled the air.

Once you were at your house, with Shidou laying on his back in your bedroom with you besides him, hugging him tight as you sobbed, staining his shirt more than it already was. You were both a bloody mess, not that you cared now.

“Please don’t leave me… not like this.” You mumbled multiple times as you nuzzled your head on his chest. “We still have a lot to do…. P-please…”

Shidou’s gaze was blurry and he could feel his breath getting weaker and weaker as the seconds passed. With a shaky hand, he gently massaged your head.

“Shidou Ryusei I love you!” You sobbed, tightening the grip you had on him.

“I know… I’ll always love you too.” He struggled to talk as he felt his voice becoming weak.

“J-just stay… please stay…” You kept begging and sobbing. After all, he was the only person you had left, the only person you made a real connection with, the one that cared when nobody else did.

“Hey sweets…” An almost inaudible mumble came out of him.

You slightly lifted your head, red and swollen eyes meeting his gaze. Despite him almost feeling he was going to fall asleep, he looked at you fondly and not loosing his lazy smirk.

“You look so cool to me, even if you’re crying.” He weakly chuckled.

All you could was let out a sad chuckle before staring at him and crashing your lips against his in a kiss full of emotions and pure love until you felt he eventually fell asleep…

Hey!! This time i decided to write some angst, hopefully it wasn’t too bad or too heavy 😥 Hope you like it!!

Masterlist here

#bllk x reader #bllk x y/n #blue lock #blue lock shidou #blue lock x reader #ryusei shido x reader #ryusei shidou #shidou ryusei x reader #shidou ryuusei x reader #bllk shidou #shidou ryusei x you #shidou ryusei #blue lock x female reader #blue lock x gender neutral reader #blue lock x you #shidou x reader #bllk x you #bllk angst #blue lock angst

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formylovetodaryldixon · 2 days ago

Text

"Paper Cuts." Intro—Daryl Dixon.

(Not my gif)

A/N: Hello everyone.

Once again, with great fear, I show you the intro of this little series, set before the apocalypse. This story is to show a little bit of how you and Daryl met before the end of the world, so I hope you like it! Thank you very much for giving it a chance. (I'm taking the liberty of tagging the people who commented on the post I made asking if you would like to read this story, and those who read "Like there was no tomorrow" but if you don't want to, don't hesitate to say so :)

Endless nights wondering why?

The emptiness in his uncomfortable mattress, always in the same position, counting the cracks in the ceiling. Insomnia, always alert, waiting still for the screams from the other side of the door and everything that brought, even if the perpetrators became ghosts a long time ago. Memories of his childhood desecrated, nightmares in his failed attempts to fall asleep, alone, until eventually boredom and tiredness forced him to close his eyes, only to then repeat the cycle in which he lived for many years. But not completely asleep, but always knowing the answer to: why I can’t? although never accepting the truth, living with it like a paper cut in his hand that burned.

All of that and more turned the boy into a young man who grew up unable to heal the wound, but that, at some point in his existence, found a way to live with it and without feeling any pain no more, because someone told him that, in the end, we’re all a little broken, and that's okay. At that moment his hand stopped hurting, and although it turned out rough after a lifetime of working with them, now the callousness of his fingers is invisible to you, nonexistent as Daryl continues to slide them over the small of your back, under your black t–shirt, up and down lazily because now, not sleeping is a choice.

Lying on his right side, his outstretched arm is the nest of your head and warm body while sleeping on your stomach, your hand in a loose fist against your face, a habit that makes him chuckle before he gently pushes it away, only to put his finger under your nose, just to check that you’re still breathing. Yeah, there you are, the responsible for the collision of his little world, fracturing the silence that Daryl Dixon had managed to achieve in his solitude. But he wouldn't change this for anything.

However, when the door of his old apartment opens and hits the wall with a thud, his natural protective instinct, the one that was born the first time he took care of his mother after witnessing her first blackout, makes his hand, a second after that resounding sound, leave your back only to press it against your ear to block out the loud giggles coming from the hallway.

As a reflex, your body moves in your sleep.

“Fuckin' asshole.” Daryl grunts in frustration, listening to the way his older brother silences whoever is accompanying him that night.

“Shh, shh, shh.” Merle laughs from the other side of the closed door on his way to his own room, intoxicated by alcohol and other things. “M' sure ma baby brother’s lil' angel is in there and we don’ wanna wake 'em up, darlin'...”

Although a short time later, the small apartment is filled with moans that travel through the thin walls.

“Goddamn it.” Tired, Daryl closes his eyes, wondering why the hell he hasn't been able to leave that shitty place.

Maybe it was the fear of starting, never something new because Daryl always lived tied to the past, to the pain and his scars, to the usual, to old habits, to his older brother who despite everything, is still his family. Although the ring hidden in his last drawer weighs with the opportunities he missed, that he let pass by for fear of rejection, for fear of his feelings overflowing when he had lived a life feeling little, or nothing at all. But then, there is a giggle on your part that forces him to open his eyes again, taking his hand away from your ear when Daryl sees you rubbing your closed eyelids before opening them, (with the fist you use to block your own breathing as he usually says to mock you) little by little to get used to the semi–darkness of the room and the partial light that enters through the only window.

“I think someone is filming a very dirty porno in your house.”

Daryl chuckles.

“M' sure the idiot paid her a lot of money to do that.”

You shrug, agreeing with him.

“Though I’ve never met such a religious person calling God that way.”

Surprised, Daryl lets out a laugh as he rubs his face, waking back up just as he was managing to fall asleep.

“Maybe we should jus' keep sleepin' at yer place.”

You nod softly, bringing your loose fist back up to your face.

“I think so. No offense, but your mattress is kinda hard.”

“Shit. Sorry, peach.” His hand finds its way back to your exposed skin, pushing himself close to your body. “M' gonna buy a new one. Now try to sleep 'cause I have to take yer pretty ass to work in the mornin'.”

You chuckle, closing your eyes, knowing well that now, easily, he too will go back to sleep.

You and Daryl had more in common than he ever thought you two would have, because he never met someone like you: a little broken but determined to live life to the fullest, as if you had never left little pieces of yourself behind. Maybe it was the memories of an interrupted childhood, the cigarettes shared on the edge of that lake of the woods where he usually takes you, the jokes you make with your sassy mouth, making fun of him like no one had ever done before, while showing him that laughing more than once a year was allowed, and that trips on his motorcycle were more fun in pairs.

But between meeting each other and breaking up, there was a life that was worth living even with those pains in our scars. Because now you know that the important thing about being alive is to live, even with those paper cuts on our skin that sometimes feel like bullet wounds, but those that, at some point in our lives, will no longer hurt at all.

@spookygothmommy @walkingtalkingsomething @m1nda0 @fluffy-dixon @stunkbiggu @kurogxrix @ffsjustletmesleep @kaz11283 @daryldixmedown @enretrogue

#daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x female reader

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sirxaibs · 20 hours ago

Text

Keigo Takami / Hawks X Reader (eventually various X reader but that’s if I decide to continue with the burst of inspiration)

If this isn’t that meaty for you…. THEY JUST MET LET THEM COOK

Summary: Small light banter for a first meeting between freshly debuted Hawks and an Isekai’d reader.

Basically after reading copious amounts of amazingly talented stories by amazingly talented writers. “DEPOLLUTE ME, GENTLE ANGEL” by @fallen-w1ngs and Changing History by SummerBlack on Quotev. With “depollute me” the author humanizes the pro hero from being just a symbol. Meanwhile with “Changing History” the author introduces an emotion more attuned to feeling real and how life isn’t just a cycle that is predetermined. So my dynamic of choice was you as the reader have already been thrown in this world for the first 18 years of your life. If you were put in this world why not do the expected? Become a hero. But if all things are fake why take anything seriously?

If you couldn’t gather from that, the reader and hawks will grow and learn that they have the ability to matter and deserve to feel like they belong. I don’t have a very serious style of writing but I do try! Maybe not my best but key emphasis on try! Today we delve into YOU! YOUR CHARACTER!

This was all made on my notes app while on vacation 😺

Word count: 4280 ish, (idk through editing I added some things)

A blur of red and gold emerged first, feathers catching the sunlight just before their owner stepped forward with an easy, lopsided grin. Hawks, the newly minted Pro, looked entirely unbothered by the attention, despite the sudden chorus of excited shouts.

“Hawks! Can you sign this?”

“Dude, your debut fight was insane!”

“Picture, please?”

He laughed, ruffling his windswept hair as he glanced over the eager faces.

“Man, you guys really know how to make a guy feel welcome,” he said, grabbing the nearest pen. “Alright, line up nice and neat, yeah? I’ve got places to be, but I can’t just leave my awesome fans hanging.”

As he signed posters, notebooks, and even the occasional wing-shaped keychain, Hawks kept that signature smirk in place. He’d always known he’d make it this far—but seeing the real, tangible proof of it in the form of starstruck faces and excited voices?

Yeah, this was pretty damn cool.

As the crowd died down, Originally just going to walk away you thought about when would even be the next time you’d see him. Unfortunately since being thrown into this world, the whole concept of canon magnets for main characters was not even a concept in your life.

“You know, if you’re acting like this right out of the gate, I can’t even imagine how inflated your ego will get once you’re officially ranked among the top heroes.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I have no idea where you’re getting that impression.” You almost felt bad for taking away his moment. The disheveled blonde looked like he might’ve been having a sincere, heartfelt moment.

“It’s always the pretty boys with the massive egos,” you sighed dramatically, looking away. Seeing Hawks in all his glory had to come with a little entertainment, right?

He took a step back, eyeing your UA uniform as if sizing you up.

“Maybe the hostility’s coming from jealousy?”

“It’s the Icarus trope for me” you mutter

“Sorry?”

You laughed lightly, rolling your eyes. “Oh nothing! You sure would think that.”

To be honest, you hadn’t meant to bump into him. You were just on your way home from school, with nothing more in mind than a nice nap. Being a third-year at UA in the most boring era of this universe really didn’t leave you with much to look forward to.

“I mean, looks like we’re heading in the same direction,” he said, curiosity creeping into his tone as he took another sip from his drink.

“You’re not wrong, but the flashy vibe you’re giving off? It’s almost alarming.”

He gave you a distraught look.

“Imagine this, I’m getting saved by—wait, what’s your name again?” Oh, it wouldn’t be impossible for actually knowing him. Sure, he had only debuted a few months ago and the crowd that just left that chanted his name every two seconds would be a sign for his name, but you couldn’t help it. In your past life, the sheer amount of content of the show you consumed meant you had to know him but better safe than sorry.

“Hawks,” he replied, deadpan, amusement flickering in his eyes.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. In response he raised his brow

It probably looked like you were laughing at him, which, in a way, you kind of were. You remembered the draft photos of when his character was first being developed—back when they considered giving him an actual hawk head. The thought alone made you smile.

“Pro hero Hawks saves me, and the sheer massiveness of his ego completely blindsides me. I’m struck by how conventionally hot he is, and then I die in your arms. Yeah, not a good look for you.”

You sighed inwardly. All in all, you were probably born in the worst generation in the My Hero universe. You couldn’t even be part of the middle generation where you could’ve had the chance to work as a teacher with Aizawa and the rest of the crew. It was a possibility, sure, but it felt so far out of reach. And the idea of being around Present Mic—preferably with his hair down and you age-appropriate for him? That would’ve been a dream.

But here you were, a few years older than the main cast. Actually, you were the same age as Keigo. As much as you loved his character, he didn’t really become important until the fifth season. Which meant you had little to no relevance to the plot or any of the major characters. You couldn’t help but feel like you were stuck in some lame generation, unable to make an impact.

Why couldn’t any isekai story go right? You really felt like you’d lost the genetic lottery over and over again. You couldn’t have been born just a few years younger, so you could’ve at least had the chance to be around your other favorite sunshine-blonde character, Mirio. Not being his age had probably made you feel like you’d lost years of your life unknowingly.

“Maamaa, we just met, and you’ve already got a grudge against me?” He teased, giving you a playful frown.

Immediately it springs in your head that you’ve probably come off as a total asshole. Screw the curse of having an outside point of view. The fact of knowing none of this was real maybe gave a bad look on the outside.

You suddenly felt a wave of regret hit you, realizing how your words had come across. His playful tone, the teasing frown—everything made it clear he wasn’t offended, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had crossed a line. You opened your mouth, but your thoughts were tangled, and it took a moment to collect your words.

“Ah, look, I—” You hesitated, eyes darting away, feeling heat rising in your cheeks. “I didn’t mean to sound like that. It’s just… I don’t know, sometimes I get carried away, and—” You mentally cursed yourself for being so awkward. You hated how easily you could go from sarcastic to genuinely sorry in a second.

Hawks gave you an odd look, the smirk still there, though softer. “Hey, no worries. I get it.” He shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal, but you could tell something about his tone had changed slightly. Maybe he was trying to lighten the mood too, like you were.

“No, I’m serious,” you quickly added, glancing up at him, feeling the need to apologize properly. “It’s just… I don’t know. I’ve been here long enough to see how people get caught up in all the… hero stuff. And I didn’t want to be another person acting all starry-eyed over you just because you’re a pro hero, you know?” God you sounded pathetic. Maybe if you prayed to all might really hard it would go away.

Hawks studied you for a second, then nodded slowly, his expression unreadable for a moment. “I get it. You don’t want to be one of those people who just worship the ground we fly on, huh?”

You sighed, relieved that he understood, but still uneasy. “Yeah... fly on. It’s just… this world, this universe… It’s all so… strange. I mean, I know you’re a big deal, and I respect that. But sometimes it’s hard to take things seriously when everything feels like it’s set in stone. To be so ‘MUCH’ all the time. Anyways I’m literally doing exactly what yours doing for a career so don’t take my words to heart. Heroes are kind of just people that help people and I’m like one or those people and by no means-” You paused, biting your lip.

There was an odd moment of silence before Hawks chuckled, and for a moment, you thought you might’ve said something ridiculous.

“You’re fine.” His tone was soft, genuine this time, as he took another step back, giving you space. “You’re not the first person to think I’m all ‘ego and feathers,’ but not everyone’s as honest about it as you are. So, props for that, I guess.” He tilted his head, his usual cocky grin returning, though it seemed more self-aware now. “But hey, if it helps, I do my best to keep my ego in check. It’s not as big as it looks.”

You blinked, unsure how to respond, but the words that came out were almost reflexive. “Well, you’re doing a pretty good job of hiding it, I guess. You’re going to be one of the top ten. I know it.”

Hawks laughed softly, the sound surprisingly genuine, and you found yourself relaxing a little. Maybe you hadn’t totally messed everything up. “You’re so sure about that? Well then fair enough. Just don’t expect me to give up my flashy style anytime soon. It’s a package deal.” He says that as if he doesn’t get In the top ten within a few months.

You could tell he wasn’t taking offense anymore, but you still felt like you needed to clear the air. “I mean, you’re doing your thing. I just—” You faltered, trying to find the right words, feeling like you were digging yourself into a hole. “I just didn’t want to be some random person making snide comments. You’re a pro hero, and I respect that.”

His eyes softened again, and there was an odd sincerity in his gaze. “Thanks. That means more than you know. You look about the same age as me so as you’re a pro as well, wouldn’t you know it you’ll be up there at the top, maybe we’ll have a hero rivalry” he smirks

“Ah yes the trials and tribulations of endeavour and all might persist in the bodies of 18 year old aspiring heroes” you pause for a moment thinking about it. You know that’s not too far from the original source material

“Well I’m not exactly a pro just yet, give me a few months and I’ll be there”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the awkwardness between you two slowly evaporating. It was strange, how you’d gone from a sarcastic comment to a brief but genuine moment of understanding. And yet, in a world where everything seemed so scripted, the fact that this had played out in such a way felt a little… surreal.

After a beat, Hawks stretched, giving you a wink. “Well, I should probably get going. Hero stuff, you know?” He shrugged, turning on his heel. “But hey, if you ever need a hand or just wanna throw some more sarcastic remarks my way, I’m not hard to find.”

You managed a small, half-smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He flashed you one last grin before taking off, his wings spreading wide as he took to the sky, disappearing into the distance. You watched him go, still feeling that odd mixture of guilt and amusement bubbling in your chest.

Shaking your head, you turned and continued on your way home, feeling slightly lighter, despite the awkwardness. At least you hadn’t ruined everything completely. But, then again, in a world like this, there was always something new to look forward to. Maybe you’d even see Hawks again and maybe next time, you’d be a little better at handling it.

Or, you’d at least try to be.

In this world, reports of people with superpowers started popping up everywhere. No one really knew what was causing these Quirks. And before long, the supernatural became the new normal. Dreams became reality, and the world turned into a superhuman society, with 80% of the population possessing some sort of strange ability.

Blah, blah, blah. The world might sound impressive at first, but being dropped into a world where you know everyone’s futures? That kind of ruins the excitement. Save the fun stuff for when Izuku is supposed to take over

You’d think living in a world of superheroes would be a dream come true, but it felt more like playing a life simulator with a DLC attached.

‘Actually if any one had heard that thought, please smite me dead on the spot’

Maybe when you finally met Shigaraki, you two could bond over how lame your lives were.

————

The moment Hawks took off, disappearing into the sky with all the grace and flair of a man who knew exactly how cool he was, you were left standing there, alone in the middle of a busy street. You blinked a few times, processing the bizarre encounter, like a glitch in the matrix where you’d just met one of the to be top heroes, and somehow managed to be the awkward, sarcastic mess you were known for.

Oh god, you thought, did I just make myself look like an idiot?

The awkwardness of the moment hit you all at once, like a ton of bricks. Your brain replayed every word you’d said, every overly dramatic sigh, and every time you’d made some weird comment about his ego. I probably just ruined any chance of ever having a normal conversation with him ever again, you thought with a groan.

But, hey, at least you’d gotten one thing right: you had no idea how to not embarrass yourself in front of a pro hero. Progress, right?

Your feet shuffled along the sidewalk, your eyes fixed on the ground, just in case anyone noticed how ridiculously flustered you were. You didn’t even know where you were going at this point, your legs had basically decided to take you home, but your brain was still stuck on the fact that you’d just made a snide remark to one of the most famous people in the world. That was bound to come back to haunt you, right?

In the midst of your spiraling, a thought hit you like a slap to the face: What if he tells people?

No, no, no, no. Hawks wasn’t the type to hold grudges. He’d probably just chuckle about it with his equally cool friends and forget about it. Right?

… what if he tells Mirko. All you feel is dread

But still, the mental image of him, sitting around with his hero buddies, casually telling them about the weird girl who got all awkward and snarky when she met him, was enough to make you want to curl up in a hole and disappear for the next decade. I’m never leaving my house again, you thought, hands buried in your pockets. It’s safer this way.

As you trudged home, you passed by the same old buildings, the same street vendors, the same couple having a heated debate about the proper way to cook curry (which, honestly, you were kind of invested in now). It was the same old world. But now, you couldn’t help but feel like you were living in some kind of sitcom where you were the awkward side character. This is what I get for getting tossed into this universe, you thought, rolling your eyes at the universe itself. And why am I still here? Shouldn’t I be a sidekick by now?

You eventually reached your apartment building, doing your best to ignore the fact that you’d just been face-to-face with Hawks and didn’t manage to do anything remotely cool or competent. The elevator ride felt longer than it should’ve. It was like the universe itself was giving you a moment to reflect on your life choices. By the time you reached your door, you felt like you needed to apologize to the doorframe for even existing.

With a dramatic sigh, you kicked off your shoes and collapsed onto the couch. You stared at the ceiling, wondering if you should’ve just said something normal like, “Hey, cool wings.” That’s it. Cool wings… nope absolutely not, move on, but no, you had to act like a nervous wreck who couldn’t even handle basic social interaction. Congratulations, you’re a disaster.

But as your mind started spiraling into self-loathing, you couldn’t help but chuckle a little. The whole situation had been so ridiculous, so out of place, that it was actually kind of funny. You’d just had a conversation with Hawks granted, it was a weird, awkward, almost cringeworthy conversation but still, a conversation! That was more than most people could say.

“Maybe I should just call it a day. Hide under the covers and pretend nothing happened.”

You threw your arms dramatically across your face as if the weight of your shame was too much to bear, but in the back of your mind, a tiny thought crept in: Hey, if I run into him again, maybe I won’t make a fool of myself next time.

Then again, you thought with a grin, Probably not.

At least tomorrow’s a new day, right? You could try to be normal then probably. Or at the very least, you could give yourself a good pep talk, like, “You got this, champ. Try not to make an idiot of yourself this time.”

As you lay there, wallowing in your embarrassment, you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. Because, in the end, this was just another bizarre chapter in your weird, barely-coherent life in the world of heroes. Maybe next time, you’d at least try to make a good first impression. Or maybe, just maybe, you’d accidentally land on your feet and make it out of another embarrassing moment unscathed.

Who knew? Anything was possible in this crazy universe. Well, except you being smooth. That was clearly out of the question.

————

The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and as your classmates hurriedly packed their bags and ran out the door, you sat there, contemplating your life choices. Graduation was right around the corner, and while everyone else was excited about the future, you were just kind of… existing.

You were in your third year at UA, the very school that trained the next generation of Pro Heroes. But here you were, staring at your desk like it owed you money, with no idea what you were supposed to do next.

Let’s be real, everyone else had a purpose. Izuku? He was going to be the greatest hero of all time. All Might? He was the symbol of peace, the beacon of hope, and probably the only guy who could do a cartwheel and not look like a dad on a trampoline. Even Bakugo had a clear goal in mind: to be the best, which, considering his attitude, was more like a “do it or I’ll yell at you until you cry” kind of vibe.

But you? You were just here. You weren’t supposed to be in this world. Seriously, how did you even get here? One minute you were living your normal life, and the next you’re dropped into the middle of a world full of heroes, quirks, and crazy villains, but there’s no manual for how to fit in. It was like being cast in the world’s weirdest TV show and being told, “Yeah, just figure it out, you’ll be fine.”

And you were so fine. So fine, in fact, that you didn’t even know what the point of it all was. You had no grand dreams of becoming the next All Might or Deku. You weren’t even sure what your quirk was half the time, maybe you had an ability to be totally average? If so, congratulations, you were really nailing it.

“Look, you’re fine, you’re fine,” you muttered to yourself, giving the window a dramatic look. “You’ll graduate, become a hero, maybe stand by the snacks table at hero events, get a cool costume, the usual.”

You sighed, staring at the city below. Your classmates had their lives all planned out, while you had absolutely no clue what was happening. “Like, how do you even become a hero if you’re not, like, destined for greatness?” You asked, though you were fully aware the universe wasn’t going to answer. Or if it did, it would probably just laugh and say, “Sorry, you’re just here for filler content.”

You turned to the empty classroom, contemplating your entire existence for a moment. “Man, is this what it’s like to be a side character? ’Cause I really didn’t sign up for this. I was just trying to live my best life, and suddenly I’m here, trying to figure out if I should be saving kittens from trees or passing out flyers for charity events.”

A laugh bubbled out of you. “Who knows, maybe I’ll be that hero, the one who’s really good at handing out pamphlets at superhero conventions. You know, hero stuff. The job that’s always available but no one really talks about.”

You let out a half-hearted groan. “Ugh, I’m like a glorified intern in the superhero world. ‘Oh, sorry, your quirk is literally just being chill? Guess you’ll be a sidekick to the sidekicks!’”

But then it hit you: maybe that’s fine. Not every hero needs to be the big shot. Maybe your purpose was to just… exist. No huge fanfare, no dramatic showdowns with villains, just a random person who shows up at the right time to, like, hand out snacks or prevent a minor inconvenience. You could totally be that person! There’s a whole squad of heroes out there who are doing important stuff without anyone caring about them.

You snapped your fingers. “Wait a minute. Maybe this is my calling! I’ll be ‘The Human Buffer’. I’ll help all the heroes hand out protein bars, hold their coats while they go into battle, be that one person who’s just there to make sure they look good in their hero pose. Yeah, I could be that hero!”

You stood up, grabbed your bag, and strutted out of the classroom with newfound confidence. You might not have a big, world-saving destiny, but you would be the hero who was always there with the perfect snack after a long day of saving people. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was a role that needed to be filled, and by golly, you were going to do it.

“Alright, world,” you said dramatically as you walked down the hallway. “You don’t need me to save the day, but I’ll be here when you need someone to tell you where the bathroom is during a fight. Hero work!”

As you passed your classmates, all talking about their big future plans, you couldn’t help but laugh. Maybe you weren’t meant to be the hero everyone else was, but you were still going to make your mark. Whether they needed an emotional support snack or someone to bring them a towel after they worked up a sweat, you’d be there.

And hey, you’d probably get a cool title too: The Most Average, Most Helpful Hero.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like the idea of being a hero. Who wouldn’t want to swoop in and save the day, right? But the thing was, you didn’t belong here. You didn’t have that spark that made someone destined to be a hero. You weren’t meant to exist in this world. You were more like an accidental extra, someone who wasn’t supposed to show up on the hero timeline but somehow did. And now you were just… waiting for your scene to end.

It wasn’t that you didn’t respect heroes, of course, you did! But watching everyone around you with their grand dreams and bright futures made you feel a bit like the odd one out. Even if you’re living in a year with just side characters. They had their roles, their destinies. Meanwhile, you were stuck in a universe where things were already set in stone. It was like showing up to a concert that was already halfway over and realizing you’re just gonna have to sit in the nosebleeds for the rest of the show.

Keigo had mentioned once that it was important for heroes to ease the worries of the people. Isn’t it paradoxical that his future words are the ones giving you a path. That they had to be more than just strong, they had to make people feel safe. And you’d never had any doubts about that philosophy. But how could you be that person when you didn’t even feel like you were supposed to be here in the first place? It felt like playing a game you didn’t know the rules to, in a world that wasn’t yours.

Sure, you were about to graduate from UA and technically become a Pro Hero, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were sort of stepping into a role that didn’t really have anything to do with you. You had no grand dreams of fighting side-by-side with All Might in his final battle. There were so any many risks and what if a simple butterfly effect made the villains win by you being here. Honestly, you’d probably end up being the hero who handed out flyers for charity events or stood at the front of the line for photos to be safe. Was that the kind of hero you wanted to be?

“Well, I guess I’ll be a hero of some kind,” you muttered, though it was more out of obligation than excitement. “But what does it even mean if I don’t have some grand purpose in all this?”

A little chuckle escaped your lips. This was ridiculous. Here you were, stressing over your place in a world that was literally made up. You were a character in a story that already had its plot laid out, and yet you were still acting like you had to be a main character. It was all just so absurd.

But you didn’t want to be that person someone who just complained about fate and waited for something to happen. You could still make a difference in small ways, right? Maybe not as the next All Might or Deku, but as someone who showed up when it mattered, who helped out in their own way. The world was full of side characters doing small but important things, why couldn’t you be one of them?

With a grin, you stood up and grabbed your bag, heading out of the classroom to join the rest of your classmates. Maybe you weren’t the protagonist of this story, but hey, you could still make your mark on it. A little self-awareness never hurt anyone, right? Besides, in a world full of heroes, sometimes it was enough just to be one even if you were doing it a little differently than everyone else.

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