#and I believe that's all the ones I talked about
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I'd like to tell you all a story about my grandmother.
My grandparents raised their children, four girls (one of them my mother), to be fighters. My aunts marched in Washington for women's rights with babies strapped to their chests and like to joke that all of the grandchildren who came from that line (including myself) were born with picket signs in their hands.
But it started with my grandparents. They fought hard for what they believed in. They marched against Vietnam. They marched for Martin Luther King. They marched for women's rights. They marched for a better future.
But let's talk specifically about my grandmother for a moment.
My grandmother unfortunately passed away in 2016. She had to watch the first Trump election and did so knowing that it would probably be the last election she'd ever see. And there is some argument there that she could have given in to fear and defeatism. She could have decided none of it was worth it, and she could have decided that fascism had won and the world was over.
But she did something else instead.
To give some context, my grandparents had friends who were Republicans. I say were, because they shifted from the normal Republican towards the MAGA Republican we see today. And despite a very clear message from my family about how we felt, they were more than ready to still come to the funeral as if everything was normal. Like their beliefs were normal. Like they were welcome to celebrate someone who had fought so hard for the rights of other people.
These were people who would have absolutely used their rhetoric to scream and shout if they were left out or disinvited.
And so my grandmother, even past her final moments, pulled the most brilliant, petty move I've ever seen.
She'd decided ahead of time that everyone who had known her was more than welcome to attend but that she wanted everyone attending the funeral to donate money. That was the requirement to be invited. And so everyone did just that. There was no talk about what the donations were for, just that they were appreciated. I want to say that the assumption was the money would help pay for funeral expenses and give the family some support while we grieved.
Except that wasn't the case.
Because in those final moments of the funeral, the rabbi stepped forward to thank everyone, and then very cheerfully announced;
"Arlene was so happy to know just how many people were coming to join us here today. She couldn't have been more proud of her family. And I'm sure she would have been elated to see just how much money you all gave today to Planned Parenthood."
When I say that the faces of those people are enshrined in my memory, I mean it. The anger, the devastation, the rage, the betrayal. It was an absolutely gorgeous display of true defeat at the hands of a boss ass old lady who literally fought with her last breath and threw up both middle fingers all the way out the door.
What I'm saying is this.
It is very easy to feel defeated. It is very easy to think that everything is over, and there's nothing left for us to do. It's very easy to say that fascism won, that fear won, that hate won.
But that's only true if you let it be true.
There is always more that we can do. There is a future that is still worth fighting for. And it's more than possible, even when it doesn't seem like it.
And fighting is going to look different every time.
Some days it will look like picket signs in our hands.
Some days it will look like spending time with friends and family and people you love and knowing that you have a community that supports you and your vision of a brighter future.
And some days, it's pulling absolute natural level 20 petty trickster shit even after you've left the world.
Because you can always make an impact and you can always add a little brightness to life, and if that means tricking a group of MAGA idiots into throwing their money behind Planned Parenthood in the middle of your own goddamn funeral then that's what it means.
Keep fighting. People have done it before you. People will continue to do it after you.
And enjoy the little victories.
(Even the petty ones)
#us elections#equality#equal rights#protesting#picketing#fighting#we can do this#we truly can#take a break and then keep fighting
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⥠TW: noncon, gangbang, pillory, elf-reader, orc assailants, war between orcs and elves, racism between orcs and elves, captive reader, poor confinement conditions, starvation, piss drinking, cumflation, mindbreak, Stockholm syndrome
⥠FEM reader
The orc camp smells of blood and sweat and other obscenities you and your snooty elven nose fear naming.Â
Theyâve stripped you and your fellow troops of all weaponry and armorâugly bastards even took your boots! Leaving you in only silken undergarments, standing barefoot in the cold, wet mud.Â
Itâs to make it harder to run away if you were to escape, you suspect. You canât decide if itâs a clever tactic or simply a cruel one. Either way, itâs the least of your worries... You haven't been fed or given water since yesterday when you were all capturedâpaired with having been made to march for half the day barefoot, all tied up by your wrists, one behind the other, toed along like animals with mean tugs that had more than one of you falling face first in the mudâwho knows how many of you will be able to continue walking when they decide itâs time to start moving againâmuch less run away if and when the opportunity presents itselfâleaving you hopeless if someone doesnât do something soon.
And it turns out that someone is you.
âHey!â you yell. Bruised hands gripping the splintered wooden bars of your crudely built prison, glaring at the two brutes standing watch.
They acknowledge your shout, but neither of them gives any reason for you to believe they understood you were talking to them. Looking at you, then at each other.
âYes, you two, guards!â you make clear.
They continue to look at you, yet donât make a move.
You sigh exasperatinglyâyet with how tired you are, itâs more a full-chested groan unbecoming of a fine elven knight, but under the circumstances, you couldnât much care.Â
âI know ungodly monstrosities such as yourselves donât require much to sustain your foul existence, but elves need foodâat the very least water!âÂ
A fellow elf grabs your shoulder gently, saying something under his breath, perhaps in an effort to make you quiet, but you nudge it off and continue your rant in spite of it.Â
âIf you plan to keep us aliveâas I would think, given your decision to cage usâI would advise you to meet us with the bare necessities!â
Both guards look away toward another orcâone sitting on a thick log at the mouth of one of the nicer, warmer-looking tents theyâd pitchedâperhaps the biggest oneâsharpening his blade with a rock.
He doesnât look up from his handiwork but speaks, âThe elf is hungry?â
You scowl at the question. âYes, you oafâthe elf is, in fact, hungry.â
He lifts his blade and looks it overâone side, then the otherâbefore sinking it deep down into the mud. Tossing the rock away, he stands and whistles sharply, prompting the two guards to wander off as if to get something. Meanwhile, what seems to be the commander starts walking towards the prison.
Regret starts to fester as he approaches, and youâre reminded once again why the inferior race best you in battle time and time again despite your obvious intellectual difference. Three cabbage heads taller than you, his weight must be about four or five, maybe even six, times yoursâbuilt like a grizzly bearâplus his armor, which easily adds another.
He unlocks the prison, and you step back on instinct.
âCome. You will be fed,â he says, opening the gate wide.
You look behind youâall the other elves have scurried back into the far end of the cage, leaving you alone in your endeavor, which only feels foolish now that youâre sure heâs going to use those blood-dirty hands of his to squish your head clean off your shoulders as soon as you step out.
Even still, maybe by the adrenaline of imminent death or the lightheadedness of starvation, you dare ask, though a little cautiously now, âWhatâs on the menu?â
The orc snortsâperhaps at your pickinessâfinding your resolve to uphold your standards funny, given you weren't in much of a situation to make demands. You could scoff, tooâof course, you can't expect an orc to understand anything about standards.
He smirks, answering, âSomething to keep warm."
Or perhaps he was laughing for an entirely different matter...
The guards return carrying something. You spot them behind him, trudging loudly in the slop before haltingâmounting something close to the firepit.
By the time you understand what it is, itâs already too late. Your hairâs grabbedâas well as your entire skullâtaken in one meaty hand, pulled out of the safety of the cage, and shoved harshly down into the wet dirt.
He locks up the gate again as you lie there. And you take your chance to try and run, crawling forwardâfighting through the clay, dragging you down. Scrambling for balance, youâve barely even made it up on your feet once he grabs you againâthis time leading you towards the other two standing in wait along the torture device theyâve set up just for you.
Youâre lifted to stand atop a crate, making you the right height, then bent overâwith your wrist led into each their position as well as your throat, shoved down as the lunette comes down and successfully locks you in placeâperfectly trapped in the pillory with no means of escape.
You pull and struggle, toiling against the wooden platesâtoo late for any such silly thing as regret you can only whimper in short, panicked screams and criesâbut itâs no use. The hand comes back and grabs your hair, yanking it tightly, making your neck crane as he forces you to look up despite the fixed position.
He smiles down at the look on your faceâwatching your tears make clear streaks through the mud, lips wobbly as you begin to beg, âPleaseâIâm sorry, Iâllââ
âOh, donât worry, little elf,â he cuts you off with a coo, grabbing your jaw in his other hand. âYouâll be fed, just like promised.â
Something behind you rips your silk cloth away, baring you. You stiffen all over, breath hitching as useless fists whiten in their restraints. You want to kick, to thrashâbut poor balance only results in you choking yourselfâand so youâre left to stand there, helplessâbowed and nude before three orcs youâve angered with your reckless entitlement.
âMh, pretty elf holesâŠâ one of the guards behind murmurs, cupping your asscheeks and spreading them to take a look, filtering grubby fingers through the crack and lips, rubbing over both holes.
You shake, trying to thwart their efforts. But a gritty pad roughs over your clit and finds purchase below it.
âStop, stop! Donât!â you wail, but it pries you apart anywayâwriggling inside your cunt in a brutish shove, it sheathes itself deeply in curiosity to see how much you could fit, eagerly pumping it inside knuckle-deep before pulling back outâthen repeating the motionâpromptly finger-fucking the tight opening with a digit the size of an average elfâs manhood.
You sob, heaving for breath. Shaking your head in shame as you start to slickenâif just to make it a little more bearable, but the wet noise of it only serves to make you wish theyâd killed you instead.
âShh, elf. Don't cry.â The commander orc in front of you keeps his hold on your hair, talking down to you as he admires your despair. âWeâll give you what you beg forâŠâ He strokes your cheek harshly with the other hand, smearing your tears before moving on to his armored belt.Â
You whimper as it drops, revealing what must be your newest and truest worst nightmare.Â
âA warm meal in all your hungry holes.â
The two guards take turns behind you. You canât see them, but theyâve made themselves more than knownâhaving stretched out both your openings to accommodate their overgrown size.Â
They seem to like it when you cumâkeeping their fat fingers on your clit and always fondling your tits, rubbing your nipples as they fuck your womb deeply until you wet them with your fluids. Your knees gave in a little while agoâtheir groping now the only thing keeping you upright, and the steady pounding the only thing keeping you awake.
Meanwhile, the commander has his fun with your face. Making you cuddle his heavy ballsack, dousing your face in the rank. With a dagger threatening your pretty eye, he'd coaxed your tongue out to play sooner than youâre proud ofânow pliantly hanging from your mouth, licking every foul-tasting patch of his toad-like skinâfeeling worse than a beggar eating scraps.
But you ought to thank him. Earlier, heâd tried forcing his length down your throatâmaking your jaw all but unlock to make room. His cockhead is the size of your fistâin the end, you could only suck on it, only able to satisfy him and his harsh scalp-ripping grip on your hair by prodding his dickhole with your tongue. He started petting you when you did that, making you feel all the more defeated.
His mercy tastes worse than the rancid white youâd been made to swallow. Youâd wanted to bite, but the dagger heâd earlier stabbed into the wooden plate for safe-keeping keeps you sweet as you lick and suck the prominent veins running up his fat sizeâface glazed in sweat and spit, both his and yours.
âPoor elf-bitchâŠâ he jeers while twirling a lock of your fine hair around his crooked finger. âFed twig all your pretty lifeâof course, youâre hungry.â
He chuckles, voice hoarse and mutedâalmost soft, were it not for its gritty timbre. Keeping his cock resting heavy against your face, covering your eye while rubbing the base against your pouty lips.
âA mouthy whore like you needs real cock. Only happy when youâre pounded like meat.â He hums, âIn your natural state, pleasing those bigger and stronger than you as a good pet should.â
He laughs louder, rumbles with it enough to shake the ground, then breaks away from you.
âLeave her cunt to me,â he says, folding his arms upon his chest, leaving his heavy cock to swing between muscle-ripped thighs as he leers at the scene. âPrissy elf pussyâs mine to breed.â
One of the guards soon takes up the vacant spot in front of you, putting his leaky tip to your lips in a sloppy kiss before pressing through to fight your throat for spaceâputting you in an air-tight spitroastâwith your ass already being forced to play host for the other intruder, getting your drenched and swollen pussy slapped by a pair of weighty balls on each of his breath-robbing thrusts into your guts.
âA'right, boys,â the commander announces, âLet's stuff her âtil sheâs big and round. 'See if she's still hungry then.â
They both groan and dig in as far as your body allows, bordering on its limits, making you stretch to take them deeper before planting their seedâcoming in fast ropes at first, then thicker waves, and finally smaller spurts aided by the shunting of their hips as they rut against youâfeeding it to you without rush, one dose after the other, until their balls were all good and empty.
Then they sigh, breathing heavily, waiting for their seed to be settled and swallowed in your bowels before slowly sliding their spent cocks outâletting the overdose spill from your holes as you take a weakened breath and quake in the aftershocks, left hanging in the stand with a body full of orc cum and something else, something that's made your mind feel all funny and flirty.Â
Then, stomach heavy and warm, hanging with more weight than your breastsâtender and oddly tingly all overâyou croon, like a cow, when the commander lifts your hips and eases inside your cunt only a short moment afterâstarting to pound you softly but deep enough to make your head hang and tongue drip with drool, moaning like an animal in its heat, all silly, like a mating-call, waiting for your womb to be fed with the same warmth.
He cups your buttcheeks with both his thumbs hooked within your ass, and still, he feels you tremble and cum without your clitty being touchedâmilking him for his spend, begging him with your tongue out in sweet mews. "Bleath, bleath, mathder~"
And although he can't see it from his position, it still makes him smile. âThatâs right, dumb little elf-pet. Beg, and you will be fed.â
You clench up and throttle when he finally blows, and the warmth swarms your gushy insides in heavenly gooâleaving you feeling cozy from the inside outâcross-eyed and panting in utter ecstasy.
He also waitsâwaits until his cum takes root and his cock unswells for a good minute or two before pulling out with a throaty sigh. Then he rounds the pillory, a heavy step at a time, until his lousy and still steaming cock is met face to face with your sweaty flush-cheeked expression.
âStill hungry, elf-girl?â he asks, jostling the sloppy member against your equally drowsy face. âOr was it thirsty?â
He picks your chin up with a hand, holding it steady while watching your half-mast and glazed heart-eyes lazily blink up at himâgrinning and humming at the sight.
âTell me, elf-pet, which of it was it you were whining about?â
Drool spills from your mouth as you answer, speech slurred like a drunken degenerate, âBoth~â
He clicks his tongue, âSpoiled.â But he doesnât seem angryâno, rather pleased. âYouâve been well-fed for nowâtime to wash it down.â
He lifts his heavy slug and puts the numb tip to your lips, which eagerly parts wide for him to press inside softly, filling the drizzly cavern, cockhead resting neatly on the wet bed of your tongue.Â
You obediently await it with your eyes locked onto hisâboth moaning once it comes. Hot and salty-sweet, it pours onto your tongue and sloshes down your throat, spilling from your mouth and somehow splashing all over your faceâmaking you shudder in warm bliss as you gulp it down as if itâs in another class from the aged wine back home.
âDrink, elf-slave. Drink and be grateful,â he instructs, and you obey, allowing the piss-stream to hit the back of your throat where you could glug it all down with minimal spill.
When it stopped, you sucked his tip and tongued the slit like before, cleaning it dry of the last drop, saying, âThank youâthank you, master.â
Elves never cease to surprise him. Always so prissyâhigh and mighty creaturesâand yet they fall the farthest from grace when pushed.Â
He had many different ideas on how to make an example of you to the othersâcease any ideas they might have of uproar and rebellion. Leave you here for the ogres and trolls to come and have their sloppy seconds. Tie you up by your ankles and drag you behind the horses through all the muck. Let the rest of his troops have at you until you met with your unfortunate end.
But no. He thinks not.
âLetâs moveââ he announces to the camp. âTime to take our bounty home.â
After all, for all your whining, you did have a point earlierâyou elves are only good to them alive and well. Best get you to the nearest market and sell you.
The guards unfix you from the pillory and start hauling your collapsed form back to the cage.
âNo, not her,â he corrects them, thinking of your pretty eyes and soft tongue and that pretty elf cunt that milked him dry like none other. âShe rides with me.â
On bearback, he ties your hands around his neck and lets you sleep with your head on his chest, riding backward with your legs draped over hisâstill naked with your cum-belly leaking out over his saddleâmaking a mess heâll have you lick clean later.
âTell me if you get hungry again, little elf,â he sneers, though a little fondly. âIâll feed you again.â
And you, despite groggy, with eyes closed, mumble back dumbly, âThank you, master.â
⥠BNHA â Bakugou, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Enji, AFO ⥠JJK â Sukuna, Toji, Kenjaku ⥠HxH â Uvogin
⥠FEM x M INSERT masterlist ⥠GN x M INSERT masterlist
#yandere x reader#yandere#yandere x you#yandere imagines#yandere smut#yancore#smut#yandere my hero academia#yandere boku no hero academia#boku no hero academia smut#mha smut#yandere mha#yandere bnha#my hero smut#my hero academia smut#bnha smut#yandere jujutsu kaisen#yandere jjk#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk smut
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Spencer's Secret - Spencer Reid
ââ§âșËâ Masterlist âËâșâ§â
Summary: All Spencer wanted was to finish his paperwork and go home, but now heâs in a bar, drunk, and confessing all his secrets to Derek.
âËâșâ§ââœâŻâŸââ§âșËâ
The team had barely settled back into the office after a grueling case when Derek threw an arm over Emilyâs shoulder, talking about needing a drink. Emily agreed with a weary smile, and soon enough, JJ, Penelope, and Rossi had chimed in, all eager to unwind together. Somehow, theyâd even managed to convince Hotch, who gave them a reluctant nod, his rare smile hinting he could use a break too.
All that was left was Spencer. Sitting at his desk, he was hunched over, diligently finishing up his paperwork, when Derek strolled over and leaned in with his usual, "Hey, pretty boy."
Spencer looked up, already anticipating the question. "No, Derek, Iâm not going."
Derek raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "I didnât even get to ask!"
"Doesnât matter. Iâm not going," Spencer replied firmly, looking back down at his files.
"Come on, kid," Derek urged, his voice dropping to a softer, pleading tone. "Just this once. If you come, Iâll never ask again. I swear."
Spencer let out a sigh, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with him. There was a beat of silence as he mulled it over, glancing at the hopeful faces of his teammates nearby. Finally, he closed his file, resigned. "Fine," he muttered, âbut just this once."
Derekâs face broke into a grin, practically bouncing on his feet. "You heard him, guysâheâs in! Letâs go before he changes his mind."
Spencer reluctantly stood up, pulling on his coat with a sigh. He glanced around, noticing the others already gathering their things, excitement buzzing among them. As they all filed out together, Penelope slung an arm around Spencer, giving him a reassuring squeeze.
"Oh, Spence, youâll have fun. Trust me," she said, winking.
Spencer managed a small, hesitant smile, wondering just what he was getting himself into. It wasnât exactly his ideal night out, but surrounded by his friends, he couldnât help but feel a faint sense of anticipation growing despite himself.
âËâșâ§ââœâŻâŸââ§âșËâ
As soon as the team settled into the bar, the weight of the last case started to fade. They ordered the first round, eager to drink, laugh, and let loose for a few hours. The drinks flowed freely, and soon they were deep in conversation, sharing old stories and laughing harder with each passing round. Spencer, who rarely drank, was feeling more than a little tipsy. Nights like these werenât really his sceneâhe usually found it far more comfortable to stay home. But now, with the warm buzz in his head and his friends around, he was actually enjoying himself.
Meanwhile, Derek had been off flirting at the bar, but eventually made his way back to the booth, where Spencer was the last one still sitting. Derek, who could hold his liquor well, was only slightly buzzed. He noticed Spencer's dazed expression and grinned, sliding into the seat next to him. "Pretty boy," he said, nudging him, "there are so many gorgeous women here tonight. You should go try and have some fun, maybe even get a date."
Spencer, a little too drunk to filter his thoughts, shook his head. "Donât need a date," he said, his words slurring slightly.
Derek raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh yeah? And whyâs that?"
Spencerâs face softened, and he blurted, âIâve got an amazing girlfriend at home.â
"Right, sure," Derek teased, not at all convinced. "So whatâs her name?"
Spencerâs face lit up. "Y/N," he said, his voice full of adoration. He leaned in, eyes dreamy, and started rambling. âSheâs incredible, Derek. So smart, so beautiful. Sheâs way out of my leagueâI still canât believe sheâs with me.â
Derek chuckled, noticing just how drunk Spencer was. It was getting late, and he knew Spencer would never make it home on his own. âWhy donât you call Y/N to pick you up, then?â he said, jokingly.
Spencerâs face brightened, and he fumbled for his phone. Derek watched in amusement as he dialed, still skeptical, until he heard a faint âHello?â from the other end.
Spencerâs face lit up even more. âHello, my love,â he said, voice thick with affection.
You let out a soft laugh on the other side of the line. âHey, Spence! Everything alright?â
Spencer grinned, completely forgetting why heâd called. âYeah,â he said dreamily. âI justâŠwanted to hear your pretty voice.â
You laughed, clearly touched. Derek, now genuinely surprised that someone had actually answered, took the phone from Spencer, holding it up to his ear. "Hello?" he asked, still a bit skeptical.
"Uh, hi,â you replied, a little confused. âWho is this?"
Derek cleared his throat. âThis is Derek. Spencer friend.â
âOh! Nice to finally meet you, Derek, Spencer talks about you and the team quite a bit.â you said, sounding amused. âIâm Y/N, his girlfriend.â
Derek muttered, âHoly shit, youâre real.â
"Sorry?" you asked, sounding puzzled.
âNothing, nothing,â he chuckled. âListen, Spencerâs had a bit too much to drink. Are you able to pick him up?â
You let out a soft, understanding laugh. âYeah, of course. Just tell me where you guys are.â
Derek gave you the address and hung up, handing the phone back to Spencer. "Your girlfriendâs coming to get you," he said, still slightly in awe that Spencerâs been hiding a girlfriend from them.
Spencerâs eyes lit up even more. âY/N?â he asked eagerly.
âYeah, pretty boy, Y/N,â Derek replied, shaking his head with a grin.
Spencer slumped back in his seat with a satisfied sigh. âFinally,â he mumbled. âSomeone cool to hang out with.â
Derek just laughed, patting Spencer on the shoulder. He sat down with Spencer and waited with him for Y/N to get there, eager to meet her.
âËâșâ§ââœâŻâŸââ§âșËâ
As Spencer was still happily rambling to Derek about his incredible girlfriend, the door opened, and a beautiful woman stepped into the bar. Spencerâs eyes widened instantly. "Y/N!" he exclaimed, jumping up so quickly he nearly tripped. He stumbled over to you, practically throwing himself into your arms, clinging to you like heâd just found his lifeline. He buried his face in your neck, a contented sigh escaping him.
You wrapped your arms around him, laughing softly at his drunken enthusiasm. "Looks like someone had a good time," you teased, rubbing his back.
âMissed you so much,â he mumbled into your neck, his words muffled but unmistakably fond.
Looking up, you noticed a man standing a few steps behind Spencer, observing the two of you with an amused grin. "You must be Derek," you said, offering him a warm smile.
Derek smiled back, giving a nod. "Nice to finally meet you. Iâve heard a lot about you tonight."
Before you could respond, Spencer had already started tugging you gently toward the exit. You glanced back at Derek and gave him a quick smile. "Hopefully we can actually talk sometime soon," you said, laughing as Spencer clung to your arm.
Derek chuckled, nodding. "Iâd like that. Take care of him. Goodnight, Y/N."
He watched as you guided a tipsy, lovesick Spencer out of the bar, a soft smile still on his face. Just then, Penelope popped up beside him, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. âWhat are you staring at?â she asked, following his gaze to the exit.
âSpencerâs got a girlfriend,â Derek said, unable to keep a little laugh from escaping as he recalled the whole scene.
Penelopeâs eyes went wide, and she gasped, practically bouncing in place. "Wait, what?! Our Spencer? Oh my God, I need details!"
Derek smirked, shaking his head. "Calm down, babygirl. You can interrogate him tomorrow," he teased.
Penelope pouted, but the excitement was already building. After a second, she sighed dramatically, then brightened up again and grabbed Derekâs hand. âFine! But right now, youâre dancing with me.â
Derek let her pull him to the dance floor, chuckling as he made a mental note to tease Spencer about this night for a long time.
âËâșâ§ââœâŻâŸââ§âșËâ
#fanfic#fluff#secret girlfriend#secret relationship#romance#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#dr spencer reid#spencer#spencer reid#spencer x y/n#spencer x reader#derek morgan#spencer reid imagines#doctor spencer reid#spencer reid criminal minds#criminal minds imagine#bau team#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x self insert#criminal minds fluff#criminal minds fic#criminal minds
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blue ribbon | s.r.
in which you and Spencer dedicate yourselves to helping your daughter with the best baking soda volcano the science fair has ever seen
margovember
who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: chemist!reader, misuse of lab equipment i don't care, their daughter is very girly, glitter word count: 1.46k a/n: ending the post margotober drought with the very first margovember request!!! i promise i'm working on masterlists but for some reason they're exhausting.
âWhy do I have to walk backward?â You grumble while trying to balance the end of the plywood on your knee, pulling at your badge reel to unlock the lab door.
Spencer nods his head in the direction of the keypad, âThat would be why.â
Rolling your eyes, you push the door handle down with your elbow before pushing the door open with your foot, shuffling your feet. âHoney, can you turn the lights on?â
Lifting herself up on her tiptoes, your daughter flips all of the switches on the panel, cringing at the bright fluorescent lights.
Together, you and Spencer hoist the science project onto one of the lab tables, careful not to knock anything over as the papier-mùché volcano rests in your professional lab.
You and Leah had stayed up until eleven last night finishing the last coat of paint, even entertaining a visit from her Aunt Penelope so that the finished project could have a fine dusting of glitter all over it. Your dining room was now permanently sparkly, but the look on your daughterâs face when she saw the finished project made the mess entirely worth it.
Spencer steps to grab your jugs of white vinegar from the car, propping the door open so he can bring the supplies for the baking soda volcano in.
Obviously, you werenât going to use the full-size volcano now, but Leah had refused to travel without it and Spencer believes that saying no to her is an impossible task. âMommy?â The little girl pipes up, playing with the stirring rod that you had just set in front of her.
âWhatâs up?â You ask, leaning your hip against the counter, gently reaching out and adjusting the bows adorning her pigtails that youâd put in her hair that morning.
She looks over at the wall, minding each of the posters that line your laboratory, âWhat is that?â
You follow her finger to see what sheâs pointing at, smiling softly, âItâs the periodic table.â
Humming thoughtfully, Leah sets the stirring rod down and walks over to the poster, âIt looks like the one at home.â
Nodding, you get a step stool out for her to stand on, âTheyâre the same poster, the one we have at home is just a lot smaller than the one I keep at work.â You explain to her, knowing sheâs talking about the poster you keep in your home office. âCome on baby, letâs go get you a lab coat.â
Setting a hand on her shoulder, you guide her to the storeroom, âWoah,â she breathes. Itâs not a positive reaction, her eyes flitter all around the room, a mess of lab coats and goggles.
âOkay,â you say, shoving your way through the space until you find your locker, pulling out your lab coat, as well as safety glasses for the whole family. Holding a coat up to her and having her pull it on, you put your own lab coat on before looking back to find your five-year-old drowning in polyester. Laughing slightly, you adjust the lapels of her jacket, âHow does it feel?â
Leah looks down at herself, âCool!â She exclaims beaming up at you and giving you two thumbs up. She skips out of the closet and heads back to her volcano, almost tripping over the extra fabric of the lab coat, but Spencer grabs her arm before her knees can hit the linoleum.
He smiles at her, âAre you okay?â Helping her adjust her coat, he kneels down to her.
âDaddy,â she cheers, completely ignoring his question for the sake of being five years old, âLook at my coat!â
Smoothing her hair back, Spencerâs eyes briefly meet yours before he looks back to Leah, âYou look like mommy.â
In a fit of giggles, he scoops her up in his arms in an attempt to avoid a tripping hazard, but she just thinks itâs fun. He sets her down feet-first on the step stool you had gotten out for her.
âHere,â you say, handing him a lab coat for him to wear and setting the safety goggles youâd gathered on the countertop.
When your daughter came home in tears because she felt like she had been assigned the âmost boringestâ project for the science fair, you and Spencer quickly decided that youâd try everything to make her baking soda volcano exciting. At the very least, youâd work together to make sure she has fun.
Leah puts her goggles on and looks up at you for her next instruction, watching you divide the baking soda and white vinegar into separate beakers, âSo, what will happen when we add these two together?â Spencer quizzes, watching you make careful portions.
âItâs gonna fizz up!â She responds correctly, bouncing on her feet while you gently push the first two dishes in front of her.
You nod, âYou can pour the white vinegar into the baking soda,â You nudge her gently, knowing that you measured just enough to reach the top of the beaker, but not enough to flow onto the counter.
She uses both hands to grip the beaker and pour the liquid out, and the immediate reaction surprises her so much that Spencer holds an arm out to keep her upright. He trains his eyes on her amazement as the foam dissipates and the water and sodium acetate are left in the glass. âCan I drink it?â She asks, frowning up at her dad.
âNo,â you both answer immediately, a sort of parental reflex. If you donât answer quickly enough, odds are sheâd pick it up and try anyway.
Disappointed, her frown remains on her face while her eyes return to the countertop, timidly, she tugs on Spencerâs lab coat, prompting him to crouch down to her eye level, âWhatâs wrong, lovey?â
Her eyes nervously look around the lab, eyeing some of the cabinets before she takes a deep breath, âCan we make it pink?â
âThe foam?â Spencer says curiously, eyes flickering up at you while you nod frantically, already thinking up options so that you could further individualize your daughterâs glitter volcano.
She rocks back and forth, âCan we?â
As soon as Spencer says yes, itâs like a hold on you has been released, unlocking some of the cabinets so you can grab more supplies from around the lab, you return to the station with an armful of things to try, and Spencer mutters something to Leah about you being a mad scientist, leading you to maturely stick your tongue out at him.
You set up four options, taking photos as you go so you can paste them onto her presentation board. The first one is just baking soda, but you added a touch of dish soap to the vinegar. The increase in bubbles seems to greatly please Leah, so you decide as a team that the final product should have dish soap in it.
The second one has manganese sulfate mixed into the baking soda, and if the pink salt altered the color of the foam at all, it doesnât impress your perfectionist daughter.
The third one includes phenolphthalein, which you think has some real potential, based on the way Leahâs eyes widen at the sight of it combined with the vinegar. The liquid was almost a fuchsia color, and she gasps when she pours it in to find that the foam is white, âItâs gone?â
You nod, âThe phenolphthalein when itâs in the vinegar is pink because itâs an acid, but as soon as you add the baking soda it becomes a basic solution, soâŠâ Your voice trails off when Spencer starts shaking his head, and you look down to find that you have completely lost Leahâs attention. Instead of listening, sheâs trying to pronounce phenolphthalein, tracing the letters on the black countertop.
âWhat do you have next?â Spencer asks, eyeing the tiny dropper bottle in front of you.
Picking it up, you drop some of it into the vinegar and hand it to Leah, âItâs food coloring.â
His eyebrows furrow, âWhy do you have food coloring in the lab?â
You wrinkle your nose at him, the expression makes Leah giggle, âMind your business.â
As a family, you watch the chemical reaction, the white of the foam mixing with the red food coloring to create the desired pink lava. âOh,â your daughter says softly, âThank you, mommy!â
Beaming down at her, you place your hands on your hips and sigh, âIf youâd like, we can add glitter to the baking soda too.â
Wide eyes look up at you in amazement, brown eyes inherited from her father, âI love science,â she whispers.
Behind her back, you hold your hand out for Spencer, exchanging a silent fist bumpâa quiet celebration between two scientists.
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fluff#spencer reid fic#criminal minds fic#spencer reid x fem!reader#written by margot#chemist!reader#margovember
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Iâve Got My Eye On You
Summary: Reader is a Special Surveillance agent assigned to spy on Spencer. He manages to see through her cover, and thoroughly enjoys the confrontation that follows.
Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader
Category: Smut
Content Warning: voyeurism, oral (f!receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, f!masturbation, slight dubcon regarding recorded sex, heavily based on that one scene in scandal, iykyk.
Word Count: 3.5k
Masterlist
Iâd always been good at watching people.Â
My life had been spent mostly to myself, divulging the information people offered without even realizing. When you talk less, you learn that body language, passing remarks, or even the quirk of an eyebrow gives away more than anyone ever realizedâ maybe more than an actual conversation at times.Â
And I took it all in stride, not a single detail left unanalyzed. People were always surprised when Iâd mention my observations, finding a way to explain a seemingly unexplainable situation, those around me wondering how on Earth I couldâve been privy to that. Iâd always shrug at their queries.Â
Pay more attention, I guess.Â
It wasnât a surprise that Iâd ended up here, I suppose, in the end, as an Investigative Specialist for the FBI. I doubt that my listening skills were exactly what landed me the job, but Iâd like to believe they contributed more than they actually did. Regardless, Iâd never expected the result of the decisions Iâd made over the years to lead to thisâ involved in spying on an agent of our own.Â
The infamous "Dr Reid".
His specific circumstances had been shrouded in secrecy and mystery, apparently having just been let out of prison. (Prison? Howâs he an agent then? Anyway, not my problem).
 The Bureau had been curious about erratic behavior on his part, and the string of discrepancies involving the unit he was involved in. Apparently, there had been multiple unforeseen and unprecedented events all occurring under the same team in a relatively small time-frame, and despite smaller investigations, nothing came out of them to warrant any real disciplinary action. Probably why they brought me in, in the hopes of changing that.Â
Iâd been assigned to put up small, virtually undetectable cameras and listening devices within his apartment. 24/7 home surveillance, no exceptions. I couldnât help but think that the guy really should invest in better apartment security, despite how easy his naivete made my job. His lack of caution surprised me, given the details Iâd been given. For a guy who had a penchant for being framed by the ghosts of his past, he sure didnât live like it. Even as an FBI agent, he essentially had no technology to counter my own, and the height of his protection was a standard deadbolt. Was he insane? Unaware, somehow? Only time would tell, I suppose. And I had plenty of that, to watch and deduce the nature of his mind on my own terms.Â
My time spent with Spencer resulted in one, overwhelming conclusion. Spencer Reid lived a relatively quiet life. His apartment was barely used, honestly, given the sporadic nature of his job. (Which was a shame, in my opinion, because itâs a nice apartment). When he was at home, he seemed to remain quite unassuming. The positions Iâd see him assume often were that of being hunched over on an aging leather sofa, pouring himself into grading papers, or creating lesson plans for his students. Oh, right. Did I mention he was also a professor? He is. Iâd assume he likes the job, given how much of himself he gives into it, or maybe that was just who he was as a person. I wasnât sure yet.Â
I monitored his life outside of the apartment occasionally as well, just to see what intel I could gather with further investigation. There wasnât much. Coffee shops. Book shops. Coffee. Books. Coffee- God, does the guy do anything else with his life?Â
Most days, though, Iâd liken him to butter spread too thinly over toast. Sleepless from nightmares that would have him walking around his apartment until daylight broke through the window panes. I felt exhausted just watching the guy, and it seemed insane that he could continue to live on when he left that apartment at the break of dawn. It didnât seem like he had anyone to talk to, honestly. From what I was seeing, he wasnât a threat to the Bureau, just a sad, middle-aged man whoâd been dealt the most unfair of hands in life.Â
Iâm sure thereâs a moral somewhere in all that. To waste your potential on something that gives so little back. Oh, well. My report was nearly finished at this point, and the most I could recommend the higher-ups was to get Spencer a better therapist, maybe. This one wasnât really helping, it seemed. Besides that, his personal behavior wasnât indicative of anything worrying to the interests of those managing him.Â
At long last, it was my final night of watching him. Coincidentally, the date lined up with Halloween, and I couldnât be more thrilled to finally be free of this specific survey job. Donât get me wrong, Spencer seemed nice- but God, his life was boring. I donât want to say it was like watching paint dry, out of respect, but previous targets had offered at least some part of their life to be interested within. Spencer had nothing. No friends over, no gossip-like phone conversations, no drunk wanderings home. Nothing! I know he didnât sign up to be watched, but God.Â
Like, come on. Give me anything here.Â
Needless to say, Iâd become accustomed to the quiet, and this night was no different. If he was following schedule, he should be home right about ⊠now.Â
Now?Â
NowâŠÂ
Silence.Â
Spencer was definitely a creature of habit, so to not see him adhere to the routine heâd so meticulously stuck to in the past was a bit jarring, but I assumed he was just running late.Â
A few hours later, I reasoned he must be running really really late. It was bordering on midnight, and he still wasnât home. I checked train schedules, possible reports of a car crash, just about anything that could keep him from his scheduled appearance at home.Â
I was just about to call my supervisor to look into whether or not heâd been called out on a surprise case, but thatâs when the door of his apartment creaked open, and I felt my shoulders deflate in relief. Okay, he was home. He was going to go to bed and-Â
He wasnât alone.Â
Spencer was dressed in all black, a leather belt adorned with a gold belt buckle being the only color his outfit brought. He wore tiny devilâs ears upon his head, the headband pushing down on the mop of curls that sat atop his head. He looked absolutely delicious, if I must say myself, and it seemed the woman in his arms would agree with me.Â
He practically pulled her into his apartment, kicking his door in with his leg before slightly fumbling with the lock. As soon as the mechanism slipped into place, his hands were all over her, pressing her flush against his body, as if he couldnât bear to have any space between them.Â
For all the time Iâd been watching him, none of his behavior indicated the presence of any kind of significant other, so this girl must be a stranger. If this is how Spencer treated strangers though, I was surprised he didnât have a barrage of women lining up at his door every night.Â
His lips absolutely devoured the girl, his hand cradling the side of her face, before his thigh slipped in between her legs, possibly to soothe a building ache that had built up there in the time theyâd spent together, which I found entirely possible, considering I, personally, was heated from simply watching.Â
I watched the pixels on the screen with such precision, innocuous shades of red, green and blue painting the most sinful of images. I found myself noting the way his hand snuck up the girlsâ dress, the way her breathing hitched as she pulled back, watching as Spencer presumably played with her clit. I could feel myself squeezing my thighs together, recognizing just how wrong it was to be turned on by the scene in front of me, but I couldnât stop myself. It wasnât as if this was the first time a target had behaved sexually in front of me. (Or in front of the camera, I suppose.) Iâd seen and heard just about anything you could think of, but this was different- in a way. To see Spencer so filthy, so confident, so- interesting. It lit a fire in me that burned with every passing moment he touched this girl.Â
Iâm able to watch him circle over her panties in a way that has her groaning directly into his ear, a smug grin plastering his face as he watches her every reaction.Â
âLike that?â He murmurs, and Iâve never heard his voice so fucking deep.
She nods frantically, and it only serves to widen his grin. I can feel myself rocking slightly in my own chair, doing anything to try and soothe the fast growing arousal within me, unable to stop from imagining myself in her place. His hands, the feel of hot breath down my neck-Â
Iâm stopped dead in my tracks, however, when his eyes suddenly shift to the camera closest to him, his eyebrow raising, as if in challenge. He continues to whisper in the girlâs ear, and has the galls to wink. Iâm horrified, a very sudden and intense heat rising to my cheeks. I can only watch for a second more, before heâs suddenly pulling her away, and I realize heâs taken her within one of the only blind spots within the apartment.Â
Iâm scrambling to turn off the feed, stunned into silence whilst, my heart beating uncontrollably and eccentrically. Oh god. He knew. He knew and he did that?!Â
I stare into the empty space, a multitude of thoughts inhabiting my brainscape. On one hand, the aplomb shown in that situation was commendable, since most people would react to the knowledge that theyâd been secretly watched in their own home for the past few months in a much more hostile way. On the other hand, how did he even acquire that knowledge? The cameras were virtually undetectable, and heâd never let on that he was aware of their presence, and Iâd know, considering how closely Iâd watched him.Â
I shake off the thoughts, focusing on something other than the overwhelming mortification coursing through me now. Â
Alright, tomorrow, get into his apartment, remove the cameras, and hopefully never have to look at the man again. In any capacity, honestly.Â
When daylight broke, I turned on the cameras for the final time, a bit more sheepish, knowing he was aware of the devices plaguing his home. However, it seemed like he was once again pretending like he wasnât aware of the looming existence of them, sending his female companion off her merry way once they woke up, before going about his normal routine, heading out of the apartment for what was most likely his morning coffee and then afternoon lecture at the university.Â
That was my cue. I turned off the cameras, quickly making my way out to sneak into his residence, the heavy door offering little resistance to my advances, my movements quiet and undetectable.Â
Iâm in the process of removing the final camera I had placed in his bedroom, hidden behind a copy of The Sign of Four. Doyle. He had good taste, I could give him that.Â
Iâm just about to turn around and get the hell out of there, when I hear a voice behind me.Â
âI noticed that one first, you know.â
I turn around slowly, embarrassed and slightly fearful to find Spencerâs eyes meeting mine. Iâd watched him for so long, but seeing him nowâ his eyes were so beautiful. The camera didnât do him justice.
He continues, despite the silence. âThe other ones were harder to spot, Iâll give you that, but once I knew where they were, it was a bit obvious, donât you think?âÂ
Iâm speechless. My mouth is agape, and all he seems to do is smile at my lack of prose.Â
âDonât look so surprised. I know this apartment. Iâm not here a lot, but I spend enough time to know when things have been shifted around.â His tone is cheeky, and he pauses, almost theatrically to add on:
âIâm sure you knew that though.â His smile turns into more of a smirk.Â
God, did he have to be so hot?
âAre you going to complain to the Bureau?â I manage out, keeping my eyes steady on him.Â
âDid you find anything of note to tell them?â He responds, tilting his head with curiosity.Â
I shake my head vehemently. âNo, um. Nothing pertinent to say.â I get my words out in a hurry, my gaze continually trained on him.Â
He meets my eyes with the same stare. âThen I donât have much of a reason to complain.âÂ
I nod solemnly. Iâm wondering where this situation will lead- what either of our next moves are. Before I can ponder long though, he surprises me and takes a step closer.
âI saw you, you know.â He says. âThought I was going insane when the same pretty girl kept showing up at the bookstore and coffee shop out of the blue, but Iâve never been one to believe in coincidences.âÂ
âOh.â I whisper. I really wasnât as good as I thought I was.Â
âYou really shouldnât beat yourself up.â He says, chuckling with some mirth. âAgain, Iâm observant. I notice these things. That, and youâre pretty.â He says, forward. âSo, more of a reason to notice.âÂ
âOh.â I reply, yet again, dumbfounded by the events currently transpiring.Â
âYes, oh.â He chuckles, before he starts to move closer yet again. âTell me. Were you watching last night?â He murmurs, his voice dropping a bit deeper as he directly addresses the elephant in the room.Â
I give a movement of affirmation, because at this point, what could he do? What could I do?Â
âSo you saw.â He mumbles, moving to position himself right in front of me, his eyes darkened and laser focused on my figure.Â
âYes.â I whisper, my voice hushed as our proximity decreased, his breath fanning out over my face now. Iâd be uncomfortable, if I wasnât so distracted.Â
âTell me.â He whispers, letting his calloused finger finally touch my skin, running down my neck. âDid it turn you on? Watching me with her?âÂ
I feel the familiar heat of embarrassment rise to my cheeks, my eyes suddenly widening not only due to the sudden proximity, but also the scandalous nature of his words. Did he mean for me to watch? Was that his plan all along? What was this sick and twisted game he was playing?
âDid it.. get you off?â He whispers, his lips leaning in to kiss lightly at the side of my neck where his finger once was.Â
I freeze, leaning into his touch and going statue-like all at once. I canât help the shakiness of my voice when I reply. âI.. wasnât neutral.âÂ
âMm.â He murmurs, kissing now at my jawline. âDid you get off? When she did?â He whispers.
âI didnât watch that long.â I reply, helplessly, as I feel his hands start to envelop my waist, pulling me closer to him.Â
âWhat a shame.â He mumbles. âI think you wouldâve liked the show. I did it for you.âÂ
At this point, I can barely speak, a slight moan escaping me instead of a coherent reply as his lips continue to leave warm, wet kisses on the expanse of my flesh.Â
âIâm sure youâre curious.â He says, his voice soft and seductive. âWould you like me to show you what we did?â
Thereâs no hesitation, finally, a resounding thought I can translate from brain-to-mouth for him, in complete certainty.
âYes.â I manage out, breathlessly.Â
He makes a noise of satisfaction, quickly pushing me onto the bed.Â
âIâd already gotten her wet by touching her before, but if my suspicions are correct.â He murmurs, his hands working deftly to undo my jeans and feel the wetness that had accumulated in between my thighs. âYou already are.â He finishes.Â
I let out a small whimper as his fingers touch the heated flesh, unable to help my sensitivity to his small, calculated strokes over my clit through my underwear. His fingers starts to move a bit more aggressively, upon feeling the wet patch that had formed there, the flimsy fabric doing little to hide the stickiness he was now collecting on his fingers. He quickly pulls them off as well though, bringing his slightly damp fingers to his mouth, tasting the hint of my arousal that had accumulated there. His eyes were dark, watching my face for any reaction, and in that moment, I know all he can see is pure want.Â
I can see the same hunger within his eyes, and I feel a rush of pride as the approval radiates off of him.Â
âWhat next?â I whisper, already desperate for his next slew of ministrations. I donât care how needy I looked. I was needy. Iâd spent so long watching him, and now he was here.
âShe wanted my mouth.â He murmurs, kneeling at the edge of the bed. His thumb brushes over my clit, his tongue running against plump, pink lips, wetting them, watching over me with a predatory gaze.Â
Before I can respond, heâs suddenly everywhere, ducking his head and allowing his tongue to brush over my sex in broad, wet strokes. My response is immediate, my hips bucking up to meet him in a frenzied motion. It seems that he relishes in whatever control he can have in this situation, because he quickly holds down my hips in a firm grip, squeezing the fat there while he continued to ravage me.Â
I can barely look at him, pretty brown locks splayed in his face, his lips moving hypnotically against my cunt. Little whimpers escape me, absolutely aching for more. He seems to catch on, and flicks his tongue over me, before suckling against my clit. Itâs wet, messy, and the picture of debaucheryâ and itâs enough to drive me over the edge, my hands gripping the sheets as I cry out his name.Â
He seems to be unaffected, getting off his knees, his mouth glistening with my release. The sight makes me wish he could do it again, but before I can get a word in, heâs positioning himself over me, caging me against the bed.Â
âThen I fucked her.â He whispers, starting to undo his belt with his free hand. âCan I?âÂ
I nod, feeling a wave of anticipation, before registering the sensation of the head of his cock nudging my entrance. I feel my chest tighten, watching him with bated breath, absolutely exhilarated.Â
âRelax.â He whispers, kissing the lobe of my ear. âYouâre in good hands.âÂ
He utters the last word, before sliding into me, a hushed gasp leaving the both of us. He groans in pleasure, his eyes fluttering shut as he takes in the feel of my warm, wet cunt around him. He takes a moment, before heâs setting a steady pace, his hips bucking rhythmically into me in a way thatâs designed to bring us both so much pleasure.Â
I canât help the string of moans that come out with every slide of his cock inside me, my legs wrapping around his waist, urging him closer than he already is. My hands grip onto his shirt, clawing onto the fabric to find any purchase, wantingâ no, needing him on me.Â
Is it odd to wish a stranger could crawl into your skin itself?Â
âFuck, Spencer.â I moan, unabashedly. âYou feel so good.â
âYou do too.â He groans, his arms braced on either side of my head before gently lowering himself to crash his lips against mine in a messy kiss.Â
I can feel myself barreling towards release, as is he, if the twitch of his cock inside me were to mean anything. Itâs not long before his hand reaches in between where our bodies are met, rubbing my clit in fast, small circles. Itâs intense in the best way possible, my body barely being able to process how good it felt in the moment.Â
âCome for me.â He moans, in between kisses. âWanna feel you around me. Please.â
I canât help but obey his words, my cunt convulsing around him in obedience as he subsequently finds his release inside me, groaning loudly as his hips thrust erratically.Â
He pulls out, and weâre a tangle of limbs, sweaty and sated, breathing heavy.Â
Of course, itâs him, yet again, to break the silence.Â
âTwo things.â He mumbles, breathlessly.Â
âMm.â I reply, weakly, my head a mess of airiness and complacency after the orgasm heâd just brought me to.Â
âOne. I want your name.â He says, rolling to his side to get a better look at my face.Â
âThat can be arranged.â I murmur, nodding dreamily.Â
âSecond.â He whispers, kissing my cheek. His voice takes on a teasing quality to it, before leaning to brush his lips against my ear. Â
âYou missed a camera. Behind the plant. They donât stop recording, do they?âÂ
okay wowww. clearly this was meant for halloween, if you couldn't tell! this is one of those pieces where i'm like.. hmm .. do i like this? question mark? do i want to put it out? hmm .. but regardless, i hope you guys enjoyed it!! please, please like, reblog, and comment if you enjoyed!!! it is sooo important as an author that i get some feedback and know what you guys think, in any capacity. i truly appreciate all of it <33 thank you for reading, thank you for everything!!!
#spencer reid smut#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid criminal minds#doctor spencer reid#dr spencer reid#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x self insert#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds self insert#criminal minds#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds smut#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds angst#criminal minds fandom#bau team#spencer reid fic#kinktober#kinktober 2024#Spencer reid kinktober
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â little hints f1 boys would give that they have a crush on you.
Ë â LANDO NORRIS
he is interested in all your passions and hobbies: even if it is something he knows little about, heâll ask you about your passions or things you like to do to have more to talk about with you and to get to know you even better. he also likes to research on the internet and send you videos that he finds about your favorite topics and, when you least expect it, he will start conversations about it, leaving you surprised but happy to know that he puts a lot of effort into connecting with your world.
Ë â GEORSE RUSSELL
he always includes you in his plans: whenever he travels, he talks as if youâre going too, without even inviting you directly. when you ask him about it, he usually says, âwell, youâre going with me, arenât you?â and when you canât go because of work, he gets really frustrated, but he makes sure to keep you updated. heâs also always saying âwe should check out that new place together⊠when are you free?â or âwouldnât it be fun if you go with me for the next race?â he loves planting the idea of ââfuture moments with you, and he loves it when they actually come true.
Ë â SEBASTIAN VETTEL
he loves teasing you: he always looks for a way to tease you, but always with a touch of flirting, which leaves you wondering if it's really just a joke or if he means something with it. he also hates it when someone else does this and he doesnât hide his anger, and itâs at this moment that you also don't miss the opportunity to tease him; and the look in his eyes tells you that in fact, he doesnât tease you just for fun.
Ë â CARLOS SAINZ
he always offers to help you with whatever you need: no matter what you need, he will do whatever it takes for you and to make your life easier. he will get you a coffee (and a sweet treat) in minutes when you say you want it. he will buy you something you said you needed but couldn't because you were too busy. he will come to your house to fix that broken drawer. he will always be there for you, even when you don't ask him directly, he will be there.
Ë â CHARLES LECLERC
he always remembers little details about you: sometimes he'll casually mention something small that you've said in the past, like your favorite snack or a specific memory. and sometimes you're delightfully surprised by how accurately he tells you these things because you could swear he'd forgotten or didn't really care, but he's always paying extra attention to you and everything you say is important to him.
Ë â LEWIS HAMILTON
he always compliments you a lot: but theyâre not generic compliments that you always hear, he focuses on unique characteristics of yours that he really admires, like âyou always have a way of making everything more fun and coolâ or âyou always seem to know the right things to sayâ, heâs always complimenting you, and he always means it.
Ë â OSCAR PIASTRI
he always looks for reasons to text you: he likes to send you news about your favorite singers, bands, authors or something he knows youâll like. itâs things like âyou popped into my head when i saw this, and i had to shareâ or âdoesnât this remind you of that joke you made?â and he always tries to keep the conversation going, no matter what.
Ë â LIAM LAWSON
he is always your biggest fan: whatever you do, he gives you all the support and help in the world. he is always the first one to show up when you need encouragement, whether itâs to wish you good luck at an event or send you a bouquet of flowers with a little note, or a brief message saying that he believes in you, and that he knows everything will turn out fine. he also loves talking about you to people like âdid you see what y/n did? sheâs amazing, right?â he is your biggest fan, and he doesnât hide it from anyone.
Ë â MAX VERSTAPPEN
he looks at you a lot: when you two make eye contact, you have to look at something else first because he canât get enough of you - and he loves it when you get embarrassed about it. he also loves to admire you when youâre distracted and donât realize heâs looking at you; he loves looking at you and learning your mannerisms. to him, youâre the most beautiful person heâs ever seen, and even though sometimes you catch him staring at you and ask him with a smile what heâs looking at, he doesnât stop or give you a serious answer, which creates a spark of curiosity in you.
#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen imagine#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#george russell x reader#george russell imagine#sebastian vettel x reader#sebastian vettel imagine#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz imagine#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagine#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton imagine#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri x reader#liam lawson x reader#liam lawson imagine#f1 imagine#f1 x reader
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pairing: lando norris x fem!reader
word count: 2k+
summary: your relationship with lando through the teenage years
warnings: pda, established relationship, mostly fluff, some angst | i know lando moved to glastonbury later in his life but đ€« i also wrote this in 2 hours instead of doing because i got excited and had an idea
   You and Lando had first met when you were teenagers. Him being a lanky teenage boy with puffy cheeks and curly hair, and you being a young girl with frizzy hair and a youthful look in your eyes. It wasnât a surprise to anyone when you first started dating, itâs like you both were on the same wavelength.
You still remember the day you met him ââ how could you not? You two went to the same school so you knew who each other was, and you had heard of him from people around the town talking about his karting career. Your parents were family friends with the Norrisïżœïżœïżœs, and they never failed to talk about how proud they were of their children.
It was the start of school after the 2013 summer break. You had quite a small friend group in school so when you had classes with no one you were friends with, you tended to be quiet and focus on your school work. That resulted in you being forced to sit next to the rowdy kids. Why? You didnât know. Itâs not like it changed them, and it just bothered you. It was one of those times, and it was Lando who was put next to you. Him and his friend group tended to be the disruptive bunch. They werenât bad people or bad at school, just got a little too loud at times and forgot to pay attention.
You were sat in the middle row of your math class. The seat next to you was empty at the start of class, but at the end it wasnât. Lando and his friends got a little too loud and he was âpunishedâ by being put next to you so he couldnât talk with his friends. You looked at him when he made his way over, but that was it. He was cute ââ you could admit it. And it didnât hurt that someone cute was being put next to you, but you shook your feelings off and forced yourself to focus. At them end of class when you were grabbing your things, a hand poked your shoulder. You turned around and came face-to-face with the Norris boy. He looked a little nervous, fidgety and a small smile on his face. You tilted your head. âHey ââ I uh ââ didnât have enough time to finish some of the notes. Do you mind if I borrow some of yours?â
You were a little surprised, you didnât think he cared that much about school. Most kids wouldnât bother getting down a little bit you missed ââ not even you ââ but he did. You smiled and nodded. âSure,â you told him as you grabbed the paper out of your binder and gave it to him, âjust return it once youâre done?â He nodded. The next day in class, he walked over to you and gave the paper pack, and you figured he would go back to his friends because the seat want permanent, but he didnât. He put his bag on the ground and sat in the seat next to you. He did that, every day, for the rest of the year.
You two got to know each other well. You learned more about his competitive karting career and his family, while you told him about your family and friends. Nothing ever happened between you two, you were just friends. You had a crush on him, but you convinced yourself it was your mind tricking you because it was your first friend that was a boy. He thought the same, but he didnât not believe his, he just didnât act on it.
It was summer break, a year after you met him, when you realized you did like him. You were chatting with your grandma at her house as you were helping her sting stuff around the house. She had asked about your school semesters and how it was. You rambled on and on, not realizing that you mostly takes about Lando. It wasnât until you were putting one of the last boxes down for her that it finally hit. âYou must really like that boy, no?â You looked at her weird. âAll you did was talk about him. You must like him.â It was when she said that that you had a moment of realization. After you finished helping her you went home to your mom and talked to her, confused on how to deal with this newfound information. She just laughed and gave you a hug, telling you that almost every teenage girl goes through this with someone in their life. That made you feel a bit better.
Your friendship turned into something more a couple weeks after that. The Norris family had invited your family to come watch one of Landoâs races at Buckmore Park. Your parents agreed as they wanted to catch up . . . You agreed because you wanted to see Lando. He did well, coming 5th place. You could tell he wasnât happy about, but you were. You and your family met up with him at the end of the race. He wasnât looking too happy, but when he saw you his face lit up. When you congratulated him he blushed. Your families talked for a bit ââ mostly about how summer break was going ââ and you were about to leave when Lando called out your name.
Your family continued to leave, saying they would meet up with you at the car with your mom winking at you. You blushed. At first there was some awkward silence, and then he asked âwould you like to go on a date?â You were a bit shocked, not expecting it, and you were nervous. What did people do on dates anyway? You know adults went out to eat and drink but you were fifteen! You completely forgot that you had to answer his question, and he started sputtering out words saying that you didnât have to, and he was sorry before you interrupted him with a âyes.â It was his turn to look surprise.
You went on a date the next week, both of you unknowingly doing the same thing and panicking to your parents beforehand. It went fine, a bit awkward ââ obviously ââ but you thought it was cute. You went out for icecream and walked around Bristol. Halfway through the date he slipped his hand into yours, and you accepted it, but didnât dare to look him in the eye.
After that, you two were inseparable. You two were always together, and practically lived at each others houses. Sometimes ââ for weeks on end ââ your parents never saw you a lot because you were always at Landoâs house. His parents always updated yours on how you were, and they trusted you. During an interview for Drive to Survive, your parents swore during those times they only saw you in the morning and night, the rest of the time you were with Lando. This would switch between you staying at his and him staying at yours.
Though Lando wouldnât admit it when he was a teenager, he would do anything for you. If you asked him to jump off a bridge, he wouldnât even ask why, heâs just do it. There are so many pictures on your phone and Polaroids of him in âembarrassingâ situations ââ like one where he had a face mask on and his nails painted. You keep that one in the back of your phone case. He would let you braid his hair, practice makeup on him, help him with his skincare, and so many other things. This would always be in the secrecy of your room and when your families werenât there because he dreaded the day his family saw him like that.
He had no idea that you had shown his sisters and parents almost every single one. They promised to keep it quiet, and they did. You also know they wonât tell him that they have some of those pictures on their phones. Itâs a secret between you and them, a need to know thing.
Whenever you had sleepovers at his house, you would stay with his sisters because you werenât allowed to be with him ââ for good reason ââ and because you loved his sisters. As you got older, you bonded more with them, helping them out with boy problems and girl problems, because everyone had those girls in high school who made your life a living hell. You broke down crying when you found out they were moving to Glastonbury. How would you survive without not being able to hug your boyfriend? How would you cope without the gossip sessions with his sisters? The talks about your life over helping Cisca with dinner and talking politics with Adam? Laughing at embarrassing moments of Lando with his brother?
Before that, you had put off getting your license. You walked or took buses to most places, and it saved you money. When you found out they were moving though, you made it your lifeâs mission it get your license and a car. You were on moving day, helping the family with setting things up and cleaning up the place. You still remember the dinner you had that night. It wasnât fancy, just Chinese takeout on a table in the half put together living room, but it was one of the moments where you truly felt like family. It wasnât that you hadnât before, but it was the private ness of the situation that really hit your heart. You begged to stay over, not caring that it was a school night, but you couldnât. You hugged everyone goodbye with teary eyes, kissing Lando, and promising to be back soon.
And you were. When you had that car, you spent an unbelievable amount of money on gas. You drove to his house almost every weekend. Sometimes he would come over to your house, but it was mostly you going over there out of convenience. If Lando wanted to go to yours, heâd probably have to pile all of his siblings in the car, while you didnât have to do that. Besides driving to Glastonbury, your car was also used as a pick me up. Whenever something happened with his sisters, youâd be there in a heartbeat, telling them to get in ââ telling Lando he canât come with him grumbling something under his breath ââ and youâd go and grab food. Whatever they needed, you were there ready to do it? Boy problems? Junk food and a sad playlist. School problems? Listening to them vent and giving them advice. Period problems? That depended on that they wanted. You even remember one time on March break Flo had an experience with a boy and you took her to a rage room . . . It was so fun, and you definitely did it again with Cisca.
While you were there for all the important events in Landoâs life, he was the same. He was there when your grandma died, and you swore he was one of the few things that kept you together. He was there when you graduated high school and got accepted into your dream school.
Your relationship stayed the same throughout his whole career, you to where you both were now, living in Monaco. You still acted like teenagers, jokingly fighting over little things and teasing each other. Your love baver wavered, it stayed the same for each other, maybe even became stronger. There were periods in your relationship like when he first started in Formula One and you moved to college that it was tricky, but you go through it. You always would.
As you sat on the sofa in your home and twirled the ring on your finger, you remembered the whole of your relationship and the future of it. You were broken out of your trance by a kiss on your head. You hummed, not turning to look at him. âSheâs gone to bed. Sheâs been changed and given her bottle. You smiled and looked up at him, âthank you.â He kissed you on your lips, âof course. You ready to go to bed, Mrs. Norris?â You chuckled and got up, walking around to the couch to meet him in his arms.
âAlways, Mr. Norris, always.â
#emma writes#imagine#x reader#x fem!reader#lando norris x reader#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x you#lando norris#ln4#f1 x reader#f1 x y/n#f1 x you#f1 imagine#formula one x reader#formula one x you#formula one x y/n#formula one imagine#formula one#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 x y/n#formula 1 x you#formula 1#formula 1 imagine#f1 fic#formula one fic#formula 1 fic
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THE CONTRACTED HEART â Rafe Cameron (06)
MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader
Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.
Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.
Word Count: 5.3k
Aliyah's Notes: after the calamity of ch5 i present u ch6.... enjoy it. or not. AND IM SORRY FOR THE ENDING đ„đ©đ
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It's been days. Or weeks? You didnât even know anymore. The calendar on my phone kept reminding me, but you stopped counting. Maybe if you ignored the world long enough, itâll forget you existed. Maybe if you stayed in this apartment, you could disappear into these four walls like you were never here in the first place.
Numbers. You used to count them, obsess over them, keep track of every passing hour. But now, time feels... irrelevant. Whatâs the point of knowing how long youâve been sinking when no oneâs coming to pull you out?
The silence feels... safe. No one to judge you. No one to see the mess youâve become. Itâs funny, thoughâpeople always see what they want to see. The headlines called you a goddess, an untouchable force of beauty and success. But what would they say if they knew the truth? That the girl in their glossy magazines could barely stand to look at herself anymore.
You hated this. The lying, the pretending. Nina thought you were just going through a rough patch, but she didnât know how deep the cracks went. It wasnât supposed to be like this. You werenât supposed to be this anymoreâbroken, fragile, teetering on the edge again. You swore youâd never come back to this place. But itâs funny how easy it is to fall back into old habits, how fast the darkness creeps in when no oneâs watching.
No oneâs watching.
Maybe thatâs for the best. Let them keep seeing the version of you they wanted to seeâthe confident supermodel, the girl who had it all. Let them believe the lie, because the truth? The truth was ugly. The truth was youâve been staring at your phone for days, hopingâno, needingâfor a message, for something from him.
But nothing.
He was in Missouri. Working, you guessed. You didnât even know when he was coming back. He didnât say.Â
You hated him for that. But you hated yourself more for caring. For letting him in, even when you knew better. For thinking, for just one second, that maybeâjust maybeâthere was something real between you, beneath all the lies you told the world.
But none of it was real. Not the dating, not the smiles, not the person they thought you were. You were a fraud. A perfect, golden fraud wrapped up in designer clothes and empty promises. And the worst part was, you were too tired to fight it anymore. Maybe this was who you were now. A girl who hid in her apartment, waiting for the world to forget she existed.
Or maybe it already happened.
The sound of the door creaking open started you, pulling you out of the spiral youâve been sinking into. You didnât even need to look up to know who it was. No one else had the key to your apartment beside her.
âAre you kidding me, Y/N?â Ninaâs voice cut through the heavy silence like a knife. âThis is the third time this week. How long do you think you can keep doing this?â
You didnât respond.
Nina stromed in, slamming the door behind her, and you heard her heels clacking on the floor as she made her way to the living room. âYouâre not answering your phone. Youâre not responding to emails. You missed three shoots! People are asking questions, Y/N. What do you think Iâm supposed to tell them?â
You stayed silent, curling deeper into the couch. Maybe if you didnât look at her, sheâll go away. Maybe sheâll finally get the hint that you didnât want to be saved.
But Nina wasnât the type to back off. âNo,â she snapped. âYou donât get to ignore me, not today. You need to get up. You need to fix this, Y/N. You think you can just hide away forever? Is that the plan? Because let me tell you, honey, the world wonât wait for you to get your shit together.â
She stood in front of you now, hands on her hips, glaring down at you like a disappointed mother. Her usually immaculate hair was slightly disheveled, and you could tell by the tension in her jaw that sheâs been worrying.Â
âTalk to me, honey,â she said, her voice lower now. âThis isnât you. You donât just disappear like this. What happened? Is it Rafe? Is it work? Are you back toâŠâ her voice trailed off, but the question hanged in the air, heavy and unspoken.Â
You couldnât look at her. The shame curled in your chest, making in hard to breathe. She didnât know. She didnât know how badly youâve relapsed, how badly everything felt like it was slipping out of control again. And you couldnât bring yourself to say it. Not to her. Not to anyone.
âWhenâs the last time you even showered? Eaten something decent? Your careerâs on the line. Everything weâve worked for is on the line. You canât just⊠give up like this.â
Her words hit like slaps, each one stinging, but you still didnât move. You couldnât.
Nina huffed, pacing now, her frustration spilling over. âI donât know what happened between you and Rafe, and honestly, I donât care. But whatever it is, you donât get to throw your life away because of it. Youâre stronger than this, Y/N. I know you are. So why the hell are you letting this break you?â
You flinched at the word âbreak.â Because thatâs what it feels like. Like youâre already broken, shattered into a million pieces, and you didnât even know how to start putting yourself back together.
Nina crouched down in front of you, her voice softening, her eyes searching yours. âTalk to me, honey. Please. Tell me whatâs going on. I canât help you if you donât let me in.â
For a moment, you almost did. You almost told her everythingâthe text, the relapse, the endless void youâve been sinking into. But the words caught in your throat, choking you. Whatâs the point in talking when nothing will change?
You shook your head, your voice barely a whisper. âIâm fine.â
Ninaâs eyes narrowed. âDonât give me that bullshit. Youâre not fine. Youâre far from it. You think I havenât seen you like this before? Youâre not fooling anyone, Y/N.â
She stood, her frustration bubbling back to the surface. âYou need to snap out of it. Because in five days, youâre getting engaged to Rafe Cameron, whether you like it or not. And a week after that, youâre walking down the aisle. You canât afford to fall apart now.â
You swallowed hard, the weight of her words pressing down on you like a lead blanket. The engagement. The wedding. The lies. It all felt so suffocating, so inevitable.
Nina crossed her arms, her voice firm. âSo hereâs whatâs going to happen. Youâre going to get up, youâre going to shower, and youâre going to pull yourself together. Because tomorrow, youâve got a charity event with Rafe, and youâre going to smile for the cameras and make everyone believe that youâre still that perfect, golden girl they love.â
You wanted to scream at her, tell her you couldn't do it, that you didn't even know how to pretend anymore. But instead, you nodded numbly, sinking deeper into the fog that had settled over your mind.
Nina sighed, her voice softening again as she headed toward the door. "I'll be back tomorrow morning. And I swear, Y/N, if you're still in this state when I get here, I will personally drag you to that charity event."
The door closed behind her with a soft click, leaving you alone with the weight of everything she'd just said.
You hadnât slept. Not really. Just laid there, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out how you were supposed to pretend like everything was fine when every part of you was falling apart. You could still hear Ninaâs voice in your head, telling you to pull yourself together, to be the golden girl everyone expected you to be.Â
You dragged yourself out of bed, your body heavy. Your legs felt weak, and your mind feltl worse. Everything was numb, but somehow you still felt the pain. You stumbled into the bathroom, turning the water on without thinking. The cold spray hit your skin like tiny needes, and you stood there for a while, trying to let the string wake you up. But it didnât workâyou were still in that fog.
When you finally stepped out of the shower, you didnât even bother looking in the mirror. It didnât matter. You grabbed the first thing you sawâa plain black sweater, loose and oversized, and a pair of jeans that didnât quite fit right anymore. You didnât even try with your hair, just pulled it back into a bun. No makeup. What was the point? It wasnât like anyone cared what you looked like today.
When you got to the office, the tension hit you the moment you walked through the door. Your stomach twisted as you made your way down the hallway, each step heavier than the last. You could feel your pulse in your throat, your chest tightening with every breath. You shouldnât have cared. You shouldnât. But as you pushed open the door to the conference room and saw him sitting thereâRafe, looking like he hadnât been bothered by a single thingâyou felt the anger bubbling up, hot and sharp.
It started as a familiar ache that had been building ever since the night he walked out of your apartment without a word. Two weeks. Fourteen days of silence. Fourteen nights spent waiting for a text that never came, hoping for even the smallest explanation, something to make sense of the hollow space heâd left behind.
Day 1. Monday, 2:42 AM
You: âHey. Are you home? LMK, just to be safe.â
Day 2. Tuesday, 8:18 AM
You: âIâm still so confused about what happened last night, but letâs talk when you have a minute.â
Day 3. Wednesday, 5.32 PM
You: âLook, if youâre mad at me, just say it! I thought we were good, what the hell?â
Day 4. Friday, 11:04 PM
You: âItâs been days and I still donât understand why you left like this.â
Day 5. Sunday, 3:27 PM
You: âFuck you. I don't know why I keep texting. I know youâre seeing my texts, even though Iâm on delivered. Just tell me if youâre done with this.â
Day 5. Sunday, 10:41 PM
You: âWhy am I acting like Iâm the one who fucked up? I didnât do anything wrong. You left me like I was nothing, and your only explanation was a shitty rom-com excuse. I thought we were friends, Rafe.â
Day 5: Sunday, 11:36 PM
You: âI hope you rot in your shit ass apartment, but trust that I will show up to one of your stupid games with a sign that says âSmall Dick Ghosterâ in big, glittery letters. And I hope Chiara will hug you so hard that sheâll end up strangling you to death. Fuck you, again!â
And there he was, sitting there like none of it had happened, like you were still just strangers playing a game. His posture relaxed, that effortless confidence radiating from him, his gaze fixed on the papers in front of him, completely indifferent.
It infuriated youâthe ease with which he moved on, the way he could look so composed, so completely unbothered, as if he hadnât abandoned you in that moment when you were raw and vulnerable. Like it meant nothing. Like you meant nothing.
Every part of you screamed to confront him, to demand an explanation for the silence, the absence, the complete disregard. You could feel the hurt clawing up from your chest, tangling with the anger that burned hotter with each passing second. He was so close, but somehow, he felt miles away.
So instead, you steeled yourself, locking down the hurt, burying it beneath the anger that simmered just beneath the surface. You wouldnât let him see the effect he had on you, wouldnât give him the power to know just how much his absence had shattered you. Noâhe would get nothing from you. Not a word, not a glance, not a single sign of the turmoil raging inside you.
You walked past him without a word, each step heavy with the weight of the anger you swallowed down. Let him sit there, pretending like nothing was wrong. Let him think he could ignore you, dismiss you, erase you from his life without consequence. Because you would make sure he felt every bit of the coldness he had left you with, every ounce of the hurt heâd carved into you.
Ignoring him was the only power you had left, the only way to keep the anger from spilling over, from breaking you down entirely. And if he thought he could continue on as if the past two weeks hadnât happened, then he was going to learn just how wrong he was.
Nicolas cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had settled over the room. âHi, you twoâweâve got a lot to go over, and the timeline is tight. The engagement is in five days, and the wedding is scheduled for a week after that. So we need to finalize the details todayâfood, decorations, dresses, the guest listâŠâ
You couldnât focus. The words blurred together a dull hum in the background as you stared down at the table. Rafe said something, his voice casual, but you tuned it out. You didnât want to hear him.
Sabrina spoke next, her tone brighter, more enthusiastic. âThe audience is really enjoying you together, by the way. Ever since your date, and especially after the pictures from Kelceâs party where you two were cuddled up? People are in love with the idea of you and Rafe together. So, good job, guys.â
Your stomach churned at her words. Cuddled up. Like you were some happy couple.
âAnd tomorrow,â she continued. âYouâll need to make another public appearance together. Itâs a charity event for cancer awareness. A perfect opportunity for more good press. The public is expecting you two to show up as the perfect coupleâaffectionate, in love, all of that.â
In love.
You bit down on the inside of your cheek so hard you tasted blood. This was the part where you were supposed to smile and nod, agree to hold his hand and play the role of the devoted future fiancée. But all you felt was the tension building, the weight of the lie pressing down on you until it was suffocating.
Rafe shifted in his seat, and you could feel his eyes on you, but you still didnât look at him. Rafe felt an uneasy twist in his stomach. You looked⊠different. Disheveled, almost. Your sweater hung losely over your shoulders, practically swallowing your frame, and he could see dark shadows under your eyes that hadnât been there before. You seemed smaller somehow, your usual energy muted, replaced by something tense and fragile.
Rafeâs gaze dropped to your hands, noticing how your fingers fidgeted restlessly, twisting and tugging at your sleeves. Your leg was bouncing under the table, tapping out an anxious rhythm that only he seemed to notice. Every small movement, every nervous habitâyou looked like you were holding yourself back, like there was something simmering beneath the surface, ready to break free.
You still hadnât looked at him, hadnât given him a single glance, and that bothered him more than he wanted to admit. Youâd been messaging him, and heâd been⊠well, avoiding it, convincing himself it was for the best. But seeing you now, seeing the wear and tear heâd left behind, he couldnât shake the guilt.
Rafeâs chest tightened. Heâd expected you to be angry, maybe annoyed. But this? You looked worn down, frayed at the edges, like you've been carrying a weight no one else could see.
You didnât remember most of the details they were talking about. Your mind drifted in and out of focus as they went on about the guest list, the food, the decorations. All you heard were wordsâdresses, flowers, venues. None of it felt real. It was as if you were watching someone elseâs life unfold in front of you, just sitting there, an outsider in your own story.
âThe wedding will be televised, of course,â Sabrina says, flipping through her notes, her eyes gleaming with the excitement of it all. âAnd with a full press presence. We want every detail to reflect both of your public personas. Elegant, grand, but also with an intimate, personal feelâsomething that tells a story about who you both are.â
Who we were. I almost laughed at the irony. I didn't even know who I was right now, much less who we were.
âWe were thinking of something grand but elegant. A modern luxury wedding. White roses, lots of gold accents. Maybe something at the estate in the Hamptons?â
You glanced at the board, at all the glossy, pristine images of weddings that could belong to anyone. None of them felt like you.
âDo you have any preferences?â Sabrina asked, smiling like this is the most exciting conversation in the world. âColors, themes, anything thatâs important to you?â
"Actually," you finally broke your silence, your voice coming out quietly, but the words landing heavily in the room. "Iâd like the ceremony to reflect... my background." You could feel Rafe's eyes on you again, but for once, you didnât care. This wasnât about him.
Sabrina blinked, taken aback, but she quickly nodded, jotting down notes as if she were open to whatever you had in mind. "Of course, that could be beautiful. Were you thinking about specific details?"
You hesitated for a moment, uncertain if theyâd take you seriously, but you pressed on. "Yes. The colors⊠the decorations. I want there to be vibrant colorsânot just whites and pastels, but deep greens, maroons, and gold. The way weâd have them back home. And for the flowers⊠jasmine and roses. Thatâs what we use for weddings where Iâm from. I want it to feel like... like part of my heritage."
Nicolas raised an eyebrow, as if he hadnât expected you to care about any of this. But he just nodded, his pen moving across his notepad. "We can definitely arrange that. A traditional, multicultural theme would add a unique touch to the event, I think. Itâll definitely resonate with the press and the viewers."
You didnât care if it resonated. It wasnât for themâit was for you, a sliver of authenticity in this whole farce.
Then Sabrinaâs voice broke into your thoughts. "And of course, the dress. Have you given any thought to what you want? Or would you like us to arrange for a stylist to go over options with you?"
Your heart twisted at the mention of the dress. The one thing youâd always imagined as a girlâthe dress youâd wear at your own wedding. Only, youâd never thought it would be for this.
"Iâd like to include some of my culture there too," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe... a fusion. Something elegant and modern but with hints of traditional South Asian bridal elements. Like embroidery or... beadwork. Maybe even henna if it wouldnât look out of place."
Sabrina seemed to light up at the idea. "That would be stunning. We can definitely work with that! I know several designers who specialize in fusing traditional and contemporary styles."
She was still talking, but the air around you felt thicker, as though the room was closing in. You could sense Rafeâs gaze without even looking at him, the weight of his silence pressing into you.
You zoned out again, your mind wandering back to the last wedding you attended. The colors, the music, the way the brideâs lehenga shimmered under the sun as she walked down the aisle. Youâd always thought your wedding would be like thatâfull of life and celebration, surrounded by people who loved you.
Instead, you were planning a wedding for the cameras, for people who didnât know you.
The sudden, sharp knock on the door cut through the stillness like a jolt of cold water. Your head shot up from the pillow, heart hammering in your chest. For a moment, the world felt like it was still. The quiet of your apartment, the thick fog still clouding your thoughts. You didnât want to get up. You didnât want to face the world outside of this bed, this cocoon of emptiness youâd wrapped yourself in for days.
Another knock, this one louder, more demanding.
âY/N!â Ninaâs voice came through the door, sharp and impatient. âYou better not still be in bed, because I swearââ
The door swung open before you could even make a sound, Nina storming in, wearing the same determined, unbothered expression she always had when she was on a mission. You tried to bury your face back into the pillow, but she wasnât having it. Her hand reached down, grabbing the covers and yanking them off with force. You shivered as the cold air hit your skin, the warmth of the blankets yanked away along with any shred of comfort youâd been clinging to.
âGet up.â Nina wasnât asking. She was commanding. âYouâve got a charity event today, and Rafe is already at the venue. We donât have time for your pity party.â
You squinted at her, still half-wrapped in your sheets like a burrito, and mumbled from underneath the pillow, âCanât you just⊠I donât know⊠handle it for me? Go in my place. Youâd look great in a gown.â
She cocked an eyebrow. âOh, Iâd look amazing, but you and I both know I donât have that kind of charisma.â
âTrue,â you admitted, peeking out from under the pillow.Â
Nina raised her hands in mock surrender. âExactly. Now, up. Iâm not playing with you today.â
Before you could even protest, she yanked the covers off you with a dramatic flourish, leaving you to shiver in nothing but your oversized T-shirt. It was a miracle you didnât roll off the bed in the process.
âCome on, Y/N. Letâs go.â Nina didnât wait for you to even get a grip on reality before heading straight for your closet, rummaging through your clothes like she was on a mission. âYouâre going to look so good today that Rafe might just start thinking you actually like him.â
You shot her a glare that couldâve frozen water, but she just smirked, tossing a black dress onto the bed like she was some fashion fairy sent to save you from yourself.
âIâm not going,â you said flatly.
âOh, yes, you are.â Nina threw a matching pair of heels onto the bed with the same casual flick of the wrist she used to dismiss your protests. âBecause you will look stunning, and you will show up.â
You sat up slowly, rubbing your face. âWhat is it with you people? Why does everyone keep trying to drag me out of bed? Itâs like Iâm the worldâs most reluctant celebrity.â
âBecause you are.â Nina grinned, holding up your dress like she was presenting the Holy Grail. âBut, hey, guess what? Youâre really good at it. So stop sulking and get your glam on. Youâre the star of the show today.â
You let out a theatrical sigh. âOh, joy.â
Nina didnât even flinch. âIâm not asking for a performance. Just put on the damn dress and show up. You can pretend to be miserable, and Iâll pretend Iâm not a miracle worker for getting you out of here.â
You hesitated for just a moment, then dragged yourself out of bed with a grunt. âFine.â
âOh, by the way, Aishaâs going to be there. She practically begged me to make sure you show.â
Your eyes snapped open. Aisha Patel. Your best friend and, quite honestly, the only person in your life who could drag you out of bed with a single text. Sheâs been your best friend since youâd arrived in the States. Sheâd been away for five monthsâlonger than ever beforeâworking on some high-profile project in Switzerland. You hadnât seen her in ages.
âYouâre kidding,â you mumbled, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. âAishaâs coming?â
Nina smiled smugly. âYep. Sheâs flown back for the event. Can you imagine the drama if you donât show up? Sheâll never let you live it down.â
You sighed, a smile tugging at your lips. âGod, I missed her.â
âMe too,â Nina said, her voice softening for just a second. âBut you still have to get up. Like now.â
You looked at the dress Nina had already picked out, a sleek white gown that somehow made you feel both glamorous and like you were about to attend a royal gala. âFine. Iâm up. Iâm dressed.â
Nina, who was already rummaging through your closet like a pro, grinned. âYou look absolutely beautiful, honey,â she noticed your weight loss but decided to not speak on it, in fear itâll make you relapse⊠if only she knew. âChiaraâs also going to be there...â
You froze, the mention of Chiara Romano sending a cold shiver down your spine. Youâd told Nina everything about the Chiara encounterâher subtle digs, the way she made you feel like you were just another passing phase in Rafeâs life. Sheâd made things uncomfortable enough at Kelceâs party, and now you had to face her again?
âWhat? Fucking why?â
âHer fatherâs the one running the whole damn event,â she explained. âIâm surprised you havenât heard of her or her family because theyâre pretty famous, especially in the entertainment and events world. So, get ready for a day full of small talk, fake smiles, and people who will pry into your private life.â
You sighed. âHow perfect is that?â
You stood in front of the mirror, trying to shake off the heavy weight of everything swirling in your head. You glanced at the clock. You were running out of time.
You reached for your hair tie, pulling it through your tangled locks. Your hair had grown longer than you remembered, and you decided to tie it up in a messy, yet elegant bunâone that would allow a few soft, curly strands to escape and frame your face. It was casual but chicâclassic you. You let a few strands fall loosely, giving the bun a less formal, more effortless vibe. After a moment of satisfaction, you moved on to the makeup.
A soft, dewy glow covered your skin, nothing too dramatic. You didnât want to feel caked in layers today, just enough to enhance your features. You applied a touch of blush to your cheeks, just a hint, to keep the look fresh. A thin line of mascara lengthened your lashes, and your signature lip combo was the finishing touch. Simple. Comfortable.
As you turned to check yourself one last time, you heard Nina's voice from the other room.
âY/N! We need to go now. Rafe's texting me and heâs getting antsy. Heâs apparently already at the event!â
You sighed, feeling the familiar rush of anxiety settle into your stomach. The mirror reflected a version of you that was ready for the world, but the world, especially tonight, wasnât ready for this version of you. But as the pressure of the event built up, you couldnât deny the uncertainty gnawing at you.
When you made your way into the living room, Nina was pacing, her phone glued to her ear. She shot you a quick, approving glance. âLooking good. Letâs go.â
As you grabbed your clutch, ready to face whatever tonight had in store, the doorbell rang. Your heart skipped a beat. Was it Aisha? Maybe sheâd arrived early, wanting to meet up before the event?
But when you opened the door, your breath caught.
Standing in the doorway wasnât Aisha.
It was Rafe.
He was in a suitâsharp, looking like he belonged in a magazine ad for high-end fashionâbut his eyes, dark and intense, held something more than just a desire to impress. He had the look of a man who knew he had messed up.
His words hit you before you could even process them. âYou look stunning. I wanted to make sure youâre okay... before all this.â The sincerity in his voice made your heart thump a little faster, and you hated yourself for it.
The words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you just stood there, blinking at him. You hadnât expected him to show upâespecially not with that kind of intensity in his eyes.
You exhaled slowly, your arms instinctively crossing over your chest, your posture defensive. The audacity of this guy.
âReally?â You scoffed, trying to mask the vulnerability creeping up your spine with sharp sarcasm. âNow you care?â
Rafe seemed to falter at that, but he quickly recovered, taking a small step closer, but not enough to make you feel cornered. âIâve always cared, Y/N. You know that.â His voice was quieter this time, and the sincerity in his eyes almost made your resolve crack.
âDo I?â you shot back, stepping out of the doorway and giving him a once-over, your gaze icy. âBecause you sure had a funny way of showing it.â
Rafe winced, a flash of guilt flickering in his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tight. âI messed up, okay? I shouldâve reached out. I didnât know what to say, but I shouldâve just... shown up.â
You rolled your eyes, the anger simmering beneath your skin rising again. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, not from the sight of him, but from the frustration that had been building over the past two weeks. âYou didnât know what to say? You think showing up fixes two weeks of silence? Just like that?â
He took a step forward, his face tightening, as though he was bracing himself for a confrontation. "I wasnât sure what to do," he said, his voice lowering. "I thought... maybe you needed space. I thought if I gave you time, it would be better." He ran a hand through his hair, frustration clear in his expression. âI was trying to do the right thing.â
You stared at him for a long moment, the audacity of his words settling like a lump in your throat. âSpace?â you asked, your voice low, incredulous. âYou thought ghosting me for two weeks would give me space?âÂ
Rafeâs face twisted in guilt, but it didnât matter. You werenât going to let him off the hook.
âDid you at least see my texts?â you demanded, anger rising in your throat.
"Y/N, youâre needed at the car right now!" Nina called, stopping Rafe in his tracks of answering. Before you could walk away, Rafe reached out, his hand closing around your wrist, pulling you back gently.
"Wait," he murmured, his thumb brushing your skin.
You stared up at Rafe, your breath caught in your throat, uncertainty swirling in your chest. The air between you two felt charged, a thousand unspoken questions hanging in the balance. Your pulse was racing, but before you could voice any of them, Nina practically shoved you both into the elevator. Her hand pressed the button for the ground floor as she threw your heels at you, the sharp click of the stilettos punctuating the tension.
You caught them on instinct. The elevator descended, and your mind was still spiraling, trying to piece together what the hell was happening. What the fuckâthis distance between you and Rafe?Â
But just as the elevator doors opened, the sound of a familiar car door slamming outside caught your attention. A quiet thud, followed by the sound of heels clicking against pavement. Your instincts were on alert, an uneasy feeling crawling under your skin.
And when you turned to look, you saw someone stepping out of the car.
Someone who shouldnât be here.
âI was wondering when weâd get the chance to catch up.â
chapter seven
#the contracted heart#rafe cameron#rafe fanfiction#rafe smut#rafe fic#rafe imagine#rafe x reader#outerbanks rafe#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron prompt#rafe cameron fluff#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron x reader#rafe obx#obx smut#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron outer banks#outer banks fanfiction#obx fic#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x you#aliyahs misc#obx#outer banks
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Listen, having worked in university marketing, I am here to tell you that not all ads are evil or trying to deceive you. People work really hard at conveying precisely the information you need that will tell you if a product is for you.
There are people in advertising and marketing who are well aware of the laws about not deceiving customers and who think constantly about what they can provide evidence to claim, not making stuff up.
And yeah, they're trying to persuade you, but that doesn't automatically mean 'buy this piece of shit we're telling you is solid gold'. It means, 'we really believe in this, we have evidence that it's good and could be a great thing for you, but we need to find a way to tell you that and make you trust us' which takes a lot of thought.
And as a consumer there's a lot of stuff I just wouldn't know about if not for advertising. We need advertising to tell people there are solutions to problems, quality products, and fun things to get excited about.
Advertising isn't inherently BAD. And it's one of the few industries in which creative people can make a liveable wage with their art or writing.
The problem we have at the moment is that a lot of people with no training in making good ads, people who don't care about laws, or are based somewhere with less regulation, who are churning out annoying, misleading, not-accesdible garbage.
And these people aren't researching their audience and tailoring the content to people for whom its relevant. Instead a whole tech industry has grown up where people who know fuck all about marketing have companies that scrape and aggregate your data, who sell it to other tech companies that sell advertising space, which is bought up by yet another automated service that has been trained to get 'the best deal' for the company that wants to sell a product.
That's not how it works when you wanna make a useful ad. You should be doing customer research with your actual customers. Analysing the data you get to tailor both the advert and the advertising space.
But these automated systems talking to other automated systems don't do that.
Like, first off, the data is SHIT. It may not even differentiate content you noped out of from stuff you looked at for half an hour. And if it does, it treats all the content on the page equally. All the stuff you're ignoring is tagged as 'on sites this user spends a lot of time on'. Whereas human customer research, for which customers consent and usually receive some kind of reward, involves tracking eye movements, mouse movements, clicks, and an interview afterwards to ask what they were thinking about and why they stayed on one page over another. This is so much more helpful! It helps make content more useful to users and prevents wasted marketing effort.
But almost no one does it these days because, well, it's expensive. You gotta compensate the consumers you do your research with, design sensible things for them to test, have someone monitor and analyse what they do, and interview them after. That's very expensive compared to a bunch of lightning fast calculations that can all be automated. So companies don't pay to do it properly, and they don't actually tailor their ads to you, and they're not trying to be informative.
At best (and I can't stress enough how rare this is) ads that are based on this data and algorithms and/or machine learning deliver what will get you to look at the ad for longer or click the ad to go to a website. But if that means bright flashing colours and the world's tiniest 'x' so you can't actually close the ad without clicking through, these automated systems are designed to get you to do THAT, not buy the product.
Honestly, I know it sounds like I'm asking for sympathy for the devil, but I have seen this from the tech side, the marketing side, the researcher side, and the user doing the test. I have taken a course on content strategy and heard what academics in this field have to say, and it's honestly not evil. They're trying to adapt to an environment where you're constantly barraged with demands on your attention, so it is in the advertiser's best interest to be clear and tailored and not waste your time.
But unfortunately an awful lot of people have been sold on the idea that these automated systems ARE targeting people who would be interested with stuff that's relevant to them, and they're just NOT.
You can see it if you compare an entertaining TV ad by an established brand who can pay for the research to the vast majority of internet ads. They can be funny, entertaining, informative, even insightful. They can also be stereotyped and annoying of course, but on the whole they're much less of a headache than the nonsense funnel we get exposed to constantly online and in mobile games.
Tbh, advertisers, producers, and consumers have all been screwed over by VC-owned companies that are being squeezed from on high for every last drop of short term capital. And that means automating things because it's cheaper and quicker than human analysis, even if it means the whole thing becomes annoying, unhelpful garbage.
But scale it back and think about your artist friend. Your creator with a small etsy business. Your self-published author. Your inventor with a neat accessibility tool. They aren't producing groceries, but if they don't advertise, literally no one will know their products exist.
Advertising DOES have a good and important role. Under-regulated advertising in a toxic system not aimed at serving producers OR customers is hamstrung and cannot perform that role.
The only acceptable ads should be shit like "groceries on sale" and "free event at the local library"
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ok, ok âsuck on my fingers.â and âdonât make a mess, baby.â prompt with the worse wolverine? btw i love your words!!!
warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, squirting, fingering, dirty talk, overstimulation, cum eating (kinda? i think thats whats this called idk he just sticks his fingers in ur mouth after fingering)
600 follower drabble masterlist
a/n: I'm gonna be so real I am coping hard rn. I am devastated and worried for the future but if writing wolverine smut is what helps that is what I shall do. I hope you like it!!
How long has it been? Minutes? Hours? Fuck at this point you'd believe that you've been here for days. Wrapped in his arms. Trapped under his adamantium bone and super human strength. The sheets slip through your fingers as your grip grows weaker. Logan has been teasing you, playing with you like a piece of meat.
Logan is upright against the headboard. Heâs got your back against his chest. One of strong arms is keeping you upright. Forcing you to sit there. His other hand is shoved into your panties. He didnât even bother to take them off.
Thereâs something playing on the TV in your room but you lost any sense of your surroundings about an hour ago. Logan likes to play with his food. Always has.
Your big hot boyfriend loves to make a mess of things before he eats.
âOh Fuck Logannnn.â You whine as he slips two of his fingers into your already soaked cunt.
Your panties are soaked from Loganâs touch. He wonât even bother taking them off. He likes the obscene sight of his hands down them. Loves seeing his fingers disappear and watch your cute face scrunch up in pleasure.
Youâre trying with all your might to squirm away. Not that you wanted him to stop but the pleasure was overwhelming. Your body was moving without your brain at this point. Pure instinct. Logan growls in your ear. Shoving another finger inside to shut you up.
âQuiet. Iâm not done with you yet.â You tilt your neck to the side as Loganâs rough thumb starts to circle your clit harshly.
The sounds of your pleasure are loud and Logan is unashamedly eating them up. His fingers movie faster and faster. Pounding into you with a force that makes you scream. Your dripping down his hands and onto the sheets. Logan tuts and shakes his head mockingly.
âDonât make a mess baby.â He scolds as he drives his fucking fingers deep inside of you. Fucking liar. He loves when you make a mess. Nothing boosts his ego more.
He feels so good. His fingers are tearing you apart. Heâs hell bent on making you come harder than you ever have. He can never get enough. It's like a competition with himself. Making sure you know only he can do this to you over and over. A pressure builds deep in your core and your eyes widen when you feel a certain feeling.
âLogan wait I-â Your pleas are silenced as another moan rips through your throat.
You chant his name over and over as your legs start to shake. Logan watches in awe as you squirt all over the bed. He doesn't let up as he pulls as much as he can. You're moaning only pushes him further. He's whispering dirty things in your ear but you can barely hear him. Your body is screaming in pure pleasure and its all you can hear.
"Too much." You manage to whimper out as Logan continues to fuck his fingers into you.
He hums and in a moment of mercy decides you've had enough for tonight. Such a good pet. His fingers are coated. He pulls them apart and smirks as he brings them to your lips.
âCome on, suck on my fingers." He coos as you lazily open your mouth. Your perfect pretty lips surrounding his fingers, sucking your own juices from his fingers.
"Taste yourself, see why I can't get enough of this delicious cunt." His eyes grow dark as he watches your lips take his fingers so easily. You look up with glossy eyes. Completely fucked out because of him.
"Cute." He presses a kiss to your forehead and pulls you closer. His fingers slip out of your mouth and he dips back down into your soaked underwear. You whine when he gently brushes over your sensitive clit.
"Shhh sweetheart," His moves are softer this time, gentle.
"Just relax. Let me get my taste too."
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F1 drivers rated on how likely they are to know what ao3 is
note : this is just for entertainment. I will also use this to make a general reminder not to get anything fanfic/rpf related outside of sites such as tumblr, ao3, or wattpad. Enjoy!
This is just the current grid, because if I had to do it with every driver that raced this season, I'd get a surprisingly high amount of drivers to talk about.
20. Fernando
Grandpa. Need I to say more?
19. Checo
In a recent GQ Sport interview, he revealed that he didn't even have social media on his phone. I'd be surprised to hear he has any ao3 tab open up there.
18. K-mag
I don't feel like I need to explain this one. But I also believe that if Haas got him to read a chapter of a wattpad fanfic out loud where he has to replace Y/N with his own name after every penalty point he gets, he would have stopped causing so much ruckus. Or he might even cause more, who knows what goes on inside his mind.
17. Nico Hulk
Hear me out, he doesn't know what a fanfic is, but if he were more popular with the writer, he'd read the shit out of those.
16. Valterri
I could pay actual money to hear him read a 'kidnapped by one direction' self insert story out loud. If there is any Sauber intern lurking here, please consider. Wattpad as a sponsor would bring you a lot of money, think about it. I promise you will see a rise in your fandom if the name of the team was "wattpad kick sauber". I would buy merch. You need the money the way the constructors are going. Think about it.
15. Lance
I don't know too much about him, but I will assume he doesn't spend too much time on social media, or googling himself with all the hate he gets. But maybe if he were to read a strollonso fanfic, we might get to see him have actual expressions on his face. Granted, that would be a look of horror, but I will take what I can.
14. Carlos
I think he might combust if he read any ABO fanfic. I might want to see that.
13. Max
He is too busy sim racing to care. Good for him, I wish I could say the same about myself but alas I am too busy reading the same fanfic for the 23th time.
12. Yuki
I believe if you pronounced the term "Y/N" next to him he might assume that's a car brand. Or, like, hello in a foreign language. Again, good for him.
11. Zhou
Hear me out, fanfics seem to be quite popular in China, and he has a sister, there is no way he hasn't heard of the existences of it. I don't think he has read any though, which is for the better.
10. Franco
Our dear Franquito hasn't been on the grid for long enough to discover the amazing word that fanfics have to offer, but let me tell you that if he hasn't found out stuff yet, he'll find some soon enough. Let the writers have time to write a little bit more about him, and soon we'll get an instagram live of him reacting to those.
9. Liam
I think he is young enough to have googled himself (he had to find something to do since he's been a reserve driver since like the year 2010), but he also hasn't been a permanent member, so he might not have enough material to accidentally stumble upon.
8. Esteban
He googles himself. He knows there are fanfics. And he fucking likes that. If there is a rise of pierresteban fics on ao3 after Brazil 2024, he will be the first one to know let me tell you that much.
7. Lewis
Okay you might be wondering why this senior citizen is up here, and the answer is simple : he is too famous not to know. Like COME ON. He's been here since 2007 (which is longer than some people who'll see this post have been alive forâ that's a scary thought for another day), he has been in famous and televised rivalry, and he has to live with the existence of the quote "everything but a lover" about nico and him.
There is no way he hasn't READ a fucking brocedes fanfic. If he is willing, I will teach him how to use ao3 so he can look-up some "fix-it" fics. He might use some inspiration, and who is better for that than tired college students writing about their sad ass in between lectures?
6. George
He seems like the type to lurk a lot around the internet, so the chances of him finding the link to a fic on the third page of google isn't impossible to me.
If you find any comment of someone correcting your spelling, you know who did it.
5. Pierre
He probably googles his name too often not to have stumbled upon a "Reader x Pierre Gasly" wattpad fanfic. sigh.
4. Alex
Alex, I know that you are the second most likely to have tumblr (right after george who actually has an account). The chances of you knowing what a "lemon" is is way too high for my liking.
3. Charles
The C in Charles stands for Chronically Online. My boy was known for liking tweets about himself, and we know that fans talk about fanfics on twitter. He clicked on a link of a lestappen or sebchal fanfic at least once out of curiosity let me tell you this much.
2. Lando
Too chronically online not to have read fanfics about himself. I just know he typed in "lando norris fanfiction" straight in google at least once. Jail.
1. Oscar
Here me out : his sister is a K-pop fan. If you believe that she never yapped about a fanfic she read to her brother, you are strongly unfamiliar with sibling relationships. But the chances of him not listening to her are also very high, so maybe he shouldn't be so high up my list. But oh well.
He is also good at hiding his game, but he is as online as Charles (you thought you were sneaky but we caught you clicking on that link of Max playing air-hocket dear Osc.)
For my own mental health though, I will assume he hasn't read about his own self yet.
#oscar piastri#charles leclerc#lando norris#max verstappen#lewis hamilton#george russell#alex albon#franco colapinto#yuki tsunoda#liam lawson#carlos sainz#valterri bottas#zhou guanyu#nico hulkenberg#nico rosberg#keving magnussen#fernando alonso#esteban ocon#pierre gasly#lance stroll#formula 1#f1 grid#lestappen#fanfic#brocedes#f1 incorrect quotes
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I want to talk about a kind of troubling reaction I've been seeing to both Apology Tour and Ghostfuckers among parts of the fandom. The person is usually a reaction youtuber but sometimes someone writing on tumblr or twitter. They say something along the lines of "oh, I'm glad Blitz is being forced to confront his crimes/traumas/pain. This is the only way he will finally heal."
That's not how healing works.
I know that reaction youtubers don't always have the most developed takes because they're . . . you know . . . reacting in the moment. But I think it's still worth talking about.
I'm going set aside the people who seem to believe that Blitz needs to be punished for his crimes, and address those who genuinely think that getting a tidal wave of his own trauma in his face is what he needs to heal.
There's an attitude in contemporary culture that traumas are something people need to confront. As in, put on a brave face and dive in like a big boy. I blame capitalism, rugged individualism, and all the pieces of media that tie up a character's arc neatly by having them confront their darkest fears and insecurities. It can put a nice bow on things, but it isn't really how healing from trauma works.
Apology Tour:
Blitz gets confronted by a shit ton of people who hate him, at least some of whom are his exes, who he feels he's personally damaged. The decor and party games are all about killing and torturing him. Verosika confronts him about how much he hurt her. Oh, and then he sees the love of his life, who he's just recently pushed away, making out with another guy- proof, in his eyes, that Stolas is happier without him. And this all reflects the underlying fears he already has about who he is as a person (shown to us by Truth Seekers).
So what was the takeaway? Blitz came to the conclusion that he doesn't always want to be like this (good, but like . . . worth this much pain?). He flops on his steering wheel (relatable). He stops trying to reach out to Stolas (uh oh . . . ). He spends A MONTH spiraling in his own misery and making a mess of all aspects of his life until he's dragged out of it by a caring friend.
The party doesn't empower Blitz to change. It knocks him down and fucking traumatizes him (seriously, images of Stolas from the party show up later in his trauma reel) too much for him to be able to do actually work toward said change. I suspect that if left to his own devices, he would have kept spiraling for quite a while longer. It's one thing to want to change, and another to try to do so alone in the aftermath of a pile-on.
Ghostfuckers
After Blitz drags himself out of his hole of cheesy ice cream and despair to "play sex ghosts" (escapism, again, still knocked down by Apology Tour), infester demon Rolando picks him out as an easy target and assaults him, yes, assaults, with horrific images of his worst traumas and fears.
Not to state the obvious, but Rolando isn't interested in helping Blitz heal. He's trying to kill the guy. He wants to engulf Blitz in his trauma to the extent where he's consumed by it and loses the will to fight back. And as some excellent posts by others have pointed out already, he very likely would have succumbed if not for Millie's support.
Millie helps Blitz get through the onslaught by telling him about what makes him great and how he's improved her life and showing him love and care. And by literally beating the fucking infester out of him. Because there's someone in him who's hurting him, who's re-traumatizing him against his will. She takes him away from the reel of horrible memories.
So . . . do I think that confronting traumas can play a role in healing? Sure. But only if it's consensually (which neither of these situations are) and when the person trying to heal is ready. And most likely in small doses. No one's going and successfully confronting every horrible thing that's ever happened to them in one go.
And in my humble opinion, it's not going to work (for anyone, but especially not for Blitz) alone and without a healthy dose of kindness and compassion (both external and internal).
Blitz has a long road ahead of him toward healing, and it's going to be hard work on his part but also require love and support from the people in his life.
In a wonderful moment near the end of Ghosfuckers, Blitz and Millie work together to get Blitz's wrecked van unstuck and push it back through the portal into Hell. I love it because it's so simple and it kind of tells us everything we need to know. This sweet and salty gremlin has a lot of work ahead of him, but he doesn't have to do it alone.
#ghostfuckers#apology tour#blitz#blitzo#blitzo buckzo#millie#rolando#stolitz#verosika#my helluva meta#helluva boss
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⥠In Between - FC 43 âĄ
Summary: You and Franco has a nice night in, when you start to think about your guys relationship and wonder if it's time you tell him that you really like him.
WC: 2320
CW: overuse of song references, nothing really, it's quite fluffy, maybe some negative thoughts the reader has about themselves?
Itâs a Saturday night, one of the least chaotic ones now that your best friend is a driver in F1. Franco was called up to fill Logan's seat for the rest of the season which is beyond exciting and you couldnât be more proud. The only downside is that his schedule is so much more packed now that heâs getting acknowledgement from so many teams and people. All this new media coverage feels so insane. And something that doesnât help is the fact that youâve slowly been falling for Franco.
The two of you have been friends for a while. But in recent months, youâve started to see him in a different light. Youâre sure itâs just a crush but itâs been well over 2 months that youâve felt this way. Some say that crushes only last about 2 months, once youâre past that mark, youâre actually in love with the person. You hoped this crush would go away, afraid to ruin what you have with Franco. Your relationship with him is the best thatâs ever happened to you. You never want to lose him. But alas, the crush did not go away. So now youâre here.
Itâs a bit late into the evening now. Franco asked you out for lunch earlier and now the two of you are lying on his bed, watching American Pie. The two of you were lying on the bed, side by side. Franco was lying with his back against the bed's headboard while you lied next to him on your side. The safest place youâve ever known, next to him.
The two of you were halfway through the movie when he asked you a question that you didnât quite catch the first time, so you angle your head up to look at him. As soon as you locked eyes with him, Franco couldnât help but laugh. When you moved your head to look at him, your glasses had skewed on your face.
His laugh always was so contagious, it always got you laughing too. When you two had calmed your laughing fits, Franco took his hand and adjusted your glasses into the right position, before leaning forward and gently kissing your forehead.
âYouâre beautiful⊠and funny⊠And smart. Like nothing Iâve ever seen.â You turned to bury your face in your hands, trying to hide your blushing face. You love it when he talks, not just about you. About anything really, heâs your favorite yapper and you wish you could listen to him all day. Your favorite sound ever.
âHey, let me see that beautiful face again.â Franco says, grabbing your hand and moving it from your face. âHiâ he says when he can see you again. âHiâ you reply, smiling so hard. It was so hard to believe this was real, your guy's friendship. It was the type of relationship youâd always dreamed of, that sort of naive and innocent relationship that was filled with laughter and joy and⊠love? Was it too soon to use that word? Maybe considering you were just friends⊠Just. Friends.
âSo,â Franco started, pulling you out of your thoughts, âWhatâs the dream?â âThe dream?â you look at him, confusion written all over your face. âYeah, the dream. Your dream. What youâre working towards.â
You laid there for a beat, thinking about it. What was your dream? All this time, youâve just been focusing on surviving, not so much on the living.
âUm, Iâm not sure. Iâve never really thought about it. I guess I want to finish my masters degree in uni. Then after that, just⊠live, I guess.â you look up at him with a smile. âThatâs it? You donât have any other goals or anything?â - his eyebrows furrow, showing you a confused expression. You shake your head no. âYouâre kidding.â - Franco snorts in disbelief. âWell, what are yours? Your plans, goals.â You ask as you sit up against the headboard of the bed. âEm, well, I guess F1 was always a big goal, and now I have it.â he sits there for a second, thinking, twisting his lips as he does, âIâve also always wanted to have a nice house for my family.â âWhat does this house look like?â you ask. He takes a moment to think, trying to come up with an honest answer for you. âI never really thought about that to be honest. I just want something nice with enough space for my family. I think a pool in the back would be nice. A big backyard so we could have barbecues as well.â
Youâre smiling at him, admiring the person in front of you. You could find the whole meaning of life in those eyes. Youâre glad he gets you, and your dark sense of humor. And when you let him in on all your bad decisions, he made them feel less terrible the second that heâd listen.
Donât stop talking to me. Maybe stay here forever, with me.
âI think that sounds lovely.â you say. âThank you.â he replies, blushing at your words, âWhat about your house? Your dream house. Surely you have a dream house.â
You sit up straight, so ready to answer this question. You wonât lie when you say youâve always wanted to be asked about this. âI do. Um, well it would have a green kitchen. I saw a picture of one online a while ago and just became obsessed with the idea. And the bathrooms would be pink and red, I just think that would look sick. Oh! I also really want a blue hallway.â Franco gives you a confused look, âA blue hallway? For what?â âThereâs this band that I love and in one of their music videos, the band painted a wall in the house blue.â âAh. Which song is the one for the blue wall?â âItâs called True Blue. Itâs a song about the person you love and who loves you. This person knows you so well, maybe even more than you know yourself.â âInterestingâ he nods his head as he mentally writes down the name of that song so he can listen to it later. He turns his body more towards you, asking âDo you have a true blue?â âI think Iâm slowly discovering mineâ - you confess. âWhat about you? Got a true blue yourself?â He looks at you before looking down at his hands and failing to suppress a smile. âYeah, I do.â âWell, go on. Tell me about them.â you insist. âSheâs really cool.â
She? Was he talking to someone else? No, donât be like that. Maybe itâs just a friend or something? Right?
âShe is also really smart.â, he continues, âShe loves reading and not only listening to music but also creating it.â Is he talking about me? I do that. âAnd sheâs really good at that. Sheâs also the hardest working person I know. Like I mean sheâs really smart, like Einstein smart.â
You couldnât help but laugh at this. Heâs definitely exaggerating but you have to admit, youâre pretty fucking smart.
âOh, is she now? She must be one hell of a catchâ âOh trust me. She is and Iâm very lucky to have her. Sheâs also the most beautiful person Iâve ever known. Not just on the outside, thatâs an added bonus. But sheâs just incredible. And she laughs at all my jokes. And when I save the dirty ones for her, her nose crinkles. Itâs really cute actually. Her voice as well, oh my god. The best sound ever. Like when thereâs something sheâs really interested in or really passionate about, she could talk for hours. Thatâs one of my favorite things about her. That and her laugh, I wish I could bottle up the sound of her laugh and keep it with me, so I can listen to it whenever I want. Donât even get me started on how she is with my family. They all get along so amazingly, itâs so much greater than anything I could ever imagine. I think one of the selling points was my family loving her as much as I do. This girl also will drop everything for those she loves. It doesnât matter if she has work or school or anything, she will drop it just to make sure youâre okay. And she will beat anyoneâs ass if they hurt you. I think Iâm falling for her. I donât wanna look at anything else now that Iâve seen her. Now itâs like thereâs daylight. Whenever Iâm with her, everything feels okay.â âWow.â is all you can say in this moment. Was he really talking about you? Or are you wishfully thinking he is? âYeahâ, he blushes, âwowâ
You take a moment to take all that information in. Maybe he wasnât talking about you. You clearly see how amazing he is, other people are able to as well. Your mood kind of dampens from these thoughts. You really thought you two could be something. You guess you made it all up in your head, itâs just all one sided.
âWhatâs wrong?â Franco asks. âHm? What?â you respond, startled from the sudden break of silence. âWhatâs wrong? You kind of spaced out.â âOh, nothing. Was just thinking.â âAbout?â he responds, sitting up from the bed to lean a bit closer to you. âItâs really nothing. Letâs keep watching the movieâ you try to smile and lighten the mood again.
You move to raise the volume on the tv, but you feel Francoâs hand wrap around your wrist lightly. You turn back to look at Franco. He looks confused, and a bit scared?
âWait, I need to talk to you.â
Oh shit
You return to your spot on the bed, not fully relaxing as his last sentence is kind of terrifying. âYeah, of course. Whatâs up?â âI need to tell you something⊠about that girl.â âOhâ
Damn, alright. Keep bragging about how itâs not me, I guess.
âWell, I know she often thinks negatively about herself. Like she doesnât deserve that type of stuff. Like love and happiness. She also has a hard time believing that people really do care about her. But I do, I love and care about her so much. And I know sheâs afraid of letting people in, and sheâs let me in a bit, but I want more with her.â
Ok, fuck me then. Wow, leave it to Franco to absolutely break my heart, unknowingly.
âSo, what did you need from me?â âYou dumb ass, itâs you! Youâre the girl. Youâre my true blue.â he lightly laughs.
What.
âWhat.â you stare at him blankly.
What the fuck? Is he for real right now? How though?
âI like you. I want more with you! Youâre my true blue! I want you for worse or for better. I would wait for ever and ever.â - his tone is quiet as he confesses his feelings for you. You sit there silent for a moment before catching something. âBitch, did you just quote Taylor Swift?!â
He looked to the side for a minute, as if he was thinking or trying to remember something while he pursed his lips. âYeah?â he laughs, âI know you like her a lot so I listened to her a lot to try and learn some of her songs. Theyâre pretty goodâ
Iâm going down without a fight, I donât know how he does this. He makes me really nervous. What is he doing to me now?
âYou listened to her⊠just for me?â you ask, still hesitant on whether heâs being serious or just messing with you. Cause youâre still falling for him and you canât stop. This might be the thing that breaks you if it doesnât end well.
âYes. Staying up with you, despite the space between us. Iâve never felt so close to someone. You came out of the blue like a shooting star. You wait and wait for it to appear, and when it does, it illuminates its surroundings, just for a second. And that is the feeling that I want to feel forever. Everytime I get to see you, itâs like you illuminate every space you walk into.â
What if heâs my weakness?
âI- I donât know what to say. All this time, Iâve been keeping on my mind on the running away. And for the first time, Iâd consider to stay. I know I make the same mistakes a lot and I never learn. But I think I did one thing right.â you say, smiling as his starry eyes spark up this dark night.
Heâs looking at you with so much admiration in his eyes.
âI got so damn close to packing it up, then you happened. Iâll never leave out the back door and I donât plan on running away from the good things anymore.â - you continue.
The two of you just sat there in silence, staring at each other with smiles plastered on your faces. Franco is the first to break, moving closer to you, leaning close to grab the side of your face.
Breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out
Youâre close enough to feel each other breathe. Just one inch closer and⊠His lips are on yours, connecting gently. Theyâre warm and soft. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling your bodies closer together. At the same time, Franco brings his other arm to wrap around your torso, grabbing the side of your waist so you donât slip away. Itâs like taking your first breath of air in years. You feel his lips on yours as butterflies erupt in your stomach.
After a few moments, you break the kiss, needing to actually take in some air. Francoâs hand is still on the side of your face, slowly he slides it down to connect your fingers with his.
âCan I be yours?â he asks, âYour forever true blue?â he asks. âForever and alwaysâ
#f1 fanfiction#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#formula 1 x reader#formula one imagine#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 fic#formula 1 fanfic#franco colapinto x reader#franco colapinto x you#franco colapinto imagine#franco colapinto fanfic#franco colapinto fluff
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Marvelâs Mind
When Jâonn first met Captain Marvel, the man distinctly reminded him of the sun. Theyâd met a battle against some extremely tough aliens. Soon, after the Justice League was formed with the both of them being founding members. The Captain was an eccentric yet wise person, always willing to lend a helping hand to others. Safe to say, Jâonn had a favorable impression of the man.
So, this happened early during the days of the Justice League, when Jâonn was still getting used to the fact humans like their privacy. It was an accident, he swears. Itâs just that Marvel thinks really intensely.
Marvel and Martian Manhunter(MM): *meeting for the first time*
Marvel: *shakes hand with Jâonn with a big smile*âIts nice to meet you Mr. Martian Manhunter.â
MM: *about to speak but is then flashbanged by the memory of Marvel meeting another Martian*
Marvel: *is called over by another hero* âIt was nice meeting you, Mister!â *flies over to talk to said hero*
So yeah, that was their first interaction. Then there was the second something like this happened.
Marvel: *making a sandwich, spreading peanut butter on one of the slices with a butter knife*
MM: *floats by eating Oreos and is flashbanged by the memory of someone being tortured*
Yeah⊠Billy hasnât realized Jâonn has seen these memories. They arenât even his memories. The previous champions really went through it. He feels bad for them. As for Jâonn? Heâs wondering if the sunny Cap is doing alright.
MM: âCaptain?â
Marvel: âYeah?â
MM: âAre you perhaps doing alright?â *saw another traumatic memory*
Marvel: âOf course? What would make you think Iâm not?â
MM: âWell, every now and then Iâll see a rather disturbing memory from your mind. The other week I saw something rather grotesque when you and Aquaman were assigned to work together on a mission.â
Marvel: âWait, youâre seeingâŠ? Huh. Well, donât worry about it, Jâonn! Itâs all in the past.â
MM: âAre you sure? Memories like that, I donât believe you can just bury them.â
Marvel: âIâm not burying them. Not exactly. Look, I was just a different person back then. Iâm better now. Promise.â *bright ahh smile*
Jâonn is just happy Cap didnât seem angry at him for looking at his memories.
So in summary, the twoâs early interactions were basically Martian Manhunter seeing either a super traumatic memory or a super weird one, and on account of âI ainât a snitchâ he wonât be snitch.
There was also the one time, MM and the JL went into Marvelâs mind and were met with the weirdest mind bending adventure. Half his memories donât make sense for gods sake. At one point went he was twelve, he was a slave in a foreign kingdom and then at another point he was royalty? Heâs been both a general and a bandit? How many lives has he lived??? Why do all of them start up from when heâs a child? Isnât he supposed to be a demigod? Thereâs also like six different people yelling at them to get banned so thereâs that too?
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should've just let Vil be the one to fly, it would've gone SO much easier. đ
also HEY how are everyone else's pulls going, because I have had the most RIDICULOUS luck, seriously, halloween magic is 100% real
#art#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland spoilers#lost in the book with nightmare before christmas#hajimari no halloween#kicking around some ideas for scully's UM poster so i'll talk about all that when we get to it#in the meantime i just have to show this off because...seriously look at it#is the halloween pickup count cumulative?! because i only did two ten-pulls for jamil...#i've only done three ten-pulls total in this event and yet somehow ended up with leona and two consecutive jamils#now it would be extremely funny if i didn't get sebek when he's the one i want the most...but let me hope#(i choose to believe this is an apology from the universe for my lack of both fairy gala ortho and masquerade malleus)#(thank you universe)#anyway i realize there is some irony in bragging about my jamil pulls and yet drawing vil instead#but...i just really wanted to draw nightmare vil okay#i thought i had posted art of good ol' pumpkin-stroker jamil already but i think i might actually have just dreamt that#brb gotta get onto fixing this problem
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Like I read to one politician, you had already been coup'd after january 6th. Things just couldnt go back to what they were before that. You could had recover from the 4 years presidency, but America let him get away with a fucking violent insurrection... The coup was succesful in the way that he wasnt thrown inmediatly in a cage to rot. Now, in this second term things are going to be different. All restraints are unleashed.
All things you mention, deportations, losing healthcare, dying from religious fanatism and I add american imperialism, are terrible. But they were already happening before!! The problem is that you could try to change them, or at least you had the ilusion of change through a democratic process. Now, if the majority wants an authoritarian leadership, you cannot fight against that by voting...
The future looks grim, for everyone. A Civil War could be HIS legacy. It is unlikely, but for the first time in my life, I believe it is actually possible in the short/mid term. Trump doesnt have any kind of strengh of will. He gets pushed around by people richer than him all the time and it will keep happening. Im not talking exclusively about silicon valley and Musk. The DA contractors and financial conglomerates too. They will see that they keep increasing their power, squeezing every single pond of wealth, pushing other countries to war, stretching the fabric of american democratic institutions until theres is nothing left but the rags. Fuck, this has already been happening for decades, but now, there is no safe net anymore. Even if he dies tomorrow from some stroke, things wont get better. In fact, the worst could come with the succesor. Most probable scenario is that the next fascist that rises as their cult leader wont be a narcisistic moron like Trump. He will be a cunning and ruthless megalomaniac. The path to the White House has been set.
If I have to see one more âwe survived him before we can do it againâ post Iâm going to scream.
So many people didnât. So many more people are going to die. Women are going to bleed out in parking lots because doctors are scared to give them the abortion they need. Migrates are going to die in detention centers. Kids are going to have their parents ripped away in mass deportations. Potentially millions of people are going to lose their healthcare.
Yes, we keep fighting, but donât say we survived before. A lot of people didnât.
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