#and all the love she gave you that made you into the person you are now - the person brave enough to inflict such an awful fate on herself

[jburrgf]

Champagne Coast, JOE BURROW.

“Finishing 8 or 9, tell me what’s the perfect time. I told you i’ll be waiting hiding from the rainfall.”

◦pairing: ¡long hair!joe x ¡college student!reader

◦summary: fwb, no attachment relationship, attachment problems, forbidden type of love. +18 readers only!

◦description: academic pleasure is your thing, and that means that you put nothing over your education. literally nothing. but when a long-haired football player that just got transferred from the north just pops in front of you, it’s too hard to say no to him.

◦n/a: i’m doing this for my latina girlies (like me! <3). she has curly hair and slightly tanned skin.

Mornings were always the hardest.

Not because I wasn’t a morning person—I was, to some extent—but because they reminded me of how much I had to do and how little time I had to waste.

My alarm went off at 6:30 a.m. sharp, vibrating against the nightstand with a persistence I could never ignore. I didn’t allow myself to hit snooze. I couldn’t afford to. Instead, I threw the covers off, stretched until my spine cracked, and made my way to the tiny bathroom in my apartment, eyes barely open as I turned on the sink.

The mirror reflected my exhaustion back at me. Dark circles had made a home under my eyes, the evidence of another night spent hunched over my laptop, working through notes, assignments, and emails.

I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and tied my hair back into a loose ponytail before heading to the kitchen. Breakfast was always a rushed affair—black coffee, a piece of toast if I wasn’t running late. Today, I had just enough time to spread some butter over it and let the warmth seep into my fingertips before taking a bite.

As I stood there, leaning against the counter, I flipped open my planner, its pages filled with neatly written notes, deadlines, and reminders. Between classes, assignments, and shifts at my internship, every minute of my day was accounted for.

But today felt different.

Excitement buzzed under my skin as my eyes skimmed over a note I had scribbled down the night before: New project meeting – 2 PM.

My internship had been one of the best things about this year. It was demanding, sure, but it gave me a sense of purpose. The chance to work on something real, something tangible. And today, I was finally getting assigned to a project I had been hoping for.

I double-checked the details, making a mental note to grab an extra coffee before the meeting. If I was going to impress them, I needed to be on my A-game.

After slipping into a pair of jeans and pulling on a navy-blue sweater, I slung my bag over my shoulder and stepped outside. The crisp morning air bit at my cheeks, the sky a soft, muted blue, but I barely had time to appreciate it. My days ran on a tight schedule, and I had no room to fall behind.

The walk to campus was second nature by now. I moved on autopilot, weaving through streets and past coffee shops, my earbuds in, music humming softly as I mentally prepared myself for the day ahead.

By the time I made it to the library, my coffee was already half gone, but the caffeine was finally kicking in. I settled into a seat by the window, pulling out my laptop and opening the file I had started last night. I had about an hour before my first class—plenty of time to go over my notes, make sure I hadn’t missed anything.

This was my routine.

And I liked it this way, but today, my friends had another plan. Rachel and Nathan have been keeping me busy about every single gossip on this campus, and the new one was The transferred quarterback from Ohio State. And of course, the whole campus needed to celebrate.

I wasn’t planning on going to the party that night. It was the kind of LSU house party that smelled like cheap beer and desperation, packed with sweaty, screaming students all trying to forget their midterms or bad decisions. But my roommate, Rachel, had another plan.

A few hours earlier, I had been sitting in my psychology class, half-listening as the professor droned on about the power of love in humanity. It was some philosophical tangent about how emotions, particularly love, played a crucial role in human development and scientific progress. I struggled not to roll my eyes. Love, to me, had always been a concept romanticized beyond its worth. Sure, it made for great literature, but I had never been convinced that it held any real power beyond that.

When class finally ended, I packed up my things and headed to the campus diner, where Rachel and a few other friends were already gathered in a booth, their laughter rising above the chatter of the busy place. Jess, my best guy friend Nate, and his roommate Lucas were already deep in conversation when I slid into the seat beside Rachel, who immediately pushed a menu toward me.

"Are you actually eating or just here to mope about your long, miserable week?" she teased.

"Neither," I replied, scanning the menu without interest. "I just need a drink."

"That’s the spirit!" Jess cheered, raising her iced coffee like it was something stronger.

"So, you’re coming to the party tonight?" Lucas asked, drumming his fingers against the table.

I sighed. "Yeah, but I’m not really in the mood for it. I just need to blow off some steam."

"That’s what parties are for," Rachel said. "Besides, have you heard about the new transfer? Joe Burrow?"

Jess wiggled her eyebrows. "Apparently, he’s not just good. He’s supposed to be the guy. Like, NFL material."

Nate scoffed, leaning back against the booth. "Everyone’s acting like he’s a god or something. He’s just another quarterback."

I shrugged, uninterested. "I’m sure he’s good at what he does, but that doesn’t mean he’s obnoxious."

Rachel smirked. "So, you’re saying he’s just a great professional player who happens to be really good?"

"Pretty much. I don’t get why everyone acts like he’s the second coming or something."

"Because he might actually be," Jess said with a dramatic sigh. "And you, my dear, are going to meet him tonight."

Nate chuckled. "Yeah, maybe you two can talk about quantum physics and see if he can keep up."

I rolled my eyes, but I knew there was no escaping it now. The party was happening, and whether I liked it or not, Joe Burrow was about to become part of my night.

[…]

I got to the party slightly late. My friends were already over there, bouncing over songs that we used to listen to together and talking louder above the speakers. To me, that was irritating. I love parties, but after a long week of work, the last thing I wanted to do is partying all night on a friday.

The music thumped through the walls, a steady, pulsing beat that rattled through my ribs as I wove through the crowd, my plastic cup clutched loosely in my fingers. I wasn’t even sure what was in it anymore—some neon-colored mix of whatever they had at the bar—but I had taken exactly two sips and decided I didn’t need more.

I was about to turn around when a voice cut through the noise.

“You’ve been standing there for a while.”

I looked up.

I turned, expecting one of my friends, but instead, I was met with someone unfamiliar. He was tall—really tall—with messy blond hair that fell over his forehead, and sharp features that the dim lighting only made more defined. His sweatshirt hung loose on his frame, sleeves pushed to his elbows like he had just come from somewhere else, and the cup in his hand was barely touched.

“I was just—” I hesitated, glancing at the dance floor. “People-watching.”

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Yeah? Anything interesting?”

“Not really,” I admitted. “Just the usual: drunk freshmen, a couple making out in the corner, a guy who’s definitely going to regret that keg stand tomorrow.”

"You don’t look like you’re having fun," he said, his voice cutting through the noise of the party.

I raised a brow. “And you’ve been watching me?”

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “I just noticed. Everyone else is either dancing, drinking, or trying to do both at the same time. You, though? You’re just… here.”

I huffed, half amused. “I guess I’m not very good at parties.”

He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Nothing wrong with that.”

I turned my head, surprised he was talking to me. "That’s because I’m not."

He smirked. "Then why are you here?"

"Peer pressure."

"Same."

I looked at him, doubtful. "I find that hard to believe. Isn’t this your crowd?"

He shook his head. "Not really. I’m still figuring out who my crowd is here."

I hummed in response, not sure I believed him. He was too comfortable, too effortless in the way he carried himself.

"What’s your major?" he asked.

"Psychology," I replied. "And you?"

"Consumer and family financial services.”

I raised a brow. "That’s oddly specific."

He chuckled. "Yeah. I like numbers."

"So, you’re actually smart?" The words slipped out before I could stop them.

“But I’m here cause of football.”

I raised a brow. “Of course, you do.”

He chuckled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I shrugged. “You have that whole… football player look.”

He looked vaguely amused. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not necessarily.” I took a sip of my drink. “I just feel like I already know your whole deal.”

Joe leaned in slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Yeah? And what’s my deal?”

I pretended to think. “Cocky, thinks he’s smarter than he is, probably way too competitive.”

“You don’t know me at all. He laughed, a deep, genuine sound that made something flicker in my chest. He stepped closer, but at a safe distance "I like to think I'm smart. Want to test me?"

I leaned against the counter, intrigued. "Alright, what’s the capital of Lithuania?"

"Vilnius."

I blinked, impressed but unwilling to show it. "Okay, what’s the powerhouse of the cell?"

"Mitochondria. Come on, give me a hard one."

I bit my lip, thinking. "Fine. Who wrote ‘Pride and Prejudice’?"

He didn’t even hesitate. "Jane Austen."

My mouth parted slightly. "Huh."

He grinned. "Not what you expected?"

"Not even close."

He tilted his head, studying me. His blue eyes went all over me, starting at my face and getting down all over my body. "What about me gave you the impression I wasn’t smart?"

I hesitated, but he was looking at me with genuine curiosity. "The hoodie, the wristbands, the fact that this house is a frat-football house. And, no offense, but most guys like you care more about throwing balls than reading books."

He let out a breathy laugh. "Fair enough. But I promise you, I’m more than that."

I found myself wanting to believe him.

“Oh, I bet.”

The night stretched on, and we kept talking. The party faded into the background. He told me about growing up in Ohio, about transferring to LSU for a fresh start. I told him about my dream of being a psychologist, working with kids was my whole goal.

At some point, we ended up outside on the porch, sitting on the steps as the humid Louisiana night wrapped around us. I hadn’t realized how much time had passed until my phone buzzed with a text from Rachel: "Where r u???"

I looked at him, his hair messy from the night, his blue eyes watching me like I was the most interesting thing in the world.

"I should go," I said reluctantly.

He nodded, but there was something in his expression that made my pulse skip. "I’ll see you around?

I hesitated, then smiled. "Yeah. See you around."

As I walked away, I felt his gaze linger. And for the first time in a long time, I wondered if maybe, just maybe, I had been wrong about people like him.

[…]

The city buzzed with the hum of conversation and the scent of freshly brewed coffee as we walked the familiar route to our usual spot. The sun had begun its slow descent, painting the sky in warm hues of orange and pink. It was the kind of late afternoon that felt like a soft exhale after a long day, the air thick with the scent of summer and distant laughter from students scattered across the campus.

Rachel, Jess, Nate, Lucas, and I had just wrapped up another draining day—classes, internships, and the slow crawl toward graduation looming over us like a deadline we weren’t ready to meet.

"I swear, if I have to listen to one more professor drone on about case studies, I might actually drop out," Rachel groaned as she linked her arm with Jess’s.

"You say that every semester," Nate teased, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

"And yet, here I am. A survivor," Rachel shot back, flipping her hair dramatically.

I trailed slightly behind, exhaustion weighing on my shoulders. My internship at the counseling center had been particularly draining today. A few tough sessions had left me with more questions than answers, the complexities of the human mind unraveling in ways I hadn't yet learned how to piece back together.

"I don't know how you do it, Y/N," Lucas said, as if reading my mind. "Listening to people’s problems all day would drive me insane."

I smirked. "That’s kind of the point. Psychology is about understanding people, not just fixing them."

"Yeah, yeah," he waved. "Just remind me never to tell you my problems."

We finally reached the café, a cozy little corner of campus life where we had spent countless hours avoiding responsibilities. The scent of espresso and fresh pastries welcomed us as we pushed through the doors, greeted by the comforting hum of low conversation and the occasional clatter of dishes.

Sliding into our usual booth by the window, we settled in, each of us instinctively knowing our roles in the ordering process. Rachel and Jess debated over which overpriced latte to get, while Nate and Lucas argued about football stats neither of them would remember in an hour. I, meanwhile, busied myself scrolling through my phone, half-listening to their conversation.

That’s when the notification popped up.

A follow request.

Joe Burrow.

I frowned slightly, the name unfamiliar for only a second before my memory caught up. Joe Burrow, the new player. Why was he texting me like that?

And then, a message.

“Finally found you. Do you know how hard it was to track you down?"

I blinked, confused.

Then another message appeared.

"It’s Joe—the guy you thought was dumb. We met at the party last Saturday."

The guy I met at the party.

Joe Burrow, the quarterback.

The transferred dude and the new quarterback were the same person.

My stomach did a weird little flip. I had spent the entire night talking to him, intrigued by the way he had effortlessly thrown back every challenge I gave him. I had walked away thinking I’d never see him again.

And yet, here he was.

I stared at the screen, my mind racing with possibilities.

"Earth to Y/N?" Jess’s voice broke through my thoughts.

I looked up, realizing they were all staring at me.

"Who’s got you looking like you just saw a ghost?" Rachel asked, sipping her drink.

I hesitated, my fingers hovering over my phone.

"No one," I said, too quickly.

But the smirk on Rachel’s face told me she wasn’t buying it.

And truthfully? Neither was I.

I stared at my screen, my heart pounding for reasons I couldn’t explain.

And he texted me again.

"So, did I pass your intelligence test?"

[hanniescookie]

i like you, i'm sorry - ljh

pairing - ljh x f!reader

genre - fluff, alternate au

warnings - kissing, fluff, a tiny bit of angst if you squint but happy ending

summary - jihoon is your classmate and crush since freshman year at music school, but when you get to know what he really thinks about you, you can't help sinking in a heartbreak.

author's note - MY FIRST EVER FIC THAT I'M ONLY A LITTLE PROUD OF??? @jjjjeonww // my love, my wifey, my precious faith, here's my first piece of writing on tumblr for you!! you're the first person who made me feel welcomed on tumblr without even trying, and you know exactly why you're so dear to me, so take this appreciation token and have fun w it 🤍 don't let any XY chromosome dull your spark when uji is here <3

-------------------------**~~**--------------------------

You type away the last bit of your lyrics on your laptop, and then sigh out loud. It's been a hectic day — one that has made you cry. Many assignments were piled up that you barely got done at the last minute, and if that frustration wasn't enough, you were belittled by your very own crush.

Lee Jihoon.

The guy you've liked since freshman year. It never helped that he was never mean to you so like the simple girl you were, you always glorified the bare minimum he provided you with.

If he sat beside you in class because there was no other seat available, you'd take it as a sign. How dumb.

He never really shattered these delusions of yours anyway. He took the ice cream you gave him as an excuse just to speak to him. He answered all your questions about the lessons that you had understood well enough and taught you a little bit of piano too when you asked. He even texted first so many times and responded to your texts really well.

So you had no reason not to feed in your bubble of delusion. Well, not until today.

It was a routine music theory class early in the morning when he sat beside you. You felt butterflies flutter in your belly the longer you stared at him (you tried not to). You were determined to try and talk a little more to him today — at least more than the hi, good morning, how was your day, is this seat available kinda stuff.

However, right after class ended, some of your classmates surrounded him, asking him questions about the lesson. It was a known fact that Jihoon was a genius, and was always praised by the teachers. It felt like he was born to make music. Hence, often times, like today, people came up to him for help.

He wasn't entirely pleased with being cornered like that, but he was still kind enough to help. You sat in your place, watching and listening as the conversations slowly shifted from one topic to another. Jihoon's focus was on the many people in front of him, and his back was facing you now. That should have made you feel ignored, or at least insulted, but it didn't. Not at that time. You were busy listening to his voice as he talked to everyone.

Then those words left his mouth — the ones that have now bled in your lyrics, the ones that made you cry and the ones that made you resent him.

"What do you think about Y/N?"

Somebody had asked him — you can't recall who it was, but definitely one of the girls who never seemed to like you.

Jihoon's response had come with a little laugh — like he was joking. "Oh, she's just an annoying classmate."

You didn't wait to notice if he'd notice you leaving after that. You just left, carrying your bag over your shoulder as tears pricked your otherwise soft eyes.

And now here you are, four hours later, sitting in an empty classroom and staring at the lyrics you penned out of your heartbreak. Well, this will pass too, you tell yourself, pressing save on your document.

"Why are you sorry for liking someone?"

You yelp when you hear a voice directly behind you, turning your head instantly to see Jihoon bent over your shoulder. He stands back with a little smile, pointing towards your screen with his chin. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. The words looked interesting."

Baffled, you turn back to see your now saved document still displayed on the screen. The bold title says, "I like you, I'm sorry."

Your face feels warm suddenly, and the tears you had successfully hidden threaten to come out. You grit your teeth, trying to keep your composure when he sits beside you. "You can't just peek in my work. It can be personal."

He looks at you, a little alarmed at your tone — something he's not used to hearing. His expression turns only a little concerned, almost guilty. You can't catch the emotion exactly. "Is everything alright?"

You try not to, but you snap anyway. "Yeah, no. Nothing is quite alright. You don't get to call me just an annoying classmate and then sit here looking all concerned like I mean something to you."

You watch a flicker of uncertainty cross his features, and he looks surprised if you can gauge correctly. For several seconds, he tries to find words and you wait — really wait like you always have. Maybe it's because you're frustrated, but your patience runs out.

You shut your laptop, and stuff it in your bag, preparing to leave. If leaving is what you do best, so be it.

But Jihoon decides he doesn't want to watch you leave. At least not before he even tries his luck. His fingers close around your wrist, pulling you to sit back beside him. You land a little too close to his face, your knee brushing against his.

It's the closest you've ever been to him, and even though you're genuinely very hurt, your heart betrays you. It beats faster, finding comfort in his beautiful eyes that you fell for.

"Y/N," he speaks, soft and slow, and you feel like melting on the spot. He continues, "I didn't mean it."

"Huh?"

He breathes, closing his eyes for a second before looking back in your confused ones. "I didn't mean what I said. It was just– oh god, I'm stupid. I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to say that."

You wait for him to finish explaining, but he's quiet again, just looking at you through his lashes as if he's confused himself. He shakes his head a little, sighing, before he speaks again.

This time, it's a question. "Do I mean something to you?"

Your breath hitches a little, tongue darting out to swipe across your dry lips in nervousness. Any hurt you'd felt in the morning flies out of the window, and you can only focus on Jihoon and his soft voice, asking you a question so intimate.

You can't help it — your head nods itself once, and you're so glad it does because the way Jihoon smiles is priceless. You'd do anything to keep seeing the sight.

"I'm honoured," he says, smile softening. "And so very guilty for hurting you. I always assumed you probably find me annoying because I deliberately come late just to sit beside you, and I text you and I'm always looking at you. I kind of projected my problem on you. I thought that saying that would make me believe it and you'll hate me anyway."

You stare at him in complete disbelief, blinking owlishly for longer than you should. He's starting to chuckle at his own absurdity. "I didn't know how to deal with how much I like you. I also didn't know you felt the same."

You swallow, feeling warmth flood your face the longer you look at him. Slowly, you move a little away, your eyes traveling back to the desk in an attempt to not be any more flustered. Your heart runs a marathon and you genuinely don't know how to wrap your senses around your current situation.

"Jihoon I—" you begin to speak, but he holds your hand softly, smiling. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

If the sky were to fall on you right now, you'd gladly be buried underneath with a smile on your face. Your lips tilt up, curling into the smile that Jihoon absolutely adores.

And you nod again, this time with more firmness than before. His smile widens, but only enough to keep it soft. His eyes flicker to your lips for a second before he asks, "Can I kiss you then?"

This time, you don't nod. You're way too flustered to do that. You simply lean forward, and capture his lips in a sweet kiss.

Just like that, an empty document in your laptop awaits your new lyrics about your newfound experience — one that's too surreal to feel real.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hello, I love your blog

Do you think that a lot of people at hogwarts had a crush on Harry? Do you consider him a dreamboat? I like to think that Parvati, Dean and even Neville had a crush on him at some point

Hi 👋

Thank you so much 💕

Honestly, yes. We know Harry was considered a catch at Hogwarts.

In 4th year before the Yule Ball, multiple girls ask him out (even older ones that didn't need a date to go to the ball):

“Why do they have to move in packs?” Harry asked Ron as a dozen or so girls walked past them, sniggering and staring at Harry. “How’re you supposed to get one on their own to ask them?”

(GoF)

A curly-haired third-year Hufflepuff girl to whom Harry had never spoken in his life asked him to go to the ball with her the very next day. Harry was so taken aback he said no before he’d even stopped to consider the matter. The girl walked off looking rather hurt, and Harry had to endure Dean’s, Seamus’s, and Ron’s taunts about her all through History of Magic. The following day, two more girls asked him, a second year and (to his horror) a fifth year who looked as though she might knock him out if he refused.

(GoF)

Cho Chang seems to have been open to it when he asked her out she declined becouse she already agreed to Cedric:

“D’you — d’you want to go to the ball with me?” said Harry. Why did he have to go red now? Why ? “Oh!” said Cho, and she went red too. “Oh Harry, I’m really sorry,” and she truly looked it. “I’ve already said I’ll go with someone else.”

(GoF)

And in OotP, Cho clearly was interested in Harry (not in his personality, but in who she thought he was):

“Yes, it’s on Valentine’s Day. . . .” “Right,” said Harry, wondering why she was telling him this. “Well, I suppose you want to — ?” “Only if you do,” she said eagerly.

(OotP)

Parvati was all for going with Harry Potter to the ball. So much so she dragged her sister to be Ron’s date so she could bag the Boy Who Lived:

“Parvati? Will you go to the ball with me?” Parvati went into a fit of giggles. Harry waited for them to subside, his fingers crossed in the pocket of his robes. “Yes, all right then,” she said finally, blushing furiously. “Thanks,” said Harry, in relief. “Lavender — will you go with Ron?” “She’s going with Seamus,” said Parvati, and the pair of them giggled harder than ever. Harry sighed. “Can’t you think of anyone who’d go with Ron?” he said, lowering his voice so that Ron wouldn’t hear. [...] “Well . . .” said Parvati slowly, “I suppose my sister might . . . Padma, you know . . . in Ravenclaw. I’ll ask her if you like.”

(GoF)

Who ended up being a disappointing date. Harry being a lousy date didn't stop Parvati and Lavender from thinking Harry is hot though:

Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, the last two of whom gave Harry airy, overly friendly greetings that made him quite sure they had stopped talking about him a split second before.

(OotP)

And in HBP we see many girls trying to get Harry's attention:

Then he blinked and looked around: He was surrounded by mesmerized girls. “Hi, Harry!” said a familiar voice from behind him. “Neville!” said Harry in relief, turning to see a round-faced boy struggling toward him.

(HBP)

The second group was comprised of ten of the silliest girls Harry had ever encountered, who, when he blew his whistle, merely fell about giggling and clutching one another. Romilda Vane was amongst them. When he told them to leave the pitch, they did so quite cheerfully and went to sit in the stands to heckle everyone else. The third group had a pileup halfway around the pitch. Most of the fourth group had come without broomsticks. The fifth group were Hufflepuffs. “If there’s anyone else here who’s not from Gryffindor,” roared Harry, who was starting to get seriously annoyed, “leave now, please!” There was a pause, then a couple of little Ravenclaws went sprinting off the pitch, snorting with laughter.

(HBP)

While I don't think Harry is Hermione's ideal romantic partner, she thinks he is a catch too:

“Oh, come on, Harry,” said Hermione, suddenly impatient. “It’s not Quidditch that’s popular, it’s you! You’ve never been more interesting, and frankly, you’ve never been more fanciable.” Ron gagged on a large piece of kipper. Hermione spared him one look of disdain before turning back to Harry. [...] “And it doesn’t hurt that you’ve grown about a foot over the summer either,” Hermione finished, ignoring Ron. “I’m tall,” said Ron inconsequentially.

(HBP)

And I don't really ship Drarry, as in, I don't really like the dynamic, but I have eyes and I can see Draco can very much be read as having a crush on Harry. I mean, he seeks out Harry on the train literally every year except 6th (& 7th), he seeks Harry out whenever he can in general, and his wand (with a super loyal unicorn core that tends to wilt rather than work for another owner) works for Harry perfectly — which says something about Draco's feelings for Harry. (His behaviour towards Harry kinda reads as pulling pigtails — he just, really wants Harry's attention and goes out of his way to seek it out way too often).

Not sure if Neville had a crush on Harry (I see him as straight), but he definitely looks up to him:

Neville Longbottom, who gave a roar of delight, leapt down from the mantelpiece and yelled. “I knew you’d come! I knew it, Harry!”

(DH)

Harry is who all the DA look to lead them, though, to know what to do:

“Look who it is! Didn’t I tell you?” As Harry emerged into the room beyond the passage, there were several screams and yells: “HARRY!” “It’s Potter, it’s POTTER!” “Ron!” “Hermione!”

(DH)

The DA are happy to see Ron and Hermione, but Harry is first, Harry is their figure-head and source of hope, so it's not just Neville and I wouldn't really call it a crush. You can headcanon it, but, it didn't read that way to me.

Dean is a possibility, honestly, but I don't really have any evidence for it, so you could headcanon that too if you want. (It could be funny that Dean and Ginny are dating each other to make Harry jealous because both of them like Harry. They spend their dates talking about Harry).

And obviously, Ginny thinks Harry is a catch.

The point of all of this, is yes, Harry is good-looking by the later books and is considered a catch to various students at Hogwarts since his 4th year. The majority of them, though, don't really know Harry as a person. They see the Boy Who Lived, not Harry, and that's who the majority are attracted to.

[yey56]

Hey I just wanted to say I really love your Harley and believe you're the only one who got his character so far.I am also in love with your y/n and how you didn't make her perfect or useless.Not to be a bother but can you show or tell us Harley and y/n's relationship after their first kiss or just any of their general interactions?Whatever suits you,thank you.

It doesn't bother me at all, thank you for asking and I so happy I got Harley right. 💖💖

HARLEY SAWYER X PSYCOLOGIST READER

AFTER KISS HEADCANNONS

The first thing you noticed was Harley's hand on your face, caressing your cheek. He was only going to quickly clean near your lip but after feeling your jaw, your face, brushing his fingers against your neck he couldn't resist to cup your cheek.

The other hand fell down to loosely grab your waist. He was getting closer and you could feel his breath on your lips. You slowly put your hands on his shoulder, testing how he would react.

"Harley" you mumbled, you lips brushing his. That was enough for him to close the gap between the two of you. Your lips moving together, not in perfectly or coordinately way, but in your own way.

You tightened your grasp in the fabric of his shoulder as he fully envolved your waist with his hand while the one that was on you face fell down to your neck where he started caressing.

Finally you both separated from the kiss, both of you agitated but still close. His hand was still on your cheek and yours still on his shoulders

You looked at him again and got close to give him another short kiss. "Do you have any appointments left for today?" Harley asked you. "Yes I do, I still have to supervise Kissy Missy, she hasn't been responding lately"

"Good, come to my office after that, we have to discuss this in depth." He let you go and while you went to the enclosure of said toy, he remained still in the corridor looking at you intensely.

HEADCANNONS After the kiss:

At first sigh, there wasn't much change, maybe the staff of the company noticed you being closer than usual.

Now, Doctor Sawyer and you were seen together very often. Maybe not all lovey dovey but together nonetheless. The caretakers saw often Dr Sawyer accompanying you when you needed to go to Home sweet Home to talk with the children.

Once Ludwig joked to Sawyer that you two seemed glued together and Harley only shrugged not denying anything.

Now that you two had already acknowledged your feelings, little things he did for you sometimes became the norm and started becoming part of your routine.

For example: When you were finishing a design late at night in his office (you often spend time together in each others offices) and he was finishing surgery reports, he would offer you the sofa to sleep in.

Once you were asleep he would raise his gaze from the papers and look at you. Some nights, he would even approach you and touch your face very lightly, not wanting to wake you up.

Quiet moments like this made him calm and let him forget, just a little, about all of the chaos and restriction that your jobs were.

In the nights that he was in your office, he would be just behind you with his hand on your shoulder, looking at you writing and archiving some documents. Caressing your shoulder, then the back of your neck and sometimes, if he was feeling kind enough, he would massage the back of your scalp with his long, cold fingers.

Another thing that became more regular between you both was physical contact. He wasn't a touchy person. Hell he even felt repelled to it sometimes, but one thing he loved was the back massages you gave him.

He had a very tensed back and it felt like heaven whenever you would untangle all of the knots.

So he payed you back giving you head massages. He was probably the only person allowed to tangle and touch your hair. You two just melt into each others arms when you had contact.

Another thing that was common now was that you would do little task for each other. Like for example, Harley reminding you that you needed to drink water. You were so concentrated into your work that you just forgot how much time it had been since your last glass of water.

You sometimes shave the little stubble he had on the sides of his face, styling his facial hair so he would look all put together. This also applied with the hair. You cut his hair and mantain it in the way he liked.

One night that you miraculously ended your work sooner than expected he invited you for dinner.

The restaurant was a fancy one, both your salaries permitted you to be there.

The night went by very calmly, you talked about work and what projects you had in mind. At some point you started talking about your experiences in collage...

The night continued to go on until you both finally went to your apartment. You lived in a good neighborhood and your place was nicely decorated. The first thing Harley though when entering your apartment was you. Everything in there screamed you.

You invited him to a few drinks and gave him some reports and books about investigations on child psychology so he could study his experiments on a deeper level.

The drinks were forgotten on the table after a few sips.

He barely talked while you ranted for minutes about techniques to manage anxiety crisis or stress attacks that sometimes overcame the toys on the prison.

He looked at you, talking and talking. It was always like this. You talked nonstop and he would listen, but lately he also started admiring you. Your hand gestures, you movements, your words slipping due to talking to fast...

You stopped talking when he started to gently stroke your neck with a precision only a surgeon could manage to have. He started naming the muscles, nerves, veins and arteries that were in your neck

With each name he said, he got closer to you to the point of feeling his lips touching your neck.

He repeated the list of names but now kissing each place he named while laying you on the sofa of your living room.

There's no need to say that the night didn't end quickly.

————————————————————————

Another thing you both got used to do was taking books from your offices. Harley had anatomy books and autobiographies in his office and you had sociological, historic and anthropological ones.

Often you would spend your breaks in each others offices reading in the sofa, just enjoying each others presence.

The staff already suspected that you two were either together or at the verge to be. Hell even one of the children had drew you and Harley sit together in a chair while interviewing him.

Stella went to tease you about the drawing, and insisted on you keeping it.

At some point some guards started to joke about the two of you being together.

"Where is Dr (Y/L/N) right now, we have matter to discuss with them?" Leith asked to one of the guards accompanied by Stella

We need to discuss with her some changes on the home sweet home caretakers" Stella added.

She is in the observation room 007, accompanied by Dr Sawyer, sir" He responded cordially.

Both executives went to said room while the guard looked sideways to his coworker who was chuckling to himself.

"What are you laughing about" He asked, questioning what had his companion found that it was so funny

"Nothing, just wondering how Dr Sawyer would react when 'Mrs Sawyer' gets taken by these two for a reunion. I bet five dollar he will accompany them when they get out." He was now laughing a little bit louder but covering his mouth.

"You shouldn't be talking about that kind of stuff. If either of them hear you you might be the next dinner of Boxy Boo." He couldn't believe his coworkers audacity. He wasn't being discreet at all and that might cost them their jobs and life's.

Just as the guard predicted, the four executives went to the upper levels. Apparently Harley insisted on supervising the changes on the environment of the potential experiments children

-Unedited-

[rgwriteshockey]

side by side w/ quinn hughes ⇒

quinn hughes x gf!reader

summary: quinn hughes gets named captain of the vancouver canucks, and his girlfriend of five years, y/n, is right there with him. from the hype of the announcement to the pressures of being captain, she’s his rock. as quinn steps into the role, he juggles the weight of leadership and the challenges of the season, but with y/n’s support, he stays grounded. they continue to grow together, face tough moments, and celebrate the good ones. through it all, they prove that they’re stronger together—both on the ice and off.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: mild language, happy relationship

a/n: fic #2!! hope yall enjoy and don't forget to like!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

quinn hughes had always rolled with the changes. from the days he spent watching hockey games from the sidelines, dreaming of being in the nhl, to getting drafted by the vancouver canucks, and now, stepping into the role of team captain. it felt like all those late nights, tough games, and moments of doubt had led him to this point.

but the one thing that made all of this feel even more meaningful? you being there right beside him.

you and quinn had been together for five years, through all the ups and downs that came with being in a relationship with someone who lived such a high-profile life. you’d been there for his breakout moments, when he nailed an insane assist or made a game-saving play. but you’d also been there when things didn’t go right—when the team wasn’t performing well, when he got hurt, or when the pressure of living up to expectations seemed like it might break him.

through all of it, you’d been the person he could lean on. and now, as he stood at the threshold of a new chapter—becoming captain of the canucks—it felt surreal, but it also felt like something he truly deserved.

────────────────────────────────────────────

it was a crisp morning when quinn was officially named captain of the vancouver canucks. the press conference was packed with reporters, cameras flashing, and everyone eager to hear what quinn had to say. the excitement in the air was contagious, but you could tell that quinn was feeling a bit of the pressure too. he stood there, looking calm on the outside, but you could see the nerves in his eyes. this was a big moment.

you sat in the front row, next to his family. jack, his brother, had flown in to support him, and you could see the pride in his eyes every time he looked at quinn. you weren’t the only one who was proud—everyone in the room could feel the weight of this moment. but even so, quinn’s demeanor was humble as ever. he didn’t seem to let the spotlight rattle him.

"thank you all for being here," the canucks' gm said from the podium. "it’s an honor to introduce the new captain of the vancouver canucks: quinn hughes."

the room erupted in applause. quinn gave a modest nod as he stepped up to the microphone. you could see how much this meant to him, but he kept his composure as always. he adjusted his tie, took a deep breath, and started speaking.

“it’s an honor to be here today,” quinn said, his voice strong, but there was a bit of a nervous edge to it. “being part of this organization has been incredible, and it means the world to me to have the chance to lead this team. but none of this happens without the people who’ve been there for me along the way—my teammates, my coaches, my family, and, of course, my girlfriend, y/n.”

your heart skipped a beat as quinn’s eyes found you in the crowd. the moment felt surreal, as all the eyes in the room turned to you. it wasn’t something you expected—being called out like that. but there he was, giving you that soft smile, the one you loved so much, as if to say, “I wouldn’t be here without you.”

you quickly wiped a tear from your eye, feeling all sorts of emotions hit at once. quinn wasn’t just a hockey player to you—he was your partner, your best friend, the person who made all the long nights worth it.

“y/n has been there for me through everything,” quinn continued. “She’s been my biggest supporter, my rock. I’m proud to share this moment with her.”

the room erupted in applause again, and you felt the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. it was overwhelming, but in the best way. quinn’s words made everything feel like it was meant to be.

after the press conference ended, reporters started to trickle out, but quinn didn’t rush. he made his way to you, his family following behind, and you met him halfway.

"hey," quinn said, his voice low, as he wrapped you in a hug. "thank you for always being here. for everything."

you hugged him tight, your heart full. “you deserve this, quinn. I’m so proud of you.”

he pulled away, looking into your eyes. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

you both stood there for a moment, away from the chaos, just the two of you. no words were needed. you both knew this was just the beginning of something huge.

────────────────────────────────────────────

the next few weeks flew by in a whirlwind of excitement and adjustment. quinn was officially the captain now, and it came with a lot more responsibility. he was taking on extra meetings, spending more time at the rink, and handling pressure that he’d never had to before. but through it all, he kept his calm. he took the responsibility seriously, but he didn’t let it consume him.

you saw the subtle changes in him—he was more focused, more aware of how his actions affected the team. he was always the first one on the ice, pushing the younger players to work hard. but he also made sure to check in with everyone, making sure the guys knew they had his back. he wasn’t just the captain on paper—he was earning the respect of his teammates every day.

at home, it wasn’t much different. after a tough game, where the canucks had lost in overtime, you found quinn sitting on the couch, staring out the window. the city lights below twinkled, but he seemed lost in thought.

“rough game?” you asked, walking over and sitting beside him.

quinn let out a long breath, rubbing his temples. “yeah, we just couldn’t get it together. I made that last pass, and I messed it up.”

you gently squeezed his hand. “you can’t win them all, quinn. you’ve been killing it all season. one mistake doesn’t change that.”

he gave you a small smile, but you could tell he was still frustrated. “I just hate feeling like I let everyone down. I’m supposed to be the leader.”

“you’re doing great,” you reassured him. “nobody expects you to be perfect. your team knows you’re doing everything you can, and they look up to you for it.”

quinn looked at you, his eyes softening. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, y/n. you make everything easier.”

you grinned and gave his hand a soft squeeze. “I’m always gonna be here, quinn. don’t ever forget that.”

he pulled you into a tight hug, and for a while, that was all you needed. just to be there together, away from everything. the world outside could wait.

────────────────────────────────────────────

as the season wore on, quinn settled into the role of captain. the canucks started clicking as a team, and with quinn leading the charge, their play was getting better and better. he seemed to grow more comfortable with each game, more confident in his leadership abilities. but despite the growing success, he stayed grounded. he was still the same quinn you’d known from the beginning—humble, hardworking, and always ready to laugh at the little things.

one night, after a huge win, quinn and the team went out to celebrate. you stood at the back of the room, watching him interact with his teammates, joking around and laughing. he looked like a natural leader, fitting perfectly into this new role. but it was when his eyes found yours across the room that your heart skipped a beat. you could see the pride in his gaze, the quiet appreciation that you were there, supporting him every step of the way.

later that night, when most of the team had left, quinn pulled you aside in the quiet of the hallway. he looked at you with a mix of exhaustion and contentment.

“you’ve been with me through everything,” he said quietly, taking both your hands in his. “I couldn’t have done this without you. I’m so thankful for you, y/n.”

you smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. “I’m proud of you, quinn. you’ve earned this.”

quinn stepped closer and pulled you into a kiss—gentle, full of meaning, and everything you’d ever needed. the world outside seemed to disappear as he kissed you, and for a few moments, it was just the two of you. the pressure, the expectations, the challenges—they didn’t matter. you were together, and that was enough.

and as the season continued, you both knew that this was only the beginning. quinn’s leadership was just taking shape, and with you by his side, there was nothing he couldn’t face. the road ahead was full of possibilities, and you’d be there with him every step of the way.

[hearts4mica]

It’s the last midnight

Batfam x Witch! reader (heavily inspired by ‘Into the Woods’)

Masterlist

_________________________________________

“You’re so nice, you’re not good, you’re not bad, you’re just nice”

_________________________________________

The batfam has been looking for someone that has been appearing in all their missions. Sabotaging them all.

That person was always there hiding in the shadows but they never knew.

You were an anti-hero in Gotham. A Witch. You hated the bats since they purposefully set up a trap to catch the Joker which ended up killing your father.

Ever since that ‘accident’ it has been your purpose to sabotage them.

They ended up lost in the woods by following some clues you left in your last crime scene.

_________________________________________________

You dressed up as a normal citizen and after Nightwing saved you, you gave him a bean telling him it was a magic bean. He thanked you and left.

He didn’t believe you. Of course he woudn’t he threw it away after making sure you didn’t see him.

Tim saw the beanstalk firstly but decided to keep it a secret

To achieve your goal of the Giant coming down to Gotham you dressed up as a citizen and told Red Hood about the beanstalk.

So RedHood dared Robin to climb up the beanstalk and Damian ended up stealing a chicken and accidentally killing a Giant. Which made another Giant come down to Gotham.

_________________________________________________

While you were running through the woods escaping from the angry giant you bumped into the Bats. Great just your luck.

They caught you. But at that moment that was the least of your worries since the giant also caught you all.

And oh boy she was pissed.

“Who in here was the bastard who killed my husband!” She yelled. Amazing! The child killed her husband.

Red Robin somehow ended up managing to talk her and get her to leave telling her that the people by the river in the castle killed her. Of course there was never a river, nor a castle in Gotham.

And now

Chaos was going on between them. Everyone was blaming eachother. You were standing by watching the show.

You didn’t understand a word they were saying but it was funny. You always thought they were close but the moment someone had to take the blame no one wanted to get blamed.

(The fighting are lyrics of the song ‘Your fault- Into the Woods’ if you want to you can listen to it while reading this part!)

“So it's your fault! (Wait a minute!)”

“If you hadn't dared him to- And you had left Robin alone!

“We wouldn't be in trouble! “well, if you hadn't thrown away”

“In the first place (the bean in the first place)”

“Well, if they hadn't raised them!” Robin points at you

“It was your fault (in the first place)”

“Yes, if you hadn't raised them in the first place!”

“Right! It's you, you raised the beans in the first place!”

“It's your fault”

“You're responsible, you're the one to blame”

“It's your fault”

“There’s nothing we can do.” Redhood says

Oh so now its your fault? Well it anyway it doesnt matter now.

You just stare at them.

“Nothing we can do? No not exactly true. We can always give her the boy.” You tell them while staring at Robin with a smile

“No!” Nightwing tells you. Of course he would say that. He always acted like the ‘older brother’ maybe they were related

No? Of course! What really matters is the blame! Fine, since that’s the thing you enjoy. Placing the blame on everyone but yourself.

“Give me the blame.” You point at Damian. “Just give me the boy!”

They again tell you no. No. NO?

You turn to look at those ‘heroes’ for the last time’

“You’re so nice. You’re not good , you’re not bad. You’re just nice.- im not good i’m not nice. Im just right!”

“Im the witch. You’re the world” everyone loves you even after commiting those crimes! Killing those people by the means of justice!”

“Now, before it’s the last midnight i’m leaving you my last curse!. I’m leaving you alone in the woods. All alone to fend for youself against that giant!

“So goodbye all” you throw to the ground a smoke bomb dissapearing into the woods.

_________________________________________________

Thanks for reading! Here is my masterlist if you wanna check it out.

Likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Requests are always open and welcomed!

_________________________________________________

[jackiesgirl]

headcanon!iprincess treatment!

jackie taylor x female reader.

what is it like to date the most popular girl and soccer captain of the school, jackie taylor?

— you’re wrong if you think you’ll be using your car, because she picks you up and drops you off. she just likes sharing something so personal with you.

“baby, why do we need two cars? we have one for both of us.”

— that girl can’t let you open the car door. she’ll always be standing right next to you, ready to make you step out and make them feel like the center of the school.

— “jacques, i’m not cold.” but she’s already delighted, wrapping her arms around your waist and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek from behind. she looks so happy that you almost feel guilty for breaking her view of you with her prom jacket, complete with her signature number and last name.

— she doesn’t like the idea of arriving at a party without you. before, going with shauna was fine, but now that she has you, it feels uncomfortable not being with you in those moments, especially because she doesn’t know which of you will get there first, and she doesn’t know who might approach you while she’s not there. she lies on her bed, resting her elbows on the mattress as she watches you change, then says, “you’re so beautiful.”

— jackie lives to spoil you, so you’ve been able to save quite a bit during this relationship. the dates are always on her, even when you’ve ordered more than enough food. she loves paying for what you like, what you prefer, even for things you don’t need.

“look, i bought you this necklace and this ring, and i remembered you said you needed new sneakers, but i want to go with you so you can tell me which ones you like.”

“jackie, this ring is gold!”

— jackie taylor doesn’t know what personal space is when it comes to you. consider yourself lucky if you can walk down the hallway without her hand on your waist or without her spinning you around just to kiss your forehead. during games, if she scores a goal, the first thing she does is look for you in the stands. if she doesn’t see you right away, she frowns until she finds you, and when she does, she blows you a kiss with a huge smile before running back to the game.

— she loves bragging about you, even if she doesn’t do it directly. in the middle of a casual conversation with shauna and the girls, she mentions how amazing you look in her hoodie or how good those jeans she bought you fit. if someone else says you’re pretty, jackie just smiles proudly and says, “i know, that’s why she’s mine.”

— she has a sixth sense for knowing when you need something. you’re in class, sighing because you forgot your favorite pen, and suddenly, jackie reaches out and hands you hers without you saying a word. are you hungry? she pulls a snack bar out of her bag and gives it to you without asking. tired? she’s already made space in her lap for you to rest your head while she plays with your hair.

— jackie goes all out with her gestures. on valentine’s day, she doesn’t just give you flowers—she fills your locker with handwritten letters and notes saying how much she adores you. for your birthday, she throws a surprise party where everything, from the decorations to the cake, is in your favorite color. “nothing is too much when it comes to you,” she says with a big smile when you ask if she overdid it.

— she defends you even when it’s not necessary. a teacher gave you an unfair grade? jackie is already arguing with them at the classroom door. someone gave you a dirty look? she’s glaring back at them. some guy tried flirting with you? she wraps herself around you and says loudly, “my girlfriend isn’t available, thanks.”

— during soccer games, it’s impossible not to notice how proud she is of you. if you bring her water, she only drinks it if you give it to her yourself. if you hug her after a game, she clings to you like you’re the only person in the world. when she wins a championship, the first thing she does is run to you, lift you in the air, and shout, “i love you, i love you, i love you!”

— jackie taylor treats you like a princess, but she’s also the boss in the relationship. she lets you win at card games, but when it comes to paying for dinner, holding your hand in public, or making sure you get home safe, she’s in charge. if you ever joke that you should spoil her more, she just laughs and kisses your forehead. “you already spoil me just by existing, love.”

[wifelivvyx]

I love your Weasley fics they’re so cute and mischievous. Could you do George and muggle reader after hogwarts? Maybe she just thinks he’s a magician at first or something whatever you want it to be. I love the trope 🤷‍♀️ if it’s already been done then ty in advance :)

Oh, I love this idea! Imagine Muggle!Reader just thinking George is some next-level street magician, completely unaware that he's actually using real magic.

Like, she sees him pull something impossible, and he just winks and goes, "Trade secret, love."

Meanwhile, Fred is losing his mind in the background because George is absolutely not correcting her HELPP

A Magician and a Muggle

George Weasley x Muggle!Reader

You had always liked magic tricks.

Sleight of hand, card tricks, disappearing acts - you could spend hours watching street magicians pull off impossible feats with nothing but a smirk and a flourish.

Which was probably why you found yourself completely enchanted by George Weasley.

You weren’t sure how you met him, exactly. One minute, you were sitting in a coffee shop, reading a book. The next, some tall, freckled guy with a ridiculous grin had made your spoon disappear right off your saucer.

“I - what?” You blinked.

George waggled his eyebrows. “Impressive, yeah?”

You frowned. “Okay, but where is it?”

He held up his hands, empty. “That, my dear, is the question.”

You gave him a suspicious look before turning to check your seat, the floor, even your pockets. Nothing.

By the time you turned back, he was twirling the spoon between his fingers like it had been there the whole time.

You stared. “Okay, how?”

He winked. “Trade secret.”

ϑ𐑞

You had never met a magician like George.

He was charming, mischievous, and had the most insane tricks you had ever seen.

Like the time he turned your tea into hot chocolate mid-sip. Or when he made a full deck of cards shuffle themselves through the air. Or - your personal favorite - the time he conjured a bouquet of flowers out of thin air when you offhandedly mentioned liking lilies.

“I know how most magic tricks work,” you had huffed one evening as he flicked his wand (or, as he called it, his ‘special magician’s wand’) and made the sugar cubes levitate into your coffee. “But this? This is some next-level stuff.”

George leaned on his elbow, grinning. “Are you saying I’m better than all those other magicians?”

“I’m saying I have no idea how you’re doing this,” you corrected, watching the sugar cubes gently plop into your cup. “It’s freakishly good.”

Fred - whom you had only recently met - let out a choked laugh from across the table.

You raised a brow. “What?”

George waved a hand. “Ignore him. He’s just jealous.”

Fred spluttered. “Jealous - ? George, you absolute menace-”

George coughed loudly, kicking his brother under the table. “As I was saying! Some things are best left a mystery, yeah?”

You eyed him. “You’re hiding something.”

He smirked. “Oh, loads of things, love.”

Fred groaned.

ϑ𐑞...

It all came to a head one afternoon when you casually walked into George’s flat and found his teacup floating in mid-air.

You froze.

George - who had been mid-sip - looked at you, eyes wide. Slowly, carefully, he lowered the cup back onto the table.

“…Hi.”

You stared.

He cleared his throat. “So, funny thing-”

“You’re an actual wizard?!”

George winced. “Okay, yes, but in my defense, you never asked if it was real magic-”

“BECAUSE THAT’S NOT A NORMAL THING TO ASK, GEORGE!”

Fred, standing in the doorway, wheezed. “She thought you were a magician, you prat-”

“I am a magician!” George huffed. “Just… a real one.”

You ran a hand down your face. “I - I can’t believe this.”

George gave you a hopeful smile. “So… still fancy me, or did the whole ‘actual wizard’ thing ruin my charm?”

You stared at him.

Then, after a long pause, you sighed.

“You owe me an explanation,” you muttered.

George beamed. “Absolutely. But first-” He flicked his wand, and a chocolate bar appeared in his hand. He handed it to you with a wink.

“Trick or treat?”

You snatched it from him with a glare.

Fred collapsed onto the floor laughing.

[starrbar]

Thanks for the tag x3 Sorry it took me so long to get to it haha. I'll highlight characters in red if I had a lot to say about multiples in one answer.

Favorite girl: I think I'd say Jinx because I love her character. All her scenes in S1 are compelling and tense, and I found her to be thoroughly tragic by the end. She's the thread that holds everything else together and it's beautiful. Also Ambessa and Sevika are both super hot and I always look forward to seeing them.

Favorite boy: I like boys. O_O My favorites are Silco, Singed, and Viktor. Silco is one of my favorite villain characters, very layered and complex, and I was genuinely intrigued and excited as I learned more of his story in S1. I'm also totally guilty of mega-simping for him in S2 despite how my opinions of the story would later sour. Singed honestly just has a fantastic voice and animation that hits me the same way Rango's animation does, where "ugly" characters are treated with such care that they're a treat to watch anyway. He's so stimulating aaaa. Finally, Viktor's arc in S1 is one of my favorites, handled patiently and expertly, and his arc in S2 has quite a few problems, but I still... really enjoy seeing him, and seeing him with Jayce, so I don't tend to be bothered by how S2 handled Viktor.

Least favorite character: You know what? I was so close to posting this with "S2 Caitlyn" because she's a nasty person who never gets to have a proper arc in any direction, but I think a more fitting answer would be S2 Vi. Caitlyn being an awful person in some scenes was still interesting and believable, if a bit rushed, and I would have been fine with her character going that path had it been executed a bit better. Vi, though, is just... turned into a sad lapdog who doesn't act on her own at any point and is just depressing to watch, even in her "happy" moments. God damn, they destroyed her this season. ><

Favorite ships: Zaundads, Sinco, JayVik, and Jilco. If I elaborated on each, I'd feel like I spent way too much time on this, but they each have dynamics I enjoy for different reasons.

Least favorite ship: S2 Caitvi. They were cute in S1, but S2 made Caitlyn an abusive war criminal and then pretended that didn't need to be properly addressed before Vi just gave herself to her. Blegh.

Favorite side character: Lately, it's Salo because I like em pathetic ahaha~ I've always loved Mylo too, adorable little Junkrat kid. x3c

Favorite songs: Oooooh this is a hard one. x3 Goodbye and What Could Have Been will always hit me so hard and remind me how watching Arcane for the first time felt, and for that, they're extra special. I think Playground still gives me those vibes too. I also adore Guns For Hire, and Dirty Little Animals goes so hard. S2 introduced quite a few songs I love too. Ashes and Blood, Renegade, and Spin the Wheel are favorites. Favorite score songs are: The Bridge, The City of Progress, You're Stronger Than You Think, You Can't Escape the Past, A Story of Opposites, Stubborn to the End, I Can Help Them, The Era of Hextech, Revenge, You're a Jinx, A Bicentennial, The Assailant, Romance, Traitor, She's Back, The Toy Boat, I'm Right Here, Showdown, First Steps, You're Perfect, and I'm far less familiar with S2's score, but I can't stop listening to I Promised You. <3

Favorite episode: S1 episode 3. There are tons of scenes I love throughout the story, but this episode marked one of the greatest experiences I've ever had watching a show.

Least favorite episode: So like... I'm not entirely sure which entire episode is my least favorite, so it might be easier to list "chunks", like all the Mel/Black Rose stuff is a boring waste of time to me, and all the final battle stuff is like... uuuuugh. But I didn't just wanna say s2 episode 9 because I do still like the Jayce and Viktor stuff even if, critically, I don't think most of it makes sense x'D. Those two are legit just a guilty pleasure this season and I'm okay with that.

Favorite duo: Oooooh, mmmm..... I think Jayce and Viktor fit the term "duo" best out of my favorites. My other fave is Jinx and Silco, even though they basically never work together, but their interactions are priceless. <3

Favorite design: Aaaaa so many good ones, ummm... honestly? Powder is one of my favorite characters to watch and her design is adorable and complex (a lot of characters are complex in design, but ye). I really love the mismatched look of a lot of Zaun outfits. Also past Silco is um, I'm locking him in my basement. >u>

Least favorite design: Hm... so... I don't think I've looked at any design and hated it, just felt like a few of them were kinda... not as appealing to me as previous versions. So, I prefer Ambessa's pre-S2A3 designs, and I think it's because she looks too slender in her final look compared to previous ones making her look so big and imposing. I think Jinx's newest design is... overrated and kind of messy to look at. I know she's a messy character, so that would fit, but I dunno, there's something missing or... something. It's also hard not to let my feelings on the story taint my feelings for some of the designs, like Vi and Caitlyn's, which look pretty damn cool actually, but I just always picture that final cuddly scene with them and it makes me feel icky.

Favorite scene: The Guns For Hire sequence ✨

Least favorite scene: The Silco, Vander, and Felicia flashback because it ruins the motivations of Silco and Vander, not just to adopt their kids, but to free Zaun from Piltover's oppressive hold. Felicia is pretty and even has some fun sassiness to her personality, but I want her far away from my boys.

I don't like this ending on a negative, so Imma add one more question myself:

Favorite visual moment: Of course, I can hardly pick less than a dozen, but I'll just list a couple off the top of my head, not counting previously mentioned stuff of course. I love the scene of the mage saving young Jayce and his mother. It's so gorgeous and fluid and the music adds so much too. Gahhhh- I also super love that shot of Silco leaning back while smoking right after he talks to Marcus.

I'm always bad at tagging, so just like, do it if you feel like! 8D

On tiktok there was this arcane trend that was just about stating some basic arcane opinions of yours and I thought it would be fun to do something similar here! You can tag others and make it a tagging game or you can just answer the questions do what you want :)

Favorite girl:

Favorite boy:

Least favorite character:

Favorite ship:

Least favorite ship:

Favorite side character:

Favorite song:

Favorite episode:

Least favorite episode:

Favorite duo:

Favorite design:

Least favorite design:

Favorite scene:

Least favorite scene:

[okay-j-hannah]

Part 1: Sugared Coffee

Criminal Minds : Multishot

Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 7554

Warnings: set around season 3 {aka 2007}, slow burn, strangers to friends, friends to lovers, pining on Reid’s part, phobia of needles, PTSD, usual criminal minds level of violence and creepy unsubs, mentions of serial killers and the sick things they do, panic attacks, statistics and quotes I can provide references for

Request: This just came from my own head 😊  

A/N: While taking a break from writing my Teen Wolf series, I stumbled onto this little idea 😅 I've been in love with Spencer Reid since 15 years old - and I still haven't written a series with him... WHICH IS A CRIME

~~~

The Quantico buildings stood out pale and dim within the autumn trees. The dead, fall colors of red and orange encased the sidewalks and scented the air with a farmstead crispness. It was a smell you knew you wouldn’t forget as you stood before the main building.

Dressed in a blue button down and a black blazer, you thumbed the plastic sleeve of your new badge. FBI, it said in blue block letters, Behavioral Analysis Unit. This was a step closer to your new life.

Maybe this will be your chance to catch the son of a bitch. Maybe this will be your chance to stop others in the meantime. Maybe this is your chance to stay safe with a new team and a new badge, stifling the feeling of fear that always rested in your diaphragm.

For now you know you will always remember that your first day at the BAU smelled like fall leaves.

~~~

The office felt slower than usual, which could be seen as a reprieve, but it made the team restless. Most of them were catching up on paperwork, or at least taking their time with details. Reid had flown through a list of research papers and true crime novels by the time lunch rolled around.

“I thought we all had paperwork to do.” Prentiss called over, rubbing an ink smudge on her finger, “How come you’re reading crime fiction?”

Reid’s finger stopped running midway through a page in his book. “It’s not fiction, this is a true crime biography written by O.J. Simpson about if he hypothetically committed the murders of Nicole Brown and Ron Goldman.”

Prentiss raised her eyebrows, tossing her pen onto her desk, “If I was found not guilty for a murder, I would try to put the whole thing behind me. Not write a book detailing what I would do if I actually did it.”

“You finished your paperwork?” Morgan asked, entering the bullpen with a yellow pad of paper. He tore off the top page and sat across from Reid. “I thought you were a speed reader, not a speed writer.”

“I have a lot of free time at home,” Reid said, looking down at his book again.

Morgan laughed, balling up the yellow piece of paper and tossing it at Reid’s head. “Pretty boy needs a pretty girl in his life.”

Reid swatted at where the paper ball bounced off his face. “Stop finding reasons to avoid your work.”

“Woah,” Morgan grinned, “Someone’s a little feisty today.”

“You would be too if someone kept interrupting you while you’re trying to read.”

“Hey, have you heard if that new recruit is coming in today?” Prentiss asked, laying back in her chair and massaging her writing hand.

Morgan shrugged, twisting around in his own chair, “Hotch said interviews ended over a week ago.”

“They’re being pretty secret about the whole thing,” Prentiss went on, “Makes you wonder who they are.”

“I heard Rossi had something to do with it,” Morgan said, “Persuaded Hotch to make the unpopular choice.”

Reid closed his book, unable to concentrate, “That would mean the new guy has a personal connection with Rossi.”

“New girl, it seems,” Morgan said, eyes moving to the office doors to find Hotch escorting a professionally dressed woman.

Reid looked over as well, noticing a few things immediately, profiler that he was. This new recruit held herself tall, speaking of her confidence entering the room. Although her eyes were open wide as if she were trying to see everything all at once. It gave her expression the look of being frightened.

But the hesitant smile on her face spoke of kindness.

She was a walking contradiction. Her handshake was firm, shoulders squared, voice steady and confident. But her breath was shallow, and her eyes gave the appearance of a deer stuck in the headlights.

The conclusion was that this new recruit was confident in her abilities and wanted to be there. But she felt like she had to prove herself, terrified that something would cause her to be kicked off the team.

“This is SSA Derek Morgan,” Hotch introduced, “And SSA Emily Prentiss.”

“Hello,” the new recruit said, shaking each hand.

“And Dr. Spencer Reid,” Hotch gestured towards him, “We’ve found you some competition.”

The girl looked at Reid with a wide smile and it struck him how pretty she was. He blinked dumbly a few times, face blank when he replied, “Competition?” His throat felt incredibly dry.

“This is SSA (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” Hotch continued, “I was just telling her how we had an early graduate already on our team.”

Reid cleared his throat to combat the dryness, “You graduated school early?”

She nodded slowly, “Highschool and college.” She was quiet – shy in stating her accomplishments.

Hotch continued for her, “Had her bachelor’s degree by eighteen.”

(Y/N) sucked in a breath, rushing out, “And my master’s degree by twenty-two.”

“Our genius beats you by a few years,” Morgan grins.

“The eidetic memory helps,” Prentiss scoffs.

(Y/N) smiled again, “It’d be nice to bounce ideas off another brainiac.” She regards Reid with a warmer expression.

He was suddenly overcome with a sense of familiarity, as if he had seen her face somewhere before. He ran her name through his mind, trying to remember if he had read it or just heard it before.

“Speechless, Reid?” Morgan asked, grinning like he knew something everyone else didn’t. “I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

Everyone laughed as Reid tried to clear his mind. (Y/N) was looking at him with such fondness, he hoped it wasn’t pity for his strange and endearing behavior. He surprised himself by realizing he wanted her to like him. Like him a lot.

~~~

You leaned into the cushions of the jet seats, fingers running along your ribcage, at the little scar you knew was there. You take a deep breath, reminding yourself that you could.

“Alright, so families are being targeted in their homes with variations of the anthrax bacteria,” Hotch said, leading the team in the next case. “What do we notice about these cases?”

“These don’t seem like full scale terrorist attacks that are usually associated with anthrax,” Morgan said, flipping through the files, “But these could just be test subjects before some biological warfare.”

“Being isolated to just families within their homes gives the appearance of a simple virus passing through,” Prentiss said, “Usually when one family member gets sick they assume everyone will eventually.”

Rossi sighed, “Which kept families from reporting to the hospital until it was too late.”

“It’s also interesting that the unsub is using different anthrax forms,” J.J. continued, looking at the case photos with disgust, “Maybe they’re testing the effectiveness of each.”

Reid had a few knuckles resting against his chin, “We’ve seen inhalation anthrax in previous attacks, which affects the lungs of the infected and presents as flu-like symptoms.”

“There’s also intestinal anthrax, which comes from ingesting the bacteria,” you say quickly, “As well as cutaneous anthrax, which only affects the skin.”

“But we all know that inhalation anthrax is the deadliest,” Hotch said, “It’s been reported as the most fatal.”

“So why is the unsub using these different forms?” Morgan asked.

You thumb through the victim photos, “Maybe the unsub isn’t testing anything. Maybe they just enjoy infecting the family and watching the chaos ensue.”

“What makes you say that?” Hotch asked.

You sigh, feeling the attention being placed on you. A few of your fingers search for the little scar against your ribcage, tracing the slightly raised skin beneath your shirt. “If the goal of infecting the victims is to kill them, then using cutaneous or intestinal anthrax isn’t optimal. As soon as a cutaneous rash or ulcer appears, then you treat it with topical antibiotics and survival is very likely. And the only way intestinal anthrax will kill is if it somehow enters the bloodstream.”

“They could be enjoying the panic of sick families,” Rossi muttered to himself.

“The unsub might be using those forms in addition to inhalation because they want to see ultimate suffering,” you continue.

Morgan leaned forward, “Start with inhalation to incapacitate the victims. Then infect them with the other forms later.”

Hotch nodded in agreement, “Good work, (Y/N). I don’t think we are afraid of a terrorist attack. This is an unsub that enjoys isolating and infecting whole families.”

You swallow hard, proud of yourself for having an idea that might be plausible. This only being your third case with the team meant still trying to find your place among them.

Morgan was relaxed across from you, watching you for a few seconds, “You okay?”

You snap your eyes to him, “Yeah, why?”

He shrugged, looking down to your hand, “You have a nervous tick.”

Your hand instantly left the little scar you often traced, “Don’t we all?” you try to smile, “This is a time sensitive case.”

“Most of them are,” Morgan said, observing you, “There’s something you especially don’t like about this one.”

“What gives you that impression?” you ask, monitoring your own actions to try not to give yourself away.

“I don’t know you all that well…” he said.

You shake your head quickly, “No, you don’t.”

“… but I’ve seen you in some high stress situations the last couple of weeks. And I’ve noticed when you’re a little shaken.”

You close the case file, staring down at it with some apprehension. “Another form of anthrax is injection.”

Morgan looked at you with confusion, “Like with a needle?”

“That’s enough,” Rossi said from a few seats away, “Isn’t there a rule about profiling each other?”

“Papa Rossi to the rescue,” Morgan said with a small smile. “I was just concerned, that’s all.”

You give him a little nod, “I get it.” You give Rossi a stern, knowing look and he waved away your glare.

“We should grab a drink sometime,” Morgan continued, flashing his eyes in Reid’s direction. “It’d be nice to get to know you more.”

You laugh, “The most exciting thing about me, Derek, is this job.”

“Still,” Morgan stretched, “Where you from?”

A little huff escaped your lips as the jet began its descent, “Arizona.”

“What part?”

“Flagstaff,” you say slowly, “Why does this sound like an interrogation?” You were smiling, almost encouraging Morgan’s teasing tone.

“Family? Boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

You shake your head, “Parents back home. And no.” You notice how Reid suddenly put down the book he was reading to give his undivided attention.

“Alright.”

A laugh escapes you, “That’s all you wanted to know?”

“For now, sweetheart,” he said, giving a wink to Reid when you looked away. “Prentiss and I can scope out the first victim’s house.”

Hotch nodded, watching the jet get closer to the ground, “Good. Rossi, you and J.J. can look at the second victim’s house. Reid and (Y/N) – you two can go to the hospital to get more information on the symptoms and treatment of the victims. I’ll set up base at the local police station.”

Morgan seemed pleased about something as he got ready for the landing. Reid gave a little wave to you but seemed embarrassed by the action as he looked away immediately.

~~~

You sit behind the wheel of the SUV, Reid in the passenger seat twiddling his thumbs in his lap. You could tell he wanted to talk but didn’t know what to say. If you had it your way, you’d prefer to keep your silence while he rambled on about whatever was on his mind.

That way you wouldn’t have to talk. The less you talk the less likely you’ll share something you would regret.

“I found out recently that there’s a stage theatre in Virginia that puts on Shakespeare plays,” you say quietly.

Reid turns to you with raised eyebrows, “The Blackfriars Playhouse?”

You nod, “I hear it’s the world’s only re-creation of Shakespeare’s indoor theatre.”

“Yes, it started out as a traveling troupe that performed in countries around the world. They were taken in by the International Shakespeare Globe Centre and featured in England. In 1999 they changed their name to Shenandoah Shakespeare and moved to Staunton, Virginia. It took two years for the Blackfriars Playhouse to be built, and since then they’ve rebranded as the American Shakespeare Center that educates aspiring actors and performs using Renaissance rehearsal practices to showcase Shakespeare’s greatest works on their Globe Theatre stage.”

You start to relax against the wheel, “I saw somewhere that they’re having a year long conference.”

Reid was getting all excited, sitting on the edge of his seat and smiling with his words, “They are! The ASC is partnering with Shakespeare’s Globe in London. You’re a fan of Shakespeare?”

You give a polite nod, “As long as it’s on the stage. Shakespeare was meant to be watched, not just read.”

“Exactly!” he was thrilled to find something in common with you. “What is your favorite play?”

“Probably Much Ado About Nothing.”

“A comedy,” Reid said, “It’s one of my favorites too. Did you know that Much Ado About Nothing is considered one of Shakespeare’s greatest comedies? Although a similar trope of a happy ending, united lovers, and a villain receiving justice is seen in both The Merchant of Venice and A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Much Ado About Nothing also features more prose than just about any other Shakespearean play.”

You smile, confused, “Prose?”

“Prose is the written or spoken language in its ordinary form, meaning without the use of a metrical structure. It follows the natural flow of speech and differs from most traditional poetry. Much Ado About Nothing is about 75% prose and only 25% actual poetry verse. Verse is used to express more emotional statements, so that essentially proves how much of a comedy the play is because 75% of the material is used to express whimsical thoughts.”

You kept smiling, turning to enter the hospital parking lot. “I had no idea.”

It was quiet for a second before Reid cleared his throat, “I was rambling, wasn’t I?”

“Don’t worry,” you say, “I like it.”

Reid squirmed in his seat, warmth blooming in his chest, “I’m sorry, I should give you more of a chance to talk. Did you bring up the Blackfriars Playhouse because you wanted to see a show?”

You open the car door, “Maybe. Let’s get this over with.”

He scrambles out of the car, readjusting his side bag. “Okay.” You could tell he wanted to continue your conversation, but you brushed it off as you both enter the building to talk to the chief of the hospital.

You held back a shiver as you meet with staff in the urgent care ward. They told you of the severity of the anthrax murders, the horrific symptoms presented in the victims. They confirmed how quickly the bacteria affects a person and travels to everyone within a household.

“It would be easily transmitted between family members,” the doctor expressed.

“We believe the man we’re looking for is entering the home and tainting their food, infecting their air conditioning units, and injecting them in their sleep,” Reid says.

The doctor nods, “I can say the inhalation infection was there the longest, meaning it was the first form used. Cutaneous infection through injections hasn’t been present as long.”

“Meaning the unsub is entering the house a second time to infect them with a different form,” you say, “This guy likes to stick around and watch.” You trace the little scar against your ribcage, fingers lowering to another pinprick scar against your abdomen.

“Thank you for your time,” Reid said, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Of course,” the doctor said, “And before I forget, your unit chief wanted your team treated to prevent an anthrax infection.”

Reid nodded in understanding, but you start to seize, “How?”

A nurse leaves to grab some supplies as the doctor states calmly, “Antibiotics and the anthrax vaccine. We usually only recommend it for individuals that are at risk.”

“And that comes in a pill form?” you ask quickly. Reid looks at you suddenly from your tone of voice.

“The antibiotics do,” the doctor says, pulling out some paperwork, “But the vaccine comes in an injection.”

Pain enters your side. You know it’s most likely a phantom pain, but you can’t escape the feeling of terror bubbling in your diaphragm. It popped and sizzled into your lungs, bringing you back to the familiar sensation of your lungs being punctured.

You attempted to mask the reaction – hold back the sweat wetting your palms and creeping up your neck. You cooled your tone as you cleared your throat. You didn’t even want to see the vaccine.

Reid was being directed to sit down and roll up his sleeve, which he did while keeping his eyes trained on you. You didn’t want to see the confusion and worry in his face.

You run your fingers through your hair, holding back the shakiness of your hands, “I uh… I need to run to the bathroom real quick.”

You didn’t hear any response as you sped to the nearest bathroom. White noise was buzzing in your ears, dots of pain appearing across your front, like little beestings. You knew it was just a memory, and you clenched either side of the porcelain sink telling yourself that.

Of course you knew a spiral was going to happen. It was one of the main reasons Hotchner didn’t want to hire you in the first place. But you had hoped you’d be a few more cases in before it happened. 

You breathed through the terror, splashed your face with cold water, and flexed your fingers. You grounded yourself with your surroundings: Tiled floors, white walls, soap scum on the sink, faint bleach smell, water dripping down the drain.

Straightening out, you took a deep breath, no sharp stabbing pain – the fear trickling back into its containment in your diaphragm.

You straighten the hairs framing your face, wiping the speckle of water against your chin. Your phone started ringing.

“Hello?”

“Hi, gorgeous,” came a bright sing-song voice, “How’s my new bestie?”

A smile finally breaks the grimness of your face, “Garcia.”

“Yeah, hi – Hotch is asking that everyone meets back at the station. We just found a connection between the families. They’re both customers of the same plumbing company.”

“Which would give someone access to their drinking water and air conditioning.”

“Oh, I didn’t even think about infecting the water supply,” Garcia said, a smile clear in her voice, “I knew boy genius was going to have some competition with you.”

“Thanks, Garcia,” you say, sliding the phone back in your pocket. You exit the bathroom and find Reid waiting by the front doors. His face was placid, but his brow furrowed upon seeing you.

His throat bobbed before he spoke. “You okay?”

“Yeah, Hotch wants us back at the police station.” You walked right past him and out to the parking lot.

Reid had to jog to catch up to you, pointing back at the hospital, “Did you get the vaccine?”

“I’m fine,” you say, getting in the car, “The team made a connection between the victims.”

It was obvious that he didn’t believe you, but he was too intimidated by your evasion that he kept his mouth shut. The warmth that bloomed in his chest at sharing a car ride with you was still there. He wanted it to stay – he didn’t want to jeopardize the possible friendship growing between you.

Looking at you drive, more tense than he’s seen you before, he was struck again with how familiar you were. Whether your name or your face, he didn’t know but he could’ve sworn he’d heard of you before.

It had only been a few weeks, but he knew he already had it bad. He was becoming infatuated with you.

~~~

The team had dispersed again, taking part in investigating new suspects at the plumbing company. (Y/N) and Hotch were in the next room interrogating a lead while Reid updated the geographical profile in their office.

Rossi was confirming their suspicions that another family might be targeted in the next 24 hours.

Reid capped a marker and cleared his throat, “You knew (Y/N) before she joined the BAU.”

“Yeah,” Rossi said, immediately suspicious, “What of it?”

“It’s just…” Reid continued, sitting down at the table, “I feel like I know her from somewhere, but I can’t quite place it.”

“I thought you remembered everything.”

“I remember what I read, but I think her name is something I’ve heard before.”

Rossi put his files down, giving his full attention, “Why don’t you just ask her?”

“Because I have a feeling she’ll deflect.”

“So you’re trying to go behind her back?”

Reid sighed, “No, I just… she worried me a little at the hospital. I know something is wrong.”

That sparked some interest in Rossi. He leaned forward, “What happened?”

“She basically ran away when the doctor said we needed to get a shot. She says she got one, but I think she was lying.”

Rossi was quick to answer, “A lot of people don’t like getting shots.”

“No, it was the way she reacted,” he said quietly, “It was more than just a phobia. And I know she doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“Then there’s only one thing you can do.”

Reid looked up hopefully, “What?”

“Be a good friend and respect her wishes.”

“You’re not going to tell me how you know her, are you?” Reid said, disappointed.

“It’s not my story to tell,” Rossi shrugged, “But if she’s lying about getting the vaccine, then I might talk to her. We don’t want her contracting anthrax because of a fear.”

Reid twiddled his thumbs, giving his best puppy-dog stare, “Not even a hint?”

It pulled a chuckle out of Rossi, “You like this girl.”

“Did Morgan tell you that?”

“It’s not so hard to figure out,” the old man smiled, “I’ll give you some advice. (Y/N) is a driven and stubborn woman. She’s never liked being told what she can and can’t do. But that’s only what’s on the surface. (Y/N) is one of the kindest, quirkiest, most considerate people I know. You just need to get past the hard outer shell.”

Reid nodded to himself, “We talked about Shakespeare in the car today.”

“You did?” Rossi seemed surprised, “That was quick.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’ve already found a nerdy part of her. I thought she’d guard that for a while longer.” He was amused by the giddy happiness that entered Reid’s face, “There might be hope for you yet, kid.”

It wasn’t much later that Hotch figured out that you hadn’t taken any preventative measures against the anthrax. He ordered you back to the hospital or else stay off the case until they caught the unsub. He wasn’t going to take any chances when working with such a serious bacteria.

You, being the stubborn newbie that you are, bit your tongue and quieted the fear beginning to brew below your ribcage.

Taking advantage of the situation, Reid stepped up to escort you to the hospital. It was a quiet and tense ride to the urgent care, Reid attempting to find a way to express his concern.

“Not a fan of needles?” he asked with a lighter inflection.

You hold back a scoff, “Not really.” Your fingers are knotted and pressed tightly against your stomach.

Reid tried to keep his eyes on the road, “I don’t like them much either.”

“It’s silly, really,” you say, closing your eyes.

“No, it’s not. Everyone is afraid of something,” he rushed out, stopping you from diminishing your feelings. “I’m afraid of the dark.”

You swallow hard, “Really?”

“Some would say that’s ridiculous now that we’re adults. But you never know what’s lurking in the dark.”

It was silent for another minute before you took a shaky breath, “I have a pretty severe phobia.”

“Of what?”

You lick your lips, “Any kind of needle. Sewing needles, knitting needles, safety pins, thumbtacks, you name it. I can’t… they remind me…” You clamp your mouth shut.

Reid was hesitant but wanted to encourage you to continue, “You know you’re part of a team now. Whatever we share with each other is in confidence. We all have your back.”

I have your back, he wanted to say, You can trust me.

You tighten your hands, “They remind me of a dark place. I don’t like going there.”

Reid flexed his fingers against the steering wheel. He blinked hard before muttering, “I’ll be there with you.”

You both entered the hospital with Reid having a hand hovering against your back. He didn’t touch you, but he wanted to. He walked beside you, guiding you to sit in a chair. As soon as the nurse appeared with a sterile metal tray, you turned your head away.

Reid sat beside you, addressing the nurse.

“Afraid of needles?” she asked.

You didn’t respond so Reid said, “A little.”

“Don’t worry, honey, this will be over in a second. Just a little pinch.” She noticed how shallow your breathing had gotten, “Remember to breathe, sweetie.”

You nod, jumping when the cold wet of the alcohol wipe touched your exposed shoulder. Reid watched you tense up, gripping the armrests of the chair. He wasn’t sure what was overstepping boundaries, but he felt compelled by the concern eating him up to grab your hand.

His fingers wrapped around yours and he was relieved to find you clutching back at him. As soon as the injection touched your arm, a gasp escaped you. You were shaking in his hand and your face was screwed up against the sharp pain.

Reid never took his eyes off your face, worried at how severe your reaction was. He realized you were holding your breath as the nurse put a band-aid on your arm.

“Breathe, (Y/N),” he said quietly, “Remember to breathe.”

You inhale sharply, “Is it over?”

“Yes,” Reid said in his same calming tone, “And you’re okay. We’re all done.”

You open your eyes, finding Reid looking at you with a deep level of concern. He hadn’t let go of your hand yet and you found that grounding yourself was easier this time. No white noise filled your ears, no phantom pinpricks of pain stabbed your abdomen.

You focused on your surroundings: Reid’s warm hand holding yours, the smell of sugared coffee and mahogany on his collar, the slow breaths filling his chest, and the heat of him nearly pressed against your arm.

“Thank you,” you say softly, “That wasn’t so bad with you here.”

His heart soared out of his chest, a smile wide on his face, “Anytime.”

~~~

A month later you were settling into the team more and more. You had found little blossoms of friendship among your coworkers, except for Rossi who was determined to remain your second father.

You felt more at ease the longer time passed without suspicion about your hiring process. Though that could mean a higher chance of a slip up.

“You. Up. Drinks. Now,” Morgan had pointed a finger at you and gestured to the elevators where some of the team stood.

“Derek,” you sighed, leaning in your chair, “You know the club isn’t my kind of scene.”

He shook his head, smiling, “Not today, angel face. You’ve had an excuse the last four weekends and I know for a fact you were planning on spending your evening alone, reading and drinking your tea.”

You pursed your lips, eyes flickering to where Reid was talking to Prentiss. You had told him earlier that day of your excitement to have a free weekend to read.

“Is nothing sacred anymore?”

“Come on, pretty boy will only go if you go,” Morgan said.

And now you sat at a dimly lit table, waiting for your drink as Morgan was having a dance off with Prentiss out on the floor. She shoved him over and right into the nearest beautiful woman. Derek raised his eyebrows and sent Emily a little ‘thank you’ as he began dancing sensually with his new partner.

Emily rolled her eyes and went to find her own dance partner.

Over at the bar was J.J. and Garcia, no doubt discussing the latest Quantico gossip. Garcia, with a thin black straw between her teeth, slack jawed at the whisperings of J.J.’s news. It made you smile knowing that the analyst would corner you later to tell you what she had learned.

The low lights included a mixture of purple and blue, setting a cool tone around the people sitting at tables. You run your fingers along the table surface, noticing Reid making his way to you with two drinks.

“You look bored,” he said with a close lipped smile.

You accept the drink gratefully, “I told Derek I’m not a fan of drinks.”

“Then why did you agree to come?”

Because I knew you wouldn’t have a good time if I didn’t. You swallow, stirring your drink around with the straw, “My parents tell me I should go out every once in a while or I’ll never make any friends.”

He huffed a laugh, “You talk to your parents a lot?”

“I would every day if I let them have their way.”

“Are you close?”

You shrug your shoulders, “They worry about me.”

“Are you an only child?”

“Don’t start the profiling questions,” you say with a smirk, “But yes, I am an only child.”

Reid nods, his face heating up at being chastised. “There are a lot of studies on the effects of only children.”

“You going to say I’m a stereotypical only child that experiences overprotectiveness and spoiling from my two loving parents?”

“No,” Reid said calmly, “There are actually many studies that disprove that stereotype. Professor Toni Falbo from the University of Texas found that ‘across all developmental outcomes, only children were indistinguishable from firstborns and people from small families.’ And clinical psychologist Linda Blair wrote about how ‘parents can focus all their time and energy on an only child,’ which means they get valuable relationship time where ‘they just feel valued’, not just a sense of being overprotected. I think your parents might worry about you because of a different reason.”

You try to contain your smile, “No, they’re definitely just overprotective of me.”

“But then something must’ve happened to have them be overprotective of you. It couldn’t just be because you’re an only child.”

You take a sip of your drink, slowly nodding your head. Be careful. Don’t slip up. “A little bit of both.” You cleared your throat, “You know what show I just started?”

Reid took note of the change of subject, “What?”

“Doctor Who.”

His face split open into the biggest smile, “Really? The series from 1963 or the revamped series from 2005?”

“I just started the Tenth Doctor,” you say, matching his smile, “I think I like David Tennant more.”

Reid looked about ready to burst with the amount of information he knew about the topic. He started stuttering over his words, twiddling his fingers in the air as the words tumbled out of his mouth.

“My favorite is by far the Fourth Doctor played by Tom Baker. He’s the longest running Doctor on the series, having starred in seven seasons between 1974 and 1981. He is the most recognizable Doctor internationally with his famous multicolored scarf. I think his most popular companions are K-9 and…”

“… Sarah Jane!” you say enthusiastically, “Yeah, they were both in the last season with the Tenth Doctor.”

“Yes, yes!” he said happily, “That’s one of the greatest things about Doctor Who – they bring back timeless characters and stories through the years. It’s why you have to watch the originals!”

You laugh at his endearing blabber, “Go back to black and white television?”

“It’s classic,” he retorts, “Sure the BBC didn’t give them much of a budget at first, but the black and white helps hide the poor quality of the sets and costumes. And television back then wasn’t designed to be binged like today, so many of the stories aren’t cohesive, but that’s the beauty of it. It’s history in the making – you can see the progress of a single character and their life over almost fifty years! It’s fascinating.”

You nod slowly, tickled by Reid’s eagerness, “Alright. Maybe I’ll try to watch them.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to talk to you about the Master and the evolution of the Daleks and the effects of the Time War.”

Another laugh escapes you as you continue to stir your drink with the straw, staring at the ice cubes tink against the glass.

It got quiet as Reid stewed in the slight embarrassment that itched his stomach as his excitement wore off. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I rambled.”

“I told you I like it,” you say, finally looking at him in that dimly lit bar, “I like seeing you get all excited about stuff. It makes me want to get excited about it too.”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t do things just because I like them.”

“Why not?” you say firmly, “What if I want us to share something?”

He was caught off guard by that, blinking hard a few times. “You want us to share something?”

You take another sip of your drink. It was getting watered down now by the melting ice. “I told you I need more friends,” you smile at him, “My parents are worried, remember?”

Reid’s throat bobbed, thoughts of spending long nights cuddled on the couch and watching old shows on a black and white television disappear in an instant. His hopes of taking her on a date to the Blackfriars Playhouse to see her favorite play were being diminished, the tickets of said show burning in his back pocket. The want to brew her a cup of tea and share an evening reading books together, maybe even holding hands across their reading chairs, ached in his chest.

“Friends,” he said quietly, “Right.”

~~~

Not long after the bar trip, you invited Reid over to your apartment for one of your reading sessions.

When you opened the door to find him with nearly ten books piled in his arms, you laughed. “You’re gonna out read me 10 to 1.”

He gave a close lipped smile, fighting back the embarrassment of his quirks. “It’s a blessing and a curse.”

You sat on one end of the couch, thumbing the edge of your fiction book. “I put a kettle on,” you said gesturing to the stove, “If you want to have a cup of tea with me.”

Reid took off his satchel, setting his books on a side table, “I’m more of a coffee guy.”

“Yeah,” you say smiling, “More like a sugar guy with some coffee beans on the side.”

You’re suddenly struck with another memory. Just like how you remember that your first day at the BAU smelled like fall leaves.

You remember that the first time you were able to easily ground yourself from PTSD, it smelled like sugared coffee.

As the kettle started screaming with steam, you went to stand until Reid started waving you down, “No, no – you’re already sitting. I’ll get the tea.”

And as he passed you by, it smelled like sugared coffee again, “But you don’t even want any.”

He didn’t respond, smiling to himself as he filled a waiting teacup with boiling water. A little cannister of teabags sat beside the stove. “Did you know that tea is the second most popular drink in the world? The first being water.”

“So my preferred drink is more popular than yours?” you say teasingly as he came around the couch with the steaming cup.

“That’s because the Asia Pacific is a dominant region for tea, and that accounts for over 4 billion people, which is around 60% of the world’s population. Not to mention that around 68% of people in the United Kingdom drink at least one tea per day, and that’s about 61 million people. That puts the tea industry slightly above the coffee.” He handed you the teacup, his fingertips burning where they brushed up against yours, and not because the drink was hot.

“You could just say tea is better than coffee, it’s okay,” you say, blowing before taking a sip.

Reid held back a smile, sitting on the other side of the couch, “Maybe not better… but more popular.”

You bickered with smiles on your faces for a couple more minutes before cracking open your books. You’re giggling as you toss your bookmark at him, “Just shut up and read your books.”

He laughed at you, trying to get comfortable on his side, crossing his spindly legs.

The pair of you sat in a comfortable silence as the sun dipped lower behind the blinds. Reid had blown throw two psychology textbooks and another true crime book written by a favorite author. You had gotten through maybe seventy pages of your adult fantasy novel.

Reid thought he would’ve gotten through six books by then, but he kept getting distracted by you. The thought of reaching over and holding your hand as you read was overwhelming. He wanted to sit closer, rub shoulders with you, peer over and read the same page as you, wait for you to finish before he turned the page for you.

He wanted to catch your eyes drooping with sleep and then offer to read aloud to you as you drift off against him. He wanted to drape a blanket around you both and help you sip tea so you wouldn’t have to take your arms out from under the warmth. He wanted to hear you read your favorite lines to him. He wanted to see you shift into a more comfortable reading position, grumbling about aching wrists. He wanted to read your book just so he could talk to you about it.

He wanted you.

It was getting painful how much he wanted you.

The bookmark he was using was the two tickets to the Blackfriars Playhouse. They blared at him like a beacon sitting on the side table.

But then something remarkable happened. From your scrunched up position on the opposite side of the couch, you crept your feet across the seat cushions until they reached Reid. You then tucked your cold toes under his thigh.

He abruptly looked at you with raised eyebrows.

You shrugged your shoulders, attempting to look innocent. “My feet are cold.”

He fought a huge smile, “And you don’t have a blanket?”

“Why would I need a blanket when you’re here?” You said it so casually there was no way you noticed how that made Reid’s heart leap.

“Fair enough,” he responded. He cleared his throat, flickering his eyes between you and his own book. “Hey, (Y/N)?”

You look up at him over the top of your book, “Yeah, Spence?”

Spence. He started smiling despite the nerves, “I couldn’t help but notice that the Blackfriars Playhouse is showing Much Ado About Nothing, and um…” he swallowed hard, unable to look at you. “… I just so happen to have two tickets to see it next Saturday.”

Your feet wiggled under his leg, and he squirmed, tickled. “Is that so?”

“Would you want to go with me… maybe?”

You could barely contain the excitement starting to course through your veins, “Are you kidding? Spence! I would love to go.” Your book fell from your fingers, “Oh my god, I’m so excited.”

The pride that swelled Reid’s chest could’ve made him float to the moon.

~~~

You could’ve blamed it on the case. On the method of killing. On the type of victim. But it was the fact that you didn’t have a handle on your emotions.

Girls around your age were being taken and tortured by having nails hammered into them. Sharp, pointed nails – stabbed into them. It was too similar.

You counted your breaths and stared at your desk. Everyone exited the bullpen before you, packing briefcases and emergency bags for the incoming jet flight to Missouri. You staggered on your way out, nearly collapsing into your desk chair.

You considered running to the bathroom like you usually did, dousing yourself in cold water and snapping out of it. Instead you closed your eyes and traced the little scars you could find against your ribcage and abdomen.

The smell of coffee wafted over you.

“Hey,” came a small voice, kneeling beside you. “Is it the nails?”

You try to swallow, but it’s thick and sticks to the back of your throat. You just subtly nod instead, slowly opening your eyes.

Reid is there, leaning against your desk and itching to touch you – to comfort you.

“(Y/N),” he said cautiously, “Is this more than a phobia?”

You attempt a deep breath, but it’s shallow in your chest, “I’ll be fine.”

“Maybe we should…”

“Reid,” you say more sternly, “I’m going to be fine. I’m not going to let this hold me back.” You brush him off, standing and straightening your blazer. “I’m gonna go pack.”

Reid let you pass but kept his gaze on you as you left the offices. It must’ve been too full of the longing and worry he felt for you because Morgan and Prentiss were quick to comment on it.

“Hey there, pretty boy,” Morgan said, setting his duffel bag down, “What’s got your attention?”

Prentiss gave a breathy laugh, zipping up her own bag, “Only the object of all his desires.”

“Give it a rest,” he responded, running his fingers through his hair. “You’re not helping.”

“Helping what?” Morgan folded his arms, “You getting out of the friend zone?”

“If she could see the way you just looked at her,” Prentiss sucked in a breath of air that sounded like a hiss, “Maybe she’d see how in love you are.”

“Those big old puppy-dog eyes,” Morgan smiled, “You’re irresistible.”

Reid grumbled, “Something’s wrong.”

“Yeah, the fact you’re wasting time pining when you could be getting some weekend sugar,” Morgan laughed.

“No,” Reid looked away, “There’s something familiar about (Y/N) and I don’t know what it is. Rossi refuses to say anything because he’s protecting her, but I know they have a past. That has to mean she’s been involved in Rossi’s career somehow, whether that’s from a case, or one of his lectures, or as one of his interns. But the fact he doesn’t speak about it means that it’s personal.”

“Okay,” Morgan said, the smile leaving his face, “What do you want to do?”

The corner of Reid’s lip twitched – it usually happened when he was thinking about something difficult, “I don’t know. I guess I hoped she would tell me eventually.”

“But now you’re impatient?” Prentiss asked, brow scrunched, “You want Garcia to look (Y/N) up?”

“No!” Reid said quickly, “I just… I want to help her, but I can’t do that if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“I thought she just got a little squeamish around needles,” Morgan said, “She needs a second, but then she’s good.”

Reid shoved his hands in his pockets, “I think it’s a trauma response.”

“Well, don’t phobias come from past incidents or traumas?” Prentiss asked, “Couldn’t she have had a bad experience at the doctors as a child getting her flu shot?”

They clearly weren’t as concerned as he was, and Reid sat at his desk, knuckles covering his mouth as he thought.

Morgan shared a look with Prentiss before saying, “Look kid, we worry about (Y/N) too. We’re here for her if she needs it. But we’re not going to go snooping around in her personal business that she would rather keep private.”

“She’s not going to ask for help,” Reid said to himself.

Prentiss pursed her lips, “Then we’ll be here to catch her when she falls.” She gestured to Morgan and the pair of them took their bags to meet by the SUVs, all the while muttering to themselves.

Reid drummed his knuckles against his lips, staring at his computer screen and debating. He could do a simple google search himself, no need to bother Rossi or Garcia with it. With Rossi being involved in some way, there might be a news article somewhere that mentions you.

Hesitantly, looking around for any prying eyes, Reid logged onto his computer and typed in the search engine. He searched for your name. Your name plus FBI. Your name plus David Rossi.

And a string of articles popped up. Newspapers from Arizona, Nevada, and Utah.

Young girls kidnapped, held, tortured, and murdered in the desert. The murderer being coined ‘The Pincushion Killer’ based on his methods. Each victim was repeatedly stabbed with varying sized needles. Starting with acupuncture needles and growing to icepicks. He purposely stabbed his victims in nonthreatening spots of the body, avoiding large blood vessels and major organs. The purpose to draw out their suffering.

Until the day of the murder. He would then puncture an organ of his choice: lungs, stomach, liver, sometimes an artery.

He was never caught. But all nine of his victims were identified. Eight killed. And the ninth survived.

And pasted on the front of every news article said: Pincushion Killer – Victim #9 Survives; Killer Disappears.

Below was a picture of (Y/N).

The ninth victim.

~~~

Taglist: @caswinchester2000 @aria253264 @bippity-boppity-boopa @kaqua @cameleonfrenzy @shyposttree @thatdummy-girl @chiefqueef22 @nicole-survivor @murder-swan​ @nomajdetective​ @mxacegrey​ @cynbx @popeheywardssecretgf @futuremrsspencerreid @dilflover10 @mrskatpotter @holly-the-trash-writer​ @noakroontje

[biisexualemma]

forget it. matt murdock

word count: 3.3k

requested: nope

warnings: none but a bit of angst

plot: matt kissed you and told you to forget about it

a/n: i confess that i've had this hidden away in my drafts for a very, very long time with 90% of it written up :/ but nevertheless it's here now and you can give it a read and let me know what you think. personally i LOVE this fic and deeply love matthew murdock, so i hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it!

masterlist

"hey!" you beamed, entering the familiar bar full of familiar smells and faces. you immediately encountered the strawberry blonde who's face lit up when she saw you.

"you came!" she cheesed, wrapping her arms around you and squeezing tight. you laughed, squeezing her back an appropriate amount. "i thought you told foggy you couldn't make it?" she quizzed, forever the detective.

"i know," you admitted, pulling out of the hug so you could see her lovely blue eyes, your hands still touching her forearms. "guess i changed my mind-- i couldn't miss your birthday celebrations, what kind of friend would i be?"

"a terrible one. i'd have been bad mouthing you all night," she wore a teasing smile, eyes glistening like they always did. they glanced away from you, locking onto something behind you when you remembered you hadn't arrived solo. "am i in need of an introduction?" she quirked an eyebrow, corner of her lip turning into a smirk as she eyeballed the brunette slowly coming up behind you, a hand snaking around your waist.

"oh, sorry, right," you babbled, your fingers touching your forehead at your forgetfulness and lack of manners. "this is my friend, patrick," you glanced at the man on your left who's eyes were focused on karen's inquisitive blue ones. "pat, this is karen."

"hey, nice to meet you," he held out his free hand for her to shake, which she took, offering a kind smile. your heart tightened at the interaction. "y/n's told me a lot about you."

"none of the embarrassing stuff i promise," you quickly added when she gave you a worrisome side eye, causing you to choke out a laugh. 

she seemed to glide right past this and straight into interrogation. "i didn't know you were seeing anyone?" she gave you another glance, trying desperately not to give away what she was thinking although it was fairly obvious to you. you were sure most people in this room were thinking the same thing. what about matt?

well, what about matt was that he kissed you drunkenly one night, and told you to forget all about it the next morning. so you did, though it broke your heart a little. you had only been in love with him the moment you laid eyes on him that first day at nelson and murdock and you always had a sneaky suspicion that he felt the same. based on the gentle way he spoke to you, his reassuring nudges when you were stressed over a case, soft creases in the corners of his eyes when you would laugh a little too hard at a joke foggy had made. karen and foggy teased you relentlessly about it for months, you brushed it off and matt would just shake his head and laugh. and then he kissed you, it was late, you both had been at josie's all night drinking and you helped him home because your apartment was only a block over from his, even though he insisted he was fine. you trailed with him up the steps, stopped outside his door and he stood to face you, swaying a little closer to you as the alcohol effected his balance. you grabbed hold of his forearms, giggling a little as you let out a soft woah there tiger, and he couldn't stop himself from leaning down and kissing you.

you hadn't spoken again since he caught you the next morning before work and told you that to remain professional you should both forget anything ever happened and move on. 

you tried to move on, you met patrick not long after but it didn't feel the same as it did when matt had kissed you. you suspected it never would. but patrick was nice, he was kind and he could be funny sometimes. there was no reason for you not to like him and enjoy spending time with him.

"it's still pretty new," you forced yourself to smile and lean into him affectionately no matter how unnatural it felt. you wanted to enjoy yourself tonight, not spend it worrying about what other people were thinking. this was hard to do though when you had spotted him across the room the second you had walked into josie's.

you found it hard to engage in conversation, thankfully karen and patrick were both naturally very chatty people, and kept the conversation going despite your lack of involvement. you couldn't help your eyes trailing over to where matt stood, talking with foggy.

that was when foggy caught your eye, his eyes widening along with his smile as he waved madly at you before marching over. matt trailing behind his friend, looking a little lost. 

"shit," you mumbled under your breath, but you managed to catch patricks attention. he turned to you with a quiet hm? but it was too late, they were both here already.

"you told me you weren't coming!" foggy beamed, pulling you into a tight hug. you let out an uncomfortable laugh, shrugging your shoulders. "you're turning me into a liar," he teased as he pulled away.

"sorry," you breathed out a laugh, glancing at matt who stood carefully next to foggy and karen, quietly listening in on the situation with slightly furrowed brows. "it was last minute," you bit down on your bottom lip trying to disguise your discomfort.

"this is y/n's friend patrick," karen quickly changed the subject to avoid rehashing the same conversation. "they're new," she gave you a small wink like she was saving you the trouble of explaining everything again to more people.

matt let out a quiet hm which went unnoticed by most but not by you, you shot him a quick glare. you reached down for patricks hand and held onto it with your own. "this is foggy, and matt," you introduced, forcing a gentle smile. you watched patrick shake hands with foggy, before he moved to shake matt's hand. matt, however, just stood there, eyes hidden behind those red tinted glasses, hands to himself.

"you have to be verbal with him, you know, talk him through your intentions" foggy teased his friend, a smirk lining his lips as he glanced at matt out the corner of his eye. "he can be a bit slow."

matt snorted, ducking his head to hide his laughter. patrick spluttered and froze, fearing he'd done something wrong. they really thought they were so funny. you rolled your eyes, pulling away from patrick for a second so you could slap matts shoulder and then foggy's. matt snorted a little harder at the contact from you, foggy frowning slightly as he rubbed the area you'd hit him. "both of you, knock it off,"

karen rolled her eyes, but the small smile on her lips remained. 

"oh, relax, it was just a joke," foggy continued to rub his arm, his smile slowly moving back onto his face. "matt's blind, not slow. he can't see you or your handshake."

patrick's face was a picture, it almost made you snort out a laugh, but you held it in, biting down on the inside of your cheek. his mouth hung open, eyes wide like he had offended matt somehow when he in fact had done no wrong. matt and foggy just liked to have fun with this kind of thing.

"oh-- shit man, i'm sorry i didn't know--" he glanced at you for help and you couldn't help but crack a smile, quickly hiding it with the back of your hand. you reached out and touched his arm, giving a reassuring squeeze, shaking your head. 

"we're just messing with you man," matt reassured, a smile lining his lips that looked a little too amused as he held out his hand for patrick to shake. "nice to meet you," he spoke with a tight jaw, his hand gripping patrick's a little too tightly. 

"pat, d'you wanna grab us a drink?" your hand still on his shoulder, you gave him a gentle nudge towards the bar where he stumbled off with a quiet yeah 'course. "you've probably just scarred him for life," you said to the group once patrick was out of ear shot.

the three of them burst out laughing, and you couldn't help but join in. you had missed this sense of normalcy between the four of you that had been missing for a while.

-

"hey," matt mumbled, approaching you from behind almost as soon as patrick had left your side to grab a cab outside. he nudged your shoulder with his as he moved to stand in front of you, he leaned an elbow against the bar you were sat up at. "how you doing?"

you pulled your eyes away from his and down to your drink where they had been moments ago. "i'm fine," you said softly, carefully avoiding his vacant stare. even if they were covered by those red lenses, you found matt's stare incredibly hard to keep, he had a way of looking right through you. "you?"

"fine," he nodded, his voice raspy and quiet. you brought the glass in your hand to yours lips and sipped slowly, as he let out a heavy breath through his nostrils. "is this how it's gonna be from now on?"

"don't know what you mean?" you sat your glass back down, gulping down on the lump on your throat.

"yeah, you do," he rolled his eyes slightly. he gripped the stool in front of him, that sat between the two of you. "i don't want things to be weird with us."

you shook your head, pursing your lips as you swirled the alcohol around in the glass. "why would things be weird?" you tried to play it off, but you gave yourself away with your fidgeting and quietness when you spoke. 

"because i kissed you, and i shouldn't have," he lowered his voice as he said, his head ducking slightly to grow closer to you. you glanced at him for a second but quickly pulled your eyes away again, shaking your head again.

"you said forget about it," you repeated his words back to him. "so i forgot about it, matt."

"we haven't spoken since--"

"we're speaking right now--"

"before tonight you haven't said two words to me-- you've been getting karen to send messages to me from the next room--"

"why'd you think that is?" you snapped, he was relentless and you couldn't listen to his guilty conscience any longer. "you were an asshole matt. what you did hurt, and i don't feel like forgiving you yet so you'll just have to deal with it for a little longer."

he was taken aback by your sharpness, he visibly retracted from you. you grabbed your drink and gulped back what was left in the glass. "i'm gonna go find my date," you slammed the glass back down and slipped off the bar stool and onto your feet, you shrunk in front of him. he wore a soft frown, his lips pressed tightly together. "see you in the office, matt."

he grabbed your arm before you could walk away. you glanced down at his soft grip on you before meeting his stare. "don't go with him," he muttered only to you, his jaw tense. "i'll take you home."

you yanked your arm free pretty easily, he wasn't holding onto you very tight. he was giving you mixed signals and it was making everything that was swirling around inside your head much harder to deal with. "it's not funny to mess with me like this, matt," your voice cracked slightly, breaking your hard front you had put up with him. "leave me alone."

-

patrick had picked up on your change in mood on the drive back to your place but didn't want to ask what had caused it for fear of having to discuss it. he dropped you off without a word on the matter, kissed you goodnight and didn't try to invite himself in.

you sat with your knees pulled up to your chest, head resting against them and your eyelids drooping. you were so tired from the events that occurred that night but your mind was so busy it was keeping you awake.

you really hated matt right now. he was so selfish for acting the way he did, he didn't seem to care how you felt about any of it. he'd made the decision to forget about it, and that was that. only to send you mixed signals tonight. it made no sense.

you let out a sigh, rubbing your tired eyes when there was a knock on the door. you climbed up and over the door, confused as to who would be knocking on your door this late at night. maybe patrick had forgotten something.

you peeped through the hole in your door, letting out an exasperated sigh when you saw matt on the other side. hesitating with your hand loosely on the door handle, your groaned and quickly swung the the door open.

"what are you doing here, matt?" you asked quickly, head resting against the edge of the door. you features turned into a soft frown, as you watched him jittery in front of you.

"i didn't want to leave things between us like that," he confessed. "you're my friend and i don't want you to hate me because i did something stupid."

his eyebrows raised, creating creases in his forehead, his cane was propped against the wall and his hands expressively trying to show you just how much he meant what he said. his eyes were hidden behind those glasses but you could figure out just about how they probably looked. buggy and intense, like the rest of him. 

"will you shut up and come inside, i have neighbours and i don't want them to hate me," you yanked his shirt and pulled him into your apartment along with his cane. you let out a deep sigh when you shut the door behind the both of you, turning you found matt not too far behind you, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. 

"i don't hate you," you said after a brief silence but he gave you a frown that wasn't convinced by what you'd said. "i don't... i'm mad at you, and i don't think you can blame me."

"i know but i want to fix this," he pleaded, taking a step closer to you. "i really want to fix this because i can't stand you being mad at me," he removed the glasses from his face, his familiar glossy brown eyes appearing from behind them. "i'm used to having you around, bugging me and foggy and making jokes to lighten the mood in really heavy cases. you're sweet and kind and everything that i can lack sometimes when i don't have you there to keep me in check," he was letting loose.

"c'mon matt," you shook your head. "i miss how things were in the office but you clearly don't understand the gravity of what you did, so i can't just go back," you ran your fingers through your hair, letting out a huff of air, your eyes so tired and your body exhausted from having this conversation so many times with him.

"i never meant to make you feel uncomfortable," he admitted, his eyes distant but focused at the same time. "when i kissed you, it was impulsive and stupid. i wasn't thinking about how it would change things, all i could think about was you."

you shook your head. matt stood silently, eyes unfocused as he listened to your rapid heartbeat.

"i'm tired, matt," you sighed, a small frown falling on your lips. "i've had enough of this for one night, you're really messing with my head."

"i'm not doing this to mess with you," he took a couple steps closer to where you were standing near the door. he listened to your uneven breaths as he grew nearer. "i was being selfish when i kissed you— jeez' and i still am now."

he ran the palm of his hand over his face as he came to the realisation that he was only continuing his selfish rampage by being here in your apartment right now. "i'll go," he mumbled, his head falling down, his gaze directed towards the floor now. "sorry for being a jerk."

you, amidst matts outburst, stood quite still, your mouth hanging open slightly as his words replayed in your head. you tried to speak but you couldn't think what to say, everything about this was so confusing.

he brushed your shoulder as he walked around you and pulled at the door handle to leave, but you quickly, without hesitation, pushed the door shut again before he got any further.

"wait a minute— why do you think i'm mad at you?" you eyebrows knitted together the longer you thought about what he'd said.

"'cause i kissed you," he repeated, his hand lingering near the door as if he was expecting this conversation to go south.

"and you were being selfish because?" you asked him to clarify, your chin touching your shoulder as you glanced over to look at him.

"because... i was so caught up in wanting to kiss you, that i didn't even consider whether you wanted me to," he felt like you were dragging this out now just to humiliate him. 

you were quiet for a moment, twisting the rest of your body around so you could look at him properly again. his hands clutched onto his cane, eyes hidden behind the red lenses he'd propped back onto his face but you could see the frown, the confusion in his expression.

"matt," you had to bite down on your lip to stop yourself to smiling. you wanted to slap yourself for being so blind, matt you couldn't blame. he hummed. "i was mad at you for telling me to forget about it. not because you kissed me."

his expression softened, it was a sight to behold. the corners of his mouth turned upwards slightly, but unsure, his eyebrows knitted for a split second as he tried to form his words into something coherent. "wait— so you—"

"—wanted you to kiss me, you idiot," you rolled your eyes, letting out an amused snort. 

"you're kidding," his words came out slow, his brain ticking over as he caught up with you. "i only told you to forget about, thinking that's what you wanted."

"i haven't been able to forget about any of it," your voice soft, unsure still of where this was going.

matt was quiet for a moment, you could see his brain working through the stages until he spoke again, his smile slipping for a second. "what about pat?" he put some emphasis on the nickname, almost making fun.

"patrick never kissed me like you did, murdock," you shook your head softly, hopeful in your attempt to convey just how stupid you'd been in all of this. "in fact, you all did a good job of scaring him off tonight. i think he realised he was getting involved in something far more complicated than he signed up for, he couldn't get out of here fast enough."

"he was an idiot anyway," matt's smirk slowly crept back onto his lips. "not good enough for you," you took a solitary step closer to him when he said this.

you hummed. "and you figured that out from a five minute conversation with the guy?"

"i know you, y/l/n," he matched you, taking a step closer, now only a few inches apart. you hummed again, watching as he stared right though you. it was in your nature to argue with him on this, but he was right. matt murdock knew you better than anybody, and he was still here, waiting for you. "he was too nice for you."

you cocked an eyebrow, your hand reached out and grabbed his tie between your fingertips, pulling it ever so gently. you hummed again. "and what would that make you, murdock?" you were teasing when you said it, but matt edged closer to you, moving with your tug of his tie. one hand jerked the bottom of your shirt, closing that last inch of space between you two, the other had moved to your neck, his fingers wrapping around your throat with a gentle squeeze.

"i can be nice," his breath fanning your face now that you were in such close proximity, he heard your own breath get caught in your throat, lips parting slightly as his brushed against yours. "but not tonight." 

[lowytavis]

But you're not Xaden - Bodhi Durran x Reader

Warning - love confessions

____

"But you’re not Xaden, and I don’t want you to be fucking Xaden, Bodhi! Why don’t you get that?" she screamed, her voice raw with frustration.

Then, before I could even open my mouth to respond, she slammed the door in my face.

The sharp bang echoed down the empty hallway, leaving me standing there, fists clenched, jaw tight.

My arms were trembling—with anger, frustration, and grief.

“Please, open the door, Y/N,” I pleaded, my voice raw with emotion. But nothing.

No response.

I waited another ten minutes in front of her door, clinging to the desperate hope that she would change her mind.

But nothing happened. No footsteps, no muffled sobs—just silence.

“What are you doing here?” Xaden’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

He was walking down the hallway, Violet tucked securely in his arms.

The sight of them made my anger flare up instantly.

“Why the fuck do you care Xaden? Not everyone can be as fucking perfect as you are.” I snapped, my voice harsher than I intended.

Without wasting another second, I turned on my heel and stormed into my own room, slamming the door shut behind me.

____

(YN POV)

I muffled my own silent cries. Bodhi didn’t need to hear them, and I was certain—100% sure—that he was still outside my room.

A few minutes ago, I heard his desperate pleas, begging me to open the door.

But now? Silence.

Until suddenly, his voice erupted again—but not directed at me.

He was yelling at someone else. Xaden. Great.

Exactly the person who started this whole mess. Well, not on purpose, but still.

Bodhi just didn’t get it. He didn’t need to be like Xaden. Hell, I didn’t want him to be like Xaden.

But that didn’t stop him from trying.

Not once, since we started dating a few weeks ago, had he just been himself.

Before all of this, before us, he was Bodhi.

But now? Now, he wasn’t Bodhi Durran anymore. He was acting like a fucking Riorson.

And it was driving me insane.

From the other side of the door, I heard Bodhi’s voice, sharp with frustration. “Why the fuck do you care, Xaden? Not everyone can be as fucking perfect as you are!”

Then—frantic footsteps. Fading. Leaving.

I let out a sob, loud and unrestrained, no longer caring if anyone heard.

A soft knock followed.

I hesitated, then pulled the door open—only to be met with a confused-looking Xaden and a frowning Violet.

"Hi," I choked out, stepping aside to let both of them in.

Violet gave me a concerned look as she walked in, her voice soft.

"What’s going on, Y/N? I thought you and Bodhi were almost... boyfriend-girlfriend official?"

She muttered the last part hesitantly, like she wasn’t sure if she should say it out loud.

Xaden, on the other hand, just frowned in confusion, dropping into my armchair without a word.

"I thought so too," I sobbed, wiping at my face. My gaze flickered to Xaden. "But your cousin—he’s trying too hard to be a Riorson. To be you. When all I want is Bodhi."

Xaden let out a short, amused chuckle. "He what?"

I exhaled shakily, frustrated beyond words. "He tries to act like you. It’s our fifth date, and things were getting pretty serious, Xaden. But he keeps ruining it by doing shit you would do. Not what he would do. You and Bodhi are polar opposites, but he just—" My voice cracked, and I shook my head. "He doesn’t seem to understand that he is enough."

Another sob escaped my lips before I could stop it.

Violet wrapped her arms around me, holding me in a gentle embrace.

Her voice was soft, almost hesitant. "Is there anything we can do? Anything I can do?"

I shook my head, swallowing the lump in my throat.

"No... but thank you for stopping by."

I hesitated, my fingers gripping the hem of my sleeve.

"Also—please don’t tell Bodhi anything. I... we’ll see how—if—this turns out."

Violet exchanged a glance with Xaden, but she just nodded, squeezing my hand reassuringly.

____

Breakfast was awkward.

Uncomfortably so.

Usually, we all sat together—Xaden and Violet, Dain and Sloane, Ridoc with one of his flings, Sawyer third-wheeling him, Rhiannon and Tara.

And then there was always Bodhi and me. Snuggled up together, even before we were dating. Because we were best friends.

But now? The dynamic had shifted. Bodhi sat at another table with Garrick and Imogen, his back turned to me.

It felt wrong.

Like something had cracked in a place I didn’t know could break.

I must’ve looked lost because Sawyer tapped my side, snapping me out of it.

"Hey, Y/N, scoot down here," he said, smiling knowingly.

I swallowed hard and slid down next to him, murmuring a quiet "Thanks."

Tears pricked at my eyes, threatening to spill.

"Try to hold them in, love," Sawyer muttered, nudging me gently.

His voice was warm, kind. One of the kindest souls I knew—along with Bodhi. And that thought alone nearly broke me.

I stabbed my fork into my food, but I hadn’t taken a single bite. Hadn’t even tried. My stomach was in knots, and I knew—if I did eat—I wouldn’t be able to keep it down.

Bodhis POV

I felt her before I even saw her. The air shifted, thick with the weight of her presence, and it took me a long while to muster the courage to actually look at her.

She slumped in her seat. Not in her usual spot. But then again, neither was I. She sat next to Sawyer, who nudged her lightly. J

ealousy pricked at me, but I quickly reminded myself that she wasn’t mine. Sadly.

She slammed her fork into her food with a sharp *clink*, but didn’t take a single bite.

*Cuir,* I called through our bond, my voice low. *Tell Clover to tell Y/N she must eat.*

*Very well,* Cuir responded. His tone made my skin crawl with a mix of annoyance and something deeper I couldn’t place.

But I didn’t have time to argue with him as the rest of my table began standing up, preparing to leave.

I glanced at Y/N one last time, unable to stop myself.

Our eyes locked for a brief moment.

She held the fork in her hand, but then slowly, painfully, placed it in her mouth. She forced a smile, but the tears welling in her eyes—those were impossible to hide.

And it broke me. 

"Can we talk?" Y/N mumbled from behind me, her voice barely audible.

I was already preparing for the sparring match with Xaden, mentally focusing, tightening my grip on the moment.

''No,'' I said sternly, pulling my shirt off and stepping onto the mat. I didn't look back. I couldn't.

Xaden and I squared off, the fight beginning with each of us pushing and pulling, testing each other's limits.

My movements were sharp, but my mind kept drifting. Every punch, every block, felt empty—like I was trying to fight off something that wasn’t even in the ring with me. 

I could feel the adrenaline coursing through me as I squared off with Xaden.

The mat beneath my feet was slick with sweat, and my muscles were already burning from the intensity of the fight, but I refused to back down.

This wasn’t about winning; it was about control—something I had to find, especially with everything else falling apart.

Xaden moved first, a blur of motion. He swung high, testing my defense. I blocked, stepping back, trying to predict his next move. He was faster than I expected, more fluid than anyone I’d ever sparred with. But I wasn’t going to let him get the better of me.

I jabbed toward his ribs, but he anticipated it, dodging to the side with a grin that was almost too knowing. Damn him, I thought. He was always so composed, like he knew exactly how to push me without breaking a sweat.

I lunged again, this time more aggressively, swinging for his head. He blocked easily, the force of his arm knocking me off balance. My heart hammered in my chest as I stumbled back, trying to regain my footing.

"You need to focus, Bodhi," Xaden's voice came low, taunting. I gritted my teeth, anger flaring inside me.

He was right. My mind wasn’t on the fight. It was on everything else—the mess with Y/N, the tension building between us, the way I couldn’t seem to do anything right lately.

Xaden’s next strike came without warning—a quick jab to my stomach, knocking the air out of me.

I wheezed, vision blurring for a second as I gasped for breath. He pressed the advantage, stepping closer, pushing me into a corner. I tried to push back, but it felt like my body was betraying me. He was everywhere, his fists like lightning, his movements a step ahead of mine every time.

I barely saw it coming. A punch straight to my jaw, hard enough to snap my head back.

Everything around me spun, and before I could even react, I felt the world tilt. The impact from the punch rattled my skull, and in that split second, I was completely out of control. My knees buckled, and I felt the floor rush up to meet me. There was nothing I could do to stop it.

The last thing I saw was Xaden's face, a flicker of concern mixed with something else—something I couldn’t place—before everything went black.

(YN POV)

I saw Xaden’s punch coming before Bodhi even had time to react, and I swear, I could feel it in my own chest when it landed. Bodhi stumbled, took a step back, then another. And then, he fell.

I didn’t think. I just moved.

I jumped up from where I had been sitting on the nearby mat and rushed over to him, my heart pounding in my throat.

Dropping to my knees beside him, I gently lifted his face, my hands trembling.

“Bodhi... Bodhi, Bodhi...” I muttered, my voice breaking with every word.

His eyes were unfocused, and his breathing was shallow. Panic surged through me, my fingers brushing against his skin, searching for any sign of life.

Xaden's hands were suddenly on me, pulling me away. His grip was firm, but careful, as he lifted me up by my arm.

“He’ll be alright, Y/N,” Xaden said, his voice oddly calm in the chaos of the moment. “A concussion, maybe. Let’s get him to his room.”

But even as he said the words, I could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on me, the uncertainty clouding my mind.

____

I had been sitting beside Bodhi’s bed for what felt like hours. Two hours, to be exact.

The rain outside had started pouring, the sound of it slapping against the window oddly soothing, calming me down.

Sitting here, next to him, felt like the only thing that could ground me right now. No matter the circumstances, he always felt like home.

I gently swiped a damp cloth over his forehead, carefully wiping away the last traces of blood, my hand trembling slightly.

He stirred then, a soft groan escaping his lips.

“Bodhi, carefully,” I mumbled softly, pressing him back down into the pillow.

“Y/N…” His voice was low, raspy, like he was waking from a dream, eyes wide and unfocused.

“Careful, Bod. You’ve got a concussion. Xaden got you pretty good.” I chuckled lightly, wiping his cheeks gently with the cloth.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he murmured, his voice still thick with exhaustion.

“Always will,” I whispered back, my fingers lingering on his skin.

“I’m sorry I’m not perfect—” I didn’t let him finish.

I leaned closer, cutting him off before the words could leave his mouth.

“Stop, Bodhi. Please.” I swallowed the lump in my throat, my voice shaking.

“You are perfect. You are all I want. And yes, you’re not like Xaden. You’ll never be Xaden, Bodhi. But you are Bodhi Durran. My best friend. The kind one. You’re one of the kindest souls I know, and—”

I took a shaky breath. “God, I love you so fucking much, Bodhi. It hurts me.” 

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

I had confessed my love.

We had never said those words before, never crossed that line, but in that moment, it felt right. It felt fitting.

Bodhi’s eyes widened in shock.

“Say that again.”

I hesitated, feeling the weight of my own confession settling in my chest. But there was no taking it back now.

“I love you, Bodhi Durran,” I choked out, my voice trembling.

Tears didn’t fall, but I could feel them swelling behind my eyes.

“I’ve loved you for years. I think I always will, Bodhi.”

His expression softened, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“I love you too, Y/N. So much. So, so fucking much.”

My heart swelled at his words, a mixture of relief and joy flooding me.

Then, without warning, he pulled me in, his lips capturing mine in a soft, lingering kiss. The world seemed to fade around us, everything that had been heavy and painful just disappearing.

But then he pulled away, a low growl of pain escaping him.

I chuckled softly, pulling back just enough to smile at him.

“We better wait until you’re better to make out.”

“No fucking way.” Bodhi muttered, his eyes filled with mischief.

Before I could react, he pulled me back in, deepening the kiss immediately, ignoring the pain in favor of this moment we’d both been holding back for too long.

[zeherili-ankhein]

Ok so I was sleeping just now and I saw this really cool dream and I need to tell this before I forget and cursedblr would love this ig..? @randomx123 @tehmam @tum-naam-sochlo-merese-ni-hora @mi-stress-of-chaos @stxrrynxghts @igotadigbickandureadthatwrong @wulfricnavy @hellincarnation

So in the starting I was in this dormitory school ashram kinda place and there was this another guy with me (he looked like a shaolin monk for some reason) and there was one teacher who was telling us about the rules of the place.

So he said the rules were that we cannot ever contact with anyone without permission and we can never watch anything for our entertainment that is like no music no videos no nothing. And we can't eat salt or any spices.

So now both me and the monk dude looked at the teacher like he was a dinosaur or something and the monk dude said well it won't be very bad since he already can live like that but he looked very hesitant.

And then that teacher dropped another bomb. He said and after sometimes we will have to give something as payment to the school. And said we will have to cut out pinky finger and give them atleast 46ml of blood from there.

And that shocked/scared both me and that monk dude and then I somehow got out of that room and run to another room which looked like a library with some hospital beds in it, an there were two other people who were in my gang/team or something

They were both sitting there with another woman and both of them looked somewhat brainwashed or just unhappy. So I hurriedly told them about the finger cutting thing and both of them gave very monotonous responses saying it's fine. But then I told one of them that she can't do her youtube channel since entertainment is banned and she looks shocked for a moment which made me get away from them. 💀💀

After that I come back to my dormitory which was near the front door for some reason and both the building door and the main campus door were open. Mind you my phone was in my pocket and then I looked at the bed and thought for a moment before picking up my journal from the bed along with my bag and shoes (I didn't even waste time wearing them)

Before I bolted out of the doors before the guards could stop me and I kind of ran like a mad person throwing the shoes on the ground to wear them once I was at a distance from that campus shit 💀💀✨

And while running I somehow got into the train station and got into a train that was just about to start and then just left like that.

Next scene I'm again on a train and this train was a little empty and those two girls who were my friends or something were also with me and I got to know it's been some days since I ran away from that campus and they also managed to escape along with other members from my gang and thankfully that monk dude too.

So they tell me that I am getting tracked because they got my information and they were also getting tracked with me. Atp I'm like yeah that's a legit cult they were asking for our blood for some weird rituals we need to run and the only way to do is break the rules.

I basically force them all to just watch random youtube videos and get them out of the control of that cult and it kind of works. But then another dude notices there are people from that cult following us on the train, who were sitting a little away from eachother and one or two of them were approaching us

I in a weird action sequences force them all to watch some brainrot videos on youtube and the lady approaching me kinds of gets in a trance before I follow her back to her seat and force all the other cult members to listen to music and make them not be the cult's members anymore 💀💀

Then scene again changes and I along with that monk dude and some other people are running inside this restaurant and some people from the cult are chasing us and we somehow manage to get them all to sit and eat with us and serves them all with salty food that only one dude escapes eating seeing everyone else

But just as he turned to get up to look at the other side in an attempt to run he looks at the screen on the wall and yeah for some reason 🌽 was playing on there and dude widens his eyes realising he lost and he's no longer in the cult.

So then we all kind of breath a sigh of relief and then scene shift back to that library with hospital bed place and a woman is there with her baby who's always sick and looked extremely red

And the teacher in that room tells her all the rules and she happily agrees to them to save her child but the teacher leaves out the blood one for some reason and gives a creepy smiley vibe as the screen focuses on the child's red face before my dream ended

💀💀💀💀💀

[onlyangel4]

booking of the century. drew mcintrye. part two.

drew mcintyre x returning!reader

part one

synopsis: triple h books you four years since your last match and a lot has changed but the man you fell in love with all those years ago still has your heart.

warnings: slow burn. will be multiple parts. loss of a parent after medical event. angst (more to come).

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

"look what the cat dragged in", jon hollered as soon as he spotted you outside the airport dragging your suitcase behind you.

“i swear down i will turn around and get on a plane home”, you laughed shaking your head, arms instinctively opening for trinity to run into.

“nope, i'm going to hug you as tight as possible so you never leave me again”, the woman teased from inside your arms making you laugh again as jon grabbed your suitcase putting it into the trunk of the car.

“i still can’t believe boss man left us in charge of the biggest secret in modern wrestling”, jon exclaimed getting into the driver’s seat.

“it’s not that big of a secret, shaun and luis know as well”, you spoke but in reality you knew jon was right. other than the top dogs in production only four fellow wrestlers knew exactly what was going to happen tonight, the last smackdown before the chamber. It was a massive secret, one that you thought you would be unable to pull off but everything had slipped into place and now it was only a few hours before your highly anticipated return.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

getting to the stadium had been a huge blur, you had sat in the backseat in silence just listening to the friendly bickering from your two close friends in the front but your mind was somewhere else, it was stuck on him. he had no idea that you were coming back, how would he react? would he be angry at you for not telling him? only time would tell, and that made bile rise in your throat.

drew had been the person who believed in you when no one else did, he was the person who would drag you out of bed to train on your off days, he was your biggest fan and greatest inspiration, so surprising him in such a way felt wrong but hunter had convinced you that it was best for business, for both of you.

sometimes your mind wandered back to what could have been between the both of you, stuff was so fresh when your mother got ill, but if it had just been a year in the future maybe you would have let drew come home with you, maybe you would have let him support you in the way that he wanted to. but you couldn’t get hung up on maybes and what ifs. looking after your mother had been your number one priority and you had done your duty, now it was time to get back to work.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

a squeal pulled you out of your thoughts, you had arrived at the stadium and the back door of the car had been swung open, on the other side stood one of your closest friends, “there’s my girl” steph barely gave you enough time to get out of the car before her arms engulfed you in a mighty hug.

“jesus girl maybe you should be the one getting back in the ring, with all that strength of yours”, you teased your friend playfully before being led through a back entrance that had been specifically cleared for you.

“i feel like the president or some shit”

steph just shook her head at you before pulling you into a small room, “okay so you can get ready in here, hair and make up will come in here in about an hour, only let someone if they knock twice alright”, she spoke her voice turning professional.

“steph are you sure this is all necessary”

“yes we can’t have news of your return getting out this close to it, the internet is going to go mad”

you spoke to steph for about half an hour before she left to go to some sort of last minute meeting, then the hair and make up ladies came to the room and sorted you out ready for the show. the whole time you were in your own little world. part of you could not believe that this was really happening, that you were really back. another part of yourself was angry that you had not returned earlier, you missed the electric atmosphere that hung in the air pre show, the anticipation for what was going to come.

eventually enough time had lapsed and two knocks told you that it was time to go, you swung the door open and you were met with a familiar face, luis also known as damian priest, “i wasn’t going to believe that you were back until i saw you”

“in the flesh”, you smiled at the man

“we are on in five, you ready to go?”

“as ready as i’ll ever be”

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

drew did not know what to expect. he had been told to go out and shoot a promo ahead of the elimination chamber, talking about how he was going to win the chamber in a ruthless way, he had also been warned that there was going to be an interruption but that was all he knew. when drew had voiced worry about not knowing what to say when he did not have time to prepare hunter had just patted him on the back and said, “trust me, you will know exactly what to say”, the ominous reassurance from his boss left drew with more questions than answers.

but as a guy who always did what he was told drew just nodded and now he was stood in the centre of the ring, mic in his hands a mixture of cheers and boos radiating from the audience, something that made the scottish psychopath smirk as he cleared his throat.

“after tomorrow i am going to be the king of toronto”, the crowd booed in rebellion

“aw don’t be so sad, you are going to get the match of a lifetime, you get to watch me lay out all of your favourites”, he continued.

“i have been dead set of revenge ever since the rumble and nothing is going to get in my way”, then suddenly he was cut off by jimmy uso’s music as the man appeared down the bottom of the ramp, earning a huge pop from the crowd. drew was about to continue when jimmy held up a finger to his lips shhhing him. then la knight’s music played and the megastar arrived at jimmy’s side.

“what are you two doing here, i beat both of you. you have no place here”, drew spoke harshly.

“well you may have beaten both of us but neither us want you to win”, jimmy started

“we have our money on a different horse, a horse that actually has skill and not just rage”, la knight finished a smirk on his lips as damian priest’s music echoed through the stadium and the man entered.

“they might not be in the match but i am”, damian priest’s low voice echoed through the mic, “and I have some punishing to do”

“do you really think a conversation with you and your war dogs is going to throw me off my game? are you really that stupid”, drew spoke laughing at the man’s attempt but damian simply shook his head.

“you are difficult person to get information on drew, with the likes of rollins and punk I can just bring up their families and get under their skin. but not you. it really got me thinking. but then i remembered we have a friend in common and i invited them to toronto to watch me destroy you”

“no one you bring here could throw me off my ga-“, drew couldn’t even finish his sentence when your music began to play, a song that he had not heard in four whole years and the wind was knocked right out of him.

the crowd went fucking mental when they saw you walk to damian’s side, you had been a fan favourite during your time in the company, with many calling you a modern day aj lee. they loved you and they still did.

drew could not believe it, the woman that had left his life just as he had been falling in love with her was at the top of the ring eyes trained on him, a light smile on her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes and that worried the man slightly, maybe you weren’t ready to be back, maybe you didn’t want to see him. His mind was racing and his face was blank as he looked straight at you.

“what’s wrong bro you look like you have seen a ghost”, jimmy chuckled as he looked at drew.

“y/n is here to just make sure that you aren’t all talk, you say that you are going to win the chamber no matter what, she is just here to show the world that you are a liar”, la spoke his hand resting on your shoulder.

“you’ve made this personal”, drew spat out

“this has always been personal, you forgot that because you have not had anyone you care about in the wings for four years”, damian shot back.

then you finally lifted the mic up to your lips, “see you tomorrow drew”, the lights went out in the stadium and you and the three man had disappeared leaving drew along in the ring dumbfounded.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

“holy shit y/n I did not know the crowd could even get that loud”, jon spoke squeezing your shoulder making you laugh, “I’m so glad you are back”, he spoke as he walked back stage with you.

“i’m glad to be back”

the next few moments were a blur with superstars that did not know of your return running over to give you a hug and welcome you back into the company and you were smiling, properly this time. maybe you had been worried for nothing, maybe you were exactly where you belonged, surrounded by people that loved you and wanted the best for you.

eventually you manged to escape the crowd of people that had surrounded you, heading down to your dressing room, pulling your hair out of it’s high pony as you walked, opening the door as your hair fell over your shoulders, finally free.

what you had not been expecting had been to see drew stood in the room, eyes locked on the door arms crossed over his chest.

you froze eyes looking at the man, daring him to do something, daring him to shout at you for ambushing him without warning, expecting anger from the large man in front of you. but instead his gaze softened, eyes became warned as he closed the distance between you his arms welcoming you into an all too familiar hug that you melted into. Drew kept his arms around you, holding you close as if you would disappear if he let go of you. he then leant down to your ear lips barely centimetres away from your skin.

“we have a lot to talk about”

[breathinginsulfur]

Blitzø and BPD: Character Analysis

Hey everyone! Finally going to write the character analysis i’ve wanted to do for so long now. It’s gonna be long, so get ready.

IMPORTANT NOTE

I have borderline personality disorder (BPD). This is based off of not only my own experience, but the general symptoms too. Whether or not Blitzø was intentionally written this way, i have no clue. If you disagree with me that’s fine, but please don’t be an asshole about it.

What is BPD?

For this, i will be using the Mayo Clinic definition and symptoms.

What leads to BPD? Usually, a traumatic or neglectful childhood, and possibly genetics as well. Typically develops in adulthood, however for me it developed at the end of middle school. I grew up being emotionally neglected and could never hold friendships for very long. But this isn’t about my trauma, it’s about Blitzø’s.

If we look at Blitzø’s childhood, we can see that the trauma is there for BPD to develop.

First of all, his father, Cash Buckzo. He’s an alcoholic, raising two children in the circus. Based on Blitzø’s lack of literacy we can assume he got minimal education. Not to mention that it’s clear Cash likes Fizzarolli more than Blitzø, despite not being biologically related. Blitzø grew up knowing his father loved him less.

While we don’t really know anything about his mom, we can assume she may have been sick, based on Cash’s line, “don’t you wanna help me and your mama out?” Followed by Blitzø responding, “of course i wanna help mama!” His mom seemed to be the more loving person in the family, and that will be important later. Blitzø and Barbie clearly loved her.

Blitzø also struggled in the circus, never being able to impress the audience.

Though of course, when Fizz was there, it went well. Fizz carried Blitzø’s acts in the circus, making the horse balloon when Blitzø couldn’t. Blitzø grew jealous knowing that he was a disappointment to his father. He wasn’t loved by him. Fizz was.

And god, i wish we knew fucking anything about Barbie. As i said before, my biggest issue with this show is how it’ll fully develop every male character before even glancing at the women. I really hope they get better with this.

But moving on, it’s clear that despite his jealousy, Blitzø cared deeply about Fizz. But that would all fall apart one day.

Blitzø held a card with a flower in hand, meant for Fizzarolli on his birthday. This implies he may have had romantic feelings for him, but we don’t know 100%. Blitzø tries to walk into the main area, but sees his dad give Fizz a card that says “I wish you were my son.”

This was Blitzø’s breaking point.

He’s had enough, he gave up. He pushed aside the imp carrying the cake, and that was his biggest mistake.

The fire.

It was truly an accident. But it was an accident that would shape Blitzø for the rest of his life. Because of his mistake, he lost his home. he lost his mother. his sister and father survived with seemingly minimal injury, but Fizz got the worst of it. Because of Blitzø.

And all he could do was run. Run away, and find help.

Unfortunately, we do not know the details of what happened post fire. All we know is Cash did everything to keep Blitzø and Fizz apart.

Cash more than ever likely hated his son, hated him for injuring the imp he valued so, so much more. So he told Blitzø Fizz didn’t want to see him, and told Fizz Blitzø would never come see him. Cash set it into Blitzø’s mind that Fizz hated him now. And it stuck.

I think Blitzø’s BPD developed pretty soon after this. He was still a teenager, but probably close to being an adult.

Now, lets finally get into the main bits.

Symptoms

I will go over when I believe Blitzø displays the 9 BPD critieria, throughout the whole show.

As described by Mayo Clinic, the 9 criteria are:

- A strong fear of abandonment. This includes going to extreme measures so you're not separated or rejected, even if these fears are made up.

- A pattern of unstable, intense relationships, such as believing someone is perfect one moment and then suddenly believing the person doesn't care enough or is cruel.

- Quick changes in how you see yourself. This includes shifting goals and values, as well as seeing yourself as bad or as if you don't exist.

- Periods of stress-related paranoia and loss of contact with reality. These periods can last from a few minutes to a few hours.

- Impulsive and risky behavior, such as gambling, dangerous driving, unsafe sex, spending sprees, binge eating, drug misuse, or sabotaging success by suddenly quitting a good job or ending a positive relationship.

- Threats of suicide or self-injury, often in response to fears of separation or rejection.

- Wide mood swings that last from a few hours to a few days. These mood swings can include periods of being very happy, irritable or anxious, or feeling shame.

- Ongoing feelings of emptiness.

- Inappropriate, strong anger, such as losing your temper often, being sarcastic or bitter, or physically fighting.

During S1 Ep 1 & 2, we don’t really see much of Blitzø’s more internal feelings. The most we get is the moment with robo Fizz, where he says that no one loves him but he’s “really good with guns now”. Blitzø doesn’t yet see the appreciation I.M.P has for him.

1. strong fear of abandonment

We see this a lot. I first want to point out episode 3, where we begin to learn more about Blitzø.

Blitzo cares so much about Loona. The second he loses sight of her, he panics. Then he finds her talking to Vortex, and gets angry. Blitzø does not want to lose Loona. He has done everything he could for her, from letting her use the one bedroom in their apartment to letting her have a job at his business. He can’t risk someone taking her away. So when Loona gets pissed at him he plays it off like he normally does, but we can tell he’s pained by it.

We also see more of this in episode 6, in my favorite sequence of the whole show, the Bad Trip. The voice of Moxxie in Blitzø’s head calls out how he’s scared that one day, everyone else will get sick of his behavior and leave. This is an extremely common fear in BPD. The fear of dying alone.

Blitzø says it himself in episode 8. “I’m gonna die alone aren’t I? Just a wrinkly, old, weathered, waste.”

However, my favorite example of this is in S2 E2.

Blitzø gets an intense flashback to when he adopted Loona. His care for Loona is so deep that he’s willing to kill people if it means they won’t be separated.

Or of course, how he acts in Full Moon when he thinks Stolas is going to take away his access to the living world forever.

2. Pattern of intense/unstable relationships

Definitely the most apparent symptom Blitzø displays. We already discussed how his relationship with Fizz got ruined, so let’s start at Verosika.

Blitzø and Ver’s relationship was thrilling. He probably came into a lot of notoriety, dating someone of her level of fame. However, there relationship was focused more on the sex and partying, not the love. But Verosika saw more for them, she believed they could have a romantic life. So she confessed.

One of the worst parts of BPD: self sabotage. Blitzø’s guilt complex was too immense, he truly believes he fucked up too much to ever love again. So when Ver says she loves him, he runs away. He likely loved her too, but he couldn’t risk hurting her that way. So he left, without a word.

Then of course the elephant in the room: Stolas. This is already long enough so let’s keep this just at their status in season 2.

Obviously, Blitzø does not think Stolas actually loves him. At all. How could he love an imp, especially this one? The one who ruined everything?

But deep down, Blitzø does want more. He does care. You probably remember the line from S2 E4(or 5 i always mix them up):

“Stolas got what? He can get hurt?”

As season 2 progresses, Blitzø slowly realizes that Stolas does care. That Stolas is not that different from him. Blitzø loves Stolas too, but hates himself so much he can’t imagine being loved back.

And this is why Blitzø acts how he does in the beginning of Apology Tour. When he angrily tells Stolas he won’t ever say sorry to him, it’s not out of hate. This is another common BPD trait, beginning to resent the ones you love, because you cannot fathom that they love you too. As we see throughout the episode Blitzø desperately wants to say sorry to Stolas, but keeps pushing it off. He doesn’t want Stolas to leave.

3. Quick Changes in how you see yourself

Blitzø does frequently split on his self worth, which you can catch if you pay attention to his dialogue. Staying on Apology Tour, here’s one of my favorite examples of this:

Blitz, not wanting to admit he turns people away due to guilt, says "I'm too much Imp to simp." but then like a minute later he lets it out to Stolas, confessing he doesn't understand how anyone could love him for who he is. Blitz pretends that he sees himself as this sexy demon everybody wants but cannot have, but that facade can break within seconds. Blitz regularly tries to convince himself he's just too good for anyone and that's why his life is this way.

I also think Blitz playing as Bethany GhostFucker is a good example of this. he's pretending to be someone he's not, someone he thinks is admirable, someone who has what he wants.

Another key example of the fact that Blitzo regularly masks is one of my favorite background details in the whole show.

Blitz has countless photos of his loved ones on his wall, but he always marks out his own face. Proof that he only pretends that he has an ego.

4. Periods of Stress-related paranoia/Loss of touch with reality

Blitz has lost contact with reality before, however the two mostly notable times were not solely caused by his own mind, outside forces started it. The bad trip was due to truth gas, and the hotel demon possessed Blitz. However, going back to Seeing Stars, Blitz again did completely lose touch with reality for a moment, when he remembered adopting Loona. Blitz is paranoid though, he fears losing Loona, losing Stolas, losing Millie, etc. But that is more of symptom one. If someone has a good example of symptom four please let me know.

5. Impulsive and Risky behavior

here's another one Blitz does a lot.

Relating back to when Blitz broke up with Ver, he did something that seems incredibly unwarranted and cruel.

"You gonna run off leaving someone else to pay for the hotel room? Steal their car and run three rings to Wrath and max my credit cards on shitty horse riding lessons?!"

Yes, this was a cruel action from Blitz, but with the context of his disorder it makes sense as to why he did it. Blitz self sabotaged. He impulsively chose to make Verosika resent him, so he ran away, stole her car, and spent all her money. This is not a defense of his actions, but an explanation, which you can probably understand if you think critically.

Another key example is from my favorite episode, GhostFuckers. Blitz is absolutely swamped after the party, and has completely ruined his savings through impulsive purchasing.

He made Loona stay up all night to deal with his impulse-bought taxidermy owls, Moxxie has to figure out how to save the company from bankruptcy, and Blitz is completely neglecting all self care. He's binge-eating, watching a porno show all day, hoping he'll just die of diabetes or something.

we also saw how Blitz got so insanely wasted that even the Sin of Gluttony got concerned.

6. Threats of Suicide and or/self harm

I don't particularly think there's any good examples of this in the show. but if you have one, let me know.

7. Wide mood swings that last from hours to days

I think the GhostFuckers situation is very similar to this. As well as in Apology Tour, but his mood changes more so based on the development of the argument. I think overall his Ghostfuckers situation is the best example, as that episode had likely lasted for at least a full day. Blitz does experience a whole array of feelings in that one episode, from feeling excited over pretending to be Bethany, to angry at Millie, then feeling like a disgusting monster that shouldn't even be touched. The last symptom of impulsive anger is more like him and we will get to that soon.

8. Ongoing Feeling of emptiness

Guess what. Ghostfuckers again !!!! Blitz has a massive void in his heart post Apology Tour, and wastes away his time refusing to be productive.

I also generally think Blitz felt empty after Ozzie's, mindlessly scrolling his phone through the pictures of his old memories.

He only broke when he remembered his mother.

9. Inappropriate, Strong anger

we see this a lot with him. Blitz regularly snaps at people, often always at very, very bad times.

There's all the times he's threatened Moxxie, Yelled at the lady in the hospital, wasn't afraid to talk shit to Mammon's face, got kicked out of a coffee shop, and so many other times. Blitz has impulsive anger that he clearly struggles to control.

Conclusion

Blitz's symptoms have negatively affected his life, from losing partners and friends, neglecting his personal care, and putting himself in great danger.

but he's getting better.

It starts at Apology Tour. He admits he wants to change. That's the first step.

Then Millie, a friend, reassures him that change is possible. That he has someone he can lean on. That he's not irredeemable.

Blitz has changed so many people's lives for the better. He got Loona out of her hellish life in the adoption center. He put a light in Stolas's life. He made Millie realize she's more than just a simple Wrathian. He got Moxxie out of jail.

And because of that,

he has people who love him.

Blitz is changing. His reformation arc has begun and I believe in season 3 we will see a different side of him. Because he's not an emotionless assassin. He's broken, but the pieces can be put back together.

and that's why he's my favorite character in the whole series, and one of my favorite characters period.

if you read all this, thank you. I hope this made some sense, and please let me know what you think.

[nyxtickled]

Did you have to fly on the place with socal again? Was it awkward or were to able to switch seats?

no, we didn’t fly together at all, thankfully. the whole situation left such a shit taste in my mouth tbh and just goes to show how much i was treated like a trophy lee instead of a person.

he asked me if i wanted to go to AUNT with him back in November i think? can’t remember. i said id love to, but not to consider me a guarantee bc the odds of me being able to afford a flight, ticket and room were slim to none. he offered to share a room with me, but didn’t mention the flight or anything (which was completely fine! i did not want him to pay for my fight) and i said that would make it much easier.

then throughout December he started posting things and tagging me on here about how we’re going to be duo lers, offer gang tickles, etc. i was like oooo yikes - bc lots of moots were getting excited about hanging with me there and i was just like, aaaah i hope i can raise enough money! so, after 2-3 of these posts came in from him, i texted him and said look i hate to ask you this but you’ve p much told all of tumblr that im for SURE going to aunt with you and that we’re gonna be a gang tickle duo. if i can’t get the money together in time, are you ok with covering my flight until i can pay you back? and he agreed saying it was no problem whatsoever.

thennnn the fallout happened as shown in the texts from the night my dog got sick. i was so hurt by the whole “one day you’re asking me to borrow money and the next i’m unsafe and terrible” blah blah. i said ok hell no i’m never ever asking you for anything financially ever again, do not even worry about it, i do not need your help, i’ll get my own way there.

then we reconciled after a 2 hour phone call the next day where i just fell for all of the claims that his play partner was psychotic and that i interpreted his context incorrectly and that he didn’t mean any of it the way i took it, yatta yatta.

then everything was somewhat mellowed out. i started trying to actually plan the trip with him, asking him if he’s gotten the room yet, if he’s gotten his own plane ticket yet, etc. he never gave me a straight answer, left me on delivered a bunch, and then eventually just told me he lost his steam for aunt and wasn’t going anymore. so i said damn that sucks, hope you change your mind bc i’m sure it’ll be fun etc.

i think in his mind, if he didn’t go, i wouldn’t be able to go. so when i reached out and connected with my angel love baby girl mik and she offered me the pullout couch in her room, i was elated!!! this meant i would only have to buy the plane ticket and id be squared away!!!

well, guess what happened the moment he found that out?

suddenly there was a mad scramble for him to find a room “for us” since the hotel was already booked out. even tho i’m the one who already made alternative room plans, he asks ME to make a post in the discord and ask people to hmu if someone cancels so he can “get a room for us.” i start getting texts from him telling me i’m his “priority” and that we’re a “package deal,” all the while we haven’t even seen each other in like a month and we barely talk anymore. only hits me up to ask me how many sessions i have planned for aunt, and to ask me if he can use me as an excuse to reject potential lees bc he doesn’t know how to say no on his own. all of a sudden he wants to claim me and say “me and nyx aren’t planning anything til we get there.” like idk it just made me feel so sick and used. bc this energy was nowhere to be found when i was actually trying to plan our trip a month prior and he said he wasn’t even going anymore.

like, idk. all of it honestly made me feel like nothing more than a reputation enhancer once again; he wasn’t interested in showing up in my life for a real dynamic, but he wanted everyone to think we had a real dynamic. he wanted to be able to show up with “nyx from tumblr” at her first ever gathering and pretend we were bffs and ultra close play partners after all the shit he already put me through like it never happened. makes me kinda fucking sick.

so, you know the rest now - i end up talking to adi, i find out all the insane shit that was said about me to her AND the insane shit that was said about her to me being false. i keep my own flight and my separate plans to room with mik, and i tell him that i won’t be playing with him there, but i won’t make things weird for him, i’ll just keep my distance. i traveled alone, landed in Albany alone, made my way to a nail salon alone, and finally met up with my love my angel my baby mik. bing bang boom!