#and he sometimes got more into it than me

[shouyuus]

mma!bakugo who just so happens to train at the gym that you part-time at on the weekends (front desk stuff, bookkeeping, etc) and has always been a bit scary from afar bc he's got this constant scowl as if he's got a bone to pick with just about anyone and anything who crosses his path, but his coach (also ur boss) assures you that he's a big softie once you get to know him. you tell him in no uncertain terms that you think you're good, thanks.

mma!bakugo who's always the first one in and the last one out on your shifts, who's got shit manners but always holds the door open for you and sometimes you swear you can catch him watching you as you go about cleaning some of the equipment but goes tomato red whenever you catch him in the act and immediately yeets off to work on drills for about half an hour before he'll glance at you again.

mma!bakugo who doesn't know how good he looks when he's wiping sweat from his chin or chugging water from his massive 2-liter water bottle, a trickle of cold water dripping down his chin to run down his neck, his adam's apple bobbing as he gulps down the water, smacking his lips as he wipes his mouth on the back of his bandaged hand; doesn't notice the way that every girl (and a lot of the guys tbh) are staring at him, but he'll glance towards where he saw you last, standing helping a new guy sign up for the gym membership, smiling and laughing, and he knows it's what you're supposed to do but it doesn't stop the way his gut twists or the way he goes way too hard at the punching bag, hard enough for his coach to hike an eyebrow and ask what's gotten into him today? it's not like him to "lose control" like this

mma!bakugo who never calls you by your name where other ppl can hear, always says like "hey sweetcheeks, can you hand me a water?" or "dollface, can you do me a favor?" and you'd always roll your eyes and remind him that "that's not my name, bakugou-kun," even as you're doing whatever thing he asked for anyway.

mma!bakugo who keeps quiet and watches when a guy tries to hit on you (unsuccessfully) bc he knows you can handle yourself, but the moment the guy reaches out to try and put hands on you, he's on his feet, stalking across the gym to shove his way between the pair of you like "oi. she ain't interested." and by now, everyone's gone quiet, their eyes trained on him and the guy and you; the guy sizes bakugou up, puffing out his chest for a second, but the next, he seems to notice the thick cords of muscles braiding down bakugou's arms, the expertly wrapped knuckles on both his hands, and he puts two and two together fast enough to know that this really isn't a fight he should be picking.

so he scoffs and makes as if he weren't ever really that interested anyway, turning around and muttering beneath his breath that you weren't even that pretty to begin with.

"thanks," you say, but bakugo just frowns and cocks his head.

"don't let anyone talk to you like that, got it?" and there's still that signature grit to his voice, the sharpness to his eyes, but something about it is different today -- it's ever so slightly softer than he usually is. he opens his mouth like he's about to say something more but pauses at the last second and turns around, shoulders a little hunched, and you could swear you can see the tips of his ears go red.

mma!bakugo who, after you get him an omamori from a shrine visit that says "certain victory", can only stare down at his, mouth open, a lil speechless, until he looks up to find you blushing just as hard as he is, purses his lips, clears his throat and glances off towards the side, tucking the charm into his training shorts like "thanks. now i've really got no excuse huh."

mma!bakugo who when he wins (as you knew he would), throws up his hand, the charm you gave him clutched in his palm, catches your eye in the crowd, smirks and jerks his head; when you squeeze your way up to the barrier, he boops your nose with a gloved hand before tugging it off with his teeth, letting it drop to the ground, bending down so his eyes are level with yours, his chest still heaving, his skin flushed from the recent fight, there's a cut on his lip and a bruise blossoming high on his right cheek but neither of you seem to care -- all he can see is you.

he tugs on a loose strand of hair, cocks his head, you smile and glance at the omamori clutched in his hand and say, "guess the lucky charm really worked."

mma!bakugo who hikes an eyebrow at your words before his eyes track down to your lips and he sighs, leaning against the soft barriers, not caring that there are just about seven different cameras trained on the pair of you right now, runs a finger down your jawline till he can tip your chin back --

"or..." his voice is just a little hoarse, his normally bright eyes dark, his pupils nearly completely blown out, a total eclipse of the usual ruby red of his gaze --

"maybe my lucky charm is just you."

[rafelandia]

Two Babies (dad!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader)

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: angst, mentions of smut, pregnancy

Summary: Y/N is pregnant again before she’s ready.

Author's Note: Hello! Please enjoy my first Rafe one shot. I would love to expand on this couple so if you have any requests or any blurbs you'd like me to explore, please send me a message! As always, likes and reblogs are much appreciated - it helps more than you know. Happy reading :)

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favorite tiny human,” the pediatrician chimed as she kicked the door to the small examination room shut with her sneaker.

“You must say that to all of the parents that you see,” Y/N blushed, unable to hide the smile that tugged on the corners of her lips.

“I do, but this is one of the rare times when I actually mean it. Those blonde curls! Are you freakin' kidding me?”

She padded over to the miniature exam table to get a better look at the infant that was lying contently on her back and chewing on her pudgy albeit still tiny fingers. 

“Let’s take a look at how you’re doing, sweet pea.”

The doctor, Melanie, lifted the stethoscope that was looped around her neck and placed it into her ears. Listening to the baby’s heartbeat to check for any abnormalities, she couldn’t help but give a sympathetic frown when the tiny girl under her tensed up from the cool touch of the metal.

“Nurse’s notes say she’s put on quite a bit. She’s finally caught up to her age group in weight. I’m assuming breastfeeding is going better for you both now?”

Melanie lovingly squeezed the extra chub around the baby girl's thighs.

“Yeah. We don’t really use bottles anymore. Finally got her to latch on and now it seems like all she wants to do it eat,” Y/N chuckled.

“Good! That’s good. There’s nothing wrong with formula like we talked about, so don't overexert yourself if becomes too demanding. Breastfeeding is cheaper though," Melanie chucked, though in her head she was kicking herself. As if this family is in any need to save money. "Is she hitting the milestones? Rolling over? Propping her head up? Babbling a bit?” she continued.

“Babbling, definitely. She keeps us up sometimes because we can hear her talking to herself through the monitor at night,” Y/N poked her tongue out at her daughter in an attempt to get her to smile.

“Having a bit of trouble propping herself up though. She can only do it for a little bit and then she’ll give up. She’s got Rafe's big head, so I’m sure it’s a bit of a struggle.”

Melanie laughed loudly at the mention of her patient’s father, admiring Y/N's wittiness even in the absence of her husband. Given the reputation of the Cameron family, others might think the couple were all work and no play, but Melanie had the privilege of getting to know them behind closed doors. While they took doctor's visits seriously, always paying close attention to what the doctors and nurses had to say regarding the health of their firstborn, her experience with the Cameron's changed her outlook completely. Y/N and Rafe were warm, welcoming, and quite funny sometimes - always making jests at each other or sharing little tid-bits of what their life is like at home. She wished everyone could see them this way. Melanie really wasn't lying when she doted on the little girl, they were the best.

“She’ll get to it eventually. All babies are different. She seems to be coming along quite nicely, though. Nothing abnormal or anything to fuss about. A perfectly healthy six-month-old in my book.”

Y/N sighed in relief, though she knew there was nothing to worry over to begin with.

“How’s mum doing? You taking care of yourself, too? You’re just as important as baby.”

“When I can. Rafe's really good with her. He’ll take over when he sees me struggling, but it seems like she only wants me these days. Think I might be coming down with something, though. I’ve been feeling awful for a few weeks. Like I got hit by a train. I keep reminding myself to go get checked out, but I always get distracted taking care of her,” Y/N gestured to her daughter that was now drooling onto the parchment liner and staring up at the ceiling as if there was something ornately interesting about the popcorn texture that had been stippled onto it.

“When you say, ‘hit by a train,’ what do you mean? I can examine you here if you’d like. As long as it’s nothing serious, I can send you something off to the pharmacy.”

Melanie re-fastened the snaps on the infant’s onesie, making sure not to pinch her chunky legs and placed her back into her mother’s lap.

“Ummm,” Y/N began, “Just extra drained, I guess? Kinda nauseous. I’ve been getting migraines a lot and even when I do get a good night’s rest, I still feel like I could go back to bed for the rest of the day. Maybe I’m just exhausted, I don’t really know. But it just feels a bit different than being worn out like I have been before.”

She could see the wheels in Melanie's head turning, noting each of her symptoms and trying to align them in a path that would lead her to the root of the problem.

“Can I ask you something that might be a bit personal?”

Y/N nodded, rubbing her fingers absentmindedly along the bridge of her daughter’s socked foot.

“Have you and Rafe been intimate since she was born?”

She was taken aback by the question, not understanding where Melanie was going with this or why it was relevant.

“Umm,” Y/N stuttered, feeling a static-y surge of embarrassment travel up her neck and onto the sides of her face, “Yeah. We have.”

A whole fucking lot ever since I’ve been cleared for it, Y/N thought, but kept to herself.

“And can you tell me when your last menstrual cycle ended?”

Then it clicked. She genuinely couldn’t recall her most recent period and even the thought of what Melanie was alluding to made her stomach twist into thousands of tiny knots.

“I- I don’t know. I’ve been so busy with her I don’t even really think about what’s going on with me half of the time.”

Y/N tried to make excuses, anything to avoid the obvious, but judging from the quizzical look on her daughter’s pediatrician’s face, she knew exactly where this was going.

“There’s no way,” she whispered, “I can’t be.”

Melanie's face dropped, now tender and apologetic when she realized that this was news Y/N was not ecstatic to hear.

“I know I’m a pediatrician, so that’s obviously the first thing my mind goes to, but can we at least get you to take a blood test? That way we’ll know for sure?”

//

Rafe came home to a quiet house. It wasn’t unusual, but seeing as it was well after six o’clock in the evening and his wife wasn’t in the kitchen making the pasta dish she'd been dying for all week was. Their grocery store had been out of her favorite canned tomatoes for over a week and she’d nearly tackled Rafe to the ground out of excitement when he’d come home from the grocery store with them the night before. Had he not seen her car in the driveway, he probably wouldn’t have even suspected her to be home.

He checked the living room first, and it was desolate apart from the baby pink, quilted playmat on the floor that was littered with a few of his daughter’s favorite rattles and teethers. Y/N's coat and purse were abandoned haphazardly on the couch, almost as if she tossed it aside in a hurry to get somewhere.

“Baby?” Rafe called out.

Nothing.

His head peaked into the nursery, stealthily and quietly in preparation to walk in on his daughter taking her scheduled nap before her actual bedtime. He’d gotten good at hushing his footfalls to almost complete silence as to not wake her, having made that mistake more than a handful of times. 

And he was right. There she was, sprawled out in her crib with her arms outstretched over her head like a tiny starfish. Her chubby cheeks were smushed against her bicep, drawing her lips open the tiniest bit so that Rafe could see the tops of her fleshy, pink gums and the barely-there nub of her first tooth peeking through. More than anything, he wanted to wake her up - lift her from the plush mattress and cuddle her close, shower her with kisses and tickle her with his scruff to hear those baby squeals he adored so much, but he needed to find Y/N first.

She had to be in their bedroom, he thought to himself. Maybe she was taking advantage of their baby girl napping to also get some rest. She had been rather exhausted lately. Maybe she’d had a rough day and was relaxing in the clawfoot, porcelain bathtub that had been the selling point of the home they now lived in. The houses on Figure Eight were lavish, but not all of the bathtubs were - at least that's what Y/N told Rafe. Who was he to question his bride?

Turns out he was right again. Like he had done with the nursery, he held the metal doorknob tightly in his grip to keep the hinges from creeking and pressed it open gently. The room was completely dark, but he could make out the lump underneath the duvet on their king-sized bed as his wife. 

Good. She was sleeping. 

He padded across the hardwood floor, still being as quiet as he could until he crossed the threshold of the bathroom. There, he rid himself of the uncomfortable clothes he’d been wearing all day. Curse these professional business meetings that forced him to dress nicely. 

All throughout the meetings, he wanted nothing more than to be home with his wife and baby, cuddling the afternoon away and watching shitty reality television while his daughter cooed and grunted and gurgled in her baby voice that he loved so much and could listen to all day. He wasn't always this way - he used to love this shit, but something inside him changed indefinitely when his daughter was born. Rafe was a softy now and he wasn't afraid to admit it. Maybe it was the fact that he’d been having to partake in these boring work meetings a lot more lately, which caused him to miss even the smallest aspects of his everyday life like changing diapers or checking the baby monitor eight hundred times throughout the day to make sure his daughter was still breathing. Perhaps he’d just been getting sentimental because she was growing so much these days, but it was an unpleasant feeling nonetheless.

His thoughts were interrupted when he deposited his heavy watch into the dish he kept on the counter and he heard a quiet yet still prominent sniffle among the clattering of metal against the glass dish.

“Baby? You awake?” Rafe peaked his head out from beyond the bathroom door. 

He saw her body shift under the covers, but she gave no response. So he called out again.

“You sick or something? Can hear you sniffling."

Nothing.

Pivoting back around to the inside of the bathroom, he quickly shut off the light and carried himself over to her side of the bed where he could see her properly. Her face was tucked into her chin and all that was visible to him was the top of her head.

“Hey,” Rafe cooed, petting what he could reach of her hair and speaking even gentler than he had been, “What’s wrong?”

And that’s when he heard it - an almost inaudible choking sound of Y/N trying to catch her breath that immediately let him know she wasn’t sick. She had been crying.

“Whoa, baby,” he was already pulling the covers back with force, honestly not caring whether or not she minded the intrusion.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

She was emotionless when he saw what little he could her face, her puffy, bloodshot eyes and swollen lips illuminated by the hallway light being the only indicator that she was upset. She didn’t even react to Rafe tugging her head out from where it had been buried in the covers, simply rolling onto her back to stare idly at the ceiling.

“Y/N,” he called for his wife again, this time much more stern, “You’ve got to talk to me.”

She took several deep breaths through her nose, allowing her lungs to fill to their maximum capacity before exhaling with a sigh. Rafe could have sworn she was sucking all of the oxygen out of the room along with his patience each time she did so. 

After what felt like ages, she parted her lips to speak.

“I went to the doctor today.” 

“Yeah? For the six-month check up, right?” Rafe asked, not seeing why that was important but his mind quickly went to the worst scenario possible despite having just seen his daughter sleeping peacefully in her crib. He cut his eyes towards the hallway in the direction of her nursery before looking back to Y/N.

“Is she alright?” his voice now demanding urgency in the delivery of her response.

“She’s fine,” she quickly dismissed him, internally kicking herself for making Rafe worry.

“I was telling Melanie about how sick I’ve been lately and she -,” Y/N gulped and rubbed her knuckles against her tired eyes, bracing herself for whatever events unfolded after she said what she was about to say.

“She, umm. She made me take a pregnancy test.”

Now it was Rafe turn to be speechless. He stared at her with furrowed brows and his mouth slightly agape. His palms suddenly felt clammy against the white sheets that they rested on and his stomach felt like it had turned in on itself from how badly it was churning. Of all of the things he had expected to be wrong with her, this was certainly the last on the list. 

“And?” he asked after what felt like an eternity of staring at her and saying absolutely nothing, though he already knew the answer.

“Ten weeks.”

Silent tears now spilled over her eyes and down past her temples. She couldn’t even be bothered to wipe them, instead letting them dampen a small patch of hair on either side of her head. Pregnancies weren’t supposed to be sad, but somehow, she had barely been able to stop crying since she left the pediatrician’s office.

“How,” Rafe whispered, moreso to himself than to her.

“I think you know how babies are made, Rafe” Y/N quipped.

“That's not what I meant,” Rafe fired back just as quickly, “It’s just...She’s still so little.”

He thought of his daughter asleep in the next room. She was the most perfect thing he’s ever seen and on the day that she was born, he knew he wanted nothing more than to fill his and Y/N’s house with as many blonde, chubby babies as he could fit beds in each room. He just hadn’t expected that his only child’s first birthday present would be the gift of being a big sister. 

It was all too sudden.

“I just don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner. I mean,” Y/N raised her arms above her head before huffing and letting them fall to her sides, “I guess I was just so caught up with the baby that I hadn’t even had a second to think about what’s going on with me. It’s like I don’t even matter anymore and I-”

“Hey, hey now. Don't do that,” Rafe shushed her and curled up next to her frame as she began to sob.

He tucked her head into his neck, hugging her chest tightly as if he was trying to hold the pieces of her together before she shattered. His mind was running a mile per minute. It killed him to see her like this, killed him to be in this situation. The last time they had found out this news, there were happy tears - tears of shock and excitement about taking the next step in building a family. Never had he imagined that the next time they were presented with the very same news, that there would be tears of sadness.

Her voice was muffled against his now wrinkled button-down, but he could still make out what she was saying beneath her blubbers.

“I can’t do this.”

“What do you mean, honey? Of course you can. I can take more time off work like last time and let the boys handle everything for a bit. I know it's not ideal, but we’ll be alright,” he ran his hand up and down her arm in an attempt to soothe her.

“That’s the problem, Rafe.”

He lifted his chin from here it was resting on the top of her head to look down at her.

“What?”

“It's not ideal. You've only just now gotten back to work full time. You said everything almost fell apart while you were gone. It would fuck everything up. Plus, she's only six months old, Rafe. I can't go through that again so soon."

Rafe paused to break away from her and sit up straight against the headboard, “Are you serious? Of course I can take more time off work. You are more important than anything that could possibly be going on at the office.” He was a bit stunned by her words. She almost sounded annoyed, which didn't sit quite right with Rafe.

“But do you see what’s happening? Everything is fucked.”

His voice wasn’t so calm anymore.

“No, Y/N. I honestly don’t. I mean I know this is all happening much earlier than we expected, but what else is there to do? Will you please tell me what you're getting at, because I’m starting to get upset.” 

Rafe's lips were pressed in a thin, straight line and his nostrils flared with every breath. Why was she being like this? 

“I don’t know what I’m fucking getting at. I’m just overwhelmed."

“And you think I’m not? I'm trying my best to keep it together for your sake if you haven’t noticed,” it almost condescending the way the words rolled off his tongue.

“Oh, excuse me,” Y/N laughed sarcastically.

“Didn’t realize you were the one that's pregnant. Didn’t realize you’re the one that has to grow all big and gross and swollen and be in pain every fucking day to the point where walking to the bathroom feels like a fucking marathon. Didn’t realize you’re the one that has to feel like you're burning alive from the inside out for hours and then just have to lay there while a doctor you’ve never seen before stitches you up because it literally tore your insides apart. Didn’t realize you-”

“For fuck’s sake, I get it!” Rafe was yelling now. They hadn't argued like this since they were much younger, and he absolutely hated it.

“It’s not the same and I’m sorry for suggesting that it was. I'm not sure what you want me to say though. I’m sorry? Is that it? Sorry for getting you pregnant? Sorry for having a job that helps us get anything we want for ourselves and our family? Sorry that I do everything I possibly can to keep you and the baby and everyone else on the fucking planet happy?”

“You’re being an asshole, Rafe,” she was just as angry as he was, scowl evident on her face even in their dimly lit bedroom.

“And you’re not making any fucking sense! Are you telling me you don’t want to keep it? Because I never fucking said that you have to.”

The thought had crossed her mind on the drive home from the doctor’s office, but the feeling left as quickly as it approached. She’d taken one look at her daughter in her car seat through the rear view mirror happily sucking on her teether and knew without a doubt that she couldn’t.

She felt a tidal wave of fresh, salty tears peaking and about to crash over her.

“I don’t want - fuck,” she put her head in her hands. 

“I just-,” and then she broke.

Sobs wracked her body, making her shoulders shake up and down. She wasn’t even sure how she had any more left to get out, but it just kept coming. Over and over and over again until it felt like she was being suffocated and that no one was going to save her. She felt Rafe's hands move to rest on her shoulder blades and heard gentle, cooing-like sounds coming out of his mouth, but she couldn’t make out what he had said over the sounds of her own wailing.

“Baby, it’s okay. Just breathe. It’s alri-”

His attempt at subduing her was cut short by shrill cries coming from the digital monitor that sat on their nightstand. Rafe peeked over his shoulder at the screen, seeing that their daughter had woken from her nap and was now demanding the attention of her parents. He couldn’t help but wince as he watched her socked feet flail around in the crib; it was without a doubt that the screaming match they’d just had that stirred her from her sleep, and that hurt him just as much as it did to see his wife crying right in front of him.

Y/N heard it too, somehow. Perhaps it was because she’d been trained to react to every minute sound that she made and could recognize her cries from a mile away in the paralyzing fear that something was wrong with her or maybe it was because she looking for any and every excuse to get Rafe's hands off of her so she could get away from him and escape the argument they’d just had without making the situation any worse than it already was. Regardless, she turned her own neck to peer at the monitor and sighed heavily.

“I’ll go, Y/N. Just stay here.”

“No. I got it. It’s after seven. She’s probably hungry.”

She shrugged Rafe's hands away from her shoulders like his touch physically pained her and climbed over his body and off the bed without another word, not even giving Rafe the chance to take her hand and help her over the edge of the mattress. He knew she wasn’t going anywhere but down the hall and into the nursery, but he couldn’t help but feel like she was walking away from everything.

//

Y/N stared her daughter while she nursed. She started from the top of her head that was riddled with sandy blonde curls and worked her way down to the tips of her toes that would occasionally flex themselves out of habit. Her hair? Undoubtedly Rafe's. Her eyes? A perfect, entrancing shade of blue akin to Rafe's. Her lips? The same almost inhuman shade of fleshy pink, just like Rafe's. Surprisingly, the only physical trait she’d inherited from her mother was her nose, which was funny considering that Y/N had always hated hers.

She was content, suckling away at Y/N’s breast - her cries of hunger long forgotten. The infant hadn’t even flinched when a few more of Y/N’s silent, cold tears spilled over and left small wet spots where her onesie rested over her belly. She had no idea that her parents were upset with each other and she had no idea that in a little more than six months time, she’d be a big sister and there would be two babies fighting for their attention. Y/N was also clueless, but only as to how she was going to take care of a newborn and a one-year-old simultaneously. She’d always thought she’d have more time than this - more time to spend with just her daughter and Rafe before they decided to have another, but just like her eyes, things always had a funny way of never working out in her favor.

Three soft knocks on the wall withdrew her from her thoughts and she was greeted by her husband idling in the doorway like he needed permission before entering a room in his own house. It was off seeing Rafe Cameron this way - being the one with his tail tucked beneath his legs. It was usually the opposite. He had changed out of his work clothes and was now clad in his favorite pair of sweats that were permanently stained with spit-up. Y/N had tried everything under the sun to get the spots out, but he’d been persistent on not throwing them out.

“Can I come in?”

His voice was barely above a whisper and much calmer than when he’d been yelling at her about twenty minutes ago. He still hesitated crossing the threshold even after Y/N had given him a skeptical nod, but allowed his bare feet to pad over the plush carpet as he joined her on the loveseat in the far corner of the nursery.

He watched their daughter just as Y/N had, taking in her tranquil state as her fingers brushed reflexively against the underside of Y/N’s breast. He’d never been able to pry his eyes away every time he watched her nurse. There were no ulterior motives behind it whatsoever. It amazed him each and every time, how Y/N was able to provide their child with everything that they needed to grow with only her body. At first, Y/N hated that Rafe loved sitting in on her feedings, feeling exposed and unattractive despite Rafe's continuous affirmations that it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever had the privilege of witnessing, but over time she’d grown fond of it.

“I'm sorry for yelling at you,” Rafe started.

“It was uncalled for,” she quipped.

Y/N sniffled, rubbing her swollen eyes with the back of her free hand that wasn’t supporting her daughter’s back as she held her.

“It’s okay. It was a lot to take in. I’m sorry for yelling at you too.”

She couldn’t quite look him in the eye just yet, but she was slowy but surely getting there.

“It's not okay, actually. You’re right. I’m not the one having the baby. It’s you that’s got to do all the hard stuff and I know how scary it was last time. I should've been more considerate before jumping the gun.”

He shifted towards her on the cushions, afraid to touch her just yet but still yearning to be closer to her.

The best Y/N could muster was a quiet, “Thank you,” before she busied herself by attempting to run her fingers through her baby’s hair and untangle the mess she’d created while she was sleeping.

“Can I hold you? Please?” his voice was quiet and pleading.

Now was when she turned to face him and she was met with eyes that were just as red-rimmed as hers. She had heard the bathroom sink running for an abnormally long amount of time and a hard, frustrated pounding against the wall shortly after she’d gone off in the nursery to feed the baby, which meant he must have been trying to muffle the sounds of his own crying when she left their bedroom.

Y/N didn’t say anything, only shifting her weight onto one side so Rafe could easily lift her onto his lap in one swift movement without disturbing their daughter. He tucked her shoulder into his neck and softly kissed her skin and his hands moved to mimic hers so they were both holding the baby that was nodding off again in their arms. She found herself relaxing into his loose grip, her head tilting to the side to rest against his. 

“I love you so much. You know that? I’d drop everything for you if I had to. I don't care about any of it anymore.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” she refuted, but there was no malice in her tone.

“I wouldn’t let you. You try to play it cool and I know that things are different now, but I also know that deep down you really like what you do.” The corner of Rafe's lips turned upwards, suppressing a chuckle at the fact that she really does know him that well.

“Well, just know that I would if you wanted me to. I’ve thought about it a thousand times. I want to be here for you. For her. Don’t want to miss anything. I finally got my shot at being normal when I met you and I hate myself sometimes when I think about all of the bullshit I've put you through.”

“Don’t,” Y/N paused to press a chaste kiss to Rafe's cheek.

“You’re a good person, Rafe's. A good dad. A good husband. Please don’t ever think that you’re not.”

She felt moisture pool in the dips of her collarbones where Rafe's chin lied, but she didn’t acknowledge it.

“I’ll be okay. Sorry if I freaked you out earlier. Think I just need some time to get used to it all. Just wasn’t expecting Melanie to drop the ball that I was pregnant when all I was expecting was for her to tell me that our kid is in the 99th percentile for weight and then send me on my way.”

This got a chuckle out of him, almost causing him to choke on his tears. He quickly rubbed the sleeves of his sweatshirt against his eyes to dry up any remaining wet spots on his face. 

“She is pretty chunky, isn’t she?” Rafe jested while thumbing over his daughter’s rounded tummy.

After a moment of admiring their little chunk of a baby, with her milk-drunk eyes and puckered lips, Rafe spoke again.

“Two babies,” he huffed.

“Two babies,” she repeated.

His hands moved to caress Y/N’s stomach. She wasn’t showing yet considering that neither of them had even known Y/N was pregnant until today, but he still held her like her belly was the size of a watermelon and he was waiting anxiously to feel a hand or a foot press up against his palm.

“Might be kinda nice. They can share everything and we’ll only have to have one birthday party because they’ll be born around the same time. They’ll go to the same school and probably have the same friends. Kinda like twins.”

“Are you hearing yourself? Rafe Cameron? The party connoisseur? Suggesting his two precious babies share a birthday party?”

Rafe pursed his lips and blushed, recalling the fact that he'd already planned his daughter's first birthday in his head. Down to the tablecloth colors and dinnerware.

“Got me there,” Rafe chuckled.

Their banter was interrupted by a grueling rumbling sound coming from Y/N’s stomach that Rafe could feel throughout his entire body.

“Jesus, Y/N. You hungry too? When’s the last time you ate?”

“Uhh...this morning I think?” Y/N sighed.

“Couldn’t stomach anything when I got home.”

Rafe's heart dropped when he thought of how distraught she’d been all day while he was gone and with everything in him, he’d wished he would have postponed his meetings to go to check up with her and they could have found out together.

“Found those tomatoes at the store the other day, remember? Want me to make that pasta for you?”

“Ohh, yes please,” she immediately perked up at the thought.

“Starting to wonder if that was a craving now that I think about it. Didn’t we have it, what? Three nights in a row a while back?” she proposed.

Rafe giggled as he reluctantly removed Y/N from his lap and stood up from the sofa.

“Thought it was a bit weird that you wanted it so badly, but I know better than to question you.”

“She’s going back down. If you give me a minute, I’ll come downstairs and help you,” Y/N said, pulling up the straps of her tank top after realizing her daughter had long since forgotten about her breast and was conked out in her arms.

“I've got it, mama” Rafe quickly refuted. “Take a bath or something and I’ll bring it up when it’s done.”

“Okay.”

Y/N couldn’t fight the grin growing on her face at the nickname Rafe used that she still hadn’t gotten used to.

When she placed their daughter soundly in her crib, Y/N’s fingers stayed put from where they sat on the railing as she caught herself staring at the sleeping infant once more. Though she’d felt like her world was caving in on her just a handful of hours ago, the pieces were all coming back together now. 

Of course, she wanted more children with Rafe. And now she was getting what she wanted. Just like he’d told her back in the bedroom, it wasn’t ideal, but they’d make it work. They always did. 

With two babies.

[bookwormjust]

Pickup Duty (established relationship with Azriel, a little demand by your nephew)

The warm afternoon sun filtered through the windows of the townhouse, casting a soft glow across the room. You were sitting with Feyre, sipping tea and chatting about your latest projects when Nyx bounded into the room, full of energy as usual after spending the day outside.

“Mama!” Nyx called, his small wings fluttering excitedly behind him as he ran over to Feyre. His violet eyes sparkled with mischief as he looked between you and his mother, clearly with something on his mind.

Feyre smiled at him, brushing her fingers through his tousled hair. “What is it, sweetheart?”

Nyx glanced up at you, his expression bright with curiosity. “Can Auntie come take me from school tomorrow? Please?”

His request caught you by surprise, and you exchanged a quick glance with Feyre, who raised an amused eyebrow. Nyx’s innocent, hopeful expression was impossible to resist, and you could feel your heart soften at his excitement.

Feyre chuckled softly, pulling her son into her lap. “You want Auntie to pick you up from school?” she asked, teasing him gently. “Why not me or your father?”

Nyx grinned, his little wings flapping as he giggled. “Because Auntie is fun! She promised we could get sweets after school if she picked me up.”

You laughed softly, realizing you might have mentioned something along those lines during one of your previous visits. “Ah, I see. So that’s why I’m the favorite today.”

Azriel had entered the room by this point, his shadows trailing behind him as he crossed the threshold. His hazel eyes softened when he saw you, but his expression quickly shifted to one of amusement as he took in Nyx’s excited demeanor.

“What’s this about sweets?” Azriel asked, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, the barest hint of a smile on his lips.

Nyx turned toward his uncle, his wings giving an extra flutter of excitement. “Auntie’s gonna pick me up from school tomorrow!”

Azriel’s brows lifted, and he shot you a look, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. “Oh, is she now?”

You shrugged, unable to keep the smile off your face. “Apparently, I’ve been chosen for pickup duty.”

Feyre looked between all of you, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Well, if it’s all right with your aunt and uncle, then I suppose I don’t see why not.”

Nyx cheered, clapping his hands before launching himself toward you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Thank you, Auntie!”

You laughed, ruffling his hair affectionately. “All right, little one. But you have to behave in school tomorrow if you want those sweets, deal?”

“Deal!” Nyx agreed enthusiastically, his eyes bright with excitement.

Azriel watched the scene unfold, his shadows swirling around him in a slow, lazy dance. His gaze met yours across the room, and despite his calm demeanor, you could see the fondness in his expression. He stepped closer, gently pulling Nyx off you and hoisting him up onto his shoulder with ease. Nyx squealed with delight as Azriel’s wings flared slightly, steadying the boy as he balanced on his uncle’s broad shoulder.

“And what happens if Nyx doesn’t behave tomorrow?” Azriel asked, his voice laced with teasing.

Nyx pouted playfully, shaking his head. “I’ll be good, I promise, Uncle Az!”

Azriel chuckled, casting you a sidelong glance. “I’ll hold him to that. Though I have a feeling you’re the one spoiling him more than his parents.”

You smiled innocently, leaning back in your chair. “Well, what are aunties for if not a little spoiling?”

Feyre laughed at that, clearly enjoying the playful exchange. “Exactly. Besides, Rhys and I could use a little break sometimes.”

Azriel gave Nyx a final toss in the air before catching him again, setting him back on his feet with ease. He turned to you, one eyebrow raised as his lips quirked up into a half-smile. “Seems like you’ve got yourself a busy day tomorrow. Don’t let him con you into too many sweets.”

Nyx giggled, running back to Feyre, but not before giving you one last enthusiastic wave.

You looked up at Azriel, who was now standing beside you, his wings folded neatly behind him. His eyes were warm as he gazed down at you, the smallest smile lingering on his lips.

“I think you might be his favorite person now,” Azriel said softly, his voice laced with amusement.

You grinned, reaching up to gently touch his arm. “He knows how to work his charm, just like his father.”

Azriel chuckled at that, leaning down to brush a soft kiss against your forehead. “Well, just don’t let him talk you into too many extra sweets. Otherwise, Rhys will have something to say about it.”

You laughed softly, leaning into him as his arm wrapped around your shoulders. “I’ll do my best.”

As you stood there together, watching Nyx babble on to Feyre about his plans for tomorrow, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. This was your family, and moments like this—filled with warmth, love, and laughter—made you appreciate it all the more.

And tomorrow, as you picked Nyx up from school and indulged in a few treats together, you’d know that you were making memories that would last a lifetime.

[sparklyskies0]

𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙡 𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙨 ꣑ৎ c.s

pairings: sweet!virgin!reader x fratboy!bf!chris

( 𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 ) Your first time with chris isn’t as perfect as you imagined it to be. Though nobody said that the first time was supposed to be easy.

warnings/disclaimers: smut, unprotected p in v, virginity loss, blood, pain, bad first time, pet names, embarrassment, etc

You brace yourself and breathe in, as you layed out on your back in your bed. Chris kissing down from your stomach to your inner thighs. Trying to get you in the mood. And you were. You have been all day.

You knew it was time, you wanted this so bad. He checked all the boxes for you. You trusted him enough to be vulnerable and let him have you. You knew he would handle you with care and cherish you, you knew he cared enough. Even though he barely acts like it sometimes.

Chris waited till you were ready, stopping mid make out to keep himself in check, until you give him the signal to keep going further. And today you did.

Now your hearts beating fast at a rapid pace, you can almost hear it in the soft silence of your room. As chris’s lips trail around your lower body. You were wet, so wet. Whatever he was doing was working immensely.

He slowly peeled off your underwear, looking up at you as he did so. You can see the need in his blue eyes, sparkling with desire for you and pure excitement. Though, he was nervous himself. It’s not his first time but he wants this to be perfect for you. But he knows that’s not always the case and that’s what scares him. “y’sure you want this, ma?” his voice soft and hoarse.

you look at him, your own eyes sparkling with want and a flicker of uncertainty. But you knew you weren’t going to stop now, you didn’t want to. You want this more than anything, you want him more than anything. “yes..” you respond

He brings your underwear down lower. His mouth watering at the sight of you. You were so beautiful to him. “so pretty f’me, huh baby?” His finger slightly traces along your already wet folds.

you let out a soft moan at the feeling. it wasn’t long before he stopped his teasing touches and begin rubbing your core slowly. causing your upper body to arch off of the bed. “mm..” you moan

he stops his movements to wet his fingers before going back in. He can see that you’re enjoying it. And it only turns him on more. He wants to take this slow with you, be gentle. he wants you to be so comfortable.

After getting you started he removed his hand, standing up to his feet to remove his pants and boxers. You moan as you watch him. Once his thick hardness is freed, he crawls back over to you. He brings his face closer to yours. “you ready, ma?” his breath tickling your skin.

“I gotchu, okay?” he continues to softly encourage you.

He gently props your legs up, spreading you wider for him. “jus, relax okay?” he says his hands roaming the sides of your thigh. he brings his cock to tease your entrance, his tip running along your folds. You lock eyes with him, wanting to be distracted by his piercing blue eyes when you feel the pain of him stretching you out. You accidentally let out a soft whimper, your body giving up on you and completely telling how nervous and scared you are.

“look at me…” he lets out a soft groan. His voice hot enough to distract you, as he slips in.

You let out a hiss, your hips lifting up slightly at the pain. “shh, shh it’s okay..” he comforts. You can’t keep your eyes open, you want to open them. Act like you’re fine. But it hurts.

His other hand gently rubs your sides soothingly. “y’okay, I got you..i won’t hurt you” he says softly. He groans as he attempts to slowly push inside you more.

But you’re so tight, the more pressure he’ll put the more pain you’ll be in. “y’so tight beautiful..” he moans. maybe a little too tight? he thinks to himself.

You have yet to let out a moan of pleasure, still trying to compose yourself. Impatiently waiting for the pain to turn into pleasure. That’s what they say always happens in the books right?

you managed to open your eyes finally, your eyes tearing at the piercing penetration. chris’s eyes have been on you this whole time, his emotions bouncing off of you.

Eventually, he was finally in. You let out a soft whimpering whine. Nothing at all, showing how good it felt. if anything it was a cry for help. “chris..” you let out. He looks at you, concern now etched on his face.

“y’okay baby?, wan me to stop?” he asks, his voice genuine. You think for a moment, it hurts yes but you made it this far. you shouldn’t stop now.

you shake your head, “n-no.. don’t” you say softly

And with that, he doesn’t. He takes your word for it and continues. Pushing himself in deeper. Earning a guttural groan from him, and a small wincing whimper from you. You feel so good to him, warm and tight. So unused..

You keep your eyes on him, you think nothing else but to pull him in for a kiss. Your lips melting into eachother. He deepens the kiss. His tongue delving into yours. As he kisses you he continues to push in deeper, slowly moving his hips, grinding into you.

The feeling of his cock very slowly thrusting into you has yet to feel good yet. You let out a small hiss again. Causing chris’s movements to slow even more.

All of a sudden, you feel warm liquid, pooling out of you. You look down. Seeing blood flowing out. you couldn’t have started your period, you know that.

could it be?

Chris feels it too and pulls out. Causing a whine of pain to leave your mouth. “shit, ma..” he speaks

Bleeding is normal, especially in situations like this. You can continue, but is the pain worth it?

“y’okay?..” he asks, his voice honestly showing how terrified and concerned he is right now. “try again..” you speak without even thinking.

He looks at you, as if begging for you to be forreal. “y’sure?”

You nod. “it’s just blood.” you let out. “i’m okay, I swear”

And with that, he tries again. He curses himself in his head, for not thinking ahead more about this. About the possibility, he should have put a towel down for you or something. He feels shitty, but just in case your pain subsides he knows you’ll feel good at the end of the night. Or at least he hopes.

He intertwines your fingers as he slips back in. You let out a moan, a fake one. In hopes to trick your body into believing it doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s not like chris being inside you is the worst thing ever. In fact you love it, how warm he is, how thick. But the way he stretches you out is inflicting pain before the pleasure and it’s unbearable.

“tell me when to move..” he speaks. stilling inside of you. his hand comes up to stroke your cheek. wiping the small tears that have left your eyes. He nuzzles his face in your neck.

He waits a few moments before you give him the signal. You let out a small hiss. You feel more blood coming. so you tap him. “c-chris..” you speak

He pulls away from your neck, looking at you. “let’s just stop..” you say, slight disappointment in your voice

He nods and slowly pulls out of you. You let out a whimper of pain. and he immediately caresses you. “y’okay?..d-did i hurt you? m’sorry..” he apologizes repeatedly.

You look at him, your face softening. He cares so much. and he tried. you tried too. But you can’t help but feel disappointed and embarrassed. Embarrassed that youre so innocent and untouched that no kind of pleasure came out of it.

“it’s okay, m’just gonna hold you okay?” he says, he stands up from the bed. glancing at the slight blood seeping out of your core. He heads to the bathroom, leaving you there with your thoughts. You know most first times aren’t always perfect, in fact they’re the worst. But that doesn’t make you feel better.

Chris returns with a damp cloth. “open up f’me” he speaks softly, his hands prying your legs open. He brings the cloth to your inner thighs. wiping away any sweat or blood. He brings the towel to your sensitive folds, wiping along them. You let out a low hiss. He cleans you up gently and carefully.

You watch as he does so. You’re sure he hates you, wants to be with someone else, someone who can give him what he wants, needs.

But he’s handling you with care right now, like you can break at any moment. You love this side of him.

After he cleans you , he places the towel down. Pulling you into his arms. cradling you against his body. “let’s jus stay like this, okay?” he mutters

“we’ll try again, another time..”

“second times always better”

ᥫ᭡ Authors Note

no bc how real is this

pt2 of when they try again ???

xoxo paris

[luveline]

hi again!! i saw you mention wanting to write for prince!steve, and i also saw that you write with dialogue prompts so i present to you:

A: “I’ll take care of you.”

B: “It’s rotten work.”

A: “Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

maybe the reader gets injured doing something for training, but it’s all up to you!! i’m sure we’ll love it regardless. kisses!!

thank you for requesting! —prince steve au. fem, 1.5k

Pain was familiar before you came to the palace. Small pains and big, all kinds of hurting, poverty-driven neglect leading to toothaches and back pain, twisted ankles walked on without choice, sore skin otherwise ignored. It didn’t matter if you got hurt as long as you lived. 

Not in a dramatic sense. It didn’t feel dramatic at the time, only miserable. You go to work with a migraine because you can’t afford not to. You walk home in the dark because the mag-trams are getting too expensive. You break your holo, so you make do without one. You pick your head up to keep looking both ways and you get everywhere you need to go because you need to work, to get paid, to eat, to work. 

That’s how it always was. So getting sick didn’t matter. An injury was temporary pain that your body would fix eventually, and if it didn’t, well, it’s cheaper to pull a tooth than pay to have it filled. 

You were used to your sorry life, and then you met Steve. Tall, brown-haired, brown-eyed Steve. Looking at him sometimes is enough to make your whole body a void for things you used to complain about; you wake up across from him in the big bed and forget you can feel pain at all, if only because he’s already awake, waiting for you to open your eyes before he rests his hand on your cheek. You met him and your soul-mark glowed with a lacy, almost feathered light, your wrist braceleted with white colour that soon faded to mellow blue. 

When you first meet your soulmate, the colours you make tend to shift. It takes time for your heart to decide if love is pink or orange or blue. It seems to have settled now —when Steve kisses you, your mark turns a Gaussian amber. When you kiss back, his mark turns light pink, like the lotus flowers he keeps in his private gardens. 

Right now, your mark hums an angry red. It’s typical in its colour, and it’s common. Most people’s marks turn red when they’re hurting. Yours is a crimson so dark it looks black in the dim lighting, and it throbs in time with your pain like a vexing metronome. You’ll never be able to put it from your mind if the mark continues to remind you. 

Steve is uncharacteristically quiet at your side. His own mark is lit in sympathy, mostly pink with his affection, but threaded in red like spider lily flowers blooming against his forearm. 

He shifts beside you. It’s been more than a month since your wedding, and yet he’s careful with you. Almost shy, though he can be brash and cocky. You know intimately how sweet Steve can be when he’s in love. 

It doesn’t make any sense. 

“How’s the pain now?” he asks, his eyebrows pulled together at their starts. 

“Not so bad.” 

“Could you rate it on a scale? If zero was no pain at all, and ten were enough to warrant another dose of white willow bark?” 

“What if I were at a five?” you ask. 

“A half dose and a good kiss?” 

You turn his way but flinch when it puts undue pressure on your leg, a stab of hot pain jumping from your fractured tibia to deep inside of your hips. Steve sees your wincing and presses your shoulder into the bed, leaning over you, a scolding he doesn’t give in the pinch of his eyebrows as he leans down to kiss you. It’s more caress than kiss, his hand cupping your cheek, his lips barely touching yours before he rests his nose at your brow. “Can you stay still?” he asks. 

“Sorry.” 

“Just don’t want you to hurt yourself again.” 

He lifts his head. Holds your cheek for longer than you can work out why, dotting another soft kiss to your nose before slinking out of bed to find you some white willow bark tincture. It’s a potent pain reliever. You shouldn’t have too much of it. If you were still living your past life, you’d be chewing on ginger skins trying to limp your way back into work. There’d be no time to stop. 

“Steve,” you say, watching him a small ways away at the table of your quarters. He turns to you. “I don’t really need anything else.” 

“You said it’s hurting?” Steve pipettes the tincture into a cup of water. “You said a five, and you lie. Knowing you, it’s closer to an eight, you just don’t want to tell me.” 

It might not be as extreme as an eight now, laying down and bandaged, but it hurts badly and a tincture would solve this. Still, you say, “It’s fine, I don’t need it.” 

He brings the glass regardless and puts it on the nightstand. Your bed is yards too big for one person, even two, but when Steve sits next to you he leaves no room between you. He looks down at you fondly. Brown hair like down feather falls against his forehead. 

“You’re going to be in pain for a long time.” He brings a hand to your cheek again. “It might sound tame, a plateau fracture, but that’s still a fracture. You know doctors say fracture when they mean broken, right? You broke your leg. It’s okay to want pain relief.” 

“I knew that. I didn’t know you knew it.” 

“Impolite.” He ducks down to look you in the eyes. You’re a little skewiff, straight to his sideways, but it gets a point across. He wants to kiss you while you’ve said something maddening. “I don’t see why you’re so insistent on pretending it hasn’t happened and that you’re fine. You got hurt, and you’ll stay hurt for a while. It might be weeks of bed and– and you need to be looked after. I don’t know why you’re so guilty about it.” 

“I’m not guilty,” you deny guilty, turning your face to lean into his hand, rather than continue to face his imploring gaze. “I just… I’m not used to this. Before, if something went wrong, I couldn’t just lay down and wait to get better, and I surely wouldn’t be laying here with doctors and servants and the ladies in waiting all trying to make sure– It’s like it’s not my fault, and that doesn’t make any sense. I don’t want to be a burden on everyone. More than I already am,” you add, a bitter mumble nearly lost to his palm. 

He makes a promise, then, turning your face to the light. “I’ll take care of you,” he says. 

“It’s rotten work.” 

Steve shakes his head gently. “Not to me. Not if it’s you.” 

You press your tongue to your teeth, worried you’ll say something you’ll regret. You don’t want him to go. You want him to mean exactly what he says, to stay here and take care of you, and to enjoy doing it. Wouldn’t it be nice to be loved for love's sake? 

Steve shuffles inward and encourages your head into his lap, thrusting pillows aside to take up station against your headboard. He frames your face, upside down, before both hands begin to run down your arms. A hug, in a way, as he twists his face to kiss the skin beside your eye. You squint at the proximity. 

“You’re not a burden,” he says, hands climbing upwards now, warm and steady where they travel, “you’re my wife. My cherished wife, remember?” 

His tone is silk. 

“You… haven’t proved to be a wretched husband,” you confess. 

“I did try. But loving you has been easy. It makes husbandry a gift.” He laughs at his grandiose and gives you a kiss that’s more familiar by your ear, his pleading, searching kisses, the kind he likes to press to all your softest junctures. “I wish you could understand that we’re marked for a reason. We were always meant to be together, and I couldn’t have asked for a better person to stand with me. I’m happy you’re here. I want to take care of you.” 

Not if it’s you, he’d said. 

You wonder if it might be okay to cry. He’s massaging your arms, still bent in half over you trying to kiss some belief in him into your forehead. 

“It’ll be okay,” he murmurs between chaste, silent kisses, “really. You don’t have to pretend things don’t hurt you anymore.” 

You feel strange, then, shivery and weak as you turn your face into his thigh. His hand slips behind your back to hold you.

“Can I convince you to drink this tincture now?” he asks, just above your ear. 

“I love you,” you mumble. 

He pauses his trailing hands. You squeeze your eyes closed, but he doesn’t pause for long enough to scare you. “I love you,” he says. “Since the day we met, I’ve loved you. I’ll take care of you.” 

He is easy to believe. 

[parfaitblogs]

state of grace ❀ s. reid x reader

in which your cat has taken liking to your friend with benefits, and you begin to battle with the consequential feelings. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: fluff (18+ for suggestive content) tags: established friends with benefits. reader has a cat. your cat likes him more than you :(  avoidant!reader for like a teensie second. it's okay happy ending. the happiest possible ending actually. fade to black. word count: 1.9k a/n: sometimes the most beautiful poetry can be about simple things. like a cat. :) im a dog person. idk why i wrote this.

Seventeen times.

That is how many times Spencer Reid had found residence at your apartment in the past month alone, taking up the space on the other side of your bed. Thirteen of those times he had stayed the night. Six of those times, he had come for sex. The other eleven? He had come because you needed a friend. 

Or, rather, your cat did. 

You had discovered you weren't any more complex than your average man, at the end of the day. Human beings are at their core created to love and be loved, and by extension, to want and be wanted. You wanted Spencer, and you were wanted by Spencer. For both your friendship, and the intimacy your relationship provided. 

But you did not love him, and he did not love you. 

Cat's are anything but fickle creatures. A lot of your best friendships were centred around whether or not your cat developed a liking to the person or not. Oftentimes, your fleeting relationships came down to the odd sixth sense the animal had for disliking the worst people. That, and your one night stands were never a crowd favourite within the walls of your apartment. And yet; Spencer Reid. 

He was nothing short of charming. In a sort of dorky way, yes. But whatever socially romantic skills he lacked, he most certainly made up for by giving you the best of just about everything in bed. A small part of you wants to claim it's human instinct to know how to worship the person meant for you, but the logical reason is probably his eidetic memory knowing exactly what he's doing after a singular trial run. Entertaining the thought of being his soulmate was not a wise choice.

He most certainly was your cat's, though. The Ragdoll always jumping down to greet him the second he stepped foot in your apartment, usually resulting in the break of a kiss and a five minute intermission before the two of you could do anything. 

At first, it was an inconvenience. Your cat had never taken such a liking to a person you'd brought home before, and it was jarring to watch a man you were partially trying to undress, stop everything to pet your cat. Now, it is simply endearing. You've stopped trying to steal Spencer's attention before the cat does, and you've come to the conclusion that Spencer's priority list will always be the feline, then you. 

Today was, seemingly, no different. Despite the dull ache between your legs and the fact that this visit had started as something as obscene as Spencer calling from his work bathroom to ask if he could come over after for he was, and you quote, in dire need to touch you (among many other things), whatever those needs were, were put on hold. 

You smile regardless, leaning against the edge of your couch as he crouches down to meet Po — yes, like the panda — his hand immediately reaching out for the cat to run his head along. 

Spencer's head lifts to look at you. "Morgan thinks Po isn't a real cat, and we've just got a name for your—um—" his brain catches up to his mouth mid sentence, and he's stammering his way to silence. 

"Please tell me you defended my cat's honour," you retort.

"I did! I even showed him the photo I took of him while you were in the shower last week. He thinks it's a different person's cat."

You shake your head in disapproval. "Unbelievable. Your coworker thinks we've named my pussy."

"That's just Morgan."

"I wish Po could speak English. Then he could hear this nonsense, and stop loving you more than me," you grumble, and Spencer's lips twitch up into a smile, as he situates himself on the floor, the cat climbing into his lap.

"Actually, he technically can. Cat's can understand up to thirty-five words in whatever language you train them in. Also, when they meow, they begin trying to mimic the sound of certain human words. It's their vocal tract that prevents them from literally speaking English," he explains.

But, you're too invested in the way his long fingers are delicately running through the cat's hair, to both respond, and really pay any attention at all.

You had had fleeting thoughts about real feelings for Spencer two months ago. Brushing them off as loneliness and your need to satiate the hopeless romantic within you, you'd forgotten about it up until this recent week.

He'd been over every single day, sometimes for sex, oftentimes for a movie and dinner (which was usually a bowl of pasta you had overestimated while cooking). And every single time, you'd developed an overwhelming anxious pit in your stomach when watching him interact with Po, your heart fluttering the entire time, mind running rampant on domestic thoughts you should be squashing. 

Should be, but weren't. 

You'd tried to put it down to the motherly instinct you had over the animal. Seeing somebody else treat him with as much love and care as you did was endearing — it wasn't a Spencer Reid specific trait. Yet, here you were. 

"I feel like the benefits of this relationship have changed," you say, seating yourself in front of Spencer on the floor, Po lifting his head to look at the person behind the sudden movement, before he let it rest back on Spencer's thigh. 

"To what?"

"My cat," you huff, and Spencer laughs.

"He is my favourite benefit thus far," he muses. 

"The feeling is definitely mutual," you nod your head to Po, whose eyes were now shut, seemingly quite comfortable disregarding all your personal plans and taking Spencer's attention.

"Animals don't usually like me," he comments. "I don't know why Po is different."

Oh, you had a few ideas why.

"Maybe he's exercising the keep your enemies closer life motto," you offer, and Spencer's eyebrows shoot up in faux offence. 

"This is unadulterated love," he protests. "He does not think of me as an enemy."

"That's what he wants you to believe," you hum, pushing yourself up on your legs. "Well, since plans have been rudely interrupted, do you want some dinner?" 

"Sure," he answers, though his attention is back on Po. Clearly so, for he says, "I'll get to our original plans after we eat, don't worry," almost absentmindedly.

It's the kind of thing that makes you forget you're in the room with the dictionary definition of a nerd. You know it's only because sometimes he says what he is thinking without thinking. It doesn't do anything to help the ongoing internal battle about your feelings for him. 

Or maybe he does know exactly what he's doing.

"You should get a cat," you say, heading into your kitchen to find something for the two of you to eat. "You seem to like them enough."

"Why? I have yours."

"I'm not going to be around forever," you reply, unthinking. "I mean, one day we're gonna have to end this because the other has found someone they want to be with. Properly. It wouldn't be fair to keep a friendship."

He falls silent, and when you lift your head, you see he's staring at you with an almost confused frown on his face, which triggers your own confusion to appear. His scratching of Po's head has been interrupted, and you're starting to question what was wrong about what you had said. 

Sure, you're pretty sure you have feelings for him, but as far as you knew, they were one sided. Right?

"I didn't—I thought—" he cuts himself off, takes a deep breath, then continues. "I thought that had changed this past month."

"What do you mean?"

"I just—I've been here for things other than sex a lot. I thought you knew I liked you, and you were subtly trying to tell me you liked me too. I'm starting to sense I misread that."

For a profiler, he was incredibly awful at reading you. 

"Yeah..." You slowly nod your head, but it's the deepening of his frown that has you rushing to add, "I mean, I—I do. Like you. I'm kind of embarrassed that was obvious. But I didn't think you liked me outside of having sex with me. I wasn't trying to communicate my feelings. I was trying to hide them."

"Oh," he falls silent again. "So the times I’ve been here in the past month weren’t makeshift dates?"

"They weren't intended that way..." you trail off. "Did you see them as dates?"

"Kind of, I guess," he's back to running his fingers through Po's fur, just to keep his anxious hands busy. "They don't have to be, if you don't want them to. I just thought this feeling was mutual and we were... I guess, dating."

"The feeling is mutual," you quickly correct him. "I know that now. I didn't think we were dating because I didn't think you liked me back. Changing our relationship kind of needs to be a conversation."

"Right," he breathes out, an awkward smile painting his lips. "Is this the conversation, then?"

"I guess?"

"So now we're dating."

"If that's what you want," you nod, head feeling a little fuzzy.

"Is it what you want?" he presses. Always the gentleman.

"Maybe," you muse, leaning forwards against the kitchen countertop. 

He's watching you, and for a second you let the silence fall over you, fearful that you've just discouraged him enough to ruin things between you. He carefully takes Po off his lap, the cat running into your room the second his paws hit the hardwood floor, and he's standing up to move over to you. 

"I don't like maybe," he frowns. "Yes or no?"

You blink, realising he was evidently too anxious of your genuine response to have any recognition to your poor attempt of a joke. 

"Yes, Spencer. That's what I want," you're breathless as you speak, and you're thankful for the relieved smile that stretches across his lips.

"That's what I want too," he answers. 

"Yeah, I figured." Your second attempt at a tease lands, and he huffs a small laugh, which warms your heart. "Do you still want dinner?"

He had somehow gotten closer to you throughout the awkward enough conversation, and he was sliding his arms around your waist. Something he had done many times before, yes, and yet this time it was feeling much more intimate, and your heart was thrumming against your chest a little harder than usual. 

"Maybe it can wait?" he offers, ducking his head down, lips ghosting over your own. "I don't have a bothersome cat keeping me preoccupied from you, now."

Despite yourself, you poke a finger into his chest and say, "Don't insult Po."

"I'm not. Just merely stating an obvious fact."

"I'll call him back in here to preoccupy me."

"He has selective hearing. And he likes me more than you."

Your lips drop into a frown, lower lip jutting out, and Spencer is quick to try and kiss it off within seconds of noticing it. 

"I'm sorry. That was mean. I promise he doesn't like me more than you," he says, though his voice is too amused to be entirely sincere. 

"That was mean," you agree with a firm nod. "You're very mean to me, Spencer Reid."

"I know, I'm awful. Can I make it up to you, sweet girl?"

Well, when he asks you like that.

"Mm..." you hesitate, but he's already guiding you around, walking you backwards, through your apartment and towards your bedroom. "Yeah, I guess so."

Hands that were around your waist hike your shirt up, his lips still kissing against your skin despite the intense multitasking he was forcing upon the two of you.

"Thank you."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[dduane]

Hi! I'd love to hear ur take on the whole Spirk Canon discussion going on right now as someone who's written licensed Trek books. Like besides the whole "did Unification 765874 make spirk canon" thing, is it even fair to talk about spirk being canon or not? What would it take for spirk to "be canon"? It strikes me as a very fandom-y (positive) way to interact with media, which is funny since k/s invented fandom culture. But at the same time ur Supernatural comparison was right on the money and paramount has been VERY weird about addressing their relationship in nutrek. What are ur thoughts??

First of all: Despite the excitement of any given moment, people need to be careful about mistaking anything I reblog without further-amplifying comment, on any subject, as necessarily implying agreement or approval. Lots of times I reblog things just to direct attention to them (and sometimes because I think they're funny).

"ur Supernatural comparison" was not mine. It was somebody else's. I reblogged it to direct attention to it. (And maybe I thought it was funny.)

...Also, wut iz dis "nutrek" u speak of? When you've been working in this universe for long enough, with the necessary perspective to look up and down the length of it without idiosyncratically-added heat... then all Trek is Trek. The spectrum along which its varying species all coexist is ever more complexly and interestingly braided than it once was, sure. But that's all. I've got enough on my plate at the moment not to have time to waste trying to force different aspects of Trek into cage fights with each other.

And: "Paramount"? Who is that, exactly? At the pointy end, all corporations are made up of people. Which ones are we talking about? Which production entities? Which creative teams? Which execs, working under whose supervising auspices, and when? Working with whose (character/worldview/policy) decisions, and for how long?

None of this stuff is simple to work out, and it's not helpful to try to come at it as if it's necessarily going to be easy to tease out who's doing what to whom. Briefly: it's normal for it to look weird. But don’t mistake a Big Corporate Monolith for something actually monolithic.

Also, for the moment, ffs, let's all just step away from the business of defining what K/S and/or Spirk actually involves. Enough ink and electrons have been spilled over this whole spectrum of character relationship since the 1960s, and frankly, life's too short. Definitely too short to be trying to resolve it all in terms of something that dropped...when? About this time last night, or the night before? :) Jeeeez, people. Take a breath or three and let things settle.

So I don't think anybody needs to be hearing my deep cogitations about the new short film right now... because there aren't any. No question, Unification's beautiful to look at—and I've told Dave Blass he did nice work, about which i don't think there can be any possible doubt. (Not to mention the high-end technical aspects dealt with so seamlessly in such a small tight package, which have left my jaw on the floor.) The Giacchino score's also quite lovely, but that also is more or less a given.

As for everything else: I decline to spew opinion all over the joint until I've had a chance to assimilate what I've seen, and actually acquire a useful opinion from somewhere or other. Meanwhile, y'all just keep doing what you're all doing, and I'll go make some more tea. :)

[pearlymel]

Cont. capitano x fem!reader, NSFW, unprotected sex, riding, reader is called 'wife'.

“the mask stays on.”

…

“whatever for?” but your already silent pleading face did not make him question you any further, if this would please you.. then he was more than willing to obey.

Is this what they call a kink? Capitano thought as a thumb mindlessly brushed over your already exposed hardened nipple, enjoying the way you would squirm in return.

“darling,” he spoke, voice deep as his thumb circles around breast with no intention of teasing you, of course. “would you use me for your pleasure tonight?”

You blink at him, and be tilts his head, awaiting for your answer. His long hair brushing over your body, almost tickling your skin.

Fuck, if he could only chase you down slowly with the mask on—

“ah, y-yeah,” you clear your throat, trying to get yourself together to gently push his back against the headboard, his legs spreading wide for you. His cock jutted proudly from within the tight confinements, fingers barely brushing over his impressive girth, making his breath hitch in response.

You swallow thickly before wrapping your hand around the shaft, raising your hips to attempt to take him all at once. Even when you were already well prepped and dripping for him, taking him in always seemed like a challenge…

His hands trembled slightly as they gripped your hips, helping to guide you to position above him. He always got to handle with care.

Oh and the moment you started sinking down his cock, taking in the head before making your way further down, down—

his head fell back against the headboard, and if it weren't for the mask, you'd see just how much of a panting mess he was being. Nonetheless, he looks equally as hot with the mask on.

The first groan left his lips as your warm cunt stretched around him, and he rolled his hips upwards, burying himself deeper inside you until there was nothing left to take in.

So full.

You couldn't wait before you were already slamming your hips into him, making him startled by the sudden movement of you bouncing up and down, up and down, jaw clenched so tight when he glanced down to witness the way his cock would disappear and reappear from inside you.

His hands slid down to grip your ass, kneading the firm globes as he helped you move above him. You were already in another world, expression too fucked out to comprehend any other feelings.

“my darling wife,” capitano couldn't help but match your movements, thrusting upwards, burying himself as deep inside you as he could go. The head of his cock kissed your cervix everytime you slammed your hips down to the hilt, and he could feel your gummy walls fluttering around him, clenching and releasing in a desperate rhythm that soon made him all fucked out.

“C-cum with me,” you whine, your thrusts growing sloppier with each passing second, nails scraping any place you find untoched on his body before you could cry his name out beautifully when you spasm around him, like you were trying to squeeze the life out of him—

Taking your body in his arms, he thrust upwards one final time as he felt his own release approaching. His balls tightening, his cock throbbing and pulsing within your wet heat.

And there it was, his hips jerked erratically before he spilled inside you.

Capitano could feel his cum flooding, could feel the warmth of it spreading through your body, and could literally feel it leaking out of your sweaty and panting figure.

“… is this what you wanted?” You take the time to ask, and you're only met with heavy breaths and his limp body.

But he nods afterwards.

"next time you could praise me more," oh, he's intrigued.

"maybe sprinkle some degrading words," alright, so you liked it different sometimes. "And then pull my hair a bit," okay, he's a bit concerned but he can do that for you.

"maybe choke me too—"

"... Darling, were you tortured before? I worry for you."

[numathehusky]

🌱 My first was surprisingly Gumball from TAWOG! I’m not sure what my middle school self saw in him but whatever.

🥀 I just sometimes believe I am not up to their standards, plus, I am okay with just two F/Os. I’m sure they know I have a crush on them.

🎉 Surprisingly, I believe back when DDLC first released, I think I had more of a connection to Monika than the others. At the time, I did not know what lesbianism was, and I thought it was wrong to be someone of the same sex.

📦 Alastor. This selfship lasted for years, I think during my entire highschool years. It was unfortunately ruined by my abusive ex who is gone now. I just see Alastor as a best friend now, I never really stopped liking him honestly.

📸 This was fun to do!

🎵 I got a whole playlist dedicated to my selfship, but heres my top 3.

- 🤍 - DJ Khaled - I’m the One ft. Justin Bieber, Chance the Rapper, Lil Wayne

- 🤍 - La Bersuit - Un pacto para vivir

- 🤍 - Modern Talking - You’re my heart, You’re my soul

📝 This my favorite art piece I did for her!

💟 As much as I’m embarassed to tell her, I find her adorable in cat ears and paws.

💭 I’ve seen people headcanon that Monika can also play guitar, not only piano. I do think the guitar is very fitting for her.

💢 Monika is one of the most valid hopeless romantics ever.

🚩 Sometimes she’s a little bit controlling. As much as I sort of like it, it’s something me and her have been working on together.

💌 She actually confessed first, at the end of the game (DDLC) in the spaceroom. Throughout the game, I had developed feelings, and I did not know she was having the same feelings till the end.

💗 She said it first, but it shouldve been me, I would have said it 100 times more.

🌺 We sometimes spoon, but we mostly just hug each other. I snuggle into her as she pets me till I fully fall asleep. I also hug a plushie of her too for extra comfort.

🛀 Sometimes at the couch, I’d be arting on my tablet while she reads a book or two. Sometimes I secretly look at her reading and ask what shes reading so far. She info dumps to me.

🎀 Uh- HER ADORABLE WHITE RIBBON BOW HELLO??

🎠 She has a very caring side to her. The most sweetest personality you can think of. It’s like she always knows what’s up with me. It’s a little scary she can read my body language and face like a book.

🎡 I think us going to buy milkshakes and sitting together in a comfty cabin while it’s raining hard is the best date scenario ever. After we’re done with the shakes, we’d cuddle!

💚 I do get a bit jelly when she pets a dog she sees, i sometimes puff my cheeks and cross my arms a bit. I know we’re in public and I am kind of shy for PDA, but I love headpats, and I can’t help seeing someone else recieving it and get jealous.

🎇 Ya’ll are going to kill me.. Monika x Spacecore.

♨️ They don’t know about it yet, but I’m assuming Rainbow Dash would definitly tease me about it, but Alastor and Kai Lan would be accepting and proud of me for being in a healthy relationship.

🔒 It’s more so Alastor that’s protective of me. Since he’s my bestest friend and my ex, he wouldn’t want to see me go into a depression if something went wrong with my relationship.

✩ sleepover inspired selfship asks! ✩

send one or more emoji's alongside a fandom or specific f/o! (if applicable)

🌱 Who was your first F/O?

🥀 Talk about some of your fictional crushes and why they aren’t your F/O!

🎉 Tell us some fun facts about your newest selfship!

📦 Who are some F/Os you no longer ship with? Why?

📸 Make a moodboard for you and your F/O!

🎵 List three songs that remind you of your selfship.

📝 Give us a piece of a WIP involving your F/O (writing, art, etc.)

💟 Give us an embarrassing/secret headcanon you have about your F/O!

🧾 What’s your favorite headcanon someone else has made about your F/O?

💭 What’s your favorite uncommon headcanon about your F/O?

💢 What’s an unpopular opinion you have regarding your F/O?

🚩 What are some of your F/O’s flaws? Any red flags?

💌 How did you/your F/O confess your feelings to one another?

💗When did your F/O first say ‘I love you?’

🌺 How do you and your F/O cuddle?

🛀 What’s your favorite mundane thing to do with your F/O?

🎀 What’s your favorite thing about your F/O’s appearance?

🎠 What’s your favorite thing about your F/O’s personality?

🎡 What’s your dream date to go on with your F/O?

💚 Who are you most jealous of when it comes to your F/O?

🌠 What’s a crack selfship that you’ve thought of?

🎇 Which is the most CURSED crack selfship you’ve thought of?

♨️Did your platonic F/Os tease you about your feelings for your romantic F/O?

🔒 What does your platonic F/O think about your F/O? Are they overprotective of you?

🍦 What do any familiar F/Os think about your romantic F/O?

proshippers dni - this isn't for you ✩

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

yandere!young justice x magician and sorcerer!reader

BUUUUUUUUUT,the readed is a part of the team,however,shows no interest in them,and it just there because she kinda just has to,and no matter how much they try to get her attention,she never gives them any of it.

(I love your writing btw😼)

Yandere! Young Justice x magician! Reader

The Cave was quiet, as it always was at night, the hum of machines and distant murmurs of the world outside barely touching the stillness that clung to the mountain like a second skin. In this isolated hollow, surrounded by the cool stone walls, you could hear your own thoughts—the whisper of spells, the pulse of magic, the unspoken words you chose not to say.

You never had to explain yourself here, never had to wear the mask of pleasantries or pretend you cared about anything more than the mission. The others, they didn’t understand. They couldn’t, not really. You weren’t like them, never had been. You didn’t need the comfort of their companionship. You didn’t want their attention, their curiosity, or their pity.

And yet, they tried.

Conner was always watching. A silent presence, brooding and intense, always lingering in the background, his eyes following your every movement. He never asked questions—no, that wasn’t his style. Instead, he observed, the way a predator watches its prey, calculating, waiting. He never made an effort to speak, not in the way Wally did with his incessant jokes or M'gann with her quiet warmth. Conner was patient, cold, waiting for something to crack, for something to change.

His silence was a constant reminder. He didn’t need to speak; you could feel his presence, the weight of his gaze pressing down on you, always at the edge of your vision, always waiting.

It was unsettling, but you never let it show.

Wally was a different story altogether. His energy was like a crackling fire, unpredictable, always bouncing from one thing to the next. He couldn’t sit still, couldn’t leave you be. "Come on," he would say, leaning over your shoulder as you worked on a spell, his grin wide and carefree. "Show me something cool. You know you’ve got some crazy magic tricks up your sleeve."

His insistence was always accompanied by that grin of his, mischievous and bright, as though his charm could draw you out of your shell. But you never did. You never gave him the satisfaction of seeing you smile, never let him see you as more than just another teammate. It wasn’t his fault—he was just trying to make the team feel more like a family. But you didn’t care about family. You didn’t care about any of them.

“I’m busy,” you’d say, dismissing him with a flick of your hand, returning to your spell. And Wally, ever the optimist, would laugh and zip away, the sound of his footsteps echoing as he left you to your silence.

But it wasn’t enough for him, no. His persistence was a thing of legend. Sometimes you’d catch him watching you, his gaze fixed, a question burning in his eyes. "Why are you always like this?" he seemed to ask with every look. But he never voiced it. Instead, he’d turn away, hoping that somehow, eventually, you’d change your mind.

Then there was Robin. The dark and silent watcher. He knew how to stay in the shadows, how to be everywhere without being seen. His presence was like the night itself—always there, always watching, never truly gone. Robin was the most subtle of them all. He never asked outright; instead, he would drop little comments, observations that always felt like a puzzle, like he was trying to figure you out, piece by piece.

"You know, you could talk to us more," he’d say, casually leaning against the wall as he watched you work. His tone was light, almost playful, but you could sense the undercurrent of something more—something deeper. “We don’t bite, you know.”

You didn’t respond. Of course, you didn’t. The only response he got was the steady flick of your fingers over the spellbook, the quiet hum of magic filling the space between you. He didn’t try to get too close, not like Wally or M'gann, but his eyes never stopped tracking you, always measuring, always calculating. Robin was patient, the kind of person who knew that some things took time, that some people had walls that needed to be broken down slowly.

And you? You weren’t going to let him.

M'gann was the opposite. Her presence was always warm, soft, inviting. She would sit beside you, her legs tucked under her, her eyes wide with curiosity. "You know," she would say with that gentle voice of hers, "I could help you with your spells. I can be a good study partner, if you ever need one."

Her kindness wasn’t forced, never had been. It was natural for her, as natural as breathing. She wasn’t like the others who were driven by some sense of duty or curiosity. No, M'gann’s attention was genuine, a quiet offer of companionship. She was the one who tried to reach you without asking, without expecting anything in return.

But you didn’t need help. You didn’t need her to reach you. And so, you’d quietly decline, giving her nothing more than a polite smile before returning to the words in your book, the pages filled with symbols that had no need for her warmth.

And then there was Artemis. The sharp, straightforward one. She didn’t waste time on subtlety. Her approach was always direct, blunt, like a sharp blade that never hesitated. "You don’t have to be so closed off, you know," she’d say, her voice a mix of irritation and something else. It was hard to tell with Artemis—her eyes were always guarded, her emotions always hidden behind a wall of indifference. "We’re all in this together."

She had a point, of course. But you didn’t care. You didn’t care about being “in it together.” You had your own path to follow, and they weren’t a part of it. You didn’t need to explain that to her, or to anyone. So, you’d give her a nod, a brief acknowledgment that wasn’t really an acknowledgment, and move on with your work.

Kaldur was the calm one, the quiet one. His respect for you was obvious, but it never crossed the line into anything more. He would offer you a nod as he passed, his gaze soft, his presence steady like the water he controlled. He didn’t push you the way the others did. He didn’t try to break down your walls. He simply respected them, kept his distance, and allowed you to be as you were.

But even Kaldur had moments when his gaze would linger on you, just a second too long, like he was waiting for you to finally open up, to let him see more than the cold silence you kept locked behind your eyes.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Enough for you to feel the weight of their gaze, the quiet pressure of their attention. They thought they understood you. They thought that if they just tried enough, kept reaching out, eventually, you’d let them in.

But you wouldn’t.

In the midst of their attempts, you kept your distance, always lost in the pages of your spells, your incantations, the quiet hum of power that thrummed beneath your fingertips. They were drawn to you, like moths to a flame, their fascination burning just beneath the surface of their words, their glances, their actions.

But you would remain untouched. You would keep your secrets locked away, your magic a barrier between you and the world they wanted to draw you into.

They didn’t understand it, not really. They couldn’t. You were not like them. You didn’t need what they offered. You didn’t need to be a part of their team, their family, their world. You were the silent watcher, the one who kept their distance while they reached out, always hoping that something would change.

But it wouldn’t.

You weren’t there for them. You were there because you had a purpose, one that had nothing to do with them, nothing to do with the team, and nothing to do with any of their quiet, unspoken obsessions. You would remain distant, and they would keep trying, never understanding why you remained so cold, so unreachable.

And that, for now, was enough.

(A/n: thank you kind fellow fur🤭😽)

[dissapointu]

I was wondering if your requests are still open could you do how would the arcane characters be with a ditzy s/o headcanons

If they are not just ignore this lol

Of course! Here’s how each of the Arcane characters would interact with a ditzy S/O:

Jinx

• Jinx adores your ditziness because it keeps life interesting for her. You might misplace things or say silly, nonsensical things, but she loves it.

• She’s always teasing you in a playful way: “Did your brain take a vacation again?” while laughing.

• If your ditziness gets you into trouble, she’s quick to intervene—whether that’s helping you out of a jam or turning a minor mistake into a wild adventure.

• She finds it hilarious when you confuse her chaotic gadgets for random junk. “No, no! That’s a grenade! Wait—don’t press—oh, too late!”

• Secretly, she loves taking care of you because it makes her feel needed, even if she pretends to be exasperated.

Vi

• Vi finds your ditzy nature both charming and mildly concerning. She’s protective and often tries to keep you out of trouble.

• “What do you mean you got lost on the way to the bar? It’s two blocks away.” She’ll roll her eyes but escort you home anyway.

• She’s surprisingly patient with you, though. If you forget something important, she’ll gently remind you and laugh it off.

• Sometimes, she uses your cluelessness as an excuse to mess with you. “Yeah, totally, that button shuts down the whole system. Try it.”

• Despite her teasing, she thinks your scatterbrained moments are part of what makes you so lovable.

Sevika

• Sevika is equal parts amused and exasperated by your ditzy tendencies. She’s the type to sigh dramatically but still help you out without hesitation.

• “How do you even survive out here?” she’ll mutter while guiding you away from danger.

• She’s fiercely protective, especially if someone tries to take advantage of your naïveté. They’ll quickly learn not to mess with you.

• At first, she might mistake your ditziness for weakness, but over time, she realizes it’s just part of your charm—and that you’re stronger than you seem.

• She secretly loves your silly, lighthearted energy because it balances out her tough, no-nonsense personality.

Silco

• Silco is initially baffled by your ditziness, wondering how someone so absent-minded caught his attention. But he quickly grows fond of it.

• He has infinite patience for you, often stepping in to fix your mistakes before they escalate. “Honestly, how do you manage to complicate the simplest tasks?”

• If you wander off in Zaun and get lost, he’ll drop everything to find you, scolding you gently but relieved you’re safe.

• Your airheaded moments amuse him more than he’d admit, and he’s surprisingly tender when helping you navigate things you find confusing.

• He values your innocence and lightheartedness, seeing it as a reprieve from the darkness of his world.

Vander

• Vander thinks your ditzy nature is endearing and reminds him of the younger kids in the Lanes. He’s always ready to help you out.

• He’s quick to guide you back on track if you get distracted or confused. “Alright, let’s try this again. Step one…”

• He’s incredibly patient, especially if you’re trying to help around the bar but end up making more of a mess.

• Vander loves your optimism and how you can brighten his day with your goofy mistakes. He can’t help but chuckle when you get flustered.

• He sees it as his responsibility to keep you safe, especially in a dangerous place like Zaun.

Ekko

• Ekko finds your ditziness cute and funny, though he’s always keeping an eye on you to make sure you don’t accidentally hurt yourself.

• He’ll tease you, but it’s always in a lighthearted way: “You’re lucky you’re cute, because that was not your smartest move.”

• If you forget something important or wander off, he’s quick to come to the rescue. “Where were you? Don’t scare me like that!”

• He loves how carefree you are, and your absentminded moments often inspire him to slow down and laugh at life’s silliness.

• Ekko thinks your energy is contagious, and he admires how you never let your ditziness get you down.

Jayce

• Jayce is endlessly entertained by your ditzy moments. He thinks they’re adorable and never makes you feel bad about them.

• He’s quick to help you when you get confused, patiently explaining things (sometimes over and over). “No, see, this is how it works!”

• If you make a silly mistake, he’ll laugh but also reassure you: “Hey, it happens to the best of us.”

• He enjoys your lighthearted nature because it balances out the pressure he’s always under. You remind him not to take things too seriously.

• Jayce often finds himself doting on you, making sure you’re okay and subtly double-checking your work when needed.

Viktor

• Viktor is amused by your ditzy tendencies, though he struggles to understand how someone so absent-minded manages in daily life.

• He gently corrects you when you make mistakes, his tone always kind and patient. “No, no, my dear, you’ve got it backwards again.”

• He secretly enjoys your quirks because they make him smile, especially when he’s stressed with work.

• Viktor is extra cautious if you’re around his lab equipment, often guiding you away from anything dangerous. “Careful—don’t touch that!”

• He admires your ability to stay positive despite your scatterbrained moments and finds your innocence refreshing in contrast to the harshness of his world.

Caitlyn

• Caitlyn is endlessly patient with your ditziness, often stepping in to help you without making a big deal out of it.

• She finds your airheaded moments endearing and will gently tease you about them. “You really are one of a kind, aren’t you?”

• If you get distracted or wander off, she’s quick to track you down and make sure you’re safe.

• Caitlyn loves your lighthearted nature and how it brings a sense of levity to her otherwise serious life.

• She’s always there to support you, whether it’s reminding you of something you forgot or helping you navigate a confusing situation.

[willowsnook]

I can't come with you

Can I request chicken, veggies and wrap 😝

Lewis hamilton x coworker!reader

I still love you 

—----------------------------------------------

After five years as Lewis Hamilton's PR manager, the rumors of something more between you two never stopped. Honestly, you understood why—your relationship was far closer than that of most drivers and their managers. Despite being 10 years his junior, you were one of his closest confidants. The two of you just got each other.

Managing Lewis’ PR was easy; he rarely caused controversy, which gave people more reason to fixate on your relationship. You’d even seen TikTok edits and conspiracy theories speculating on "the way Lewis Hamilton looks at Y/N." Sure, Lewis was attractive, and you sometimes thought you’d make a good couple, but Mercedes’ strict no-fraternizing policy meant that line wasn’t one you could cross. Instead, you chalked up his red-carpet invites and social media posts of the two of you as purely professional—there in case anything went wrong.

As his friend, you were well aware of his frustrations with Mercedes. He felt unheard, and his growing outspokenness only made your job busier. But nothing could have prepared you for what came next.

You stood shivering outside Lewis’ London flat after knocking on the door. The January air still stung your face from the walk over. When he opened the door, his warm smile was a welcome contrast to the cold.

“Hi,” he greeted.

“Hi yourself,” you replied, pulling him into a tight hug. “Did you have a good holiday season?”

“Of course. Spent time with the family,” he said, leading you inside. “Wine?”

“Sure,” you said, watching him carefully. Something felt off. The usual confident Lewis seemed replaced with someone more anxious. As you chatted, you noticed his avoidance of eye contact and how he fidgeted with his rings.

“Okay, what’s up?” you finally asked.

“What do you mean?” he asked weakly, but you raised an eyebrow.

“You’re being weird.”

Lewis sighed, motioning for you to join him in the living room. “So… you know how things escalated with Mercedes last year,” he began, and you nodded. “Well, I think it’s time to say goodbye after this season. I’ve spent the last week in Italy with Ferrari. I’m going to sign with them for 2025.”

You froze. You knew he was unhappy, but the thought of him leaving Mercedes had never crossed your mind.

“Who knows?” you whispered.

“Just you,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours.

“When are you announcing it?”

“I’m not sure. Obviously, we’ll work on it together, but I didn’t bring you here as my manager. I’m telling you as my friend.”

You set your wine glass down, staring straight ahead. Ferrari. Italy. Lewis leaving you.

“Well, if this is what you want, then I’m happy for you,” you said softly, meeting his gaze.

“Are you?” he pressed.

“No,” you admitted, your voice barely audible.

“I want you to come with me,” he said, and your head snapped up in shock.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m Lewis Hamilton. If I tell Ferrari I’m only coming if Y/N joins, you’ll have a job there,” he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Lewis, I don’t want to leave Mercedes,” you said firmly, watching surprise flash across his face.

“But I’m leaving,” he countered.

“And I’m happy for you,” you said, exasperation creeping into your voice. “But I have my own career here, and if you were really my friend, you wouldn’t ask me to start over somewhere else for your sake.”

“I’ll double your salary,” he offered, but you stood, grabbing your coat.

“You just don’t get it,” you said, frustrated. “Call me when you’re ready to talk logistics for the announcement.”

His voice called after you, but you were already halfway out the door.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------

A couple of months later, the cracks in your friendship were impossible to ignore. After Lewis’ decision became public, the team shifted focus to George and Kimi, leaving you to manage the younger drivers. Meanwhile, Lewis seemed to grow resentful, constantly complaining about Mercedes to you despite your efforts to remain neutral.

It all came to a head during the summer. After laughing with George over a TikTok challenge, Lewis confronted you as you walked back to the garage.

“Not even gone yet and you’re already replacing me,” he said bitterly, catching you as you walked back to the garage. 

“What are you talking about?” You asked, clearly confused. 

“I didn’t realize that George was so funny,” he commented and you stopped walking to look at him. 

“Are you jealous right now?” You asked, somewhat amused, somewhat annoyed. “Should I just be a brick wall around him?”

“That’s what you’re doing around me,” he bit back and you crossed your arms. 

“Sorry I’m not going to jump in and complain with you when this job treats me pretty good,” you retorted. 

“Oh yeah I forgot, you’re choosing them over me,” he said and you took an angry step towards him. 

“This friendship is not going to last if you keep blaming me for the consequences of your own choice,” you argued. 

“Then maybe it shouldn’t,” he said and you froze. Blinking away the tears you walked away, mind reeling at how someone could throw five years of friendship away over this. 

You and Lewis pretty much avoided each other after that which the media picked up on easily. Most of the speculation was spot on, him leaving Mercedes broke you up. Fans noticed his change in demeanor at events and your absence. 

—------------------------------------

Seeing Lewis for the first time in red was jarring. You were at pre-season testing and couldn’t take your eyes off your old friend. It had been months since you last spoke, and your heart ached seeing him again. During the winter break, you started questioning whether you and Lewis had been more than friends because the separation hurt you badly. You missed him. 

Don’t get you wrong, you loved Kimi. He was a breath of fresh air, eager to be great, and honestly adorable. But your relationship with him was so different. He was like a little brother to you while Lewis was, well, Lewis. 

“Going to talk to him?” George asked, coming out of nowhere to stand beside you as you watched Lewis talking with Charles. 

“Probably not,” you replied looking up at him. He gave you a knowing look. 

“I feel like I am a child of divorce,” he complained and you laughed lightly. 

“Sorry you got stuck with me then,” you joked and he smirked. 

“He misses you,” George said gently and you shook your head. 

“He made his choice,” you countered and George grabbed your shoulders, turning you to face him. 

“He chose to leave Mercedes, he didn’t choose to leave you,” he said. 

“It feels like he did though,” you said softly and George wrapped an arm around you. 

“He brings you up casually every single time we talk y/n. Always wondering how you are and what you’re doing.” 

You didn’t say anything to that, just mulled over it. As if his ears were burning, Lewis looked over to where you were standing, meeting your eyes. Your heart clenched looking at him and you turned around to walk away. 

The next time you saw him he was talking with Kimi on the track as you were searching for your young driver. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but I need Kimi for media,” you said professionally and Kimi nodded, starting to say goodbye to Lewis. 

“Please get dinner with me tonight,” Lewis said to you, interrupting the poor boy. 

“No,” you replied and he crossed his arms staring at you. 

“I made a reservation at the place you like here,” he said and you crossed your arms back. 

“Then cancel it,” you said. 

“Y/n.”

“Lewis.”

Kimi looked between the two of you, laughing nervously before you pulled him away. 

“So what was that about?” He asked as you walked towards where the media was set up. 

“Nothing,” you replied, focusing on the sight in front of you. 

“Didn’t seem like nothing,” he hummed. 

“Kimi,” you warned. 

“Could cut the sexual tension with a knife,” he giggled before leaping away from your grasp. 

Later that day, you were back in your hotel room, changing into leggings and an oversized Mercedes hoodie. Your stomach growled and you pulled up your maps looking for somewhere to eat. You saw the name of the place Lewis mentioned and you hesitated, it was your favorite. It was a hole-in-the-wall Indian place with only a couple of tables, so you had to make a reservation, which you and Lewis had discovered a few years ago. Maybe he would go elsewhere since you hadn’t agreed to join him. 

Making it down to the lobby you stopped as you saw him waiting by the door as if he was waiting for you. He had a small smirk on his face as you approached and you rolled your eyes. 

“Let’s go sweetheart,” he said opening the door for you. 

“Don’t call me that,” you snapped back. Paparazzi swarmed the front of the hotel as you stepped out and you forgot what being in public with Lewis was like. His hand found your lower back, and he protectively stuck an arm out in front of you while leading you to the car the valet had brought up. You ducked in and waited for him to join, inhaling the scent that you had missed so much. 

He drove to the restaurant silently and you passed the time looking out the window until you arrived. You walked in front of Lewis, greeting the owners who knew the two of you by now and they showed you to your table. 

“I have something for you,” Lewis said as you sat down and you looked at him curiously. He pulled out a box, and your breath caught, knowing what it was. He opened it to pull out a gold braided ring. Each year for Christmas, he got you something from the latest Cartier line and you felt yourself getting a little misty-eyed. 

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured as he slipped it on to one of your fingers. “You shouldn’t have.”

“I wanted to,” he said softly. “Even with things how they are, I had to.” 

“What happened to us Lewis?” You asked miserably. “I don’t like this.”

“I don’t either,” he admitted. “I miss you.”

“Truce?” You offered and he gave you a slow smile. 

“Truce,” he agreed. The rest of dinner was just like old times and you felt yourself start to heal from the pain him leaving had caused. 

—-----------------------------------------------

Months later, you found yourself at Monza, the roar of engines and the sea of Ferrari red creating a buzz of excitement that was impossible to ignore. You’d been dreading this race—Ferrari’s home turf and the first time you’d be back in the thick of Lewis’ world since your truce. Your truce hadn’t changed much between the two of you besides the fact that you’d talked a little more at races, catching up but there was still a giant hole inside of both of you. 

You were standing by the Mercedes garage, reviewing media notes with Kimi, when you saw him. Lewis leaned casually against the Ferrari pit wall, his arms crossed, sunglasses on, exuding his usual confidence. Yet, even from a distance, you felt the weight of his gaze.

“Go say hi,” Kimi nudged, breaking your train of thought.

“I’m working,” you deflected, pretending to focus on your clipboard.

“You’ve been working all weekend,” Kimi said with a smirk. “Go.”

Before you could protest further, Lewis started walking toward you. Your heart raced as he closed the gap, his presence as magnetic as ever.

“Y/N,” he greeted, his voice soft but carrying over the noise around you.

“Lewis,” you replied, offering a small smile. “Good luck out there today.”

“Thanks,” he said, glancing around before focusing back on you. “Can we talk for a second?”

You hesitated, but his expression was earnest, so you nodded. He led you a few steps away, just out of earshot of the bustling garage.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” he began, pulling off his sunglasses to meet your eyes. “I know we’ve been better, but I’ve realized there’s still something I need to say.”

Your brows furrowed in curiosity as he shifted nervously, uncharacteristic for him.

“I’m sorry for asking you to leave and come with me. That was wrong of me, and you were right. I saw you as an extension of myself and not a whole person. I’ve had a lot of time to reflect on that, and I realized it was because I see you as a part of me. I’m not complete without you.” 

He continued. 

“My life is better with you in it and I thought that I would get over what we had once I had all the new shiny things at Ferrari but I still love you and I don’t think I’m ever going to stop loving you. 

“Lewis…” you started, your voice faltering.

He reached out, his hand brushing against yours. “You don’t have to say anything now. I just needed you to know. I’ll wait—however long it takes.”

“You don’t have to wait that long,” you admitted and his eyes lit up. “It feels like I’ve been missing my other half.” 

A slow, warm smile spread across Lewis’ face as he stepped closer to you, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with relief.

You leaned into his touch, your heart racing as you looked into his eyes. “I’ve missed you so much, Lewis.”

“I’ve missed you too, more than I can even explain,” he whispered before closing the gap, his lips brushing softly against yours. The kiss was tentative at first, filled with the weight of everything left unsaid, but it quickly deepened, becoming something that felt like coming home.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were smiling, the tension that had lingered for months melting away.

“So…” he started, his grin turning mischievous, “does this mean you’re rooting for me today?”

You let out a laugh, playfully rolling your eyes. “Absolutely not. I’m still team Mercedes, always.”

He clutched his chest dramatically, pretending to be wounded. “You’re breaking my heart, love.”

“You’ll survive,” you teased, tugging lightly at the collar of his Ferrari shirt. “Besides, it’ll make it that much sweeter when we beat you.”

He laughed, leaning in to steal another quick kiss. “We’ll see about that. But at least I know I’ve already won where it matters most.”

Your smile widened as you laced your fingers through his. “Good luck out there, Ferrari boy. You’re going to need it.”

And with that, you both headed back toward the paddock, the weight of the past replaced with hope for what was to come.

[gravitytrips]

You are so right.

massive amount of tags below but have some good thoughts

We’ve all heard the “Scout gets too much attention” rants in the fandom but I also want to say: Scout gets too much hate.

Like, he’s decidedly NOT a coward. I have no idea where people get that from. His entire backstory is that he got fast to that he could run into danger before the fight ended. He’s got voice lines pleading for his life, but every character has voice lines where they’re weak or losing.

He’s also not that annoying to anyone but Spy (besides the people he’s killing). I’m easier on this though because it comes from gameplay habits.

Also, Scout is strong. Maybe not physically, and certainly not as much as the rest of the team, but he’s quick, acrobatic, and whip smart about surroundings. He did single handedly take on a Heavy. Sure, it was his meet-the and everyone is overpowered but still. He puts up a fight. (My favorite subversive moment of the ‘scout gets wreaked by everyone automatically’ is in Mann Swap where we see him use his skillset to match with heavy’s strength.)

It’s hilarious to punch the punching bag, ofc. But Scout is my least favorite of the main nine and it still kills me to see him in “serious” tf2 fan media with only his joke traits.

[mygayasslovesbluealiens]

♡ANYA X FEM!READER♡

SUMMARY : Anya as your gf.

WARNINGS : fluff, mention of Daisuke.

WORD COUNT : 640

A/n : I accidentally deleted your ask 😔

Click "Keep reading" for more!♡☟

ON THE TULPAR :

- when she first met you she felt a little safer since she was the only woman on the ship.

- she took notes of your personality before trying to start a conversation.

- when she spoke to you, both of you immediately clicked and became friends.

- for some reason, y'all manage to crack jokes 24/7, and they're so stupid but y'all still laugh at it.

- you worked as a chef so you weren't that far from Anya.

- when you're done with your work, you always sneak some snacks with you whenever you'd hang out with the nurse.

- sleepovers.

- not really sleepovers since y'all share a room.

- but sleepovers.

- can't sleep? Yeah she can't too.

- sometimes y'all yap about something, often complaining about things or just gossip.

- you and Anya were so close and attached that when the other crew members see you separated they feel surprised.

- it took Anya a while to realize that she has feelings for you, it clicked when she caught herself fantasizing about holding you close to her, maybe buy a house together and get a pet.

- she was panicking a bit because, how do you feel about her???

- the panic settled down when you confessed to her one night. Girl was relieved.

- yeah once you confessed y'all started sharing a bed together.

- as you can imagine, her cuddles are the best. When you go to sleep and when you wake up, she's always holding you close to her.

- in all honesty, both of you were too shy to initiate a kiss, so it took y'all a very long while, but y'all got to it.

- her kisses make you melt, nothing too rough or too sensual. Just a short, sweet kiss.

- if you're on your period dw, she got a heating pad and some sweets that Daisuke helped her get.

- Daisuke was actually the first to know about your relationship. When he knew he labeled himself the lesbian protector.

- sometimes you get overwhelmed when you remember that you're in space, but do not worry, Anya will help you shower to relax.

- she's a good massager, fight me.

- she's a sweet talker, like really, like she'd whisper sweet things to you when you try to sleep after a long day.

- she's not much into PDA but she does hold you close or kiss your cheek (Daisuke acts baffled when he sees it as if he wasn't the first to know about it).

- overall, best gf you'll ever have.

ON EARTH :

- you'd hang out with her whenever she'd study, often cuddling you when she's taking a break from studying.

- you'd bring her sweets and gifts to try to motivate her into studying since you knew how much she wanted to be a nurse.

- you didn't care about the fact that she failed medical school 8 times, you still had hope for her and knew she could do it.

- she'd do anything with you, like anything.

- going for a walk? Check. Going to the gym? Check. Doing chores? Check. Showering/bathing? Check, check and check.

- on her birthday you got her a kitten, she loved it and gave you many kisses for it.

- if you're shorter than her, she pick you up to kiss you (I hc her to be about 5'8ft - 5'11ft).

- if you're taller than her, expect her to wear some heels so she can give you a smoochie.

- DATE NIGHTS ‼️‼️‼️

- she'd take you out to fancy restaurants and places, she doesn't care about the prices, if it makes you happy, she's happy.

- yes she does think about marrying you, but she struggles when trying to pick out a ring for you.

- if you don't like rings than she'll try other things like necklaces, bracelets and earrings.

- spoiler alert, girl got her happy ending, she married you and raised her kitten with you.

[lovegalor333]

can you do a part 3 to safe house please where reader goes back to Allie’s but stays in Paige’s room and they start a relationship?

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

safe house pt 3 (previous part)

summary: loosely based on this request! read previous parts

content warnings: alcohol consumption

You can’t remember the last time you got drunk. While you were with your ex boyfriend, you weren’t allowed to drink or party or have any fun actually but you’re not with him anymore so you can do whatever you want. And that’s why you had a red cup in each hand, one filled with vodka and the other with rum.

You took big gulps from each cup, the harsh bitterness of the alcohol no longer having an effect on you. You didn’t know what time it was, you could have arrived at the party two minutes ago or two hours ago, everything was a blur. It was nice. The constant anxiety that you were so used to living with everyday was slowly dispersing and not just because of the multitude of drinks you had consumed tonight.

You’d been staying at Allies place with her Paige and Jana for almost a month now. Your bruises had faded, you no longer flinched when someone touched you and you slept peacefully every night knowing that you weren’t going to wake up being choked or slapped. OK, not every night, you had nightmares sometimes but you were never alone, the girls held you while you cried every time. Especially Paige, she had a knack for knowing when you needed support and she would wrap her arms around you and rub your back until you could breathe normally again.

Speaking of Paige, you hadn’t seen her in a while, nor Allie or Jana but you just shrugged this off, downing the rest of your drinks, eager to find another. Your steps were staggered and your body swayed as you walked, if you knew any better, you’d stop drinking, go find your friends and make your way home but you didn’t know better. You felt like you had a new sense of life and you wanted to do all the things you missed out on while being in such a toxic relationship and that included getting drunk at frat parties.

You giggled to yourself as you pour more vodka into your cup. Your hand shook and the liquid splashed onto the counter, “Oh shittttt!” Your speech was slurred and slow and you felt dizzy as you spun around looking for paper towels to clean your mess. You couldn’t find any so decided the next best option was your shirt. You stretch the hem of your shirt and used the thin, lacy material to soak up the spilled alcohol. Obviously, this didn’t have the intended effect and you were left with a wet shirt and a bigger mess than before. You cursed under your breath but another sip of alcohol soon had you forgetting about the wet patch and swaying to the music again.

You made your way out of the kitchen, towards the booming speakers, desperate to dance but with your eyes focused on your feet, trying to stay balanced, you didn’t notice as you bumped straight into the chest of a rather large guy.

“Woah there.” He chuckles, hands reaching out to steady you and you allow him to, looking up grinning.

“I’m soooo sorryyyy.” You drawl out and he chuckles again, “It’s OK baby. Gotta watch where you’re going.”

“I just want to dance!” You pout, “Dance with me?” You flutter your lashes at the guy and his eyes rake over you, settling on your chest and you look down to see the top of your bra peaking out of your shirt, your full cleavage on clear display. Using your shirt as a rag had caused it to expose your chest way more than necessary.

“How ‘bout we go to my room? You can dance all you like in there.”

With God knows how much alcohol in your system and lack of better judgment, you slip your hand into his and follow behind him as he leads you through the frat house. He’s walking fast and you can’t keep up, you trip over your own feet, landing on the floor, your knee instantly hurts.

“Owww.” You cry out, clutching your throbbing knee, the entirety of your cup is spilled but you don’t have time to think about any of that because you’re instantly picked by up the guy you just met and you’re on your feet again and he’s leading you to the stairs.

Your steps are slower now because you’re limping but you’re practically being dragged and you feel as though you might fall again but then you feel a grip on your wrist and you’re being dragged in the opposite direction. With your hand still tight in the guys and your wrist being grasped from behind you, you’re being dragged in both directions and you think your arms are going to be ripped off.

“Let her go.” A stern, steady voice says from behind you and you recognise it, “Paigeeeeee!” You cheered as you turned around, coming face to face with the blonde, “I’ve been looking for you!”

“Now you’ve found me. Let’s go.” She says, tugging on your arm.

“Oh noooo I’m OK! We’re going to danceeee.” You reassure and your new buddy does too, “Yeah, I got her.” He says, also tugging on your arm.

“What’s her name?” Paige asks completely deadpan, in fact, she’s full on death glaring and when the guy can’t answer her question, she tugs on you harder until he drops your hand and scurries away.

“You’re no fun.” You sulk, crossing your arms over your body, frowning at Paige.

“And you’re very drunk. And your boobs are out,” She lifts your shirt until your chest is covered again, “and your knee is bleeding. And he definitely did not want to dance.”

“So? I’m si..shingle now.” You fumble over your words.

“Shingle?” Paige laughs and it only makes you frown more, “You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I know. All too well. Let’s go home.” She says grabbing your hand.

“Oh! I loooveeeee that song! Ten minute version! I walked through the door with you…” You began belting out the lyrics to All Too Well (10 minute version) as Paige guided you out of the frat house and you laughed as you walked through a door as you sang that exact lyric.

“And the air isssss cold.” You laugh again as you step into the street.

“OH YOUR SWEET DIS-DISPO-DISPOSITION!” You continue to perform as you walk hand in hand with Paige.

“What even is disposition? I’m sure yours is sweet whatever it is.” You lean into Paige, suddenly feeling very unsteady and she wraps your arm over her shoulder, her own hooking around your waist and she pretty much carries you all the way home while you butcher the lyrics to Taylor Swift.

By the time you reach the apartment, all your body weight is leant on Paige and she holds you strong and firm as she unlocks the door. You trip and stumble as you walk but she doesn’t let you fall, “Home stretch ma, just a few more steps.” She tells you before you feel the soft surface of a bed beneath you. The covers are fluffy and lilac, “This is your bed.” You say as if she doesn’t know. “Uh huh.” Is all she says as you feel her taking off your shoes.

You lay looking up at Paiges ceiling and you hear her shuffle around her room. Her bed is really comfortable you think to yourself.

Your knee begins to sting and you flinch, “It’s OK. I’m just wiping your knee.” Paiges voice is soft and gentle and she rubs your leg comfortingly. “You’re good at that.” You mumble, “Fixing me up.”

“I got you.”

“Thank you.” You voice is croaky and dry as you sit yourself up to look at your knee and the room spins, “The room is spinning.” You groan, holding a hand to your head.

“I’ll get you some water. Stay there.” Paige instructed and she left you alone in her room. Your wet shirt clung to you in an uncomfortable way and you tussle with it to get it over your head before throwing it on the floor.

“Oh…” Paige clears her throat as she comes back with a bottle of water, “It was wet.” You motion to your discarded shirt, “I’ll get you a clean one.” She says and hands you the bottle of water which you gladly take and gulp down, desperate for hydration.

Paige slips a t-shirt over your head and helps you thread your arms through and you look down, recognising the grey, UConn Basketball shirt you’ve seen her wear so many times, “Suits you.” She remarks and you grin up at her from your place on the edge of her bed, “Thank you, Paige. For everything. All the things you’ve done for me. No one’s ever done that for me before.” You admit as sobriety starts to slip in.

“Of course. I couldn’t just stand back and watch you get hurt.”

You reach out for Paiges hand as she stands in front of you and you hold it tenderly before bringing it to your mouth and pressing a soft kiss to it. You look up at Paige through your eyelashes and she’s looking down at you, eyes blue as ever, cheeks slightly flushed, “Can I sleep in here tonight?” You ask timidly and Paige nods, “I’ll take the couch.”

“No. I want to sleep in here…with you…please.” You mutter, hand still linked with Paiges, her calloused palm pressed against yours.

“You’re drunk…” She warns but you shake your head, “I know what I’m saying.”

“I don’t think you do.”

“Trust me, I do. Just lay with me tonight.” You shuffle back onto Paiges bed, pulling her with you and she doesn’t argue. She kicks her shoes off before laying down beside you, still holding your hand.

“I never knew it was meant to feel like this. So safe and secure.” You ramble on, unable to stop the words from spewing out, “And maybe that’s why I can’t stop thinking about you. Why it’s you who I want when I wake up crying. I don’t know if you meant to do this but you’ve showed me what it’s like to be truly cared for. I think I’m falling for you.”

The air is charged and there’s a long uncomfortable silence as your words hang between you both as you lay side by side.

“Get some sleep. You’ve had a lot to drink and you’re not going to remember anything in the morning.” Paige says, staring at her ceiling.

“I will.” You argue but you listen to her and close your eyes, moving your head to rest on her shoulder as you drift off to sleep, the taste of spirits still strong in your mouth and your heart racing from your drunken confession.

You wake up feeling like your head has been crushed under a hydraulic press. You groan as your eyes flutter open and then you gasp, waking up to Paige underneath you, your head rested on her chest, arm flung over her torso.

“What the fuck?” You mutter under your breath, noticing you’re wearing her top and that her arm is wrapped around you keeping you pressed to her. “Paige!” You hiss nudging her awake and it takes a moment but she begins to stir before slowly peeling her eyes open.

“I bet your head hurts like a motherfucker.” She grumbles, voice husky, thick with tiredness.

“You can say that again.” You squeeze your eyes shut hoping that blocking out the stream of daylight coming through the curtains will ease your pounding head. It doesn’t.

“What happened last night?” You ask apprehensively, pushing yourself up and off of Paige. She stays laying down, staring up at you, her eyes searching yours for a lightbulb moment but it doesn’t come. You have no memory of last night at all.

“You don’t remember?” She asks also pushing herself up so you’re both sitting. She’s still fully dressed and you’re still clad in your skirt from the night before so you know nothing happened between you but the atmosphere is charged like there’s something unspoken just hanging in the air.

“No. Not a thing. Did I embarrass myself?” You ask, cheeks heating at the thought of you doing something you’ll regret.

Paige shakes her head, “No. You were just really drunk. Tried going to a random dudes room so I brought you home.”

“Oh God. Thanks for stopping that.” You place a hand on Paiges knee and she has a reaction that you can’t quite place, “How comes I’m in here?” You ask, referring to her room. You either slept with Allie or on the couch.

“You asked to sleep in here.” She tells you and breaks eye contact, standing from the bed. She was acting weird. Fidgety and awkward. This wasn’t Paige.

“Did I do something to upset you?” You ask, guilt starting to slip in. You were used to being blamed for everything so it was only right Paiges mood was caused by you.

“No. No, of course not.” She reassured you but her body language said otherwise, “Then what is it?” You press, starting to feel awkward yourself, sat in her bed, wearing her top.

“You really don’t remember?”

“Obviously not. Can you just tell me?”

“You were drunk-“

“Yeah I got that part.”

“You were drunk and you asked to sleep in here…with me so we layed down together and you said you felt safe and secure. You said you can’t stop thinking about me…” Paige trails off but she doesn’t need to say anything more because everything comes flooding back to you, “I said I think I’m falling for you.” You say, repeating your alcohol induced confession.

Paige nods, “Fuckkk.” You groan, flopping back on her bed, covering your face with your hands, “I’m sorry. I was drunk and I shouldn’t have said that and now I’ve made things weird when you’ve been so good to me.” Your voice is muffled as you keep your hands pressed to your face, not daring to look at Paige.

“You haven’t made things weird. I didn’t know you felt like that. You caught me off guard.” Paige says and you feel the bed dip as she sits on it.

“Off guard in a bad way…or a good way?” You ask, not sure if you want to hear the answer.

Spending the past month with Paige had been confusing and you put it down to the repercussions of such an awful relationship but the more time you spent alone, watching movies, cooking, eating, talking, laughing, crying and actually being treated right, you realised that your feelings for Paige weren’t strictly platonic. You had no plan on telling her that though. To you, Paige saw you as a victim, someone who needed saving and she was kind enough to do that and you had taken that kindness and made it something it wasn’t and you were sure Paige saw you as just a friend.

“Not in a bad way. You’re beautiful and funny and you deserve the best in life but-“

“But I’m damaged goods.” You mutter, you had allowed yourself to be used and abused for a long time and then Paige watched you throw yourself at a random guy last night, you were crazy to think she’d want you.

“No, that’s not what I was going to say,” She turns to look at you and you have your knees tucked up to your chest, back rested against her headboard, “you’ve been through a lot. You’re going through a lot. I didn’t want to take advantage of that.” Paige says softly and you feel yourself melt. She has a way with words that makes your stomach flutter.

“I just want to forget about that. You help me forget about that. But I don’t want to be a charity case.”

“You’re not a charity case. Not to me.”

“What am I, to you?”

Paige stays silent but she moves closer to you, close enough to touch but ahe doesn’t reach out and your skin burns with need.

“You’re someone I care about…deeply. I want to spend all my time with you. I do spend all my time with you. You have something that I just can’t get enough of. I want to show you what it’s like to be loved…for real. Real, wholesome love. If you’ll let me.

Will you let me?”

Your heart is beating in your ears at this point and you’re staring at Paige, eyes soft and yearning and you can’t hold back from touching her any longer so you fling your arms around her, pulling her as close to you as she can get. Her arms find their way around your waist, hugging you back, your face is nestled into her neck, the scent of last nights cologne still strong, “I’ll let you.”

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

a/n: think i might take a break from writing once i get through some requests. my mental health is downnn atm and it’s making me hate everything i write 😕

[missingininaction]

alright, friends, i might say something you don't like but i think it's important. not just to defend a character, but because i think this is literally making people's experience and relationship with this game worse.

give jimmy like two seconds to exist.

by hating jimmy so much you refuse to even say his name, and judge real, living people for liking him, you are cheapening your experience by boiling down the main character to the most ~yuckiest~ moments. and, by not making a seperate space for hating on him, you are drowning out the voices of people who actually have nuanced things to say about his character. you know, the skilled writers and artists that feed the fandom? limitation is what kills fandoms, you have to know that.

is jimmy a good person? no. is he a good captain/companion/worker? Absolutely Not! he crumbles like dust under any pressure and he immediately shifts blame off of himself, he is an actively harmful individual and it's right to be upset by his actions. i literally had to stop myself from saying "man FUCK jimmy." multiple times because i didn't want to spoil how terrible he got to my friends when i showed the game to them.

but you have to understand; people are more than their actions. thats part of the entire point of the game. thats why its so abstract. you are meant to think about the nuances of their situation.

we can agree that anya was way more as a woman than what happened to her and what she did as a result of it, right? that despite her best efforts, she was a victim of circumstance, and she deserves to be understood and analyzed fully?

then why, seeing a fictional man who has done immoral things, are you so disgusted you won't even draw, write or discuss him outside of hate? what is that doing for you, to ignore literally the main character of the game because of his actions?

now, this is not to say people can't hate jimmy. i understand it! as someone who has been a victim of s/a and abuse, i understand if you hate him and are even triggered by him to the point of avoiding mention of him. (but...why are you in this fandom? ((not aggressive im genuinely asking)))

you can feel however you want about any character, my goal is not to control people. but i thought it was common knowledge to not hatepost about someone in their tag? over actual insight into his character and, you know, the main themes of the game?

jimmy is a man who has struggled his whole life. both him and curly confirm that in the game. he's unable to control his emotional outbursts, and he likely had no idea what to expect from being in fucking SPACE for over a year with people he probably didn't even know before that trip. and pony express and their corporate safety corner cutting certainly didnt help, did it?

for one reason or another, he most likely was never actually taught how to manage his emotions. that's just how it is sometimes, growing up as a man. and it would make sense if he was forced to deal with everything himself, no? he always complains, but he still says he'll handle it. because that's what he's always had to do. and this is just the start of what i could say about what made him the way that he is.

he's a victim too, not only of his own actions.

surprise surprise, people who do awful things can also be victims.

honestly, this entire situation baffles me. how are you going to avoid one of the main characters of the game, let alone the one you play as ninety percent of the time? mind you, curly is also guilty, and i am happy to see at least some people giving him space for nuance. because he is also a victim!!! why is it so impossible to see jimmy as nuanced, when literally every other character also has incredible depth to them??

you're tarnishing and spitting on the beautiful writing of this game just because one character is too icky for you to feel comfortable thinking about for too long. it's horror, you absolute morons. it's supposed to make you uncomfortable.

if you hate jimmy, i dont blame you. but please, please, make your own space for it. be kind to people who want to explore jimmy and the darker themes, and like him for what his character represents. this is a video game fandom, not a witch hunt. and please, learn some fandom etiquette while you're at it, okay? okay. thank you

also just say his name. its not a slur youre not gonna go to hell if you say jimmy. like this isn't as important but still it just feels like a microcosm of this whole thing.