#i always just get caught up on one detail

[natalchartnurtures]

PAC: Channeled Messages From The Person On Your Mind *Singles Edition*

Let's feed our delusions. (jk)

Pile 1: "You make me feel so good, like I'm on cloud nine. You make everything so, sooo worth it. I feel like a winner with you around... and the thing is.. you have no clue lol. I wanna win you over and show you off. You've no idea how you make me feel... you being your hot-ass self sitting there, looking so cute. I keep so much of my feelings to myself, but all I wanna do is overcome this impossible (and seemingly invisible) barrier between us! Ahhhhhh, it drives me nuts on some days, ugh!

You feel like a blessing to me. I didn't know somebody like you could exist?! Ahhhhh. I've been alone all my life, but you make me wanna not be alone anymore... it's not something I expected to feel, I have to be honest lol.

I'm not ready to come toward you right now, though. Trust me, I KNOW I must do something, but my anxiety holds me back... my limiting beliefs hold me, and I have no clue how to overcome them. I wish I could figure it out so I could BE WITH YOU ALREADY!

I'm being patient, though... with myself and with the situation between us. I keep my cards close, so you probably wouldn't even know any of this... sheesh, I don't wanna look like a fool in front of you. I'm scared you'd think less of me—it would KILL me if you did—so I keep you at arm's length.

Your presence TRIGGERS some very intense feelings inside me. I feel so exposed and vulnerable with you around, so overwhelmed, and it's not easy, you know? My heart's been broken before, and I'm afraid of getting it broken again. That's definitely a part of the fear you make me feel. I've had to be on the defense with people, especially from my past... relationships have not been easy, and so I guess I gotta work on that.

Go listen to Taylor Swift's 'Lover' anytime you miss me... that's a song I dedicate to you, sweetie, until I see you next time."

If you'd like to know more about your person's thoughts for you, you can book a reading with me! You can find the details here :]

Pile 2: "GIRL, I have been going THROUGH IT, sheesh... I've been holding on for dear life 'cause lately, it feels like everything is out to get me, uk? One thing goes straight to hell after another, and I've just been so caught up with everything. You know what's been keeping me going, though? You. I've been dreaming about you most nights... I think about you when I can, to help me get through what I need to get through. The thought of you gives me strength, girlie. Every time you cross my mind, I get so weak in the knees! I look forward to every time I get to see you... (even if we live in the same house lmao!)

I feel you all around me all the time—it's lovely. I love how you make me feel... you take away my troubles, even if just for a sec. For that, I am immensely grateful!

You're not in my life right now, though... but I'm PRAYING and WISHING and HOPING that I might have a shot with you. The hope of a possibility of being with you is what makes the hard days sooo much easier. I seriously want a solid relationship with you more than anything else! (If we aren't in one already 👀)

Right now, I'm getting my shit together, and I hope you'll be waiting for me on the other side, just like in my dreams. You give me hope in a hopeless world again. You're such a light to me... you don't even know it.

I'm always watching you, though... even when you don't know—ESPECIALLY when you don't notice! Haha, it's my favorite thing in the world. I think you've got the prettiest voice in the world. Gosh, I just wanna be with you, but BOY, I've got my hands tied up right now. I'm letting go and letting God decide when it's time for us to come together. You make me wanna have faith in something greater than us.

But I assure you, I'm coming for ya once I'm done figuring everything in my life. Oh, and I love you. ✨"

If you'd like to know more about your person's thoughts for you, you can book a reading with me! You can find the details here :]

Pile 3: "You make me so horny. I can't even sit right when I'm around you. WHY DO YOU HAVE THIS EFFECT ON ME?! (Not that I'm complaining tbh, I love it haha). But seriously, how can someone be so goddamn hot?! How?! Jeez, I LOVE your body! I get so many 18+ thoughts—it's insane. I apologize for being so direct, but it's just what you do to me, sorry not sorry :p

You make me wanna run toward you EVERY TIME I see you! All I wanna do is be all up on you, loving you, kissing you, and hugging you. Man, it's hard to be around you and not be close to you, especially when there's other people around. I LOVE TALKING TO YOU, and I don't ever wanna stop talking to you, ugh.

You make my heart explode! I've never had feelings this deep for anybody in my life (I WISH I was kidding, jeez). You make me wanna act mature and romantic n stuff... 🙃 (Usually, I'm not like this, btw).

I wanna be where you're at, vibrationally speaking, but I've got some things I gotta take care of. I've got some old cycles I've been on—my old bs. I'm working hard on it and releasing it as we speak, and this is helping me come toward you. Might take me a while, though, ngl 👀🙄. But I'll be there before you know it, princess!

I WANT our relationship to begin between the two of us SO BAD, but I can't see how that's gonna happen yet. It feels like it's not the right time yet? Idk... it's really frustrating, though. I'm trying not to do anything stupid to sabotage our new beginning, though. I'm just going with the flow of things and listening to my intuition about our situation. Don't worry!

I see you as my forever, my one and only. I can't explain it, but I just know. You're the one for me, and honestly, it's breaking my heart that I can't actively pursue you right now since it's supposed to be 'divinely guided' 🙄 Like, Universe, could you please hurry up and get me to MY baby, ugh.

You're so beautiful, you're my goddess, my other half. I can't wait to get to you and spoil you and have a PROPER relationship with you. I hate that we can't come together and confess to each other yet... it's maddening. I know we're destined to be, but the way things are going on the surface right now, it might seem as if we're not meant to be... hell, we might not even be talking to each other or you may not even know I exist right now! But as soon as the divine gives me the green light, I'll be coming running toward you to claim you all for myself." ✨

If you'd like to know more about your person's thoughts for you, you can book a reading with me! You can find the details here :]

[benkeibear]

『 Virgin Gojo 』

☼ synopsis: Satoru Gojo was a goddamn virgin and you were hellbent on testing your little theory before taking his innocence.

☼ character: Satoru Gojo

☼ reader: female | AFAB

☼ wc: 3792

☼ cw: switch!Gojo, virginity loss, experienced reader, oral (reader giving), fingering, cum eating, creampie, overstimulation, aftercare

☼ notes: I gave this piece a little realism since not every first time is picture perfect and no one gets born a sex god.

Gojo had been chasing after you ever since the day he met you, trying to impress you with everything he could think of. But when his money or the stories he told didn't work, he slowly lost it, trying to make you jealous instead by telling you how many women he takes back to his dorm and how they all scream his name. “I bet they scream because he can't find the clit.” You laughed softly at Shoko’s remark after the white haired man told you about his latest fling.

“That's not true. She squirted all over my cock,” Gojo fired back with a pout on his face as he crossed his arms defensively, but the both of you had to stifle a laugh. He clearly was no gentleman since they don't kiss and tell, but the way he always went over the line with his stories, making sure they were all graphic and detailed, made it hard to believe for you. Why would he tell his crush all that? He followed you around like a lost puppy dog that was begging for just a crumb of your attention and the way he blushed when you teased him never went by unnoticed either. Gojo Satoru was a goddamn virgin and you were hellbent on testing your little theory.

Studying was quickly forgotten when you straddled his lap while he just tried to explain something about cursed energy to you, but you were far too busy with your own little plan to listen.

“Finally got to your senses?” He asked with a smug grin and shoved his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to look at you just above the dark-tinted glasses. His confidence was as fake as in his previous bedroom stories and it was so apparent by how tense he got when you rested your hands on his chest, his heart almost beating out of his ribcage. His pale skin formed goosebumps when you cupped his cheek ever so gently. “Perhaps I have... Fuck me, Satoru,” you whispered into his ear just before you pressed open-mouthed kisses to his neck and you could feel a shudder run down his spine.

His hands were on your ass in an instant, kneading the globes eagerly, but it screamed insecurity to you. Slender fingers were kneading your flesh when you started grinding your hips against him. A breathless moan escaped his soft lips upon the sensation and his grip on your ass was painful enough to leave bruises. To make things worse for him, you were mewling his name so pretty right into his ear, your words leaving him breathless as he helped you to move your hips, meeting every roll of yours with a little upward thrust. “Just like that, butterfly,” he moaned out. The sensation of your clothed cunt so close to his cock made him lose his mind entirely and he just wanted to be inside of you, have you as his first.

When your lips met his, Gojo moaned into your mouth, giving you the perfect opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth and he held your hips close against his, aimlessly humping into you, but you bit his lip. “If you cum in your pants right now, I won't even think about sucking you off,” you warned him and his hips almost stilled instantly. His face and ears dusted pink when you caught onto him. It was torture to him, edging himself like this, but perhaps you're not just teasing him and he won't ever pass up on the feeling of your lips wrapping around his cock. Not when this very image was what caused many sleepless nights where he coated his hand in his own cum more than once. A single hiss left his lips when you started to grind your hips into his again, your breath hot against his neck as you marked his skin up with purple marks. It would be a lie to say that it didn't affect you, knowing that you make him feel so good and that you have him in your palm like putty. His cock feels delicious, even through your clothes. You were almost embarrassed by how soaked your panties were from a little dry humping, but you didn't take pity on his state, not until he admitted he’s a virgin. “Fuck. Can't you just use your mouth already?” He asked through gritted teeth and you moved your kisses to his jawline. “And with that stamina, you made women scream? Impatient asshole,” you teased and his eyes fluttered shut. He knew that you knew it was all a lie, but he wasn't ready to fall into your trap. “It's different with you,” he tried defending himself when you slowly got up from his lap and it took everything in him not to bend you over and bury his aching dick in your cunt. “It's different because it's an actual pussy grinding against you and not just your own hand for once, hm?” You asked and unbuttoned his shirt painfully slowly. “Please use your mouth. I'll do everything you want,” Gojo whispered the last part, feeling foolish for being so desperate, but it made you giggle.

“My eager little virgin,” you cooed and sank to your knees as he bit his own lip at how degrading it sounded to him, his hand slowly traveling into your hair to caress you. “Or am I wrong?” You asked as you unbuttoned his pants without pulling them down yet, until he shook his head. “No, no, you're not,” he said softly, nudging his pants down along with his underwear since you were taking too long for him. You were met with the prettiest cock, already leaking with pre-cum from his soft pink tip. “And you want me to be your first?” You asked, giving him the chance to stop this, fingers raking over his thighs before you pressed a single kiss to each of them. "Yes,” he smiled down at you, not believing his wet dream was about to become reality and you nodded softly as your kisses trailed further up to his hipbones, an impatient whine escaping him. “May I?” You asked him sweetly and looked up to him, but he couldn't answer anymore, gently guiding your head towards his tip, which made you laugh at how eager he was to experience this.

Gojo almost squeaked when your soft lips kissed the leaking tip of his cock, pre-cum already running down his shaft in small beads, but you had enough of the teasing, just wanting him to enjoy his first time now. Ever so gently, you wrapped your lips around his aching length and your longe immediately began to swirl around it, smoothing down any vein and ridge as you slowly sunk your head further down. When you looked up at him through your lashes, he was already far gone. His face contorted in pure bliss before he let his head fall back and his hands traveled to your head. He didn't push you further down, but he needed to hold onto you, feeling like you're sucking his soul out through his dick. When you hollowed out your cheeks for the first time, “fuuuck-” his groan was drawn out and you decided to take him further down your throat. That cocky bastard was indeed very well endowed and with some more practice, he would make women scream.

You barely managed to take his entire length, feeling him so far down your throat, but his sinful moan when your nose brushed the neatly trimmed hair at the base was worth the effort. His hands grabbed your hair tighter with every bop of your head, but it only made you moan. Your soft moans sent vibrations down his cock and that was all it took. Stuttered moans fell from his lips when he held your head in place, not wanting to lose the warmth of your mouth around him as his cum shot down your throat. Normally you would pull back and curse him for shoving your head further down and making you take his cum, but you let him have it this time. The poor virgin's legs were shaking violently in the aftermath of his orgasm when he slowly pulled back, a dust of crimson creeping up his neck, but it was quickly replaced with a cocky smirk. “You're such a good girl,” he praised, acting like someone in some poorly written porn, which made your eyes roll. “Next time, you better ask if the person sucking wants to swallow your cum.” You scolded him, your angry glare set right onto his face, but his cock twitched from your words.

“Can we skip foreplay?” He asked sheepishly, dying to experience your cunt wrapped so tightly around his cock, but you only raised your brows and your face fell quickly when you realized it wasn't a joke. “No?!” You snapped, stating the obvious, before taking your shirt off. His eyes almost fell out of his skull when your shirt landed on the ground and his lips were on you in a fraction of a second while eager hands worked to open your bra. A surprised moan slipped out of you when he managed to open your bra on the second try already and you could feel the smirk against your lips. Gojo’s large hands covered your boobs immediately, kneading them eagerly and you let him discover your body the way he wanted to. His kisses slowly wandered down your neck, giving it the same treatment you gave him earlier, sucking small marks onto your skin while leaving open-mouthed kisses behind.

“You're so hot,” he breathed against your skin and you could feel how genuine he was. His cocky act was pushed aside. When his lips finally reached your chest, you were holding your breath, a single whimper slipping out when he wrapped his thin lips around one of your nipples while looking up at you to gauge your reaction. Upon seeing your eyes flutter shut and your hands burying themselves in his hair, he moaned content against your boobs, swiping his tongue over the pebbled nipple while his hand caressed the neglected breast until he switched sides.

He could do this forever, your boobs were so warm against him and the little noises you let out were all he ever needed - at least that's what he thought. "Toru, please... more,” you practically begged, certain that your panties would be drenched when he took them off, but Gojo didn't need to be told twice. Giving your boobs a kiss goodbye, his tongue trailed over your stomach to the hem of your pants. “May I?” He asked with a small smile on his face, repeating your own question from earlier to show that he learned from your scolding and asked for consent. A simple nod is all you could manage before slim fingers slowly pulled your pants down, leaving you behind in damp panties. Gojo might have been a virgin, but he held so much confidence if you let him just do his thing and it stole your words. “Let's lay down,” you suggested, feeling awkward since you were both still standing around at his desk, but Gojo agreed, gently picking you up to let you fall down on his messy bed, hovering halfway over you. He propped himself up on one arm while laying on his side, his other hand gently caressed your inner thighs, hoping you spread them further for him and you did. You didn't miss the gulp when his hand brushed against your soaked underwear, amazed by how wet you were for him - a little boost to his already far too big ego.

“Please,” you begged breathlessly, unsure what exactly you were begging for, but you yearned to feel his fingers play with your wet pussy. Of course, Gojo flashed you the cockiest smile when you were begging him so desperately, but he didn't want to wait much longer either, so he hooked his slender fingers into the waistband of your panties and peeled them off of you. To help him, you lifted your hips ever so slightly and once the piece of fabric dropped to the floor next to the bed, Gojo was hovering above you, one of his knees placed between your thighs.

He didn't want you to see how nervous he felt, so he kissed you as his hands explored your body once again, but his tongue stopped caressing yours when the tips of his fingers touched your wet folds for the first time. “So wet for me, baby,” he cooed, masking his little shocked reaction, but you simply pulled him closer by the back of his neck to connect your lips once again. Clumsy fingers explored your pussy, sliding through your slit to smear your juices around before gently rubbing your labia. You had to stifle a small laughter when Gojo confidently massaged your labia minora as if he tried to start a fire with the friction. Not wanting to ruin the moment by speaking up and possibly embarrassing him, you gently reached between your bodies to guide his hand to where it's supposed to be, rewarding him with a soft moan. He picked up right away and gently rubbed circles onto your exposed clit until your legs started to shake slightly. His cock was so achingly hard from touching you that he could barely contain himself, but your pleasure was important to him, important to his pride, so he swiftly sank two fingers into you. Your back arched off the mattress at the sudden intrusion and your hands reached for his biceps just to hold onto something.

Gojo gasped when you clenched around his fingers for the first time, feeling just how tight and warm your little cunt was and he started fantasizing about how it would feel around his virgin cock. Would he even last long enough? He started to wonder as the pads of his fingers curled into your pussy - something he's seen in porn. “Fuck- just like that!” You whined out desperately before moans fell from your lips alongside praises. The moment your walls started to flutter around you, Gojo spat onto your clit and let his thumb rub it just like his palm did earlier. You had no idea where he learned it and truth be told, you didn't want to know where he picked that up from, but it was all you needed to tumble over the edge. Your walls gripped tightly onto his fingers as you moaned out his name like a lewd prayer, Satoru’s heart beating faster when he watched you orgasm just from his fingers. Once you came down from your high, you held onto his wrist with desperation, needing him to stop because you started to crave being stretched open by his cock.

When Gojo pulled his long fingers out of your wet cunt, he moaned, your juices staining the bedsheets where you laid and dripping off his fingers. Without thinking about it, he pushed his fingers between his lips to let his tongue get a taste of your sweet nectar and it was enough to make his cock twitch. “You taste so fucking good, butterfly,” the man between your thighs praised in a moan and the lewd scene made your pussy clench around nothing. “I'll make sure you come on my tongue next time, yeah?” He asked cocky and you had to get him down from his arrogant behavior. “Who said there would be a next time?” You asked, sounding rather pissed and he shook his head with a small chuckle. “If you allow me, that is,” he added with a wink that made you roll your eyes. He was so fucking cocky, but you also wanted to see him buried between your thighs, his blue eyes looking up at you while his tongue laps at your core like it's his last meal. You needed to see him drunk on your perfect little cunt, but right now you were dying to have his cock inside of you.

A single glare was shot at the white-haired man before you pulled him on top of your body again, your legs wrapping around his waist and he let his cock slide against your folds for the first time. Gojo’s eyes fell shut as he hissed. Your cunt felt so good against him like this and all he wanted to do was push inside to make you cum around his cock just like you did around his fingers, but your question took him off guard. “You sure you want this?” You asked, making sure he was still fully on board with this, seeing how absent his eyes looked for a moment, but he only nodded, letting his cock rub against your core once again. “You just feel so fucking good, is all,” he admitted, prodding at your needy entrance with his tip. His grip on his cock was almost painful when he lined himself up like that, but he waited for a sign - anything really that let him know he could push in - and then he felt the heels of your feet digging into his firm ass cheeks, making him push in with just one thrust.

Both of you moaned out when his hips were flush against yours, his cock buried so deep inside your awaiting cunt and Gojo almost blacked out.

Your pussy felt even better around his dick than he imagined, but you were so tight it almost hurt to move. “We can stay like this for a moment,” you whispered reassuringly, not trusting your voice to be any louder since your breathing was already ragged. Satoru nodded and his head dropped into the crook of your neck, lazily kissing your sensitive skin while he took deep breaths. Both of you knew he wouldn't last longer than a few seconds if he moved right now and you allowed him to do this at his own pace, not making fun of him or teasing him for once. “You feel so good, Satoru,” you whined out, his cock driving you insane just by being nestled inside of you and just as you slowly started to lose it, Gojo pulled out almost all the way before thrusting back inside, over and over again. His thrusts were sloppy and clearly inexperienced, but the way his tip was hitting all the right spots so deep inside of you made you moan his name, a lewd string of praise and profanities falling from your lips until he stilled after just a few more thrusts. “So close- fuck, I'm gonna-” he warned and you helped him by meeting his thrusts, silently assuring him that you want him to cum inside of you.

“Oh fuck, butterfly,” his voice cracked when his hips humped yours, and his head dropped into the crook of your neck once again. His balls felt so heavy, tightening over and over again as his cock pumped you full of his release and you could swear that he's whimpering in your ear as he experienced his first orgasm inside of you and it felt so intense he had to pull out the second it was over.

He watched his cum flow out of your little hole and his first reaction was to stuff it back inside with his fingers, which caught you off guard. “Satoru, so good!” You whined loudly, still feeling so full with his cum inside of you, but the embarrassment and disappointment of not feeling you cum around his cock started to creep up on him. This was something he needed to feel, he felt like he might drop dead if he didn't have you wrapped around his length anymore, so he swiftly removed his fingers from your weeping cunt and lifted you onto his lap once he laid down.

The white-haired man's dick was still rock solid, his tip a deep shade of pink from all the stimulation, but his blue eyes connected with yours. “Please,” he begged and you sunk down on his overstimulated cock, almost feeling bad for him when he gritted his teeth as you sunk down. Your head immediately fell back at the way he filled you up now, the new angle letting him in so much deeper. His name felt heavenly on your tongue when you moaned it over and over, letting him hear how good he made you feel with his cock, but his ears were ringing from the overstimulation, yet he craved your tight cunt grinding and bouncing off his dick. In sheer desperation, he reached out to rub your clit, his thumb swiping over your little pearl as his other hand found its home on your ass, where he kneaded the flesh.

And there it was - the fluttering of your walls - a telltale sign of your orgasm rippling through your body, which made Gojo moan breathless. Your cunt sucked him deeper while clenching down like a vice as you almost screamed his name when the knot in your stomach finally snapped, your hips erratically humped his cock and your vision blurred. Satoru had to stop rubbing your clit, his hand now grabbing onto your other butt cheek as he pumped another load deep inside of you before you collapsed onto his chest, almost unmoving while his balls kept pumping more of his seed into you until his orgasm finally ceased.

Both of you laid there, panting and none of you wanted to move or say anything. Gojo simply wrapped his arms around your upper body, slender fingers caressing the skin of your back as you gently kissed his jawline with sweet, almost innocent kisses. Your heartbeat matched his, beating strongly at a fast pace, but you eventually forced yourself up a little bit to look at him. One of your hands cupped his cheek gently. “You okay?” You asked caring, wanting to know if he's satisfied, if his first time was what he imagined and Gojo nodded with a breathless chuckle. “I'm so fucking okay,” he said enthusiastically and his smile was a genuine one this time.

“Can we stay like this for a moment?” He asked immediately after, not wanting to let go of you just yet, but you nodded and rested your head back on his shoulder. "Hmm, for a moment, but we need to clean up eventually,” you mumbled into him before kissing his shoulder, and he nodded as he wrapped his arms around you again. “Perhaps we can take a shower together,” he mused, a grin dancing on his lips and you shook your head with a soft laugh before agreeing. Perhaps this was something you could get used to. Perhaps one day Gojo could call you his.

Networks: @pixelcafe-network @houseofsolisoccasum

[kirbmey]

— s1!jayvik headcanons ／(＞×＜)＼

synopsis: viktor and jayce need the help of a new investor to keep up with their research and fall in love with his daughter <3

tw: suggestive, reader is an spoiled brat, established!jayvik, not canon obv, jayce’s lowk pathetic, reader calls her father “daddy”, viktor takes the lead, choking mention if u squint, etc.

s1!jayvik who, with sky’s help, managed to find an aristocrat in piltover who was willing to meet with them and talk about hextech.

s1!jayvik who attend to your maybe-too-big mansion to discuss terms with your father while having dinner, and you were there too (๑╹ᆺ╹)

s1!jayvik who were known all over topside for being a pair of handsome inventors and curiosity peeked trough you, fixated on meeting them.

s1!jayvik who expected your father and your father alone, jayce shy at your presence and viktor already staging ways to approach you later.

s1!jayvik who, while dinner occurs, don’t fail to notice your cute curls and your lipstick a beautiful shade of crimson, you just playing a fool even though you knew you caught their eye the first second they stepped inside your house.

s1!jayce who’s mesmerized in the way your lips wrap around the fork to take a bite, on how you push your long hair aside while drinking, maybe even how your necklace decorated your throat, thinking his hand would look better (ʃᵕ̩̩ ᵕ̩̩⑅)

s1!jayce who feels the real shame every time he has to excuse himself to your father because he didn’t really paid attention to what he said. such a silly boy :(

s1!viktor who’s a lot better at hiding his lustful gazes, having the investment a priority; after getting the accord, he can worry about how he’ll get under your garments.

s1!viktor who actually listens and actually eats something at the dinner.

s1!viktor who notices deeper details about you, the moles all over your skin, the number of little diamonds your ring had, the way one of your eyebrows was thinner than the other (how your breast almost spilled out of your white dress), you know, deeper details ♡￫ܫ￩♡

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“so, I need to make sure my money is sent to smart hands, gentlemen, can you show me anything about this hextech thing?” your dad spoke in a deep voice that echoed the grand dining room, contrasting with the soft violin playing on the background.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“of course! we brought tons of sketches and studies and analysis and—” jayce implied excited, always happy to talk about the project of his life, being interrupted by viktor’s skinny hand on his shoulder while the other one passed a notebook to your father.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“that’s all you’re actually interested in, sir.” he declared with a thick accent, it made you curious to know where it belonged to.

s1!jayce who anxiously plays with viktor’s brace under the table, tracing its shape while shaking his leg, looking adorably concerned.

s1!viktor who caresses the big hand that toyed with the metal around his calf and knee, circling motions over his knuckles to calm his partner down.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　your father didn’t seem to really trust the idea brought to the table, the implication of magic clashing with his ideals. therefore you leaned closer to him, head against his shoulder as you read the notebook as well, noticing viktor’s neat handwriting.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“oh, daddy, isn’t this just so so so interesting?” you voiced with a honey sweet tone, locking his arm with your own.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“look, portals to quickly travel between regions? imagine all the money piltover would make, all thanks to you investing in ‘em.” you murmured now, locking eyes with viktor, who was smirking at you subtly, jayce too nervous to even hear what you said (◕︿◕✿)

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“hmm, still, darling, magic?” your father questioned with a slight disgust in his voice, putting the papers down and sighing while massaging his mustache.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“wasn’t piltover the city of progress? this really seems like progress to me…” you looked at him with a pout plastered on your juicy lips. “i think leaving old stigmas and taboos behind is really… progressy.”

s1!jayvik who watch you leave towards the gardens after making your father deal with them a crazy amount of money with just some puppy eyes and sultry voice.

s1!jayvik who catch a glimpse of your white nightgown covering the grass of said garden while you sat down, playing around with a stray cat, it almost seemed like you were waiting for them.

s1!jayvik who approach you after viktor insisted, to thank you, and maybe have an intimate conversation with you, too.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“thank you for interfering, my lady, if it wasn’t for you we would’ve left empty handed.” viktor confessed while siting down on the stone bench under the white pergola where you sat, the moonlight highlighting your angel-like features, leaving his cane on top of said surface.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　jayce sat down in front of you in the floor with some distance, legs crossed and arms propped behind him, tilting his head to the side when he noticed how you scooted closer to him and blushing to this right after.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“well, it wasn’t charity, you know.” you murmur in a sweet tone, curling your hair around your manicured finger as you stood on your knees, taking support from jayce’s thick thigh to end up facing viktor from above, as if you were worshipping him.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　the skinnier man scoffed at this, noticing how your cheek rested now against his inner thigh, how your hair fell down your exposed back as jayce held your hand to take place in the empty space next to you, mimicking how you rested your head to stare at you, viktor caressing his now not so put together hair in a way he seemed to be accustomed already.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“then, what is it that you desire from us in exchange, little angel?” he questioned with that accent that you started to fall in love with, his thin fingers coming down to hold your chin, making you look up to him.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“mmm, i dunno…” you feigned hesitation, reaching jayce’s handsome face to scratch behind his ear slowly, noticing how he didn’t comply, such a puppy. “maybe take me to your laboratory and show me your advances from time to time.” you pouted when you felt his thumb smudge some of your expensive lipstick away.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“wouldn’t want you two forgetting about me.” you confessed before taking said thumb between your lips, looking up to him. jayce took your smaller hand between his, inhaling your cherry scented hand cream before peppering kisses all over it.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“we would never forget about you, bunny.” he said softly against your skin, caressing your cheek while you kept on sucking viktor’s finger, adverting your gaze to him now. “you can come over anytime, maybe we can make you find science more interesting.”

⠀ ⠀ 　　　viktor chuckled before emptying your mouth and leaving jayce’s hair be, gaining a whine from both of you. “so it is settled, we’ll see you tomorrow at the academy, correct?” he asked while taking his cane to stand up from where he sat, motioning his hand to order jayce to do the same.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　you imitate their actions, tidying your hair before grabbing their holding hands with yours, standing on your tippy toes to leave a noisy smooch against their cheeks, decorating them with the granate of your lips. “you most definitely will, gentlemen.”

s1!jayvik who don’t notice how your father stared at the whole play from the beginning, shaking his head on disappointment at you; always playing around with men.

s1!jayvik who walk towards their ride in silence, jayce still inhaling your lingering scent and the soft of you lips against his cheeks, viktor trying to not think too much about the growing boner you gave him (*_ _)人

a/n: i’m obsessed with this setting, part 2 maybe? (*^ω^)

[gf2bellamy]

enough — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: you don't think you're enough for spencer content warnings: mention of working on a case, feelings of insecurity / not feeling good enough, spencer and reader argue , alot of angst ( pretty much all of it) a/n: currently sick in bed :( hope you guys like this <3

You knew Spencer Reid had feelings for you. It wasn’t exactly a well-kept secret. In fact, everyone on the team seemed to know—how could they not?

The way his gaze lingered on you just a fraction longer than anyone else, the way his words stumbled over themselves when you caught him off guard, the subtle softness in his voice when he said your name.

Spencer was careful, meticulous in everything he did, but when it came to you, his emotions were a little too obvious. 

There were the small, thoughtful gestures—the extra cup of coffee waiting on your desk when you’d been up late on a case, or the way he always seemed to know exactly when you needed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

Then there were the bigger things, like how he always volunteered to partner with you in the field, or how he fiercely defended your theories in meetings, even when they weren't perfect. 

But maybe the most telling sign of all was the way Spencer looked at you.

Like you were the only thing in the room worth noticing.

It was like he was memorizing every detail of your face, committing you to the library of his mind. And every time he looked at you like that, a warmth bloomed in your chest—a warmth you weren’t quite ready to name, but one that you felt more often than you cared to admit. 

Penelope had asked you multiple times about the situation, her curiosity impossible to suppress. “So, when are you and Boy Genius making it official?” she’d tease, wiggling her eyebrows and leaning across your desk.

Each time, you laughed it off or deflected with a joke. “What are you talking about, Pen? Spencer and I are just friends,” you’d insist, even though the words felt more and more like a lie with every passing day. 

Pretending to be oblivious to Spencer’s feelings had once been easy. A flick of the wrist, a casual smile—it had been enough to convince everyone, including yourself, that you were completely unaware. But lately, it was getting harder.

Much harder. 

Because now, every time you caught him staring at you, every time his fingers brushed yours while passing a file, every time he leaned in just a little too close when he explained something in that excited, rambling way of his, you felt it. That same warmth in your chest, that same ache you’d been trying so hard to ignore. 

The truth was, you weren’t just aware of Spencer’s feelings for you.

You also felt the same way. 

Your fingers tapped absently against your desk, a sound that seemed to echo in the quiet bullpen. Your eyes were unfocused, fixed on nothing in particular, as your thoughts wandered far from the case files scattered in front of you. 

Across from your desk, Spencer was watching you. He tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing in concern as he debated whether or not to say something. 

“Are you okay?” His soft voice cut through the quiet, pulling you back to the present. 

“Huh?” You jumped slightly, your hand pausing mid-tap as your head whipped around to face him. Your wide eyes met his, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” you added quickly, your words rushing out. 

Spencer didn’t look convinced. He leaned forward just a little, resting his elbows on the edge of his desk as his gaze searched yours. “You seemed... distracted,” he said carefully. 

You laughed nervously, waving a hand as if to brush off his concern. “Just zoning out. It’s been a long day.” 

Spencer didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stared at you for a while, his hazel eyes soft but searching, like he could see through the thin veil of your words.

The weight of his gaze made your pulse quicken, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. 

“I’ll be right back,” you blurted suddenly, pushing your chair back. Without waiting for a response, you rushed out of the bullpen, your footsteps echoing down the hallway until you reached the bathroom. 

Inside, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding and stepped into the nearest stall, closing the door behind you. Sitting down on the closed toilet lid, you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees and your head in your hands. 

It wasn’t the first time you’d run away like this. You weren’t proud of it, but sometimes it felt easier to escape than to face the thoughts that clawed their way to the surface when Spencer was near. 

People might call you stupid.

Stupid for ignoring the feelings of someone so gentle and sweet.

Stupid for pretending not to notice how much he cared for you, how much he had done for you.

Stupid for not taking the first step when it was obvious to everyone, including you, that Spencer Reid had feelings for you. 

But it wasn’t just Spencer’s feelings, was it? No, the truth was much harder to ignore now: you had feelings for him, too.

And yet, here you were, hiding in a bathroom stall, running away from everything. 

The reason felt silly—childish, even—but it was there, and it was real.

You were scared.

Scared that if you took that step, if you let yourself fall into the warmth of what Spencer was offering, you’d ruin him.

Spencer, who was so sweet and intelligent, so thoughtful and patient. He was everything good in this world, and you couldn’t help but feel like you’d taint him with your flaws, your insecurities. 

You didn’t think you were enough for him. 

The thought sat heavy in your chest, and no matter how much you tried to push it down, it always came back.

Spencer deserved someone extraordinary, someone brilliant and perfect—someone who wasn’t you. 

Before you could stop it, a tear slipped down your cheek. 

You were so lost in your thoughts that you almost didn’t hear the bathroom door creak open. 

A familiar, soft voice called out your name.

You quickly straightened up, dabbing at your cheeks with trembling fingers, but it was no use. The tears had already left their mark. 

You opened the stall door cautiously, revealing Penelope standing there in all her vibrant glory. Her floral skirt swirled around her knees, and her cardigan was adorned with her signature pins and patches.

Her warm, concerned eyes locked onto yours the moment the door swung open. 

“There you are,” she said gently, a small smile playing on her lips as she tilted her head. “Spence sent me to check on you. He’s worried.” 

Of course he did. The thought made your chest tighten. 

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, waving a hand as if to dismiss the obvious evidence of tears. But Penelope wasn’t one to be fooled, especially not by you. 

She raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Sweetheart, you’re standing in a bathroom stall looking like you just had a tearful heart-to-heart with yourself, so forgive me if I don’t take ‘I’m fine’ at face value.” 

You tried to laugh, but it came out shaky and weak. “It’s just... been a long day.” 

Penelope crossed her arms, giving you that patient, knowing look that only she could manage. “I know there’s more to it than that. Spence wasn’t just worried about you zoning out—he was worried about you. And judging by those red eyes, I’m guessing he’s not wrong for being worried.” 

You sighed, leaning against the stall door for support. “It’s nothing, Pen. Really.” 

Penelope softened, she placed a comforting hand on your arm. “If it’s nothing, why were you crying?” 

For a moment, you considered brushing her off again, but something about her warmth, her openness, made you pause.

Maybe it was because she was Penelope, the team’s heart and soul, or maybe it was because a part of you was tired of holding it all in. 

“It’s... about Spencer,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Penelope’s eyes lit up in understanding, and a soft smile crept across her face. “Oh, honey. Tell me everything.” 

You let out a shaky breath, walking over to the sink and staring at your reflection. The person looking back at you seemed fragile, her emotions etched plainly on her face.

Penelope followed, standing beside you, her vibrant presence grounding you as she waited patiently for you to speak. 

“I have feelings for Spencer,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the hum of the bathroom’s fluorescent lights. 

Penelope didn’t gasp or exclaim. She simply tilted her head and nodded, her soft smile growing into something more knowing, like she’d been waiting for you to admit it. 

“I figured as much,” she said gently, her tone free of judgment. “But what’s got you hiding out in here instead of doing something about it?” 

You met her eyes in the mirror, hesitating for a moment before answering. “Because I’m scared, Penelope.” Your fingers gripped the edge of the sink tightly. “I mean, he’s Spencer. He’s brilliant and kind. He deserves someone amazing, someone who can keep up with him. I just—I don’t think I’m enough for him.” 

Penelope frowned, her brows knitting together as she turned to face you fully. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up. First of all, I am going to stop you right there, missy. You are more than enough for anyone, especially Spencer Reid. Don’t even try to argue with me on that.” 

You opened your mouth to protest, but she held up a finger to silence you. 

“Second,” she continued, her voice firm but still warm, “have you met Spencer? That man practically worships the ground you walk on. Do you know how rare that is? To have someone like Spencer look at you the way he does? Trust me, sweetie, he doesn’t see anyone else but you.” 

You blinked, Penelope’s words hitting you harder than you expected. “But what if I mess it up? What if I ruin everything?” 

“Sweetheart,” Penelope said, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “life is messy. Love is messy. But if you keep letting that fear hold you back, you’re going to miss out on something incredible. Spencer wants you. Not someone perfect, not someone else. You.” 

Her words hung in the air, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. For a moment, all you could do was stare at her, overwhelmed by her kindness and sincerity. 

“Thank you, Penelope,” you whispered, your voice soft and earnest. 

She gave you a bright, reassuring smile, squeezing your arm gently. “Don’t stay here too long, okay? Boy Genius is worried about you, and you know how he gets when he’s worried.” 

You managed a small smile, nodding as she opened the bathroom door. “I’ll be out soon.” 

“Good,” she said with a wink, stepping out into the hallway. The door swung shut behind her, leaving you alone once again. 

You turned back to the mirror, your reflection staring back at you with the same doubts you’d walked in with. Penelope’s words were honest, comforting, and so full of truth that they made your chest ache. And yet... the doubts didn’t leave. 

They stayed. 

What if Penelope was wrong? What if you tried, and it all came crashing down, leaving your friendship in ruins? 

You pressed your lips together, inhaling a shaky breath. There was a part of you—a small, fragile part—that wanted to believe Penelope.

But the larger, louder part of you couldn’t let go of the fear. 

“Get it together,” you muttered to yourself, gripping the sink tightly. 

You couldn’t stay in this bathroom forever, hiding from the man waiting for you outside.

The man who cared enough to send someone after you when you disappeared.

The man who had always been there, quietly offering you the kind of unconditional support you never thought you deserved. 

And yet, your feet felt like they were cemented to the floor. 

The days that followed felt heavier, even after Penelope’s heartfelt pep talk. Her words lingered in your mind like an echo, but they weren’t enough to silence the whirlwind of emotions.

Everything seemed harder now that you’d acknowledged your feelings—now that you couldn’t hide from the truth. 

Sometimes, it felt like your heart was about to burst with how much love you held for Spencer.

You’d catch yourself staring at him across the bullpen, watching the way his lips moved as he explained something in that fast, excitable way of his, or the way his fingers traced invisible patterns on the edge of a file when he was deep in thought. 

And then there were the moments when you were near him—too near. Your hands would tremble when they brushed his by accident, or your breath would hitch when his cologne lingered in the air between you.

But you didn’t do anything about it. 

You convinced yourself it was for the best, that keeping things the way they were was safer. You couldn’t risk crossing that line and ruining the friendship you’d come to treasure so much. 

Still, there were cracks in your resolve. 

You weren’t sure how long you could keep this up—pretending you didn’t feel what you felt, pretending you didn’t want to close the gap between you and let yourself fall. 

One day, the tension came to a head while you and Spencer were working on the geographic profile to catch an unsub. The bullpen was unusually quiet, the rest of the team out gathering leads.

It was just the two of you, standing side by side in front of the board, the scent of coffee and marker ink filling the air. 

You reached for the same photo pinned to the board—a shot of a potential target area—and your fingers brushed his.

It was barely a touch, but it sent a jolt up your arm, and you immediately pulled back as if burned. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled quickly, your voice barely above a whisper. You avoided his gaze, letting him take the picture as you stepped back. Not just one step—several, putting unnecessary distance between the two of you. 

Spencer hesitated, holding the picture in his hand as his eyes flicked to you. His brows furrowed slightly, concern shadowing his expression as he noticed how much space you’d suddenly created between you. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft and careful, like he was afraid of startling you. 

Your throat tightened. “I’m fine,” you said, the words automatic and unconvincing. 

Spencer wasn’t buying it. He tilted his head, his gaze searching yours in that way that always made you feel like he could see right through you.

“You’ve been... distant,” he said, his tone gentle. “Not just today, but for a while now.” 

You froze, your heartbeat quickening. “I don’t know what you mean,” you said, even though the words felt hollow in your mouth. 

He stepped closer, closing some of the space you’d put between you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty. “If I did, I—I’m sorry. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t be around me.” 

Your chest tightened painfully at the vulnerability in his voice. The idea that he thought he had done something wrong, that he might blame himself for the distance you’d created, made your stomach twist with guilt. 

“No, Spencer,” you said quickly, shaking your head. "It's just work has been getting to me.”

You turned away quickly, pretending to focus on the map pinned to the board. Your heart hammered in your chest as you felt Spencer’s eyes linger on you for a moment longer before he finally turned back to his own work. 

He let it go—for now. 

Later that evening, you were back in your hotel room, sprawled on the bed with the TV remote in hand. The case was successfully closed, the unsub in custody, but the team had decided to stay one more night before flying home.

You flipped aimlessly through the channels, barely registering the images flashing on the screen. Nothing held your attention for more than a few seconds, and the quiet hum of the TV did little to drown out your thoughts. 

With a loud yawn, you tossed the remote aside, letting it land on the bed. You leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling.  

Then came a knock at your door. 

Slowly, you got up, smoothing down your clothes as you walked to the door. 

When you opened it, your breath caught. 

Spencer stood there, hands in his pockets, his expression a mix of nervousness and determination. He was still in his dress shirt and slacks, his tie loosened just enough to suggest he’d been pacing or thinking too much, as he often did.

His hazel eyes met yours, and you saw a flicker of hesitation before he finally spoke. 

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice gentle but steady. 

“Spencer?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What are you doing here?” 

“I—I need to talk to you,” he said, his voice laced with hesitation. He shifted his weight nervously, his hands fidgeting in his pockets. “Can I come in?” 

You stared at him, your heart racing as you tried to decipher the look in his eyes. Finally, you nodded, stepping aside to let him in.

As the door clicked shut behind him, you took a couple of deep breaths, trying to prepare yourself for whatever he wanted to talk about.

Turning back around, you walked a few steps toward him, stopping just a short distance away. You were close enough to notice the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, the tension in his posture as he stood there, clearly working through whatever thoughts were racing in his mind. 

You found yourself fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, your fingers twisting and untwisting the fabric as you waited for him to speak.

Finally, Spencer cleared his throat, his eyes meeting yours. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this,” he began, his voice soft but steady. “And I know I’ve been overthinking it, probably more than I should. But I—I couldn’t keep waiting.” 

Your fingers stilled, your breath catching as his words hung in the air. 

“I’ve noticed you pulling away,” he continued, his brows furrowing slightly. “And I’ve been trying to tell myself that maybe I was imagining it, but... I don’t think I am.” He paused, his gaze searching yours. “Are you sure I didn't do something wrong? Because if I did, I’ll fix it—I want to fix it.” 

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten, guilt and affection warring within you. “No, Spencer,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

He looked relieved for a moment, but the tension didn’t fully leave his face. “Then what is it? Because I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.” 

His honesty was disarming, his vulnerability leaving you with nowhere to hide. You opened your mouth, then closed it again, the words caught in your throat. 

“It’s... complicated,” you finally managed, your voice barely audible. 

Silence stretched out between you, thick and heavy. Spencer stood still, watching you intently, as if trying to piece together a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. His gaze flicked to your hands, noticing how they still fidgeted nervously with your clothes. 

And then he spoke. 

“I’m in love with you,” he said, the words falling from his lips so suddenly and so earnestly that they cut through the air like a blade. 

Your hands stilled immediately, your breath hitching as you raised your head to meet his eyes. The room seemed to shrink around you, everything else fading into the background as his words echoed in your ears. 

You hadn’t expected him to say it. Not like that. Not so bluntly, with no preamble or hesitation. And now, faced with the weight of his confession, you found yourself frozen, unsure of what to do or say. 

Spencer’s eyes darted nervously, meeting yours and then flicking away before returning.

He was waiting—for your answer, your reaction, anything. 

But you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, your mind racing too fast to form a coherent response. 

The silence stretched on, and you saw something shift in his expression. Disappointment. 

“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice tight, the hurt evident as he took a small step back. “I shouldn’t have—” 

“Stop,” you said, shaking your head, cutting him off mid-sentence. 

Spencer froze, his eyes wide and uncertain as he looked at you. 

“Don’t apologize,” you said softly, your voice trembling but resolute. You took a shaky breath.

You weren’t sure what to say to him, honestly. It was like your heart was trying to escape from your chest, but the words just wouldn’t come out. 

You looked at Spencer, his hair falling into his face just the way it always did when he was anxious or lost in thought. You had this overwhelming urge to reach out, to gently push his hair back behind his ear, but you didn’t.

Instead, you just stood there, staring at him, feeling more unsure than ever. 

"Spence, look, I—" you started, your voice faltering as you tried to gather your thoughts. 

His eyes were fixed on yours, waiting. He was so patient, so willing, and it made your chest tighten even more. You tried again, your words tumbling out as you fought to explain. 

“I didn’t want to mess things up with you. I’ve been scared that if I told you how I feel, it would ruin everything. Because... you deserve someone better than me, Spencer. You deserve someone who can give you the world, who can keep up with you... not someone like me.”

You caught yourself, blinking rapidly as the words tumbled out of you, not sure if you were even making sense anymore.

But it was like you couldn’t stop.

“I’ll ruin you, Spencer. I’ll drag you into my mess, and you’ll wake up one day and realize you could’ve had someone better. Someone who doesn’t second-guess every little thing or put up walls because they’re too scared to let anyone in.”

“That’s not how I see you,” Spencer said, his voice soft as he took a step closer to you. “You’re not a mess. You’re not some burden I’d have to carry. You’re—”

“Stop,” you cut him off, shaking your head as tears pricked at your eyes. “You don’t get it. You think I’m this... this version of me that you’ve built up in your head, but I’m not that person. I’m not perfect. I’m not enough.”

“Stop saying that!” His voice rose slightly, the frustration finally breaking through. You looked at him, startled, as he ran a hand through his hair. “You keep telling me what I should feel, what I deserve, like you get to decide that for me. But you don’t. I know what I want, and it’s you.”

“Spencer—”

“No, let me finish,” he said, stepping closer. “I don’t care about perfect, okay? I don’t care about whatever doubts you have about yourself, because none of that changes the fact that I love you. I love you for you, not some idealized version. And if you think for one second that I’m going to stand here and let you push me away because of some fear that you’re not ‘enough,’ then you don’t know me as well as I thought.”

His words hit you like a wave, but instead of feeling comforted, you felt overwhelmed. The emotions swirling between you both—the love, the fear, the frustration—felt like too much all at once.

“You’re not listening to me,” you said, your voice rising. “You think this is just me being insecure, but it’s not. This is me being realistic. You deserve someone who doesn’t bring you down, someone who doesn’t doubt themselves every time they look in the mirror.”

Spencer’s jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You’re the one bringing yourself down, not me. You’re the one who thinks you’re not good enough, but that’s not the truth. It’s your fear talking, not reality.”

“And maybe my fear is right,” you shot back, your voice cracking. “Maybe it’s telling me what I already know—that you’re too good for me, and I can’t be what you need.”

He stared at you, his jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling as he took a deep breath. “You think you’re protecting me by pushing me away, but you’re not. You’re just hurting both of us,” he said, his voice quiet but sharp. “You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel like this—like I’m not alone. Like I’m more than just... me. And I’m not going to let you stand there and tell me you’re not enough.”

The room felt suffocating, the tension between you crackling like a live wire.

But still, the doubt clung to you, thick and unrelenting. “Spencer, I just... I can’t,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

His shoulders slumped slightly, the frustration in his eyes giving way to something softer—something sad. “I don’t know how to convince you,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with defeat. “But I can’t force you to believe me.”

For a moment, he just stood there, silent and still, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“I don’t know what else to say,” he finally murmured, his voice low and filled with a quiet hurt that made your chest ache.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. You felt paralyzed, the fear and doubt swirling inside you.

Spencer looked back up at you, his hazel eyes searching yours one last time, as if hoping to find something—anything—that might give him a reason to stay.

When he didn’t, a faint, bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

And then he turned, walking toward the door with a heaviness in his steps that you’d never seen before.

Your heart twisted as you watched him reach for the handle, every fiber of your being screaming at you to stop him, to say something, to fix this.

But the words refused to come.

Spencer paused for a fraction of a second as he opened the door, his back to you. It felt like time stood still. Then he stepped out, quietly closing the door behind him.

The sound of the latch clicking into place was deafening.

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, staring at the closed door, your chest tight and your head spinning. The room felt unbearably empty without him.

And yet, you didn’t move. You couldn’t.

Instead, you sank onto the edge of the bed, burying your face in your hands as the tears you’d been holding back finally broke free.

You didn’t know what hurt more—the fear that you’d pushed him away for good or the possibility that you’d been wrong about everything.

[officialabortive]

bakugou x witch! reader

———

Bakugou dosen't believe in witches. Their just another bullshit story parents tell to scare their children in to behaving properly. Even as a child, he upfront refused to believe the whole "black cats are witches in disguise" crap.

If cats were really witches, they wouldn't be licking their own assholes to get clean

Currently passing through a creek side village. Katsuki, ever the clueless amiture when it comes to casually interacting with animals rather than hunting them, made an amiture mistake. Tossing a scrap peace of chicken breast in the direction of some random ally cat, before continuing on his previous path. The meat landed right beside long whiskers accentuated by tufts of surrounding black furr. Only to get chomped down after a single hasty sniff of inspection.

Eyes wearily followd his every move as Bakugou reached the town's center, where the open marketplace is held. Stands of freshly harvested crop and everyday trinkets scattered every which way. Not that he cares. That's usually the case. This is always the "welcome" given by isolated little villages such as this.

Eyes naturally pin to the unknown. Anything unrecognized or out of the ordinary grasps attention, weather wanted or not. It's obvious these people have never have never seen a barbarian in their lifetime. It wouldn't be all so suprising if they've been told tall tales just as so many others have. Rumors of how people of barbarian tribes are just that; Barbarians. Wild, untamed, and uncivilized groups no better than animals living among trees and rolling in mud pools.

The hustle and bustle makes way once again as he approaches a weapons and blades vendor, no one wanting to be caught staring. The blacksmith behind the booth, a peppy teen boy with scruffy hair —presumably nothing more than an apprentice— tries to act nonchalant, albeit poorly. Bakugou stands unbothered by the way the boys shoulders slightly tense as he scans through the wide selections of hand crafted items. Onel dagger in particular catches the blonde's eye. Fine steel edges connecting to an intricately made hilt, depicting detailed images of dragons in flight. Its maker is undoubtedly a veteran of their craft.

Bakugou pulls a tightly woven burlap sack from the satchel connected to his belt, tugging at its drawstring.

The fact that he's being trailed and under watch of a wild animal irked him. Not due to the act itself, but fact that he feels such a tense squeeze of unsettlment underlying within his chest. It's simply a critical strike to his pride. Even if it caught him off guard —which would never happen — bakugou could take that thing down in a heartbeat; he knows that. Hours of walking were spent trying to simultaneously figure out why the hell is he put at such unease.

'This damn cat has been trailing me since I skipped town! The fuck does it want?'

Barbarians are taught to remain in a constant state of observation, subconsciously scanning their surroundings. It's a bit of a habit is habit for most of his people. It's common practice for the tribes to train all five senses from a young age. figure tailing close behind. It's presence hard to miss, especially come nightfall when it's stealth tactics were a bit... lacking

Those eyes. the way moonlight reflects from their surface made it as if they themselves were illuminated. Its probably just a figment of imagination due to fatigue, but bakugou notes the abnormal sheen of intelligence in that cat's stare. Its unsettling, really. The feeling of being observed by a fully sentient being.

"What?"

It came out as more of a snappy grumble than an actual question. Especially when its delivered with such a stone cold glare.

A furry little head popped up from within the grasses, prancing out of hiding with a perked tail in a manor couldn't be described as anything less then peppy. Kind of like a small child that's finally been found in a game of hide-and-seek.

It's probably just because Katsuki's ease in his travels as of late. A frisky little party member who takes claim of his cloak by sitting on it, and paws at the laces of his boots until they came untied. Bakugou getting circled and yelled at whenever he pulls out the slightest bit of food, which more often than not ends in trash talk.Though it never really escalates any farther for one reason or another A wave of grey clouds rolled about in the distance. If the thunder claps and harsh wind were anything to go by, it's was going to be a hell of a storm. The last thing bakugou needed was soaking travel gear, so he set up camp up wind in attempts to keep dry. But the storm ended changing course, bypassing him and his furball completely! X And the swarms of mosquitoes that are almost always in places such as these, just weren't there Only dragonflies and grasshoppers dodging the furry paws swinging at them with purpose Katsuki not being able to tread through mildly tall grass without somebody attacking on his boots

Unfinished

TBC?

[violet-eng]

🔞 See you on the other side | Thanos (Choi Subong x fem!reader)

I HAVEN'T WRITTEN ANYTHING IN A LONG TIME, VERY ASHAMED OF HOW BADLY WRITTEN OR BASIC THIS MAY BE.

Anyway, I don't know where this came from, I've had this desire for Choi Seunghyun stuck for like 10 years now, somehow I had to get rid of it. I'm still embarrassed…

Awkward plot, as always, I must add drama because if my life is full of drama then the fanfic just the same.

Summary: Fem reader has cancer, her ex is Subong, who asked her for drugs when she was working at the hospital, she gave them to him because they were for his jet lag and dizziness, but things escalate and she ends up fired and he with some sort of dependency. Anyway, they meet again in the squid game and he tries to fix everything with her because he obviously didn't forget her. And OBVIOUSLY for this first fic we have the typical and respectable BATHROOM SCENE.

Warnings 🔞🔥: mentions of cancer, SEX, SMUT, oral fem receiving, fingering. That…

In this fic, Thanos would be behaving somewhat bottom/sub? Is real life T.O.P a bottom? ask jiyong, enjoyyyyyy but not too much

〇△□〇△□〇△□〇△□〇△□〇△□〇△□〇△□〇△□〇△□

Three people down, or perhaps it was four? In situations where one's personal safety is compromised, the finer details can appear insignificant. Your hands and legs trembled, and your entire body was a nervous system susceptible to error and misstep. You felt the acceleration of your heartbeat in your throat and ears, echoing in your head, and perspiration running down your cheekbones, the salty sensation in your mouth.

Your eyes turned to the spot where a figure was jumping carefree, holding the surprise in your chest when you saw Subong in the crowd, your Subong. He looked like a hallucination, hovering among the players, jumping over the corpses with a maniacal grin… drugs… your drugs.

The daily game had reached its end. It was shocking that people had died in such a strange way, and there were many questions to be answered. However, the pain was even more overwhelming because cancer was like that: painful, unbearable without medicine, especially in the current circumstances.

'Señorita' the voice was behind you; you felt his presence, the shadow of his figure enveloping you completely, and the scent of his skin and the dye of his hair brought back precious but bitter memories. How much pain love can endure.

'Su-bong', you whispered, though you thought your voice was firm, the nuance was faint and the volume low.

'My baby! What are you doing here?"His arms abruptly embraced you, drawing you into his body, and your cheek bumped against his chest.You felt that familiar, heady feeling of being protected by him — loved.

Away from the crowd, Subong inspects your face, noticing spots of blood that are not yours and a couple of dark circles under your eyes… nothing else.

'You don't look well,' he says with a grimace.

'I need some,' you say, your breathing heavy, your eyes watering, your gaze beseeching, 'You owe me. I got them for you.'

He does not take you up on your request, nor does he attempt to argue with you, because he knows that is one of the reasons you lost your medical licence.

'Say "Aaah"'.

He brings one of his hands in front of you, a colourful pill between his fingers, and slowly touches your lower lip to make you open your mouth.His fingers enter, and your tongue takes the pill, but habit, treacherous habit, appears and your tongue tastes his fingers. A touch of what you had been.

Your eyes meet his as you both reminisce about the good times you shared during your relationship. When you two were an item, he would gently slide his fingers into your mouth, and within moments, you would be caught up in a passionate embrace, him on top of you, making love from behind while whispering a range of compliments in your ear.

'Better?' he inquires, his fingers gently tracing the lips around your mouth. You nod as the memory fades. You feel as if you've tasted a taste of normality, something you haven't enjoyed in years.

The night after games and food, you feel heavy and lethargic. You sweat and shiver, and you realise that it is a reaction of your body. You had treated several patients like this for years, and the helplessness of becoming one had made you fall into a very dark place, almost abandoning yourself.

"Bathroom" you request one of the guards, but your voice is not as steady as your gaze. The guard declines, and you consider that if you had a pen with you, you would have moved him out of your way, as you did with the insurance agent who had refused to cover your chemotherapy.

"It's urgent. I just want to freshen up" you insist, aware that in your position you can't make demands like that.

‘Hey bro, she has cancer, if it was your sister or your mother would you treat her like this?’ Subong appears at the right moment, after having watched you for a long time, “look at her, she can't even stand up”.

He places his arm around you and shakes you vigorously, as if manipulating a rag doll. His methods are deceptively straightforward, yet his success is unparalleled.Even if you had been in optimal health, he would have still prevailed.

You wash your face and pour water on the back of your neck, observing the reflection in the mirror. Your bruised features bear little resemblance to the respectable oncologist you used to be.

Subong's drugs have effectively mitigated your feelings of rejection, causing all sentiments towards the person in the mirror to dissipate within moments. Although you don't recognize yourself, you feel a sense of rejuvenation, as if returning to a state of strength and painlessness.

Subong approaches you, resting his chin on your shoulder, leaning his hands against the sink. You feel his breath in your ear and the soft brush of his lips on your neck, his kisses below your ear, at the precise spot that makes your skin bristle, reminiscent of their days together.

Subong's voice, husky and subtle, with sweet undertones, asks, "Feeling better?" The enigma that is Subong: he seems impenetrable and stoic when he raps, yet under the stage he is a sensitive and playful creature, always with a striking look and a touch of madness.

"Better," you reply, looking in the mirror and observing the closeness between the two of you, as if time hasn't passed, as if you were never done with him, as if your souls weren't on a tightrope drifting off to who knows where. You experience a sense of longing for him, the intimacy, the warmth of his embrace, the soft rhythm of his breathing, the way his lips cling to your skin without kissing you, as if it causes him discomfort to touch you, as if you were made of porcelain.

"When we make that money, I'll pay for your chemotherapy," he says. His voice is masculine and deep, rough, and his eyes are like fogged glass, intrinsically wounded by your illness as if it were his own.

"What about your debts?" you inquire, turning to him, cradling his face in your hands, him still leaning on the sink behind you.

He bends down to look at you blearily, and with a smirk, almost cartoonishly, he says, "Fuck the debt. I only care about your well-being. I'll see who I'll take his share from."

This provokes laughter from you, which you hadn't experienced in nearly a year. The corners of your lips ache, and the sensation of your cheeks expanding sends shivers down your skin.

Subong remarks, "There it is," as he touches the tip of your nose. "My girl's cute laugh." His fingers trace the contours of your lips, evoking memories on your skin with his touch, and reviving sensations you thought were lost.

He knows how to make you feel good, how to tease you, and how to be gentle because he knows your body wouldn't be able to handle it if he used all his strength.It's like when you went to the bars -the body remembers, so you move naturally from soft kisses and panting to one of the cubicles.

Your pants are on the floor, your underwear is around one of your ankles, and you are sitting on the toilet seat.Subong is skilled at rapping, which allows his tongue to glide with delight. He breathes softly as he holds his face between your legs.His fingers glide up your thighs, tracing ancient marks with his thumbs, while his tongue paints your velvety walls with his devotion.

You intertwine your fingers in his hair, your head thrown back, your eyes rolling back as the combination of drugs and his adept tongue takes hold. You hear him emit a low, throaty sound as you discreetly disengage from his grasp and press his face against yours, his nose brushing against your sensitive area.

You inhale his scent, the rhythm of your heart accelerating, and you feel the warmth of his fingers between your legs. His fingers begin to brush against your folds, and you recognize the familiarity of this touch.

"I don't think I can bear it," you whisper, pulling him away from you. Your hands are in his hair, your eyes fixed on his, which are black and smiling as his tongue wipes his chin. His tanned skin is glistening with the crystals of your juices.

"I promise to be gentle. I will make you feel good, baby." The dichotomy of sweetness of his face and the naughtiness of his fingers exploring your womanhood plunges you into an unknown territory somewhere between amusement and discretion.He enjoys seeing the way you squirm at his touch, at his fingers delving inside you and roaming over formerly dominated territory.

He swiftly locates your sensitive areas, his fingers pressing firmly into your body. His fingers disappear into your ecstasy, and you begin to rhythmically shake your hips, in harmony with the intruders testing your last reserves of sanity.

"So… ohhh-"

Subong looks at you satisfied as you begin to chant incoherently. He has always loved to please you, and that's why he has been so devoted to your body, learning every nook and cranny and experimenting with his movements to achieve the perfect reaction of your being, which is now destroyed under his fingers.

"More," you moan, gripping his shoulders with your nails, and he, your devoted instrument of pleasure, takes you to the edge of losing yourself in your own pleasure, of feeling every electric fiber of your body.

"Don't hold back."The rough voice and soft tongue are in full effect, and you can feel your body responding with heightened sensation. Your voice is almost a scream, your teeth holding back your lips, and your shoulders tensing as it reaches its peak, and then it explodes inside you. You exhale hard, your legs wrapping around his head, your hands in his hair, almost tearing out his locks.

"Shit," he laughs, as you shudder and catch your breath. "When you heal, I'll do you better. I promise." He rises to kiss you, his tongue touching the roof of your mouth, and your own taste bathes your tongue.

"How did you know I had cancer?" you know this is not the time to ask, and yet you do.He smiles over your lips as he kisses you.

"When I went to see you at the hospital, they told me you had been arrested by the police for stabbing an insurance agent during your chemotherapy," he says over you, proud as he wipes traces of saliva from your chin.

"You knew my medical license had been taken away. Why did you look for me at the hospital?"

"I wanted to beg your forgiveness. I would ask one of your old friends for her phone to call you, you would have answered them," he said, kneeling down to pull your panties up.

"I am sorry I blocked your number."

"It's all in the past," he says, smiling up from the floor and wiping his lip with his thumb. "It was good," he continues, "when we get out of here, you can unblock me."

"Do you believe we'll survive this?" you pull up your pants and escort him out of the cubicle.

"I'm not certain of anything, but if anything happens, I'll see you on the other side," he says, taking your hand in his and stroking the back of your skin.

"See you on the other side…"

[realpontchartrain]

I saw your last anon and was wondering if you could go more into detail on your prison abolition stance. It means different things to different people so what exactly would you like to see happen?

Of course! This is gonna be long, so brace yourself, but hopefully a worthy read.

Well, my personal perspective is that prison is inherently traumatic. It is literal slavery. Nobody, no matter what the crime or circumstances that led up to it, petty or huge, should have to endure prison conditions in America. Imagine 24/7 having to be subjected to the brightest fluorescent lights possible, the loudest noises, crammed in a concrete block of a room with 100 or so other people (in general population jails) or at best 4 or 6 others for the entirety of your sentence — which is almost always blown out of proportion for the nature of the crime, or vice versa depending upon your privilege in life (the average white american getting probation or a slap on the wrist for a drug offense, the average black american spending a huge chunk of their lives behind bars for the exact same offense, and me getting away with two weeks in jail for trying to kill a bunch people just because i go to Harvard and my mom’s a cop).

The vast majority of crimes are petty. You can’t stop drug trafficking and addiction with mass incarceration. Encourage people to seek treatment when busted, provide them with the resources they need, and let them decide if or when they choose to get help. If caught redistributing drugs, make getting help mandatory, prosecute them to find the actual manufacturer of said drugs (if it isn’t them) and adequately punish them, then once they’ve completed a setlist of conditions (monitoring, rehab, yada yada), release them. If a woman is shoplifting baby food, you help that woman feed her baby, not throw the child into the OTHER trauma of foster care and the mother in prison for years.

When I was in jail, I shared a cell with an old black woman (we called her Rosa Parks LMFAO) who was in there LONGER THAN I WAS… for trespassing. A class C misdemeanor. She went to the bank to get change, but they were closed, and a manager called the cops on her when she was standing outside too long waiting for the next bus. Two weeks for me for attempted mass murder > two weeks or more for that old woman. What sense does this shit make?

Let’s talk major crimes like mine. These are always committed by someone with some kind of deep mental illness (untreated/undiagnosed) or trauma. They need help. Children aren’t shooting up their schools in troves for no reason. Look at their backgrounds: abusive/neglectful families, poverty, trauma, etc. When it’s easy to cop an AR-15 and we are THE most gun-loaded country for no fucking REASON other than mass paranoia and the delusion of freedom, then why wouldn’t a kid who’s already about to commit suicide with mommy and daddy’s AR collection out on display in the living room NOT see anything to lose in taking as many other motherfuckers out with them? Especially anyone else who wronged them and ridiculed them for their trauma or otherwise? They need help.

Even if they DO go on to kill people, they still deserve a second chance to make amends and face the consequences of their actions. Something drove them to that point, and there was already an infinite amount of failures in more systems than one that let it happen (easy gun access, poor mental health, no social services, bullying that’s unchecked, etc.). That’s why i’m choosing to research gun violence prevention — so that I can become a therapist who specifically focuses on homicidal people and youth, because so many of these so called psychiatrists never believed me when I said I was thinking about hurting people because I simply “don’t look like it.” And guess what? The vast majority of medicine used to treat physical and mental health problems in prisons have been discontinued for use in the general American population. When I was in jail, they put me on drugs to help with my “withdrawals” that caused me to lose sensation in half of my face and would leak out of my nose. That shit is inhumane, and they FORCE you to take it in front of them. If you don’t? Well, beaten or thrown into a suicide watch pad it is.

Throwing people like me in prison, or even people with less severe crimes but still pretty serious, without proper mental health (or any kind) of treatment will only make things WORSE. If we DO get out eventually, all of that trauma i described and WORSE will only follow them forever. That makes people more inclined to commit crimes again, usually even worse ones. This is what feeds the recidivism rate, which in turn feeds into the prison system and therefore modern day slavery as well. Anything “made in America” was made by prison slave labor. For pennies on the hour, sometimes pennies a DAY, when a fucking granola bar on the commissary menu is $50.

I think that the Scandinavian countries have it right. Even Anders Breivik was only given a 21 year sentence for the Norway shooting. If he wasn’t a spoiled and narcissistic brat who thinks he’s tough shit and “too good” to accept help, even HE would’ve had the chance to get out after killing 70~ people in only 21 years if he just completed his measly little conditions (be a better person lmfao). Look at their prisons. Better than a studio apartment in downtown LA for $9mil a month in rent. They get access to things that HELP normal people: games, technology, music, instruments, arts, TV, company, THE ABILITY TO FUCK IN YOUR CELL EVERY NOW AND THEN, EVEN. Do that shit in America and they’ll slap a sex offender charge on your ass just for jacking off in your cell and OFFICIALLY ruin your life forever. And yes, even sex offenders deserve a second chance in life! And look at their crime and recidivism rates (NONE of you racist mfs chime in about the immigration issue…).

My belief is that you have to HELP people like me, my ex, and my other deranged ass friends. Look at HOW and WHY we got to that point, and FIX IT so that the chances of it happening again are LESS. Not doing so only FUELS HUMAN SUFFERING MORE. Okay, let’s say they let child killer here out of jail after all of that shit, they didn’t help me for shit afterwards and y’all SAW THAT. Now imagine if I had snapped again and actually blew up a fucking orphanage in Kentucky or some shit. Who is to BLAME for that, other than the people who knew it happened, did nothing about it, and let it happen again? If your child gets molested by the known pedophile across the street who is on the SOR already, who do you blame for letting that guy back out of prison without ACTUALLY addressing why he did what he did? Even pedophiles need support groups, because let’s face it: NOBODY is out here “slaughtering pedophiles” in troves as people like to think. It’s all just about feeling morally superior in any small way, and it doesn’t get any worse in society than hurting a child somehow. So, why not make sure that Chester the Molester gets mandatory TREATMENT and COUNSELING and UNDERSTANDING of pedophilia, which is, yes, a mental disorder listed in the DSM-5 and therefore worthy of adequate understanding and treatment as any other mental condition.

Probation is another thing that needs reform. But i already rambled enough and i gotta actually answer that other anon who sent that ask in the first place, because they want my opinion on two other things lmao. Thanks for asking me about this, I enjoyed explaining it!

[callsign-sucker]

//Sucker\\

So. Been a while since I shared my opinions on a mech.

So let's talk about the Nelson, and, because of its history and association, Albatross.

So, the Nelson is a highly mobile skirmisher chassis meant to conduct a variety of high-tempo operations. Specifically the kind of operations that IPS-N likes to conduct when on the offensive, and is, for their use, meant as a compliment to the Blackbeard in situations where ballistics are a non-starter.

On a qualitative level, I think the Nelson is decent. It does what it's designed to do well, as is the trend with IPS-N frames. However, the Nelson is one of the few times IPS-N uses paracausal tech.

The Perpetual Motion Drive onboard the Nelson serves to make it move faster, and make it shiftier, making it better at what it already does. Move fast.

Because of this drive, as well as it's manuverability, the Nelson tends to outshine the everest in conversations of fastest mech, and while the everest is faster, the Nelson isn't far behind.

And then they strapped a ramjet onto it! Because it wasn't fast enough apperently!

Now, This mech has become synonymous with Albatross, and for good reason. IPS-N makes a whole lot very good frames with a decent price tag, combine that with the agreement the two organizations have had since before thirdcom, and some people make the mistake of thinking Albatross is subordinate to IPS-N.

They're not.

Albatros cooperates with IPS-N on convoy security detail, both as an augment to IPS-N's own in-house security teams, like the ever ignominious Trunk Security, and as subject mater experts, as Albatros will often engage pirates on their own and often without any input from IPS-N.

Now, remember when I said Albatross predates thirdcom?

They were the spark that lit the Thirdcom revolution. Seccom had them listed as a "Terrorist Organization" due to their saunch anti-authoritarian position, and their willingness to act on that.

Yes, IPS-N unofficially backed them in this period, but that was because for most of the lead up to the Thirdcom revolution, IPS-N were fence sitters. They saw the writing on the wall, that there was going to be a revolution, and so the curried favor with both seccom, and the revolutionaries to hedge their bets.

Notice how IPS-N's formal agreement with Albatross only happened after it became clear that Seccom was losing.

The relationship between IPS-N and Albatross on the surface seems to be like they will always have eachother's backs. That's IPS-N lying through their teeth.

From having spent some time with Albatross on my way out of HA space, Albatross, especially the veteran leadership, many of whom are older than Thirdcom itself, views IPS-N with the same trepidation as anyone else who knows of the shady shit that they got caught doing. They would never let their organization become subordinate to such a group.

//For Cogito Ergo Sum\\

(OOC: A lot of this about albatross is because many here in the fandom make the mistake of seeing Albatross as an extension of IPS-N. They aren't. They would sooner tell IPS-N to get bent than let themselves become an extension of that which they fight against. That doesn't mean that they won't be misled, but they would never willingly or knowingly become a tool for IPS-N to expand its influence. (not to mention, IPS-N has a gameplan akin to that of the imperialist-era Dutch. They have nowhere near the territorial ambitions of, say, Harrison Armories. IPS-N is perfectly happy being space UPS/Fed-Ex, they just want to be the only game in town. That's why they have Trunk Security. To do all of that shady shit people think IPS-N has Albatross do for them.))

[tkdb-hell]

Yuri #44

#44 - Tentative kisses given in the dark.

Kisses Prompt List • Kisses Masterlist

(I do my best to write the reader as gender neutral unless otherwise specified - if you send me an ask and prefer masc or fem, please let me know)

♡ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ♡

The Mortkranken lab was unusually quiet, the steady hum of machines muted under the weight of the surrounding darkness. A power outage had left the facility without its usual harsh, clinical glow, and now only faint emergency lights illuminated the room in a dim, bluish haze.

You leaned against one of the lab tables, watching Yuri Isami pace back and forth. His expression was tense, clearly annoyed by the unexpected interruption. “Of all the times for the power to fail…” he muttered.

“You can’t control everything, you know,” you said, your voice gentle, trying to ease his frustration.

He sighed, stopping mid-step and glancing your way. “I know that. I just don’t like being idle.” His teal eyes flickered with a hint of vulnerability, something rarely seen beneath his usual arrogance.

“You don’t always have to be doing something important.” You moved closer, the soft soles of your shoes barely making a sound on the tile floor. “Sometimes it’s okay to just… be.”

Yuri didn’t respond right away, his gaze locking on yours in the dim light. The tension in the air shifted, becoming something quieter, softer, almost hesitant. You could see it in the way his fingers fidgeted with the cuff of his lab coat, a nervous energy that was rare for someone so confident in his element.

“You’re unusually quiet,” you teased, your voice barely above a whisper now.

“I don’t—” He hesitated, clearly not used to moments like these. His usual sharp words seemed to falter, caught in his throat as the darkness around you seemed to close in, drawing you both closer together. “I’m… thinking.”

You stepped closer until there was barely any space between you. The dim light made it hard to see every detail of his face, but you could feel his warmth, his quiet breath mingling with yours.

“About?” you asked softly.

Yuri’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Instead, he leaned forward, hesitantly, as if testing some unspoken boundary. His hand rose to your shoulder, resting there lightly, almost unsure. You didn’t move, waiting, allowing him to take that final step.

And then, finally, he did.

The kiss was tentative, soft and uncertain. Yuri kissed you like he was afraid to get it wrong, his lips brushing yours with a gentleness that left you breathless. You tilted your head slightly, leaning into him, silently encouraging him. His hand tightened just a little on your shoulder, his other hand coming to rest at your waist.

When he pulled back, his eyes searched yours in the dim light, as if trying to gauge your reaction. You smiled faintly, reaching up to brush a strand of teal hair from his forehead.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” you whispered, your tone playful but filled with warmth.

Yuri flushed, his usual composure slipping as he tried to regain control of the situation. “I—I suppose it was… acceptable.”

You laughed quietly, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into another kiss, this one deeper, more certain. His initial hesitation melted away as he relaxed into you, his lips moving with more confidence, as though he’d finally decided to let go of his usual overthinking.

When you broke apart again, he rested his forehead against yours, his breathing slightly unsteady. “You’re distracting,” he murmured, though there was no real annoyance in his voice.

“In a good way?” you asked, grinning.

He didn’t answer directly. Instead, he kissed you again, this time with more intent, more surety, and in that quiet darkness, it was all the answer you needed.

[charliedaltonswife]

henry winter taking a liking to a woman of math and science- his opposite, his muse

Polar Opposites

Henry Winter x reader (The Secret History)

Summary: Two opposites find themselves drawn together by a shared appreciation for the beauty in the things they don't fully understand; one with a mind for the stars, the other for the stories between them.

Warnings: um so a bunch of googled astrophysics stuff that I know nothing about, so science people don't get triggered im a humanities girl

master list found here

The rain pattered softly against the tall windows of the library, creating a rhythmic, lulling cadence that echoed through the cavernous space. The air was thick with the scent of aged parchment and dust, a solemn hush settled over the rows of shelves like a benediction. It was in this sanctuary of words and thoughts that Henry Winter first found himself inexplicably drawn to you.

You were seated at your usual spot, the far corner table near the window, surrounded by a fortress of thick textbooks and notepads filled with equations and sketches. The contrast between the two of you could not have been starker. While he delved into the ethereal realms of ancient languages and esoteric philosophies, you navigated the rigid, empirical world of mathematics and science with a kind of methodical grace that fascinated him.

He had always been attuned to detail, to the subtle shifts in a person’s demeanor or the quiet undercurrents of a conversation. But with you, it was different. It wasn’t just the precision with which you worked or the quiet determination in your eyes; it was the way you seemed to embody a different kind of logic, one that challenged the fluidity of his world.

“Lost in thought, as always,” his voice broke through her studies, soft yet tinged with amusement. You didn’t look up from your notes, your pen moving in swift, elegant arcs across the page.

You blinked, momentarily disoriented before a small, rare smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “It would seem so.”

You glanced up then, your gaze meeting his with a mix of curiosity and warmth. “And what brings you to this side of the library? I thought the sciences were beneath your notice.”

“Hardly,” he replied, taking a seat across from you, his hands folding neatly on the table. “I find them quite interesting in their own way. Particularly when explained by someone who understands them as you do.”

You laughed softly, a sound that sent a curious warmth through him. “Flattery, from you? I must be imagining things.”

“It’s not flattery,” Henry said, his tone earnest. “It's an observation.”

“Besides,” he continued, making himself comfortable in the stiff library chair, “I have a particular fondness for this part of the library, so I’d rather work here.”

“Oh? Not because I’m here?” You teased, going back to your studies, not expecting him to reply with, “Perhaps.”

The two of you fell into an easy silence, the rain continuing its gentle percussion against the glass. He watched as you returned to your work, your brow furrowing in concentration, a stray strand of hair falling into your face. There was a quiet beauty in your focus, a kind of purity in the way you engaged with the world through numbers and formulas.

For a long time, he simply watched, the pages of his own book remaining untouched. There was something about your presence, the way you seemed to ground him in reality that made him keep coming back. 

- 

There was an inherent magnetism in your differences, a polarity that defied the natural order of things. Henry, with his quiet intellect and penchant for the arcane, seemed a universe apart from the world you inhabited; a world of numbers, formulas, and empirical certainties. Where he sought meaning in ancient texts and philosophical discourse, you found solace in the unyielding truths of the cosmos, in the elegance of a well-constructed theorem. Yet, it was precisely this divergence that pulled you toward one another, like celestial bodies caught in an invisible orbit, bound by a gravity neither could fully comprehend.

The others had noticed, of course. Charles and Camilla, with their shared glances, their questions. Bunny’s offhand remarks, tinged with a disbelief he didn’t bother to mask. Even Richard, always the observer, had raised a quiet eyebrow, though he never voiced his thoughts outright. You weren’t in the Greek class, not even in the same department, your academic pursuits couldn’t have been more removed from theirs. But Henry had brushed it off, his usual cool detachment shielding him from their skepticism. Your friends, too, had their reservations, puzzled by your fascination with someone that was such a mystery to the rest of the college. 

“You know they worship the devil, that Greek group that your new boyfriend’s in,” Angie had voiced her opinion after one late night.

“They don’t worship the devil Ang,” then you turned to her, “And, he’s not my boyfriend.”

She quirked an eyebrow, amused, “No, but you want him to be.”

“I think it’s time for you to go now Ang, I’ve started the new unit on astrophysics and I haven’t done the work that’s due tomorrow.” I had stated. 

-

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a warm, golden glow across the small study room. The storm outside raged on, rain lashing against the windows, the wind howling through the trees. Inside, though, the world was calm, a hug of light wrapped around the two of you as you settled in for the evening.

You were seated on the couch, a thick blanket draped over your legs, a mug of tea cradled in your hands. A textbook on astrophysics lay open on your lap, the pages filled with diagrams of star formations and dense equations describing celestial mechanics. It was a world of precision and discovery, one you navigated with ease, finding beauty in the intricate dance of the cosmos.

Henry sat at the opposite end of the couch, a book of poetry in his hands, though his attention kept drifting toward you. The quiet companionship between you had become a comforting ritual, each of you immersed in your own thoughts yet attuned to the presence of the other.

“I don’t understand how you can read in this light,” you murmured, breaking the comfortable silence.

Henry glanced up, a small smile playing on his lips. “It’s more atmospheric, don’t you think?”

You rolled your eyes, though there was no real annoyance in your expression. “Atmospheric or not, you’re going to strain your eyes.”

He set the book aside, leaning back into the cushions. “Then perhaps you could read to me instead?”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the request. “Me? Read to you?”

“Why not?” he replied, his gaze soft and inviting. “I’m curious about your world.”

There was a moment’s hesitation before you glanced down at your textbook, considering. “All right, but I warn you, it’s not exactly light reading. It’s got no plot and it’s not written by any of your ‘greats.’”

“I’m sure I can keep up,” Henry said, settling in with an expression of quiet anticipation.

You shifted slightly, clearing your throat as you began to read from a section on stellar evolution. “The formation of a protostar begins when a molecular cloud, composed primarily of hydrogen and helium, undergoes gravitational collapse, often catalyzed by perturbations such as supernova shock waves or nearby stellar winds. As the core density increases, the temperature escalates, initiating the process of hydrostatic equilibrium ....”

Henry watched you, his eyes soft with interest as your voice filled the room. The intricate language and dense content didn't seem to deter him; instead, he seemed drawn in, as though the complexity itself was part of the allure.

You continued, your voice steady and rhythmic. “Post-main sequence, the star’s evolution diverges based on its mass. Low to intermediate-mass stars evolve into red giants, eventually shedding their outer layers as planetary nebulae, leaving behind a degenerate core; a white dwarf.”

You glanced up, your gaze meeting Henry’s. “Still with me?”

“More than,” he said, his voice low, contemplative. “It’s strange how something so vast can follow such precise rules.”

You nodded, the edges of your mouth curving up slightly. “It’s comforting to me, strangely. The equations, the Lane-Emden equation, for example, they might look complicated, but they map out a star’s life with such clarity. It’s like seeing the future laid bare.”

Henry tilted his head, his gaze steady. “You make it sound... graceful.”

“It is,” you said, softly. “But it’s different from what you know.”

He smiled, a flicker of warmth in his usually reserved expression. “It’s funny. You talk about stars and equations, and all I can think about is how much I’d like to understand it the way you do.”

You closed the book, the quiet of the room wrapping around you like a blanket. “Our worlds see things differently, I suppose, but it balances out.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, his tone soft, introspective. “I think I like the idea of seeing the world through your eyes.”

The silence stretched, not awkward, but filled with the slow crackle of the fire and the rhythm of rain against the windows. Almost instinctively, you leaned into him, your head finding its place on his shoulder. His arm shifted, wrapping around you in a gesture so natural it felt inevitable.

“Is this all right?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

“It’s perfect,” he murmured, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your arm. “I think I’ve been waiting for this.”

You let out a soft laugh, warm and quiet. “I didn’t know you were the sentimental type.”

“Only with you,” he admitted, a smile in his voice.

And as the fire waned, the room settling into a comfortable dimness, you felt a peace that wasn’t loud or overwhelming, but steady and sure. In that quiet moment, tangled together, the world outside seemed distant, and all that mattered was the warmth you found in each other’s company.

Bitch i have no clue if this is shit or not, i'm still undecided anyway thx for the request bby xx

[wynnshxfts]

hello!

i found ur page and wanted to ask more about aizawa if u dont mind!! like what does he look like and whats he like and does he have a gf omg what was that

ֺ ۪ 　　𝜗𝜚⠀　come into the water ..

━ aizawa in my dr !!

ֺ ۪ APPEARANCE : He has dark brown eyes with hazel highlights. When his quirk is activated, they glow yellow. You can't see the glow with his goggles on, but I think It's beautiful. His eyelashes are really pretty, It's something that always stood out to me about him. He has a nice facial structure. There are bags under his eyes, I wish he'd let himself rest more. Actually, I'm surprised Mic doesn't have bags under his eyes too with all the work he does. He doesn't care much for his appearance, which is a shocker because he looks so.. anyways. His hair is usually messy, but he does in fact comb it - It's just thick (if that makes sense). His eyes are tired and cold. I'm not sure if anyone else notices, but I love when they soften. His lips are dry, and Mic will leave chap stick on his desk sometimes. He has no clue who's doing it and sees it as an insult. He's always wearing his scarf - and he looks naked without it. One time I blew on his neck while It wasn't on and he freaked the fuck out. He likes wearing black, but he isn't restricted to it. Mic and me try and take him out to shop but he absolutely hates shopping. Cannot blame him because I do too. Mic on the other hand loves it. He also has horrible taste in shoes, sorry bud. He smells comforting. That's the best way I can describe that. When we drifted apart briefly after high school, I had a hoodie of his and I kept it. Very sad day when it stopped smelling like him. He has big hands, at least, bigger than mine.

ֺ ۪ HABITS : He scratches at the scar under his eye a lot. I can never tell if It's actually itchy or a nervous habit. One time I caught him doing a grounding exercise, tapping his fingers against his thumb and counting back and forth. I notice he scratches a lot - his hand, his palm, his neck, his head. He doesn't have long fingernails. Odd detail I wanted to add. When he's annoyed he taps his heel like an angry bunny. If you point it out, he'll stop.

ֺ ۪ ABOUT : He's very sweet, don't let his tough exterior fool you. He's so caring. He doesn't let himself get close to people, so his relationships mostly consist of those who do put in that effort. He has a big heart, he always has. Sometimes I wonder what it'd be like if quirks didn't exist, would he let others in? Anyways, he is single. I don't think he's ever been in a relationship, actually. He tried dating someone once in high school, but I don't think that counts. He's very unsure when it comes to that stuff. He's always to the point and doesn't stand for any nonsense. It's funny, because in high school he wasn't much of the voice of reason. He usually got just as caught up in shenanigans as others. He does small acts to show he cares, like letting people he's comfortable with fall asleep on his shoulder (which isn't as romantic as it seems. it hurts like hell afterwards.) and .. well, It's hard to explain when you don't experience it in the moment. But he has a softer look to his gaze when he does acts of kindness. He also is actually very bad with eye contact on occasion. Like when he's doing something sweet he'll keep his gaze off of me. Unsure if he does this with others.

ֺ ۪ He isn't much different than canon. But then again, I might be forgetting to add stuff because I already view that as apart of him that everyone knows. If you have any more questions, ask away! Also a small note, but him being single is a running joke Midnight always brings up. She also likes joke shipping him with others he's even slightly kind to together. Bi icon, ily Midnight. Oh, he also has some scars on his chest. Do not ask how I know this.

[ssa-hotchs-heart]

The confession Aaron Hotchner

Summary , The reader tells Hotch how she feels after the case was over she’s very bold in this . I love her for being bold in this , I hope you guys enjoy this one this my first post for this account on here I Spent a couple days on this with editing it an re writing it with how I liked it .

Paring fem!BAU!reader Aaron Hotchner

Category emotional romantic moments vulnerability

Content warning The story contains, emotional vulnerability , mentions of workplace hierarchy romantic tension of boundaries and intimacy Y/N is mentioned

Word count, 1.115k

Author notes Can I add he’s all I’ve been dreaming about lately ?

Please be kind this my first post of Aaron on this page

And I’m excited to share this with you but nervous

You thoughts are welcome but please be kind and please re blog if you like or enjoy.

Request are open I need ideas

The case had ended, the unsub was caught, and justice was served, but you couldn’t shake the weight still pressing on your chest. It wasn’t the gruesome details of the case that kept you awake most nights. It was him. Aaron Hotchner.

He was always in your head—his voice, his presence, the way he carried himself. You thought about him constantly, the way his hand had rested on your shoulder, the warmth that lingered long after he’d pulled away. It was more than admiration; it was longing.

You dreamed about him, vivid, aching dreams where he held you close, where his lips pressed against yours, where he whispered things that made you feel safe and wanted. And in the moments you were awake, your thoughts weren’t much better. You imagined him pulling you into his arms, tilting your chin up so your lips could meet his. You wanted him to see you—not as one of his agents, but as a woman who cared for him deeply.

The walls you had so carefully built around yourself were crumbling, piece by piece, every time he looked at you, every time he said your name in that calm, steady voice. You didn’t want to fight it anymore. You didn’t want to hide behind professionalism and rules. You wanted to let your guard down—for him.

After Spencer’s gentle push, you found yourself pacing outside one of the empty rooms in the Boston field office. You knew this moment would change everything, but you couldn’t let it go unsaid any longer. With trembling hands, you knocked on his office door.

Hotch glanced up from his paperwork. “Y/N? Is everything all right?”

“Can we talk? Privately?” you asked, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to stay composed.

He nodded, setting his pen down. “Of course.”

You led him into the empty room, closing the door softly behind you. The silence stretched, and your heart pounded in your ears as you turned to face him.

“Sir...” you began, then stopped yourself. No, this wasn’t the time for formalities. You shook your head. “Aaron.” His name felt strange and intimate on your tongue, but it felt right.

His eyebrows rose slightly, but he didn’t interrupt, waiting patiently for you to continue.

“I need to say this,” you said, your voice trembling. “I can’t get you out of my head. It’s not just admiration or respect—it’s so much more than that. I think about you all the time. The way you carry yourself, the way you care for this team. I dream about you, Aaron. I dream about you holding me, kissing me, being close to me in a way I’ve never let anyone be before.”

His expression softened, but he remained silent, letting you pour your heart out.

“I want to let my guard down for you. I’ve spent so much of my life trying to be strong, trying to prove myself, but with you, I just... I don’t want to hide anymore. I need you, Aaron. Not as my boss, but as something more. I know I’m crossing a line by saying this, but I can’t keep pretending that these feelings don’t exist.”

You took a shaky breath, the vulnerability leaving you exposed in a way that terrified you. “I don’t know what you’re thinking right now, and maybe you don’t feel the same way. But I needed you to know that when I came to you last night, it wasn’t because I just needed anyone. I needed you.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, and his dark eyes searched yours for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he stepped closer, his presence grounding you.

“You’re brave,” he said softly, his voice steady and filled with something you couldn’t quite name. “Braver than I’ve ever given you credit for. And I’m not going to pretend I haven’t felt something, too. I’ve been trying to ignore it, to push it aside because of the job, because of the rules, but... you’re right. This isn’t something we can keep pretending doesn’t exist.”

Your breath caught, hope blooming in your chest.

“Aaron,” you whispered, his name a plead

He reached out, his hand gently brushing your cheek before settling on your face. “You mean more to me than I’ve been willing to admit, even to myself.”

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed. And when his lips finally met yours, it was everything you had dreamed of—soft, warm, and filled with unspoken emotion.

When you pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. “We’ll figure this out,” he murmured. “But I need you to know that I’m here for you, not just as your boss but as someone who cares about you more than I probably should.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but they were tears of relief, of joy. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight on your chest lifted, and you allowed yourself to hope for something more.

@hoe4hotchner

[fresitaskywalker]

The end.

Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader

A/N : I kinda hate this but I’m also trying to get back into writing so i’m hoping this motivates me more.

If you hate it pls just eat my ass and if you don’t still, eat my ass I deserve it.

☆ Warning(s): Mentions of death.

Clank.

The sound of her lightsaber clashing with the floor, her gaze quickly falling down to her empty, open hand and before she could even look back up, a sudden force hit her, sending her flying, landing straight on her back, the air getting knocked out of her.

“Maybe next time don’t be so distracted.” Anakin spoke, extending a hand to her. She laughed, looking up at him as she laid on the floor, her hand coming up, gripping his hand firmly, helping her get back up on her two feet, “I was!” she retorted, her hand still grabbing onto his, basking in ecstasy on how perfect his touch felt.

Anakin rolled his eyes, not pulling away either, “Yeah well in that case I might as well get a new sparring partner that doesn’t get distracted.” he said, faking a tone of annoyance. “Yeah as if anyone can handle what a sore loser you can be sometimes.” she fired back, holding in laughter whilst Anakin gave her a look.

Her body felt sore, exhausted yet she knew she needed to continue, to fight, mustering whatever strength she had left, lifting herself to sit up. He walked with such calm, no urgency yet his aura was filled with hatred, his gloved hand coming up, aiming at her. Suddenly she no longer felt the cold floor but now feels a tightening grip on her neck, eyes practically popping out from the shock and force, her hands coming to her neck to try to free herself, clawing her neck, fingernails piercing her skin, her body thrashing mid hair yet nothing.

Silence filled the air, leaning against the balcony, staring at the sky, the four moons illuminating everything along with the various lights. It was peaceful, quiet, quiet enough to hear footsteps approaching behind her, stopping right next to her. “You okay?” his voice now filled the air, “Yeah, just wanted some peace and quiet.” she replied, her gaze glued to the pleasing scenery.

He stayed quiet, assuming he was admiring with her but he wasn’t, instead he was admiring her. His gaze was glued to her, eyes scanning her features, making sure his mind had the image of her engraved in it, not wanting to forget any small beauty marks, the color of her eyes, skin, lips, he wanted every detail, down to the smallest, stuck in his mind. Eventually, she noticed, her eyes shifting to her left side where he stood, tilting her head to face him, “What?” she asked, a slight eyebrow raise, the look in his eyes was something she’d never seen before. He smiled but it was different, his blue eyes catching hers, he swore he could melt at that moment, “Admiring my view.” he responded, her eyes widening at his comment before rolling them, looking away but he caught a glimpse of her cheeks turning dusty pink. “You’re stupid.” she said, standing up straight now. His hand makes its way to her, gently guiding her to look back to him, eyes meeting each other.

She continued to struggle, her head pounding, feeling the air leave her body. Her gaze fell back to him, despite the tears that were beginning to blur her vision, she could see him perfectly. His hand remained aimed at her, tilting his head back to face her, locking eyes with one and other. The once ocean blue eyes were now yellow, filled with anger and hate, this wasn’t him, it couldn’t be.

They both now looked at each other, the sudden urge to look away and hope for the ground to eat her was strong yet she couldn’t, not when he was looking at her like that. His hand remained against her cheek, thumb gently caressing her, she wanted to speak, ask what this was about but her mouth felt dry, so she remained silent, enjoying how the moonlight kissed his skin, making her see him in a completely different light that she shouldn’t.

“I’ve…

Always hated you.”

The words left his mouth like a snake sinking its fangs to her skin, injecting her with venom, a choked sobbed was all she could mustered, the last hope she had was dying with her. Anakin’s gaze fell to the floor right after he said those words, part of him couldn’t bear to see her. He suddenly felt alone, no longer hearing her struggle. His hand came down, closing his eyes, her body falling to the floor with a loud thud, part of him felt sick. He opened his eyes, looking the way her body laid there, vacant, no soul or anything.

He turned away, walking away from who was once everything to him, if only she hadn’t tried to stop him.

[catcultcafe]

A rude person does a mean spirited halloween prank on wholesome baker Mc 🥐

Whos getting even with the perp first?

For example lets say a person dressed as a member of the corpse force comes to tell them a friend died

If Raine is there it's stabbing on sight. It just is.

If Natan hears or sees it he will once they are out of your sight take care of this worm who dared to hurt your kind self he might even give you something so you know they will no longer hurt you!

It depends on what route your on. But generally one of these two. I only did 2 because it depends if Raine was there or not.

Green might chew them out if they were there.

[keepthemacramesecret]

theres also a cool time/clocks motif going on w raffles which i am predictably haunted by but we cant get into that today

[jvzebel-x]

🦋