#i wonder why i changed the head angle

[schaafdraws]

sketch -> final piece

[landossnorriss]

Pairing: lando x she. Summary: nine months after they celebrated on the podium at silverstone, lando and his gf show off their little surprise to the world. Word Count: 2k Warning: just fluffy stuff. AN: thank u to the wonderful @rosesvioletshardy for the inspo in this one! have not proof read whoops.

silverstone felt like a lifetime ago , but it had only been nine months. nine months since he took that checkered flag , since the confetti rained down and the world saw him at his highest . nine months since they slipped away that night , when the cameras stopped flashing and it was just them, two kids wrapped up in victory and possibility , making promises they hadn’t even said out loud yet.

he could still remember it like it was yesterday , even if his entire world had changed for the best since they had celebrated his victory in style.

now she was back in the paddock for the first time in 6 months and eyes were on them. all three of them.

lando could feel her tiny fingers curled around his thumb as they stood near the motorhome, tucked away from prying eyes for just a moment . the baby was asleep against her mother’s chest in a soft wrap , her little face hidden from the world . no one knew. they’d kept the bump hidden under oversized hoodies and clever angles, slipping out of the spotlight when the rumours got too close .

it felt almost unreal for lando, to have them here at his side, to let more than his immediate world in on the secret he had guarded with his entire being since they had found out seven months ago. he wondered how long it would be until someone was brave enough to ask the question , would they go around oscar to get to him ? would they raise their brows at zak ? the world champion didn't care . his girl might not have been around when he had been crowned the best in the world , but now people knew why.

she caught him staring and smiled warmly at him, offering him the same look his daughter had inherited. the same smile she gave him when she found him in the garage that night nine months ago , still drunk on champagne and adrenaline , tugging her into the shadows just to hold her close .

they didn't say much , they didn't need too. the whispers were saying it for them as people slowly pieced together the time line. lando bent down, pressing his lips to the baby’s forehead, careful not to wake her. this paddock was his home, home to roaring engines and ruthless seconds , but now it’s home to her too — this tiny reminder that there’s more to him than a perfect q3.

nine months ago, he had thought that win would be the highlight of his life. lando just hadn't known it would ever give him this. the driver would have been content to keep himself like that for the day , his world in his arms as he tucked the mother of his child into his arms , but he should have known the hustle and bustle would find him soon enough. he heard the footsteps before he saw them: a quick, excited shuffle of feet, then a familiar voice. george.

“ mate! ” the excitement was genuine and though lando had given some of the grid a heads up was on the way , only max, carlos and oscar were privvy to the exact surprise lando was planning . there was no time to brace himself before he had an arm thrown around his shoulders. “ so it’s true! you’ve been hiding her from us all this time? ”

the love of his life laughs, shifting the baby in her wrap . the little one stirred but didn't wake. his friend leant in, eyes wide, all the bravado gone for a second .

“can I—?” he asks, pointing at the tiny bundle. “keep your voice down,” she says gently . “sorry, sorry,” he whispers, grinning like an idiot. “ she’s so small. She’s… wow.”

another driver appears behind him, charles, holding his phone out like he’s about to snap a picture — then thinks better of it and tucks it away. “congrats, mate. cidn’t think you had it in you,” he teases.

lando rolled his eyes, unable to help the smile that formed on his face. he watched them fawn over the baby: two of the fastest men in the world, reduced to awkward coos and gentle pats. charles sticking out a finger, his daughter gripping tightly in a way that only made the grown man soften more.

“oh, you’re in trouble, lando. ” alex offers as he arrives to the party . " she's as cute as her mother and already has the grid wrapped around her finger, i can only imagine she has you all wound up."

“ yeah. " he offered , voice as soft as his friends. " she does."

“lando!” another familiar voice sounded, one that made them all wince, the voice was warm, amused , but over all relentless. natalie pinkham, a woman on a mission, weaving through the small circle of drivers. “well, well, well . I heard a rumor, but I didn’t think you’d be brave enough to bring her here so soon!” lando supposed if he was going to speak to any reported about his daughter, it might as well have been the one that cried with him as he won the championship.

he felt his girlfriend stiffen slightly, and he was ready for this, the protectiveness she held that rivalled his own but so was natalie, who lowered her hands and any cameras, her smile warm and voice gentle as she looked at his baby girl. " is it okay if i say hi?"

lando nodded, a little embarrassed, but natalie just beamed at him, taking a moment to take in the driver and his family . she could still remember the awkward 18 year old that had been so excited to be interviewed when he had first joined the paddock. now he was a man with a family all of his own . beyond her work, she was more proud of him than she could put into words.

“oh, she’s beautiful,” natalie offered simply. “and look at you — daddy duties and quali on the same day. you ready for that?”

he shrugged fighting off a blush , " one’s harder than the other.” “i bet. mind if I grab a quick word before you get whisked away?” she glanced at his girlfriend. “ and I promise — no pushy questions. just the good bits.”

signalling for a camera to join her, careful to get the side frame of the bundle in and nothing more, natalie lifted the mic, giving him that playful, knowing look she always dis when she was about to ask something that made them both laugh.

“so, lando…” she begun, glancing at his girlfriend with a conspiratorial grin. “i have to ask — the timing. silverstone was just a little over nine months ago and momma over here disappeared from our paddocks a few months later. should we assume your big win was… extra celebratory?”

lando let out an embarrased laugh, this time loosing the fight with the blushing on his cheeks. he glanced at his girlfriend, who shook her head with an exasperated but amused smile, like she’d heard this joke a thousand times already.

“well…” how did he say this in the most pr safe way? “you know how it is, emotions are high, adrenaline’s up… we were… celebrating pretty hard that nigh ."

natalie rose a brow, trying not to laugh. “ clearly! so we can say this little one is your real silverstone trophy?” lando glanced at her perfect sleeping angel, then back at natalie, grinning. “yeah i guess. she’s worth a lot more than any trophy, though. no offense to the constructors’ guys. ” his girlfriend could only roll her eyes at that, but the way she looked at him, at their baby, said everything it needed too to the cameras.

natalie beamed at them both, dropping her voice just a touch, so it felt more like friends gossiping than an official interview. “did you two ever imagine it’d happen like this? keeping her a secret must’ve been so hard.”

the driver shrugged, and for a moment his boyish charm gay way to something soft, a little raw. “it was. but it was ours, you know? after all the noise, the headlines — it was nice having something just for us for a while. ” they had made the choice together , and neither of them regretted it.

the reported wasn't sure she could be anymore touched if she tried, even the boys that had stayed to watch lando squirm were watching their friend with unfiltered admiration and respect. “ and now you’ve brought her here, first race weekend for the littlest Norris in monaco, how does that feel? ”

he looked over at his daughter, one tiny hand peeking out from the wrap . he wondered if she had the slightest idea of all the ways she and her mother had turned his world upside down in the best of ways.

“feels like starting line all over again ,” he muttered, voice low, almost to himself. “ but better. ”

lowering her mic and nodding to the camera that they were done, natalie offered the young family a nod of her own. “ you’re going to do just fine, dad.”

he grinned brightly back at her, cheeks still pink. “ yea, i think so.”

the quesitons didn't stop there for lando though , just as he had suspected they wouldn't.

he heared it in snippets: did you see?he has a baby!they kept it secret this whole time?

when he arrived at the fanzone? it was impossible to miss. dozens of faces pressed against the barriers, phones out, some fans practically bouncing on their toes to get a glimpse.

a kid in a bucket hat, shoving a handmade sign at him: congrats lando! with a tiny cartoon baby drawn next to his car number. damn these guys were quicker than he was. nothing was going to keep the smile off of his face today , not as he closed the space between him and the people cheering his name , beginning to sign things .

“do you really have a baby?”

the question isn't a surprise by how and lando could only nod at them, pride visible on his face . “i guess you could say my biggest win last year wasn’t just on track. " a ripple of laughter and cheers sounded through the crowd. “boy or girl?” another fan shouted.

“ girl!” he offered. " she's gunna be my little good luck charm this weekend what do you reckon? " a tiny papaya onsie was offered out, his number penciled on the back in glitter . " who made this?” lando puzzle, and how so quick? spotting the shy fan who was half raising her hand , lando offered her another beaming smile . “it’s adorable,” and he meant it. “ thank you. she’s gonna love it. her mum too. "

“ silverstone baby, right? " the question was followed by snorts and giggles of the girls around him and lando rose a brow.

“yeah, alright, i’ll admit it. silverstone baby. let’s keep it PG though, alright? ”

glancing over his shoulder, landos eyes took in richard where he knew he was looking over the two tucked just out of sight , his girlfriend, his daughter. His family. tapping the onsie against his chest once more lando beamed back at the crowd signing the few last things he could get to. " aright, i’ve gotta get to work,” it was time to run whilst he still could. “ wish me luck — for both my girls".

they had both been so scared of the world , of how cruel it could be but as he welcome his little secret into his world , he knew that really he shouldn't have had anything to worry about. people would be happy for him , a few people would make their feelings known . but either way it didn't matter, because at the end of the day, this win was the one he would carry with him forever.

landonorris just posted:

liked by, maxverstappen1, charlesleclerc, herusername, mclaren and 456,789 other people.

the best trophy we’ve ever kept secret #silverstonebaby

see all comments:

@f1thirstposts: A BABY?! A WHOLE BABY?! LANDO YOU SNEAKY LITTLE MF I’M SCREAMING 😭😭😭 @paddockwives: so you’re telling me silverstone wasn’t the only thing that got lapped up that day??? @softlando: THE GRID GIRLS ARE CRYING BLOOD RN 😂 @f1feralclub: NOT YOU TURNING A PODIUM INTO A PERSON. BREEDING KING 👑 @carlossainz55: congrats hermano! can she come to the next driver dinner? i will bring gifts. @chaoticgoodf1: so who had ‘Lando dad era’ on their 2026 bingo card? NOT ME @maxverstappen1: you know there are easier ways to get a championship point, right? 😂 Congrats. @papayadefense: silverstone baby’s first words gonna be “box box.” @mechanicmoms: obsessed with the fact that this man was dodging grid walk interviews to go rub her feet. Soft king. @landoismybaby: If he can keep a whole baby secret for 9 months, imagine what else this man is hiding. 👀 @charlesleclerc: happy for you mate!! but you owe us the whole story in the drivers’ briefing 👀 @wagsunhinged: she said i’m taking a piece of my man’s win HOME — we respect the hustle @georgerussell63: congratulations! she better be wearing ear defenders. priorities, mate. @charleslecats: imagine growing up and finding out you were the result of a podium celebration, iconic behavior only @f1editqueen: Her paddock pass hits different 🍼✨ @nataliepinkham: she’s already my favorite paddock pal. congratulations, you two! 💛 @lando4life: bro was hiding a WHOLE BABY while fighting for podiums, king energy 👑

herusername just posted:

liked by, landonorris, vouge, charlesleclerc, carlossainz55 and 235,890 other people.

From celebrating a win to holding our biggest one 🧡 ps - lando tried to name her after stowe corner pps - her grid uncles are already very annoying. pps - imagine growing the most perfect human for nine months only for your boyfriends feral fans to nickname her silverstonebaby #sigh. #iloveyouall.

see all comments:

@landonorris: you’re my hero. she’s my everything. love you forever 🤍 #istandbystowe. @f1girlies: you two hiding a whole paddock princess like it’s nothing?? the power you hold 👑 @silverstonebreedingclub: SHE’S REAL SHE’S REAL SHE’S REAL SILVERSTONE BABY IS REAL 🍼🏆😭 @alex_albon: if you ever need a babysitter who’ll teach her bad jokes, you know where to find me 😆 @gridwives: your soft era is my Roman Empire. obsessed with you both. @pitwallpsychos: you’ve won the silly season and you didn’t even try. iconic behavior tbh. @papayaprincess: if she doesn’t get her own tiny mclaren race suit we riot. @danielricciardo: she’s already cooler than all of us combined. tell her uncle daniel’s bringing the good snacks. @wagsunhinged: ma’am you carried AND you kept it secret?? paddock WAG of the year. 🏆 @softlando: this baby’s birth story is already better than any fairytale. @chaoticgoodf1: me rereading this post for the 87th time like I’m your cousin 😭🧡

[avaricefics]

the winner takes it all | kimi antonelli social media au

| Kimi Antonelli x fem!reader

| Fans are starting to believe that Kimi's girlfriend, Y/n L/n, is a bad luck charm at races- he happily proves them wrong

| This is my first ever smau, so I'm still learning all the formatting and such. Please be patient!

f1updates

f1updates Kimi Antonelli's girlfriend, Y/n L/n, posted on her story about arriving to the Canadian Grand Prix. The last time she went to watch a Grand Prix live, at the Spanish Grand Prix, Antonelli DNFed. Should Mercedes fans be scared of a bad luck charm in the garage this weekend?

comments

user1 Still not over Spanish GP... maybe Y/n actually is bad luck lol

user2 the more you think about it the more it makes sense

-> user3 Her first in person GP since Kimi was in F2 and he DNFs...

user4 Always said he shouldn't have dated her

real life

You scrolled through your phone, barely blinking as all the hateful comments and mean words flashed past on the screen. You should be used to the hate, having dated Kimi since his F2 days, but it still made no sense to you. These people didn't even know you, and yet they thought they could say whatever they wanted about Kimi and your's relationship.

You tried not to let it phase you, you tried to pretend like it didn't hurt each time someone on the internet called you a 'terrible girlfriend' or a 'bad luck charm'. Formula 1 was Kimi's dream, and you hated the thought of ruining it with your own selfish insecurities.

It also bothered you how much the fans looked down on you for missing so many grand prixs at the beginning of the season. You hadn't meant to, but your older sister had given birth prematurely to triplets a couple weeks before the season started, and you had stayed at your family home in Italy to help out for those difficult first months.

Kimi supported you fully, of course. He understood the need to stick with your family, and help them when they needed it. Between races, he had even stopped by the house to help with the triplets himself.

You and Kimi had both been so excited for the Spanish Grand Prix, but clearly that didn't turn out so well. And honestly? With how much hate you were getting for attending the Canadian Grand Prix, you were half-tempted to fly back across the ocean to Italy to help change diapers.

You scrolled past another negative post, one that wondered why Kimi would date you if you were so basic looking. You shut off your phone and resisted the urge to chuck it against the wall.

"What's wrong, vita mia?" Kimi called from the other room of the hotel, noticing you despondently laying starfished across the bed. You couldn't help but smile at the Italian nickname.

"Just stupid people on the internet," you replied. Kimi walked out of the other room, holding a leftovers box with spaghetti and meatballs that he had been warming up in the hotel microwave. Even if the spaghetti wasn't as good as authentic Italian pasta, it reminded both of them of home just a bit.

"Are you looking at the bad luck posts again?" Kimi asked, upset. He hated that there were people who called themselves his fans who treated his girlfriend so cruelly. You nodded.

Seeing your face, Kimi didn't say anything, but instead set the leftovers down on the bedside table and sat down on the edge of the bed, his body angled towards you. You sat up, scooching towards Kimi so you could rest your head on his shoulder as both of you leaned back on the pillows.

"I'm sorry this is happening," Kimi said softly. "I got so caught up in my own dream, I hardly payed attention to the toll it was taking on you to be there, too."

"It's not that," you said, trying to think of a good way to describe how you felt. "I love supporting you, and getting to be a part of that dream. I just... wasn't prepared for the fans to not want me to be a part of it."

"Oh, carissima," Kimi whispered. He pulled you closer to him with his right arm, and rested his head on top of yours. You didn't even realize that tears had started to fall until he reached up to brush them away.

"I love you," you spoke quietly. "I love you, and it sucks that people don't see that."

"I love you too." Kimi reached over your side to grab the leftover pasta, handing you a fork and taking one for himself. "I'll fix this, amore. I promise."

kimi.antonelli

liked by yourusername, mercedesamgf1, user74 and 134, 092 others

kimi.antonelli Y/n and I have been together for years, and I am shocked and horrified to see with my own eyes people who call themselves my 'fans' turning against her. We love each other, in sickness and in health, in the happiness and in the hurting, and through both good fortune and bad luck.

Anyone who doesn't see that and respect our relationship, and my girlfriend, isn't a real fan by any means.

comments

yourusername <3

comments restricted on this post

yourusername

liked by kimi.antonelli, georgerussel63, user10 and 184, 309 others

yourusername Mercedes 1-3 at the 2025 Canadian Grand Prix! I'm so incredibly proud, congratulazioni a entrambi! Let's go Kimi!!! (Something something bad luck charm... yeah, right. My boy is too good for luck :))

comments

georgerussel63 I see how it is... you get P1 and not even a picture

-> yourusername Gotta support the bf

->kimi.antonelli I'm her favorite 😇

->yourusername That too

[cinnamanz]

✦ ─── 2 𝓱ands , 𝓢ophia 𝓛aforteza keep your hands on me.

─── 𝓢ophia never considered herself the jealous type—until you got a haircut. overnight, it was like the whole world had started seeing you differently, comments about how fine you looked haunting her everywhere. no wonder she'd bossed you to have your hands on her at all times.

❝𝓷eed a little less talk, 𝓪nd a lot more touch.❞

౨ৎ 𝓹airing. sophia laforteza x katseye seventh member!yn ౨ৎ 𝓰enre. fluff, established relationship wc. 4417 a/n. good god i need to stop yapping ab details in fics i keep dragging them on on the other hand, this is my compensation for lowk neglecting u guys nd not bringing food to rhe tsble but i fear its school thats got me on a leash nd unless smn takes one for the team nd burns my school down thisll be happening more nd more often CS EXAMS ND ASSESSMENTS R COMING UP NF IMA BAWL CS WTFFFF EVERYTHING IS TOO FAST IM SO LOST FUCKKKKKKK may or may not have taken too long to get to the part where its actually inspired by 2 hands mbmb the use of 2 hands's lyrics was lowk cringy😟 NAWT PROOFREAD AT ALL🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️ enjoy homos❤️

❝𝓲 just want your two hands on me at all times, baby. 𝓲f you let go, better put 'em right back, fast.❞

JEALOUSY WAS NEVER SOPHIA’S THING—at least, that’s what she always told herself. she knew you—her girlfriend, loved her. knew with every fibre of her being that you would never do anything deliberate to hurt her, never purposely stoke the ugly fire that smoldered deep in her chest. 

so why was it that, right now, the green-eyed monster clawed its way up her throat, curled around her ribcage, and blurred her vision like a stain she couldn't scrub away?

you’d gotten a haircut a few days ago—something sharper, something that framed your face so effortlessly it was almost unfair. it was the kind of change that ensured the girl crush label stuck to you permanently, as if it hadn’t already. and somehow, impossibly, it made you look even better—dare sophia say hotter—than before.

and safe to say, sophia wasn’t the only one who noticed. unfortunately.

the moment you turned to management and asked if you’d need a wig to hide your fresh cut from the eyekons before going live—like the other members had to in the newest tiktoks they were dishing out—their response was quick, casual—no need, you were free to show it off. gain more attention and eyes on the group before the comeback.

and that was all you needed to hear.

without a second thought, you propped your phone up on the table in your shared room with manon and daniela, fingers adjusting the angle with practiced ease, lips curling into a giddy smile. 

anticipation thrummed in your chest, an excited buzz settling beneath your skin as you ran a hand through your freshly cut hair, contemplating whether to hide it beneath a cap before settling to just tugging on the strings of your hoodie, tucking your hair out of sight from the camera.

the viewer count came rushing in the second you’d tapped ‘start live’, and your curious eyes peered at the camera, squinting to see what they’d been commenting about before shaking your head, a small chuckle of amusement spilling past your lips. 

user56 bro u look like an egg tf user1 humpty dumpty who?? user9 i think she pulls it off idk bout yall user0 ion care she can still get it even tho she looks like an idiot user2 i like them a little weird user89 GIRL TURN IT AWFFF

“i look like an egg like this? oh wow, that’s interesting. thank you.” you deadpanned, amusement flickering in your eyes as you read the comment aloud. a soft laugh slipped past your lips, shaking your head before tilting it slightly, as if assessing your reflection on the screen.

you kept the playful banter going for a few more minutes, responding to teasing messages with quick-witted remarks, occasionally tugging at the edge of your hood in mock offense. finally, you sighed, dramatic and drawn out, before giving in with a knowing hum. 

your fingers found the drawstring of your hoodie, twirling it lazily around one fingertip before tugging it loose. slowly, almost teasingly, you pushed the hood back, revealing the slightly poofy and mussed strands of your fresh haircut, the soft layers settling into place after being trapped beneath the fabric.

the moment your hair was freed, your hands instinctively shot up, smoothing over the mess, fingertips gently carding through the strands in an attempt to tame them. a small mirthful chuckle escaped you, a mix of amusement and mild exasperation at the way the hood had left your hair slightly disheveled. 

but even then, you still looked effortlessly good. and judging by the flood of excited comments rolling in, and eyekons definitely agreed.

"we vibing with it, chat?" you murmured, tilting your head slightly as your fingers absentmindedly combed through your hair, trying to smooth down the strands that had been ruffled by your hoodie. 

your lips pressed into a thin line, dissatisfaction creeping in as you examined your reflection on the screen, the messiness making your fresh cut look a little less put-together than you had intended.

"shouldn’t have actually hidden it away from you guys," you admitted with a soft sigh, shaking your head. "or it wouldn’t have been this messy."

your hands worked quickly, gently pushing some strands into place, but after a moment of struggling, you huffed in mild frustration. deciding to leave it as it was, you leaned forward, reaching for your glasses resting on the table. with practiced ease, you slid them on, blinking a few times as your vision sharpened.

"my bad, guys," you said, lips twitching into a sheepish smile as you settled back into place. "couldn’t be assed to put on my contacts."

user90 raw raw ah ah ah or wtv it was lady gaga said user56 okay guys fess up who tf took my pants user4 iSWEAR my pants were just on user77 and the crowd is… undressing themselves⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️ user78 omg girl dont play w me like that i might js make u mine user43 and FUCK whoever’s dating u bruh u look too good ima nut get OUTTTTTT user68 thank GOD my phone’s waterproof‼️‼️‼️ user70 TIL THE NEIGHBOURS LEARN HER NAME😭😭😭😭 user45 FLASH US

the chat exploded with reactions—some gushing over how good you looked, others teasing about your laziness, and more than a few keyboard smashes from people who were clearly losing their minds over the combination of the new haircut and glasses. 

you chuckled at the chaos, pushing your frames up the bridge of your nose before relaxing into the moment, letting the eyekons take it all in.

sophia who was watching just downstairs, however, wasn’t all that amused with the comments that flooded your live.

it was a jumpscare, truly. the moment sophia groggily unlocked her phone and opened tiktok, still blinking sleep from her eyes, she was met—ambushed, really—by an edit of your live from last night. the screen instantly flooded with clips of you, your freshly-cut hair falling effortlessly into place, set to the smooth, sultry beat of redbone by childish gambino.

typical, she thought dryly at the sound choice, but that didn’t stop the way her breath hitched slightly.

the light from her phone bathed her face in a bright glow, illuminating every tiny movement of her fingers as she instinctively scrolled down, her thumb hovering over the comment section before she could even think twice about it. she already knew what to expect, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating.

and sure enough, the comments were just as bad—if not worse—than the ones from last night. thirsting, keyboard smashes, people losing their goddamn minds over you. all of it blurred together in an overwhelming stream of admiration, and sophia could feel a familiar, unwelcome heat creeping up her neck.

because, god, of course everyone had to notice how good you looked. and of course, they wouldn’t shut up about it.

it didn’t help that the next few swipes on her for you page led to even more edits—clip after clip of your live from last night, set to sultry, slow-burning tracks that only seemed to emphasize just how good you looked. 

the way your freshly cut hair fell into place, the way your glasses slid down the bridge of your nose before you pushed them up absentmindedly, the way you’d smirked slightly at the camera without even meaning to—it was all there, replaying in high definition, edited to perfection, and worst of all, everywhere. god.

sophia groaned, flopping onto her back as she mindlessly scrolled, but she wasn’t about to just watch and let it slide. no, she was documenting this. saving receipts.

in less than an hour, she had added over fifty different edits of you into a private folder under your name, her fingers moving almost on autopilot. every new clip she found—save. another slow zoom-in on your face—save. a dramatic transition to the beat drop—definitely save.

by the time she was done, she was sure she had absolutely flooded the eyekons’ notifications, her name popping up repeatedly as she went on her little jealousy-infused saving spree.

but she didn’t care. not even a little.

because in her mind, this wasn’t just a collection—it was a statement. a quiet, possessive claim, a subtle way of reminding the eyekons exactly who you belonged to. every save, every tap of her screen, was her way of saying: watch all you want, but just know—she’s mine. and wait—no, no, no. jealousy is bad. an ugly feeling she shouldn’t be feeling. 

but the moment you’d walked into her shared room with yoonchae all mussed from sleep and seeking her out first thing in the morning, sliding into bed next to her, body molding onto hers and—to hell with it.

she’d decided to go live the next day out of pure boredom and cause chaos (unbidden flirting).

clad in an oversized black hoodie—one she had definitely swiped from your closet without asking—sophia lounged comfortably in front of the camera, the fabric swallowing her frame in a way that made it clear it was never hers to begin with. 

the sleeves fell just past her wrists, slightly bunched at her hands as she lazily adjusted the hem. paired with it was a black baseball cap, probably one of the few articles of clothing she actually owned, its curved brim casting a subtle shadow over her sharp features.

her free hand drifted to the waistband of the grey sweatpants she was wearing—another piece that was, without a doubt, stolen from your closet. with a quick tug, she adjusted the way they rested on her hips, ensuring they fit just right before letting her hand drop.

user44 GOOD GODDDDD user88 that hoodie looks rlyyyy familiar ms laforteza user51 SOPHIA LIVE OH GOD BLESS😭😭😭😭😭😭 user50 can u be my girlfriend for three seconds user41 BROOOOO I NEED U SO BAD SHUT UPPPP user32 how have u been sophia???

her lips curled into a small, satisfied smile as she glanced at the screen, watching the comments flood in—messages filled with excitement, teasing remarks about her outfit, and, of course, plenty of people calling her out for very obviously wearing your clothes again. she simply raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence as she leaned in slightly, skimming through the chaotic flood of words.

but she didn’t deny it. not once.

it wasn’t until halfway through the live that the shift in the comment section became impossible to ignore. at first, it had been the usual chaos—people gushing over her, teasing her about the hoodie, and thirsting over every little movement she made. but then, as if on cue, the flood of questions about you started rolling in.

user55 hey queen so whats the deal w y/n?? is she single perchance😌😌😌 user63 is y/n there w u??? user80 is y/n single?? asking for a friend nd research purposes🌚🌚 user66 blink twice if y/n is in the room

mixed in with those were the more audacious ones—the teasing, flirty messages that made sophia’s jaw clench ever so slightly.

user90 how does one marry y/n?? help a girl out pls user82 can i marry y/n??

“no, you can’t marry y/n.” she’d replied, her fingers, which had been lazily toying with the hem of her hoodie, stilled. she blinked at the screen once. twice.

narrowing her eyes, she hooked her fingers under her chin, tilting her head slightly as she peered at the comment section with squinted, unmistakably disapproving eyes. her lips pressed into a firm line, and for a moment, she just stared, letting the weight of her silence settle over the chat.

and if the eyekons watching had any sense at all, they’d know exactly what that look meant.

“what’s that about me?”

sophia’s eyes snapped up from the screen of the live the moment she caught movement from the doorway, her sharp, narrowed gaze instantly softening at the sight of you.

there you stood, bathed in the dim glow of the room, your expression puzzled as you tilted your head slightly, brows knitting together in mild confusion. dressed in baggy clothes—an oversized hoodie that hung loosely over your frame and sweatpants that pooled slightly at your ankles—you looked effortlessly comfortable, the kind of effortlessness that made sophia’s chest tighten just a little. 

your prescription glasses perched on the bridge of your nose, a clear sign that it was far too late in the night for you to bother with contacts. in one hand, you loosely gripped a bottle of water, your other hand absentmindedly brushing at your sleeve as your bare feet padded quietly against the floor, carrying you toward her without hesitation.

completely unaware.

unaware of the absolute chaos happening in her live chat. unaware of the thirsting, the borderline feral comments flooding in, the way the eyekons were already losing their minds over the mere mention of your name. and most of all, unaware of the way sophia was staring at you—conflicted.

because in that moment, she wasn’t sure what she wanted more—to selfishly keep you out of the frame, away from their prying eyes, or to let them see you, let them understand exactly why she looked at you the way she did.

but before she could make a decision, you made it for her.

with an easy step forward, you popped into the frame, completely oblivious to the digital uproar you had just caused, a sweet, sleepy smile tugging at your lips as you greeted the screen. 

"hi, eyekons," you murmured, voice thick with sleep, raspy in a way that sent an immediate shiver down sophia’s spine. "how’re we doin’ tonight? good?"

your words were slow, unhurried, tinged with the warmth of drowsiness as you blinked at the screen, adjusting your glasses with a lazy push of your knuckle against the frame. your lips curled into a small, satisfied smile as you nodded, as if genuinely pleased by the flood of chaotic responses rolling in.

user77 girl i cant do ts rn im ovulating bad user66 standing ovulation or wtv the saying is user62 heyyyy so lunch by billie eilish?? user79 MY DREAM RIDE😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻 user39 WHATT HEJVUKFMFK WHAT THEUCKVLVMK user50 CLEAN UP ON AISLE MY PANTS😭😭😭😭😭😭 user99 cldnt even edge to ts i exploded IMMEDIATELY😂😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 user34 the crowd would applaud but their hands are busy😭😭😭 user14 i swear my pants were JUST on

"i’m glad," you hummed, voice dipping even lower, softer—dangerous.

sophia didn’t stand a chance.

the moment the sound of your voice filled the room, she could feel the heat crawling up her neck, warm and betraying. without thinking, she subtly turned her face away from the camera, pretending to adjust her hoodie as she desperately tried to will away the blush creeping onto her cheeks.

but of course, you noticed.

your gaze flickered toward her, amusement dancing in your sleep-heavy eyes, and a quiet chuckle slipped past your lips—gentle, teasing.

"what’s with you?" you asked, voice lilting, but sophia refused to look at you, choosing instead to stare pointedly at her phone as if it could somehow save her from this situation.

it absolutely could not.

“nothing,” she tried to fib through her teeth. her face was half-hidden from the camera, but you knew her well enough to picture the exact shade of pink dusting her cheeks, the way she’d press her lips together in a tight line to keep from giving herself away. “don’t worry about it.”

a slow, knowing smile tugged at your lips, though you chose not to push any further—for now. instead, you shook your head in amusement, eyes twinkling as you took in the rare sight of sophia, who was normally so composed, absolutely crumbling before your eyes.

"someone’s suddenly a little camera shy," you mused, voice dipping into something teasing, playful.

sophia let out a quiet huff, still turned away, fingers absentmindedly tugging at the hem of the hoodie she’d stolen from you, as if focusing on that would somehow help her regain her composure.

and for a few minutes, she did just that—taking slow, measured breaths, schooling her features back into something neutral, forcing the heat in her cheeks to die down. when she finally popped back into frame, her expression was much steadier, though the faintest traces of pink still lingered on her skin.

thankfully, the purple lighting she’d chosen for the live worked in her favour, casting a soft glow that helped mask the last remnants of her flustered state. she busied herself with scrolling through the chat, acting as though nothing had happened, her posture relaxed, exuding an air of practiced nonchalance.

or, at least, she tried to.

because just as she started to settle back into her usual rhythm, her brows twitched—barely, but enough—as her ears picked up on something that immediately set her back on edge.

"oh, baby, you’re too sweet," you purred, your voice dripping with playful flirtation as you read a particularly bold comment from an eyekon. "but if you keep talking to me like that, i might just have to take you out on a date."

user51 MY TURN user23 A TEAR ROLLED DOWN MY LEG user89 OHMGYGOD IVOLUNTER ASTRIBYTE user62 RAWRAWRARAWRARWRAW user94 THISMADE BOTH OF MY LIPS SMILE user42 raw i meant AWWWWWW user82 this so made my hole weak I MEANT MY WHOLE WEEK user42 i am not cinderella but ik it fits user51 born to cowgirl, forced to fangirl💔💔💔💔💔 user41 i have nothing appropriate to say HER VOICE UGHHHHH user17 i finally got the water bed everyone wanted in 2016 user88 good now OIL UP user33 YOU GUYS ARE ABSOLUTE ANIMALS IN HERE WTF ENOUGH GUYS ENOUGH YOU HORNDOGS user21 all ten fingers.

sophia froze.

her grip on her the drawstring of your hoodie tightened slightly, her jaw ticking as she forced her gaze to remain on the screen, pretending to be invested in the chat. 

but anyone who knew her—especially you—could see the barely concealed flicker of irritation in her expression, the slight way her nostrils flared, the way her fingers twitched as if she were this close to reaching out and physically covering your mouth to put an end to whatever nonsense you were spewing.

she knew you were just playing around. she knew it.

but that didn’t stop the possessive heat from curling low in her stomach, nor did it stop the subtle shift in her posture—back straightening, shoulders rolling back, as if preparing to stake her claim without saying a word.

user1 guys im kinda scared of sophia user79 SHES LOOMING HELPPP user52 guard dog who user93 damn sophia my b for even looking at yn user84 im gna sleep now okay?? dont choke me in my sleep pls user77 I WAS JS PLAYING W YN PLS DONT KILL ME user91 holy shit i js got shivers down my spine

sophia hadn’t meant to react so quickly, so instinctively, but the second another flirtatious comment slipped past your lips, she couldn’t hold back anymore. before she even registered what she was doing, her hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your arm in a vice grip—possessive, unwavering.

your amusement only grew at the sudden contact, lips parting slightly as you turned away from the chat, gaze landing on sophia. her expression was downright murderous, eyes dark, pupils blown wide with a sharp intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

without a word, she yanked your arm toward her, grip tightening as if to silently remind you who you belonged to. both of her hands locked around your forearm now, as if afraid you’d slip away if she loosened her hold even slightly.

and then—thud.

in her urgency, her knee jerked forward, slamming against the table. the impact sent her phone tumbling forward, landing screen-down with a soft clack, the camera immediately blacking out. the live was still running, but now all the eyekons could hear was the sharp rustle of movement, the sound of fabric shifting, a muffled noise—

because in the very next second, sophia had tugged you forward, pulling you straight between her thighs with a force that left you momentarily stunned. and before you could even process what was happening, her hands were on you—one threading into your hair, fingers tangling at the base of your skull, the other firmly cupping the back of your neck, anchoring you in place.

and then she kissed you.

no hesitation, no teasing buildup—just pure, unfiltered need.

it was all-consuming, the way she melted against you, the way her lips moved with a desperation that sent your mind reeling. 

she kissed you like you were her oxygen, like she had been starving for you this entire time—which she has been to be fair, and now that she had you, she refused to let you go. her fingers tightened in your hair, tugging slightly, as if to draw you in even closer—though there was hardly any space left between you.

but just as you were getting lost in the heat of it—just as you felt yourself melting into her touch—she suddenly pulled away, her hands shifting to your shoulders.

and then, without warning, she pushed you back.

you barely had a second to react before your back hit the couch once again, a soft groan escaping you as sophia moved fast, swinging a leg over your waist and straddling you with ease, her knees pressing into the cushions on either side of your hips.

you blinked up at her, breathless, dazed, lips still tingling from the kiss. but she didn’t give you a moment to recover. the rest of the world faded, the chat, the live, the teasing—nothing else mattered except this. except her. just like how she’d intended. and she leaned back in for more.

user77 HELLO??? WHAT IS GOING ON user51 GET ME OUT OF THE BASWMENY user11 BTCHCICHFUHFIE WTAFFDTFYE WHAT IS GOIUNG ON HELLO user78 I HEARD THAT user12 smn pick me up im scared user82 bon appetite to sophia ig user94 AT LWAST END THE LIVE????? user73 am i interrupting sumn user93 freak ON user44 media training went out the window im crying theyre not even tryna hide it HELPPP user25 probably making out in my cellular phone i pay for every month??? diabolical work i feel targeted.

sophia had no idea how she’d ended up here—pressed into the middle of a drunken, swaying crowd, the bass thrumming so hard it rattled her ribs, the air thick with sweat, alcohol, and the kind of recklessness that came with too many shots and too little self-control.

this was not what you had promised.

"it'll be chill," you’d said, smiling so sweetly at her earlier, brushing your fingers through her hair as you reassured her that it was just a casual going-away party for your friend—nothing too wild. 

but now? some random guy had the audacity to press up against her, subtly—or not so subtly—trying to grind against her like she wouldn’t notice. like she’d let him.

with an irritated grunt, she shoved him off, barely sparing him a glare before weaving through the crowd, jaw clenched. she barely knew your friend, didn’t care to, really. she wouldn’t even be out of bed right now if it were up to her, more than happy to be curled up under the covers with you, watching mamma mia back to back before switching to your personal favorites—until the two of you inevitably dozed off.

but no.

you just had to have plans. just had to drag her to some bullshit party for a friend jetting off to europe to “find the woman of her life.”

sophia cursed under her breath, her usually calm composure cracking as frustration simmered beneath her skin. her hands itched—aching to grab ahold of you, to pull you against her and make sure every single person here knew you weren’t up for grabs.

the flashing, colorful lights of the room made everything simultaneously too bright and too dim, disorienting her as she searched. the pulse of the music did nothing to drown out the growing sense of urgency clawing up her spine.

she should’ve never let you out of her sight—oh, there you are.

sophia could feel it creeping in—the sharp, insidious burn of jealousy sinking its claws into her chest, wrapping tight around her ribs like a vice for the second time that week.

surrounded by a cluster of women, all too eager to lean in, to bat their lashes, to laugh a little too loudly at something you’d said—something that, knowing you, probably wasn’t even that funny. yet there they were, hanging onto every word, eyes lingering a little too long, bodies angled a little too close.

her jaw clenched.

her vision blurred at the edges, tinted green with something she refused to name, but it propelled her forward before she could think twice, her feet carrying her straight to you, drawn in like gravity itself had shifted. 

she slipped through the crowd with practiced ease, a mask of indifference settling over her features like second nature—calm, cool, unreadable. but beneath the surface? she was nothing but raw chaos.

without a word, her fingers curled around the fabric of your shirt, tugging you back, away from them, to her. her hands moved instinctively, slipping over yours, guiding them down, redirecting—staking claim.

she flattened your palms against her waist, holding them there, her body pressing into yours like she needed you closer. always.

“want your two hands on me at all times, baby.” sophia's voice was a low murmur, silk-smooth and deliberate as she tilted her head back, lips just barely grazing your cheek before trailing toward your ear, a slow, teasing whisper meant for you—but performed for the lingering eyes around you.

“and if you let go, better put ‘em right back fast.” her grip on your hands tightened, guiding them to press firmer against her waist, as if daring you to even think about moving them away. her fingers curled around yours, possessive, a silent command to stay put. her heart pounded, a steady rhythm against your skin. 

"want your two hands on me.” like my life needs saving, she’d have dared utter if she wasn’t too lost in the way your breath hitched, fingers twitching against hers.

and maybe it did.

she leaned in closer, lips just barely brushing the shell of your ear, her breath warm and slow, sending shivers down your spine. “let ‘em all know.”

her hand ghosted back, fingers featherlight as they traced along your jaw before tilting your chin up just enough to meet her gaze, dark and unreadable.

“can you do it like that?”

masterlist.

— please do not repost, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way without permission. thank you! xx

[tempobaekh]

Jacked and kind super soldier

Pairings: bucky barnes x civilian!f!reader

Warnings: FLUFFF, cutie, bucky being jacked and kind, maybe ooc bucky?

A/N: this trend is the cutest this everrrr. i HAD to write it for my fav super soldier. i also read a rafe cameron one somewhere a bit ago and got inspired by that lol. also I KNOW THAT IS THE HYDRA ARM IN THE PICTURE i just needed a picture of his metal arm kinda flexing.

The weekend was your sanctuary—a blissful retreat where the rest of the world melted away, leaving just you and Bucky in the warm cocoon of your apartment. The soft hum of the shower from the bathroom filled the air as you lounged on the couch, your phone in hand, scrolling through TikTok aimlessly. Alpine was curled up on the armrest, purring softly as if she, too, reveled in the peace.

As you swiped through your feed, a familiar trend popped up—a montage of strong men lifting their girlfriends effortlessly while Sabrina Carpenter’s “Slim Pickins” played in the background. The lyrics floated through your mind: “A boy who’s jacked and kind…”

Each video showed the guy flashing a proud smile, flexing an arm while the girl laughed, clearly enamored by the display of strength. A wistful sigh escaped your lips. The trend wasn’t new; you’d seen it countless times but never mustered the courage to ask Bucky to try it.

Bucky was still adjusting to modern life, often overwhelmed by the ever-changing whirlwind of social media and trends. While he was always a good sport about trying new things, you were careful not to overwhelm him, only occasionally roping him into your TikTok antics. Even then, you had maybe two or three TikToks of you both on your account.

But this trend? This trend stirred a little thrill in you. You couldn’t help but wonder—how would it feel to be hoisted onto his shoulder, his strength so effortless it was almost unfair? Would he smile that soft, proud smile you loved so much? Would he flex just to humor you?

Your lips twisted thoughtfully. Could you even ask? Would he think it was silly?

“Just ask,” you mutter to yourself, biting your lip as you stare at the video again. The sound of the shower shutting off jolts you out of your thoughts. Moments later, Bucky steps out into the living room, his dark hair damp and tousled, a gray t-shirt clinging to his broad chest. Alpine immediately perks up, trotting over to greet him.

“Hey, doll,” he says with a warm smile, rubbing a towel through his hair. “What’re you up to?”

You stand, heart thudding slightly as you approach him. “Buck, can I ask you for a favor?”

His brows furrow slightly, curiosity flickering in his stormy blue eyes. “Of course. What’s up?”

“Well...” you start, clutching your phone like it’s a lifeline. “There’s this trend on TikTok I’ve seen a lot. It’s harmless, I swear! But it involves... you lifting me. For a video.”

Bucky tilts his head, his expression a mix of amusement and confusion. “Lifting you? Like how?”

You quickly explain, pulling up the video and showing him. As he watches, you can see the flicker of understanding cross his face, followed by a soft chuckle.

“So, you want me to do that?” he asks, a teasing grin tugging at his lips.

“Yes,” you say with an embarrassed laugh, looking up at him with hopeful eyes. “But only if you’re okay with it!”

He pauses for a moment, then shrugs. “Why not? Seems harmless enough. And if it makes you happy...”

Your face lights up, and you throw your arms around him. “Thank you, Buck!"

Setting your phone up on the coffee table, you adjust the camera angle until both of you are perfectly framed. The familiar 10-second countdown begins, and you quickly fluff your hair, glancing back at Bucky, who’s standing behind you with an easy smile.

“Ready?” you ask, your voice tinged with excitement.

“Ready when you are, doll.”

The countdown hits zero, and the familiar opening notes of “Slim Pickins” filled the room. Before you can even do a little jump to help him, Bucky’s large hands—one warm, the other cool and firm—grip your waist. In one effortless motion, he hoists you onto his shoulder like you weigh nothing, his flesh arm supporting you.

“Bucky!” you gasped, laughing as you suddenly found yourself perched on his shoulder, your legs dangling. You clung to his shirt instinctively, though you knew he’d never let you fall.

He looked up at you with that soft, proud smile you adored.

Then, to your utter delight, he glances at the camera and flexes his metal arm, the vibranium glinting under the soft light. You giggle uncontrollably, your cheeks aching from the sheer happiness coursing through you.

When the music ends, he gently sets you down, his hands lingering at your waist as he looks at you with a soft smile. “How’d I do?”

“Amazing,” you say breathlessly, darting over to grab your phone and watch the video. The grin on your face only widens as you replay it.

Bucky walks over and wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You’re cute when you’re excited, you know that?”

“Thank you for doing this,” you say, leaning back into his warmth.

“Anything for you, doll,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

Later, as you upload the video, the comments start pouring in, and each one makes you laugh harder.

Each comment had you laughing harder, while Bucky groaned in mock exasperation. “What is wrong with people?” he muttered, though the pink tint to his ears betrayed his embarrassment.

“Oh, c’mon,” you teased, nudging him playfully. “You’re the internet’s new heartthrob. Own it.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. “As long as you’re happy, doll.”

You leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Always. Thank you for indulging me.”

“Like I said, anything for you,” he said softly, pulling you into a warm embrace.

You snuggle closer to him, your heart full as he pulls you against his chest. For a moment, the world fades away, leaving just the two of you and the easy comfort of being together.

Note: gifs, pictures, and header DOES NOT belong to me. CREDITS TO THE RIGHTFUL OWNERS!! Feedback and reblog is appreciated.<3

[thestuffedalligator]

When ogres travel, they do so in human shape.

They hate doing this. They think it’s beneath them. But they do it anyway.

The Vicomte Graoul de Saucisson – and this is another thing about ogres. Ogres as a species are nobility. There is no such thing as a low-born ogre. There is always room in the ogrish peerage for another vicomte, another prince, another branch to tie to the rotted tree – strode up to the chateau in human shape. The roses in the garden shivered as he passed by. The huge, high doors opened by themselves and he walked through them without a shift in his stride.

When the doors slammed shut behind him, he moved to shrug the shape off his shoulders like a coat.

Then he saw the woman.

He froze. He stared. She stared back.

He slowly pulled the shape back on. “Who are you?” he asked.

She looked mildly appalled. “Who are you?” she asked. “What are you doing in my home?”

“Your home? This is–” He stopped. He reconsidered. “I am the Vicomte de Saucisson,” he said. “I’m looking for the Marquis de Pamplemousse. He is a… colleague of mine.”

“Oh,” she said. She could’ve looked more abashed. “I’m sorry, monsieur, he’s never mentioned you before. You must be here to share your congratulations, of course, I can fetch him right away.”

“He’s never mentioned you either,” the vicomte did not say. “Of course,” he said. “Congratulations. What about?”

She seemed surprised. “Have you not heard? Monsieur, the curse on my husband has been lifted.”

He stared. His lips started to form the words “What curse,” and then there was a sound like a horse falling down a set of stairs and a man he had never seen before wearing the marquis’s clothes came barrelling down the hall.

“Vicomte!” said the man with the marquis’s voice. “My human friend! The curse has been lifted, and I am a human once again!”

He was slightly out of breath when he reached the woman. He clasped her arm and grinned at him with manic desperation. “This is wonderful news! You must be here to share your congratulations!”

“Lie like hell,” said the man’s eyes.

The vicomte stared. “Oh!” he said. “My – human friend! Human once again! Words fail me. After all these–” (there was the slightest hesitation) “–years?”

The woman put her head at an angle and narrowed her eyes at him.

The man walked up, still grinning like a rictus chimpanzee, and clasped a hand on his shoulder. “Yes, of course! Darling, me and the vicomte are going to have a manly one-on-one conversation while he shares his congratulations, as we human men are wont to do.” And then with a strength that could only be ogrish, the marquis pulled the vicomte by the shoulder down the hall and into a drawing room.

When the bolt of the lock clicked into place behind them, the man wearing the marquis’s clothes visibly sagged.

“What the hell,” said the vicomte.

“You should’ve sent word ahead that you'd be coming today.”

“I never do.” He gesticulated and tried to conjure a single question out of the swarm buzzing in his brain. “What the hell is going on? Who was that? Why are you pretending to be human? What curse are we talking about?”

The marquis groaned and crumpled into a chair. As he did he shifted out of human shape, clothes magically tailoring themselves to contain his ogrish form, something like a moose and an orangutan.

“I had a moment of weakness.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t a stroke?”

“I got married.”

“And that’s another thing–”

“Graoul, please.” He sighed and put his face in his talons. “Last winter a merchant broke into my home. He stole one of my roses, and in exchange I asked him to send me one of his daughters to be my bride.”

The vicomte nodded. This at least was a sacred and recognizable ogrish custom, and he did like to see the old ways in practice.

“And it was fine! It was perfectly lovely. She’s a wonderful woman, but one night I decided to put on a human shape to change things up in the bedroom, and she lost her mind! Started talking about how I was clearly an enchanted prince and that her love for me must’ve broken some curse and turned me human again! I had no idea how to tell her otherwise, and now I’ve done it for too long to back out.”

The vicomte stared. “Sorry,” he said. “You decided to turn into a human to spice things up in the bedroom, and that was the face you chose?”

The marquis growled. “If I knew I was going to be wearing it for the rest of my life I would’ve gone with something better.”

[docrobinavitch]

i can’t recall if i already put in a suggestion, but my idea is a dr robby girlfriend/wife reader

reader deathly afraid of needles but takes injections every week for migraines. michael takes his “lunch break” to calm reader down and help her through the injection.

hiii bestie thank you so much for the request! i took some liberties with this so i hope that's ok. this should've been a relatively short prompt, but i am apparently incapable of writing anything without establishing backstory!

_______

time after time

dr. robby x wife!reader content: 18+ mdni, swearing, needles (obvie), some canon medical stuff, but barely words: 4.8k

It had been Robby’s idea for you to see a neurologist for your migraines. He had been begging you to for as long as he’d known you.

The first time he came home from a shift to find you laying down in the shower with the lights off, it scared the shit out of him.

“What the fuck?” He flipped the light switch on and dropped to the side of the tub.

But you seemed annoyed and groggy as you squinted against the sudden brightness, “Lights off, please.”

He looked at you incredulously, but since you didn’t seem to be dying, he obeyed, “I thought you fell.” He said, sitting down next to the tub and rubbing at his face.

“The sound of the shower and the feel of it against my head is soothing the pain,” You murmured, “Also,” You gestured to the toilet, “Proximity if I need to puke.”

He shook his head, “You could’ve warned me.”

You hummed, “Lost track of time. I don’t know how long I’ve been here.”

“That’s… mildly concerning.” You didn’t say anything else, but he continued to sit there, unwilling to leave you alone in this state, “Would you see a neurologist if I got you a referral?”

“No.” You said immediately.

“Why not?” He asked, though they had already had this conversation. He wondered, though, if asking while you were in the middle of an episode would change your tune.

“I’ve been dealing with it just fine by myself.”

He huffed a laugh through his nose, “I’m not sure I would call this just fine. Did you take Advil?”

“Yes.”

“Did it work?”

You didn’t answer, which was an answer on its own.

“I hate seeing you like this.” He said quietly.

“Then go in another room.”

He smirked, you were stubborn. To a fault sometimes. But so was he. He would wear you down. Not that day perhaps, but eventually.

“Can’t leave you here unsupervised when you’re like this. You could slip and fall when you try to get out.”

You sighed, “Well then, I guess we’re at an impasse.”

And it went like that for years, Michael repeatedly asking you to see a neurologist, you refusing.

It wasn’t until a year into your marriage that you finally agreed. Lately the attacks had become more frequent and lasting for longer periods.

Michael had been checking on you when he was home, but for the most part you would shrug him off and go back to sleep. It had been days, now since it started. But you wouldn’t listen when he said maybe you should go to the ER for fluids and meds. So he would leave you, putting a security camera in your bedroom so he could check on you while he was at work.

You had rolled your eyes when you watched him angle the camera towards the bed, “You know, baby, we could be doing much more exciting things with a camera in the bedroom than watch me sleep.”

“Yes,” He nodded solemnly, “And it’s a shame that we can’t do any of those fun things because you refuse treatment—“

You groaned and tugged a blanket over your head, “Thank you, Dr. Robinavitch, that’ll be all.”

He had smirked and pulled the blanket back down, kissing your forehead, “You know how to find me if you need me. I love you.”

When he checked a few hours later and you were off camera, he assumed maybe you were feeling better, maybe had gone to eat something. Or, you had gone to lay in the shower in the dark. He sent off a quick text to check in and then jumped back into another case.

But a half hour later, Dana was coming to find him, “I need you in North 11.”

“Just a second.” Robby was gloved up, watching Collins and Santos drain some blood that had collected around a patient’s lungs.

“I really don’t think you want to wait for this one.” He turned and looked at Dana. Her face was hard to read, but she wasn’t one to insist if it wasn’t important.

“Collins, you got this?”

“Sats are rising,” She glanced up at Robby, “We’ll call if we need you.”

“What is it?” Robby said as he degloved and threw away his robe.

Dana sighed, “Your wife is here. She’s fine.” She added at the look on his face, “Well, not fine. But she’ll live. Status migrainosis.” He nodded, but showed no other reaction, “You don’t seem surprised that she’s here.”

“She’s had a migraine for three days now, mostly bed ridden.”

“And you left her at home?”

He huffed a laugh, “When have you ever known my wife to do something just because I suggested it? Do you think I should have tossed her over my shoulder and brought her here against her wishes?”

“Point taken.”

Robby started walking, Dana trailed a step behind, “She brought herself here?”

“I think she Ubered, but she was pretty upset when she got here, it was hard to understand her. She didn’t want you to know she was here.”

Robby slowed and turned back to Dana, “Why wouldn’t she want me to know she was here?”

Dana gave him a knowing look, “Come on, Robby. You’ve been begging her to see a doctor for years now. The two of you are competitive and stubborn as hell. Her being here means you won.”

He gave a short laugh and began walking again, “Well she can’t be that bad if she’s thinking about winning.”

“As if you weren’t thinking about it, too.”

“How dare you. My beautiful wife is in so much pain she’s in my ER and you think I’m thinking about winning?”

“I don’t think,” Dana smirked, “I know.”

Robby pushed back the curtain to see you sniffling, curled on the bed and around a basin you appeared to have been vomiting in. You wore one of his hoodies which was tugged over your head, the strings pulled tight enough that it partially covered your eyes.

He sighed and pulled a stool close to the bed, “Hey, sweetheart.” He said softly stroking a hand on your bare ankle, “I hear you’re in a lot of pain.”

You glared up at Dana, “Traitor.”

“Sorry, kid.” Dana smiled and backed out, pulling the curtain closed behind her.

With just the two of you now, he could see you struggling not to cry, “The pain’s only gotten worse and worse and I couldn’t stop puking and I got scared.”

“It’s okay, you’re probably dehydrated. It’s likely that this was just your normal migraine, but since the pain’s worse than you’re used to, we’re going to run some tests to be sure.” He started to glove up as he spoke, “We’ll give you fluids and some meds intravenously for the pain while we wait for a spot to open up for CT.”

“Intravenously?” You squirmed away from his touch, “Can’t I just take them orally and chug a bunch of water?”

He eyed you strangely, “They won’t work fast enough that way, you’d probably keep puking them up.”

You rubbed a hand at your face, frustrated as tears began flowing again, “I can’t,” You cried.

“What do you mean you can’t?” He asked gently.

“Needles.” You mumbled.

He raised his eyebrows, “You’re afraid of needles?”

You nodded, still sniffling.

He almost laughed, “How did I not know this? In all the time we’ve been together haven’t you gotten vaccines or bloodwork done?”

You sighed and closed your eyes, tilting your head back against the bed, “If I absolutely have to, I wear noise canceling headphones and a blindfold so I don’t know when it’s coming.”

“Doesn’t that make it worse?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know, but it’s stopped me from punching healthcare workers involuntarily. They don’t like it when you do that.”

Robby nods solemnly, “Yeah, I can imagine. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know.” You sighed helplessly, “I thought maybe you’d think it was silly.”

“It’s not silly,” He said softly, “It’s a very common phobia.”

You closed your eyes and leaned your head back, “I hate it when you do that.”

“Do what?”

“Talk to me like I’m a patient you’re trying to soothe.”

He sighed, “Well, right now you are my patient and we have to get those fluids and meds in your body sooner rather than later, so I’m sorry to say, but we’ll have to put an IV in and we’ll have to take some blood too once you’re hydrated—“ You looked at him with horror and he said quickly, “But you probably won’t even feel the second one once you’re hydrated, alright. It’ll be super quick, I promise. And I’ll be here the whole time. I’m gonna go get Dana, okay?”

Robby sighed and walked out of the room.

“How is she?” Dana was immediately next to him.

Robby sighed, “She’s deathly afraid of needles.”

“You’re kidding,” Dana playfully shoved his arm, “You’ve been with her how long and you didn’t know? Some husband you are.”

He nodded and looked at the floor, “I feel awful I didn’t know. It explains why she’s always been so resistant to come here or go to the neurologist.”

“It’s okay, Robby. Happens to the best of us,” She clapped him over the shoulder, “Do you want help with the IV?”

“Yeah, I thought maybe you could do it. I don’t do them often and I don’t want to miss her vein.”

 Dana laughed, “Ah, so if I miss the vein, she can hate me instead.”

“Exactly.” Robby said as they pulled the curtain back around your bed.

You were puking again when they walked in and Robby immediately put a hand to your back to soothe you. It looked like you were vomiting straight bile now, which he imagined was very painful and only further exacerbating your migraine pain.

“Could we… Turn these lights off?” You asked calmly, but tears were streaming down your face and you were shaking.

They couldn’t turn the lights off because you weren’t in a room. “Do we have any private rooms?” He asked Dana quietly.

“Oh, no,” You said immediately, “I don’t want to take that from a patient who actually needs it—“

“You are a patient and you need it.” Robby said, and then turned back to Dana.

“We don’t, but we could put her in the family room. One of them has a little couch she could lay on.”

Robby nodded, “Could you grab a wheelchair?”

Robby fussed over you, carrying you into the wheelchair when you said you could walk. Rubbing your back when you inevitably vomited again. And although Dana would do the IV insertion, Robby disinfected your skin and tied the tourniquet.

Despite your best efforts, you whimpered when the tourniquet tightened. Robby looked up at you, “Did I hurt you?” He asked softly.

You shook your head, but didn’t say anything, worried you’d start sobbing if you tried to speak. You felt silly about how afraid of the needles you were. Anyone else would barely flinch at the thought of it. But it made you feel sick.

Robby came around to your other side, taking the hand that wasn’t about to be poked, “Look at me.” He smiled when you obliged, his eyes warm and loving, “Do you want to know what’s happening or would you prefer not to know?”

You took in a shuddering breath, “Could you distract me, please?”

He held your hand to his mouth, bending his forehead towards yours, “This was supposed to be a surprise, but I booked us an Airbnb in the mountains for Memorial day weekend.”

Your lips turned up just marginally and Robby watched as Dana prepped the IV behind you, “Will there be a hot tub?”

Robby laughed, “Yes, there will be a hot tub and it has an excellent view.”

“That’s good,” You seemed to be relaxing a bit more now, eyes barely opened, muscles deflating, “Because I bought a new bikini last week. I must’ve known subconsciously I would need it.”

He hummed, Dana was getting very close to inserting the needle, “What color is it?”

“It’s blue,” You licked your lips, “I know how you like me in blue.”

He smirked, “I like you in every color.” He said, and at the same time Dana inserted the needle. You jumped just a little, but you weren’t crying anymore.

“All done, sweetheart.” Dana said softly and took off the tourniquet, “You did great.”

Dana left the room, giving them some privacy, and Robby sat in the dark with you for a few minutes.

“You should get back to your patients,” You said, eyes closed.

He watched you carefully, “I’m going to refer you to a neurologist in the hospital. I’ll make sure an appointment gets scheduled where I can go with you. Okay?”

You swallowed and kept your eyes closed, “Okay.”

He leaned over and kissed you lightly, “I love you, I’ll be back in a bit to check on you.”

“Okay, love you.”

And so, you had gone to that appointment and had been prescribed Aimovig, a medication that needed to be injected once a month. You had tried to argue your way out of it, but the neurologist insisted it would be your best bet at reducing the number of episodes.

“Baby,” Michael whispered to you, “I can do it for you every time, I promise—“

“You don’t know what I’m like when—“ You sighed, cutting yourself off, “I was in so much pain the last time in the ER, I couldn’t put up much of a fight. What if I hurt you or something?”

He laughed, “You think I’ve never had a combative patient before?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, “I’m your wife.”

He leaned in closely, his nose brushing against the shell of your ear, “Can we just try it, honey? It might work so well you find it worth it.”

You swallowed tightly and then clapped your hands together. “Fine.”

Robby had given you the first shot there in the neurologist’s office. The neurologist had left the room.

You were already beginning to shake, watching as Robby put on a pair of gloves.

“I’m going to inject it in the back of your arm, so you’re not going to see me do it.”

You felt a wet cotton pad on the back of your arm, “Now, I want you to try something for me.” He said, and you heard the cap of the injection pop off, “Could you sing our first dance song for me?”

You gave a short laugh of surprise, “You’re serious?”

“Humor me.”

Against your will, you were smiling already. Your wedding had been dreamy and romantic, everything you had wanted. You were married, just the two of you, a photographer, and an ordained minister at the top of a mountain. You had both read your vows through tears. Later, you had dinner and dancing in a garden at the base of the mountain with your friends and family. Your first dance had been to Time After Time, but a more acoustic version of it sung by Lennon Stella. The original version with Cyndi Lauper had played in a bar on one of your first few dates and you had had to coax Michael to the dance floor with you. It had been your first dance then and at your wedding. You had thought yourself very clever for that, but you had kept that secret between you and Michael.

“Fine, but only if you sing it with me.”

He chuckled, “Deal.”

You say go slow I fall behind The second hand unwinds If you’re lost you can look and you will find me Time after time If you fall I will catch you I’ll be waiting Time after time

You winced at the sting of the needle and your heart rate picked up, “Keep singing.” Michael urged.

If you’re lost you can look and you will find me Time after time If you fall I will catch you I’ll be waiting Time after time

As you both finished singing the second chorus, you felt Michael place a bandaid to your arm, “There you go,” He said and gently turned you to face him, “That wasn’t so bad, hm?”

Thirty days had passed since and Michael kept forgetting to help you with the second injection.

“Honey, I am so sorry.” He said that morning, rushing through the house to get ready for shift, “Why don’t you stop by the ER this afternoon and I’ll do it on my lunch break?”

You laughed, not looking up from the novel perched in your hand. It was a Saturday and you were sat at the kitchen table, eating a bagel and sipping your coffee slowly, dressed in only one of Robby’s old T-shirts.

“You forget I have been to the ER,” You swallowed the bagel in your mouth, “I know you don’t get a lunch break, baby.”

He leaned down to kiss you and as he pulled away, booped your nose, “Don’t be a smart ass. Bring the Aimovig and call Dana when you get there, she’ll come find me.”

“Yes, sir.” You mock saluted him and he rolled his eyes.

“Don’t forget it needs to be taken out of the fridge at least 30 minutes before injection.”

“I know.” You said, not looking up from your book.

He paused at the doorway of your home, looking down the entryway, he could see you perched at the kitchen table, your legs pulled tight to your chest. He never understood how you could sit comfortably like that, “You’ll come, right?” He asked, one AirPod in his hand, the other already in his ear, “You won’t pretend that you forgot?”

You looked up from your book to meet his gaze, the beginnings of a smirk on your face. Slowly, you looked to the clock on the wall, “You’re gonna be late.”

He sighed and lightly knocked the heel of his hand against the doorway, “Okay, I’ll see you later.”

“I love you, have a good day!” You shouted after him.

“Love you too,” He replied, closing the door behind him.

***

“Dana,” Robby leaned over the desk at the hub, “My wife may be stopping by at some point today, could you come find me when she gets here?”

“Yeah, sure, everything okay?”

He nodded, “She was prescribed Aimovig for her migraines, I told her to come here so I could inject it for her.”

“Why don’t you just do it at home?”

He sighed heavily, “Because I keep forgetting and I think she keeps allowing me to forget to keep delaying it.”

Dana smirked as they began doing rounds, “If she’s delaying it, what makes you think she’d come here of her own free will?”

“She told me she would,” He shrugged, “I can’t keep treating her like a patient or a rebellious child, I can tell it’s getting on her nerves. She said she would come so I’m taking her at her word.”

“Fair enough.” Dana said, “I’ll let you know when she gets here.”

“Thank you.”

***

When you walked into the ER waiting room, you immediately felt your anxiety tick up. Walking to the window, you knocked sharply to get Lupe’s attention. You gave her a wave and a smile and she waved you through, unlocking the double doors that led to the ER.

Taking a deep breath, you exhaled shakily as you walked over to the hub where you saw Dana.

“How’s my sister wife doing today?” You asked playfully. You knew about the running joke that Dana was Robby’s work wife. When you found out about it, Robby had worried it would make you jealous, but you had only laughed and joked that you always wanted a sister wife.

Dana looked up and smiled, “Mrs. Robinavitch, we weren’t sure you’d show.”

“Ah,” You leaned against the hub, “You mean my husband didn’t believe me when I said I would come.”

“Oh, can you blame him, kid?”

You clasped your hands tightly in front of you to try and stop the shaking, “Did you know he told me to come in during his ‘lunch break’?”

Dana laughed loudly, “Lunch break? He’s lucky if he has time to stop and take a piss.”

You chuckled, “Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“Alright, let me go find him, you wait here.”

You nodded, letting the smile fall from your face as Dana left. You were very good at covering up your anxiety when you needed to be, but your breathing trembled and your hands still shook.

“Hey,” A warm hand settled on your shoulder, squeezing lightly, “I’m glad you came.”

You turned to see your husband, “Well, don’t sound so surprised. You asked me to come, I said I would, so I’m here.”

He smiled, “Alright, follow me.”

You trailed behind him through the chaos of the ER.

“Dr. Robby!” You turned at the sound of your husband’s nickname to see what looked like a resident running after him.

“Not now,” He said quickly.

“But, I need—“

“Go ask literally anyone else, I will be with you shortly, Dr. Santos.”

You followed behind him into what you recognized to be the family room. He sighed deeply as he closed the door behind you, muffling the din of the ER.

“I can wait here for you,” You said softly, “If you need to go deal with that.”

“No,” He said and turned to you, smiling, “You have my undivided attention.”

You smiled tightly, “Great.”

“Oh, come on,” He cradled your face gently in his hands and you closed your eyes at his touch, “It’ll be over before you know it. I’ll be very gentle.”

Your eyes watered, but you nodded.

“Did you bring the Aimovig?”

You nodded again, reaching into your bag for it, but your hands were still shaky and as you pulled it out, it fell from your hands. Robby caught it in his hand, eyes focused on you the way they always did when he was worried about you.

“Why don’t you sit down over here?” He guided you gently to a chair, “I brought you some treats.” He pulled out a Polar seltzer can and a small package of Nutter Butters.

You managed a small smile as you took the Seltzer can from him and popped it open, “Thank you.”

He pulled on a pair of gloves while you focused on your breathing, barely taking a sip from your seltzer.

“No Nutter Butters?” He asked mildly, “I thought they were your favorite.”

You take in a shaky breath, “They are, but I am pretty nauseous at the moment. Wouldn’t want to start puking in your ER.”

“I can have Dana grab you some anti nausea meds.”

“No,” You said, “I’ll be fine once it’s done.”

He sat on a stool and rolled over to you, sliding between your knees, “Take a deep breath for me?”

“Michael, I don’t need a diagnosis, I think it’s pretty clear what’s going on with me.”

“Come on, I’ll do it with you,” He slid a hand to your inner knee, “Deep breath.”

You rolled your eyes, but did as you were told. Michael breathed with you, and though you hated to admit it, it was soothing to hear the sound of his breathing in sync with yours. The weight of his hand on your knee and the light circles his thumb made against you grounding.

“Better?”

You nodded, “A little.”

“Good, turn around for me?”

You straddled the back of the chair, taking a deep breath as you felt the wet cotton pad against your skin, “How’s your day so far?” You asked.

He chuckled, “You want to know about my day right now?”

“You act like I never ask you,” You sighed, “I’m asking for you to distract me so I don’t have a full blown panic attack. Who was that resident earlier? I haven’t seen her before.”

“Dr. Santos? New intern.” He pinched the muscle in the back of your arm between two of his fingers and you heard the cap on the injection clatter to the floor. “She’s good. Smart. Observant. Sometimes too ambitious for her own good. More empathetic than people give her credit for.”

You groaned quietly feeling the prick of the needle in your skin, exhaling shakily.

“Just another second, you’re doing so good, baby... And, done.” You felt the bandaid on your skin and heard the snap of Michael’s gloves as he tossed them in the trash.

Then his hands were on you, turning you to look at him, “Hey, you did it. You okay?”

You nodded, your anxiety leaving you in a rush. You felt Robby’s hands on your face again and you leaned into him, “You said I did good?”

He laughed, “Very good,” He grabbed the Nutter Butters and opened the packaging, “Eat.”

Just then the family room door opened and you recognized Dr. Mohan at the door, “Oh, um, Mrs. Robinavitch, I—I didn’t know you were here, sorry to interrupt, I—“

“What do you need, Mohan?” Michael asked and you tried to hide your laugh. It was always like this with the residents. Something about seeing you with Robby really flustered them. You listened as they spoke about a patient and then Mohan was gone.

“What do you do to your residents that they look so goddamn scared whenever they see you with me?”

He rolled his eyes, “Eat your cookie, please, I’ll be back in a few minutes to check on you.”

“You’re insufferable when you baby me.” You said, but took a bite of the cookie anyway.

He kissed the top of your head on his way out, “Complain all you want, I know you like it.”

You smirked as you watched him head back into the ER, Dr. Mohan following him closely.

With Michael gone and your anxiety leaving you, you fully took in the Nutter Butters and seltzer. Your favorite cookies and favorite drink.

You had always been annoyed by his insistence to get you treatment for your migraines. It wasn’t like he had been the first partner of yours to suggest you see a doctor, but he was the first to not give up, despite your stubbornness.

He had pushed, but he had never made you do anything you didn’t agree to. And now, in the face of your silly phobia, he had cared for you with no judgment, and thought to bring your favorite snacks in even in the chaos of his work day.

Obviously, he loved you very much. It had never been up for question, you knew the reason he was so stubborn was because he cared about you and hated seeing you in pain. But still, sometimes, it was nice to be reminded.

After a few minutes, true to his word, Michael returned.

“Feeling better?”

“Much.” You said, and reached for his hand, pulling him down to sit next to you, “Thank you.”

“Yeah, of course.” He smiled at you, “You’re not lightheaded or dizzy?”

“No,” You said and held up the cookie wrapper, “The cookies really helped.”

His grin widened, “Good. You’re cleared to go home, then.” He kissed your forehead and then stood to go, but you pulled him back down.

“If I’m not gonna see you for another six to seven hours, I’m gonna need a better kiss than that.” You smirked.

He chuckled, but seemed happy to humor you, taking your face in his hands he kissed you, long and slow. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, keeping you anchored to him with a hand at the back of your neck. Your toes curled in your shoes when he sucked your lower lip into his mouth and bit down gently.

As he pulled away, just slightly, you were still leaning into him for more, “Was that better?” He asked, cocky grin on his face.

You cleared your throat, sure you were blushing, “Yeah, that was fine.”

“Well I gotta get back to it now. I’ll see you at home?”

“Um, I have dinner plans with some friends in town so I might be back later than you, but yes.”

He nodded, “Okay,” He kissed your forehead again, “Be careful. I love you.”

“Always. I love you. Make sure you eat something, please.”

He nodded to acknowledge he’d heard you, and then he was gone, back in the thick of it.

[synthetickitsune]

Joshua (SVT) | Hand sizes fluff | 0.8k | gn!reader (but reader has smaller hands than shua) A/N: SOMEONE (ehm ehm @hanniedream) mentioned shua's hands to me and now i wanna die

“You know,” Joshua starts out of nowhere, pausing the show you were watching, and licks his lips, “You’re literally dating me and you never asked for something the fans ask me for all the time.”

You scoff, but a smirk plays on your lips while you turn towards him. “I’d hope so. What kind of kinky shit is it?”

He rolls his eyes with a sigh. “It’s innocent, pervert.”

“Okay, sorry, what is it then?”

You watch with a confused frown as your boyfriend sets the remote down and shows his palm to you. When you don’t catch on, he continues: “You never asked to compare hand sizes with me.”

You blink at him a couple times with a deadpan expression.

“We’re literally holding hands all the time.”

“Yeah, but that’s not the same,” he pouts and nods towards his hand. You quirk a brow at him.

“Joshua, I don’t need to compare your hand with mine to know yours is enormous,” you try to say it gently, but the situation is too unserious. He shuffles closer to you, angling his whole body towards you. You watch with nothing but pure amusement as he huffs when you make no move to do the same, so he has to adjust his position, pull your legs up and over his own thighs and then pull you closer. “You’re cute.”

“And you’re being difficult and mean,” he narrows his eyes at you.

“Mean? Avoiding holding hands from now on would be mean,” you tease, relishing in the way his eyes widen and the disbelieving sigh from his lips, “But I’m not doing that, am I?”

“I bet you will though,” he murmurs, his lips pouted and his eyes holding the same hurt as a puppy that was denied treats. You sigh, reassuring him you wouldn’t do that to him. “Prove it then. Hold my hand, I dare you.”

It’s a trap. Of course it’s a fucking trap. You know it, he knows it, he knows you know it, and you know he knows you know it. Everyone knows it.

Just the same as everyone should know that your very petty boyfriend will give you the cold shoulder while doing his best to pretend he isn’t actually doing that if you refuse. You’re also pretty sure the pout would get stuck on that pretty face, which might not be as bad, but it’d be one more thing for him to whine about. Again, not that bad. Why are you letting him manipulate you then?

You slide your hand into his extended one. In your last effort to get some control over this situation you pull his hand to your lips and slowly kiss his knuckles. “There, I’m holding your hand.”

Joshua smiles, leaning over your hands to kiss you, to connect your lips as well. 

“Thank you,” he coos sweetly, kissing your cheek right after.

And then, inevitably, he pulls aways and in one quick maneuver has your palm pressed against his. He chuckles like he’s surprised that his hand is bigger than yours. Honestly you wonder if there’s anyone you know whose hands are bigger than your boyfriend’s. You smile at him fondly. He’s so easy to please sometimes, acting like he pulled off some grand scheme when it’s just… this.

“Wow,” he bites his lip and looks at you, “I won.”

“Yeah, like, you won the genetic lottery in every way. What a surprise, I haven’t noticed until now,” you roll your eyes, but you let him have his fun and don’t pull your hand away just yet. He covers it with his, now his time to kiss the back of your hand and rub his cheek against it.

“Sounds like you’re flirting with me,” he draws out the last syllable, grinning at you like you just admitted your darkest secret to him. Cute. He’s being too cute.

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Can we go back to the show now?” 

You free your hand, only to change your mind at the last second - after seeing Joshua starting to pursue his lips again - and run it through his hair. You shake your head when he leans into your touch.

“Say you love me,” he demands softly. 

“I love you,” you say with your hand cupping his cheek. He turns his head to press a kiss to your palm before helping you untangle yourself from him and pressing the play button.

It doesn’t take long for him to pull you into his side and guide your head to his shoulder. It’s the perfect position to see him bite back a smile when you hold his hand under the blanket.

[ozzgin]

The wonderful wizard Ozz. I have had this concept stuck in my head like a worm!

Could you imagine a Darling escaping from their Yan, not to run but just to feel the rain on their skin? I've been consuming this prompt like a heroin addict and I can't seem to get enough!

Yandere! Male x Willing! Reader

If I were to expand your prompt, I quite like the idea of a Yandere that can't really go full yandere because Reader is just too willing. He loves yandere content and can very much relate, but none of the escalations can happen if, well, the object of his obsessive affection doesn't protest in the first place. Is it too far fetched from what you'd imagined? Let me elaborate content: gender neutral reader, parody, When you want to be a Yandere, but your Darling unfortunately cooperates

The Yandere has been stalking Darling for months. Journal entries, walls plastered with photos (and the occasional creepshots), recordings. He just can't get enough of his Darling. He loves everything about you and can barely function throughout the day, fantasizing about your life together.

Enough is enough and he finally decides to make you his. He's been consuming media of similar tropes, with obsessed men pleading for a chance and having to force their way in because of rejection and fear. He's prepared for everything. Your tears, your trembling voice, your hands pushing him away. He finds you, approaches you and confesses his feelings, knuckles white as he grips his fists in anticipation. Your eyes widen for a moment, before narrowing in a smile. "I had no idea! Sure, I'll go out with you." Huh? Wait. This wasn't...this wasn't in the plan. Somehow he'd been certain you'd refuse. He must've mumbled the last part out loud, because you respond with "Why would I say no?"

A very good point indeed. You will change your mind, however, once you learn the extent of his love. You're holding his hand and following along as he takes you to his place, completely and utterly unaware of what you're about to witness. He can't truly be your boyfriend if he has to hide his very nature, after all. You might be disgusted, frightened, offended. He can already hear your screams, demanding explanations. It's all out of love. "It's okay if you don't understand", he mumbles to himself, watching your frozen body as you gaze into his room. You take a couple of steps towards the nearest wall, tracing the hundreds of images with your fingers. "Wow. You never mentioned being into photography", you remark, impressed. "It's like an exhibition! But...you might have to work on your angles", you blurt out, a little embarrassed, pointing to one of the creepshots. "This isn't very flattering. Did you take it in a hurry? It makes my legs look disproportionate." He can only stare, taken aback. "S-sorry" is all he manages.

Okay, but don't imagine your life will continue as usual. You've only seen a glimpse of his adoration. Now that you're officially dating, he cannot allow anyone else to have access to you. You have to understand, he cannot protect you properly if you're not under his watch all the time. As much as he cherishes you, he will have to be rough if needed. That's what he tells himself as he shoves the required tools in the trunk of his car, speeding towards your apartment. Once there, he fidgets on the sofa, considering his speech. You seem to be just as uneasy - perhaps you're predicting what's to come? - casting your eyes down and giving short answers. "I think you should move in with me." He states solemnly. You gasp and throw a hand over your mouth, and tears quickly well in the corner of your eyes. "How did you...how did you know?" You say between sobs. Huh? "I didn't want to burden you with my problems, seeing as we just started dating...but my landlord won't renew the lease. I was so scared I'd be homeless."

He clicks his tongue. This isn't very yandere, more like the average couple experience. You bring the final moving box to his car, fitting it in the trunk. "By the way, what's with all the rope?" you ask. "Just move it aside", he sighs. How can he explain it? He's been training, sweating and bleeding for a marathon and right before the whistle, they handed him the first prize. His muscles are aching for the sprint that never happened. Of course he's grateful to have you at last, but somehow he feels like he hasn't proven his dedication properly. You just don't get it, do you? How sickening his love is for you.

As the days pass, he eases into his role of...how does one even call it? Pseudo-captor? When you found his journal, you blushed and confessed how no one before him put this amount of effort into knowing you. All the male contacts from your phone vanishing? It was about time you cleaned up your acquaintances and it was nice of him to help. The AirTags he's hidden in your bags and pockets? You appreciate his safety concerns. Nowadays, with all these perverts freely walking the streets, you can never be too sure.

One morning he wakes up to an empty bed. He jolts up, dazed. Could it be his wish was finally granted? You must've gotten tired of him and tried to escape. Oh, silly little Darling love. You should've known there's no more walking out once you said yes. He checks his phone and pounces out, ready for the hunt. As he sprints along the street, he finds you suspiciously close to his home. Not very smart of you to...what are you even doing? Your hands are raised up, fingers fanned out under the pouring rain. You notice his presence and turn to face him with a wide, childish grin. "I haven't done this since I was a child. When was the last time you felt the rain on your skin?" Only now it occurs to him he's been running in this downpour and his clothes are soaked. He was too focused on finding you.

"I thought you escaped", he almost whispers. "Escape? From what?" You tilt your head in confusion. He places his cold, large hands over your cheeks. "Do you comprehend I'm very much obsessed with you? I'm not joking around. You're never, ever leaving me. You're stuck here forever. I mean it. I really do. I'd rather kill you with my own hands than let you go. Because I love you." You take a moment to admire the intricate patterns of his irises, pupils dilated in a spiraling madness. By the end of his erratic oration, he's panting and digging his nails into your skin.

"I know."

[solxamber]

jade leech, Romantic, 18 by one director

"I have loved you since we were 18" || Jade Leech

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: 18 by One Direction

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 560

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Confessions

You were laughing again.

Of course you were.

Jade watched you over the rim of his teacup, half-lidded eyes tracking the crinkle of your smile like he was studying a rare plant in bloom.

He’d memorized that expression years ago—what angle the sunlight hit your cheek just so, how your voice dipped when you were trying not to laugh too hard, the way your eyes always flicked his way, like even now, some part of you still knew he was watching.

You always knew. Even then.

He should’ve told you sooner.

But the truth was… he loved the waiting.

The quiet unfolding. The way love settled in the bones before either of you named it. He remembered it vividly—those early days at NRC. You, all fire and foolishness, somehow always at the center of chaos.

And Jade, ever at the edge of it. Not detached—just watching. Collecting. Your voice. Your laugh. The way you’d offer him half your drink without asking why he looked tired that day.

He didn’t fall. He grew into love with you, steady as moss curling up the side of a stone.

There were moments that stood out. The time you dragged him out under the rain because “the world smells different when it’s wet.” He’d laughed. You’d spun in circles. And somewhere between your soaked collar and your ridiculous grin, he realized he wanted to see you like that for the rest of his life.

He kept it quiet. Of course he did.

Because Jade understood patience. He understood ecosystems. How love, like any rare thing, needed the right conditions to survive.

So he waited. And watched. And loved you, year after year, in the quiet ways he knew best.

He grew you orchids that only bloomed under moonlight. He remembered your favorite weather. He offered his coat without asking when the wind changed. You never noticed how he always took the side of the path with puddles so your shoes stayed dry. How he always chose the teacup with the crack so you’d have the prettier one.

And now—now.

You were here again. Sitting across from him, older now but still unmistakably you. Still with that smile. That heart. That softness he’d never quite been able to name.

“I’ve loved you,” he said, like it was a simple truth, “since we we met.”

You blinked.

“Since NRC?” you whispered, voice caught between wonder and disbelief.

Jade tilted his head, fingers resting against his chin, thoughtful.

“Since before I knew what to call it,” he replied. “You were… delightfully unpredictable. Strange, in the best sense of the word. You made everything feel—curious. Alive.”

A pause.

“You made me feel alive.”

You looked at him like he’d just rewritten the rules of the world. And maybe he had.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” you asked.

He smiled, slow and warm. “Because I didn’t want it to end. Some flowers bloom once. I wanted you to last forever.”

You reached for his hand then, and Jade—ever composed, ever deliberate—let you. Without a mask. Without pretense. His fingers curled around yours like they belonged there.

And they did.

He leaned in, voice soft as a lullaby.

“Let me love you now,” he said. “Properly. Out loud.”

And when you kissed him, sweet and unhurried, Jade smiled against your lips—because he’d waited years for this.

And it was worth every quiet second.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[meanbossart]

Hi, I've enjoyed your art for almost a year now but now I'm curious as to how you come up with what you want to draw. I've been struggling with coming away from using references, especially when drawing people lately and was wondering how you could do it.

Hello!

If you mean how do I come up with the poses, I will usually "doodle" my way into them and fix things along the way to better match whatever it is I'm seeing in my head. I think the secret is really not overthinking your very first draft - get it out as quickly and messily as possible so you can better access what you want the final pose to actually good like.

Here are some examples of my first pass vs final art:

Sometimes something only takes 1-2 sketches before I start lining and sometimes the sketch process is a convoluted mess with more layers than the final render, either way I ALWAYS change things up to some extent, either through redrawing, re-scaling/moving things around, or even messing with the liquify tool.

As for how I actually come up with the scenes themselves in the first place, I'd be negligent to not mention the several hundred comic pages I've drawn throughout the course of my career 😅 it's a muscle that's been exercised nonstop for over a decade and hence a non-issue for me at this point. Between art, film, and every-day human interaction I've developed a great love for human expression - the meaning behind posture, hand-gestures, micro-expressions, minute word-choices - that definitely wasn't there when I first started drawing as a teenager, but that I picked up on throughout my life.

I think getting into film is especially good for learning how to frame a scene. If you have trouble coming up with them at all, try becoming the type of movie nerd that says things like "wow, this composition!" in the middle of movie-night, or someone who knows what a "dutch angle" is. I can't tell you how to do that, unfortunately. Maybe you can watch Inland Empire and ask yourself "why the fuck did David do that" every 3 minutes? We all have a movie nerd in us, we just gotta find the movie that pisses us off enough to find them 😔

[easy-there-leftovers]

A Question Unasked

Written with season 1 Spencer in mind

Summary: In which your ambitious, workaholic nature makes Spencer wonder if you've got a crush on Hotch. This slight hitch in his plan causes him to miss a few signs.

[A/N]: Can be seen as a filler from Spencer's perspective of certain scenarios from "Mixed Messages" and a prequel to "As Cool As I Think I Am", but can also just be a standalone

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem! (mentored by Hotch!) reader | cw: slight spoilers for s1e04, allusion to inappropriate workplace dynamics (it's not true, relax lol), slight description of canon-typical violence, mildly inaccurate timeframe | word count: 4k

Spencer looks up from his endless stacks of files on his desk to look at the girl on the other side of his desk. Only a single carpeted walkway really separating them.

He could easily just get up and walk right to her. Ask the burning question that's been on his mind since the Arizona case, but he can't.

Why is that?

He's been your friend for a while, and he's known you for a while longer.

With his eidetic memory, he remembers so clearly when you first started working together. He remembers your starched blazer and pressed blouse, a stark contrast to his swimming-in-sweaters look, and how that alone let anyone know that you were serious about uniform and protocol.

You were, without a shadow of a doubt, one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen, and a fresh graduate just like him.

You were smart, beautiful, and started working at the BAU as early as he did.

And because you were new and young, one of the senior agents had been assigned to supervise your progress. So much like how he was mentored by Gideon, you had been mentored by the unit chief himself; Aaron Hotchner.

He'd like to think that he learned a lot from Gideon. He wasn't the type to hold his hand throughout a case, which he is thankful for, but he had been there to encourage him to think more outside the box. To let his mind be more flexible and creative. To see things from every conceivable angle. Leaving no stone unturned.

He supposed you learned a lot from Hotch as well. With your calm exterior, polite demeanor, and calculating mind that occasionally colored your less polite vocabulary-- He didn't know what Aaron must've been like in his junior years, but he supposed that having you as his colleague was essentially the same experience.

What he does know, however, is how close you are to your boss. Or is it your work?

Either way, you being glued to your work almost always meant that you were glued to him by proxy. You two being the first ones in and the last ones out showed that you spent three-percent more of your time with each other than the rest of the team, and two-percent more than with him.

Granted that had changed as of late, but still!

That didn't leave him a lot of time to ask you if---

"Dr. Reid, if you keep staring at me, I don't think you'll be able to finish your action reports on time." You had said without lifting your eyes from your folder.

Having been caught, he cleared his throat with a small 'sorry,' and directed his head back down to his still endless stack of files. The action earning a couple of chuckles from the bullpen where the rest of your colleagues had certainly seen, or at least heard, the exchange.

Not long after however, he saw Hotch from the corner of his eye lean over the railing outside his office. Calling for you both to meet him inside with his usual stern expression.

Spencer noticed how you got up, eyes still zeroed in on one of your files, and continued on your way up and into the unit chief's open door.

A clear sign that you had been invited there often enough that you didn't need to see where you were going.

You expected it.

He sighs and makes his way into the office as well. Dreading what the meeting could even be for, though he's confident he hasn't done anything wrong.

***

"As you might have noticed in our previous cases, I've paired you two to work on the more analytical aspects of it together. With these changes, we've been able to work twice as fast, and we’re thankful for the help."

Whatever Spencer had been expecting, it was not this. His raised eyebrows evidently agreed with him.

It wasn't everyday that Hotch complimented someone like this, much less in the proper environment. And if your respectful posture, but shining eyes in slight pride were anything to go off of, this was something new for you too.

As he was about to voice his thoughts, you had spoken up.

"Sir, Dr. Reid's knowledge in a wide array of subjects has certainly helped with our investigations. Though I'm afraid I haven't done much aside from ensuring it's accuracy and-"

"No! I mean--," He looked to see you already looking at him in slight confusion before continuing.

"She's been a huge help so far and has allowed me to exchange ideas with her to build a more accurate profile. Not to mention that her ability to mediate between departments has been beneficial to gaining access to pertinent information! So I think she's done plenty for the investigations as well." His voice dwindles as he realizes he's rambling on praises and he suddenly feels warm under the scrutiny of both his boss and his colleague.

He just didn't want anyone thinking you weren't doing anything by being humble. Especially since you're both so young.

Thankfully, it's Hotch who speaks up again after a beat.

"So what I'm hearing is that you're both satisfied with this arrangement?"

You both nod carefully and he smiles a small smile at that.

"Then we'll be carrying on with this pairing into the foreseeable future. Should there be any concerns about this arrangement, see to it that it goes through me. We can't afford to lose either of you." He says it with a finality that prompts both Spencer and you to leave with a nod, but the thought is instantly corrected when he speaks again.

"Oh and agent?" He looks only at you, but Spencer looks back as well out of instinct. "A private word, if you please."

Spencer sees you nod without a second thought and he takes it as his cue to hurriedly leave.

***

It hasn't been that long, Spencer argues with himself, since he left the unit chief's office. The blinds aren't drawn, he would know since he'd been looking at them periodically, so he also knows that nothing untoward is happening.

Yet something is bothering him about it.

From his position on his desk, he can see you and Hotch discussing something on his table very seriously, but he also sees how your eyes rarely leave the face of your superior. He can't quite see your expression due to the distance and the light, but he has this sinking feeling that it's a lot like the one from earlier.

He scoffs at the thought. If he wasn't thinking so rationally, he would've thought-

"Does she like Hotch?"

"Who likes Hotch?"

The new voice makes him whip his head back so fast to see Morgan with a confused face. Upon further examination, he sees him holding something that was definitely supposed to be flicked at him if he hadn't been caught so off guard.

He internally debates to voice his opinion, but he does anyway.

"Do you think that she likes Hotch?" He gestures with his eyes to their supervisor's office.

"You're asking me if I think 'little miss perfect' has a crush on a man that's hitched?" Derek echoes back with the use of your nickname. One that he coined as a playful jab at your no-frills behavior.

Spencer cringes when he hears it back though. He didn't ask this to get you in trouble, but it might come across that way now.

"Who has a crush on married man?" Elle joins in, and he only shrinks into his seat more.

"I'm not asking if she has a crush on him! I just want to know if she might like him and--what it is that she likes about him..."

The two exchange looks before looking back at him. Fully knowing that that's not the reason why he's asking, but they humor him anyway.

"Reid, what makes you think she likes him and not literally anyone else?"

"Well. there's her preference for prolonged eye-contact, a common indicator of interest for one. Her being in constant proximity to him, a sign that shows comfort in certain contexts, and then there's the amount of time they spend together."

The last one might be a bit of a reach, considering how you all work in the same area, but at this point he just wanted someone to tell him that he was either absolutely right, or crazy.

"Kid, that's crazy."

Duly noted.

"I'll say.” Elle chuckles out her response. “I haven't thought about it all, but those signs don't really mean anything. It just sounds like she has a habit of looking at whoever's talking to her." She notes, sharing her experience of being on the receiving end of your rather intense gaze.

His other friend adds onto that.

"And the whole closeness thing? You've seen her, she's like a computer with the way she works. She's a workaholic. And Hotch is another. It's just math, Reid."

Spencer furrows his eyes at the man's statement but before he can ask further, he sees you coming out of the office and staring at the small crowd that has now formed at his desk.

"Is something going on here?" You ask with tense brows. Eyes flickering to and fro.

He couldn't really think of something on the spot, but thankfully Derek had one at the ready. "Was just caught trying add my stack on to pretty boy's plate."

He sees you let out a small 'hm,' and you eventually turn your back to them to reach your desk.

He sighs in relief as he feels a firm pat on his back from Morgan.

"Next time, try looking at what she does when you're the one talking." He says before leaving to go to his own desk as well.

Spencer doesn't know what good that would do, especially now that he's worried one of his colleagues have caught wind of him liking you, but he at least takes note of it.

--------

He does not, in fact, take note of it until very later.

The team had been called to San Diego to deal with someone they had been calling, "The Tommy Killer." An unsub that had a preference for gluing his victims' eyes open.

As they were reviewing the scene in the jet, they had noticed a few stanzas of a literary work had been left behind at the scene.

"It's a ballad from the late 1600s. A Dialogue Betwixt Death and a Lady." Spencer had mentioned from where he stood.

"A 17th Century ballad?" Morgan had asked him incredulously from his seat, but it’s you who answers.

"One where a woman tries to bribe Death with all that she has in exchange for a little more time to live. Naturally, he doesn't allow it. Claiming that she was undeserving of an exception that even kings were denied of."

Spencer looks up from his own copy to see you still looking at your own from beside Hotch. With your brows furrowing in thought, he almost sees the actual gears in your brain turning.

"So what, are we looking at a literature professor of some kind?" Elle asks which immediately perks him right up.

"Well, actually anyone with access to the internet today. You should see what comes up when you type in the word, "Death" into a search engine." He laughed absentmindedly.

"Reid, no wonder you can't get a date."

Morgan's words made him frown, but he brushes it off.

Hotch, as previously discussed, then called on for the both of you to look deeper into the messages. To see if there was anything new that could be inferred.

He nods at him, and looks up. Expecting you to still be looking at Hotch as well.

Instead, your eyes meet his, but you quickly look back onto your file.

Reid thinks it's just a coincidence.

***

"Creepy, huh?" JJ had asked you two as she approached where transcripts of the written messages were tacked onto a board.

Spencer had been focusing so hard that he was caught off gaurd by her sudden appearance. Fully expecting the area to just be for you and him so he told her what first came to mind.

"Actually, conversations between Death and his victims was a fairly popular literary and artistic theme throughout the Renaissance."

Though perhaps the delivery wasn't as as good as he thought it was as JJ only stared back at him with an unreadable expression.

He thought it was interesting, really, but he supposed his slight stutter and breathy laugh at the end must have distracted her from his point.

He turned to look at you for help, but you too had been focusing on the messages and wouldn't be available to do that. So he just agreed with JJ’s sentiment, which seemed to be enough for her to leave.

He sighed out in relief.

"The lady never answers. Have you noticed it yet, Dr. Reid?" You turn to him as you ask.

He immediately refocuses on to the case and tries his best to reply after his prior blunder. "Oh uh-- Right, the dialogue in the ballad seems to be fractured. Well, it's more of a monologue than a dialogue seeing that there is no exchange of information."

A small smile graces your lips at that, and you gesture with a nod to go report your findings.

"So it is. Let's get going."

He follows you to where Hotch and Elle were discussing the sexual aspect of the crime and sees you take your place next to your mentor. The same position you were in when he was blowing out his birthday candles, as he also inserts himself into the discussion.

"Sir, we believe what the unsub has written at the scenes are most of the first three verses of the same ballad." You deliver, prompting your mentor to raise his brow at that.

"Most of?"

"Yeah, it's only one side of the conversation." Spencer adds. "There's no betwixt." He takes pride in your shared effort, which makes itself known by the smile that adorns his face.

Unfortunately, his satisfaction, isn't met with a positive reaction either as he sees Elle desperately trying not to make eye-contact, and your supervisor staring at him very pointedly.

He's thankful though at the little chuckle that you quickly try to hide behind a cough and a cover of your mouth to appear more professional. Quickly looking down at the ground.

He's happy that at least someone thought his joke was well-placed.

He continues to explain your theory about how the Lady in the narrative never answers, and that's enough for both Hotch and Elle to at least think about it.

Their attention is quickly stolen away however at an incoming call about a failed attempt nearby the precinct.

Quickly excusing themselves to get onto the scene as soon as possible, you see them call Gideon on their way out. Watching them as they leave the department doors.

But Spencer keeps his eyes on you as the thought just dawns on him.

You were the first one on the team to laugh at his jokes.

***

The more cases he works for the BAU, the more he realizes how much of his work isn't theoretical anymore. He feels it in the weariness in his eyes, the weight on his chest, and the shake of his hands.

Or maybe the shake is from the cold.

After all, he had dressed for the warm, California air. So now that he was in the cool, air-conditioned jet, he was seriously regretting not packing a sweater, at the very least.

He makes his way to the back of the aircraft after another successful investigation, and that's where sees you.

You had opted to shed your typically structured blazer on the seat beside you, leaving you in a softer blouse, both in color and form, that made everyone around you know that you were officially off duty.

It's a nice look on you, he thinks. A slight departure from your usually stern and hardened exterior. He wouldn't mind seeing a more relaxed version of you every once in a while.

A version of you that looked more your age and not constantly under the pressure of doing well.

He momentarily wonders if that's part of your mentor's influence as well.

He freezes a bit, as if catching himself in some depraved daydream, and takes a few steps back to return to the more vacant areas of the craft.

Before he can get any further though, you see him and beckon for him to come over with a tired wave of your hand.

"How's the flight treating you, Dr. Reid?" You ask, drowsiness lacing your tone as he sits on the seat opposite of you.

"Oh, it's the same as always, I guess. A little colder than usual, but that's to be expected. By the way, we’re actually lucky that we haven't experienced some semblance of turbulence yet on our flights, considering that the likelihood of it has increased by seventeen-percent in the last decade."

You laugh at that. "You really know just what to say, huh?"

He doesn't see it as funny as you do, so it seems. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you or--" "There's no need to apologize, sir. I find everything you have to say interesting, whether you mean it to or not."

He stays silent at that, suddenly nervous, and tries to make himself comfortable. He does so in the hopes that he can finally steel himself to ask you that question.

He talked to Elle earlier when they were waiting for the unsub's call. Asked her if she thought it was weird that he knew what he knew, and if it had anything to do with his inability to get a date. She had reasoned with him that it was because he didn't ask, but it couldn't be that simple, could it?

He mulls it over in his head before sighing. Opting to give up and just wait for a more opportune time.

Besides, jury’s still out that you could very well be pining over his boss.

The action, however, seems to remind you of something.

"Before I forget," You look into your baggage, rummaging around before finally finding what it was you were looking for.

You ask him to close his eyes, which he obediently does, and you place a thick rectangular box into his awaiting lap.

The sudden shift in weight causes his eyes to open, and he is certainly surprised to see what was on there.

"What is this?"

"It's your birthday. There wasn't a good time to give it to you, so might as well."

He takes the box into his hands and shakes it a little.

From the sound alone, or near lack thereof, there could be a multitude of things inside it. He looks at you questioningly and you only smile and gesture for him to open it.

He takes his time in doing so, and he doesn't know how or why, but he finds your reactions to his movements much more amusing than whatever could be in the box. As if you were more excited for him.

He finally peers into the now open box to see some sort of purple cloth. A ribbon of geometric designs cutting through its middle and he stares at it in wonder.

"It's a scarf!"

You smile at him, and he was thankful that the rest of the team were either asleep or just not paying attention as it allowed the both of you to savor the moment with at least some semblance of privacy.

"I've noticed that you had a tendency to wear a lot of layers. I wasn't sure if it was because you were cold, or you just liked dressing that way, so I made an educated guess and got you something practical."

And just like that, he's over the moon.

He immediately goes to put it on with a wide smile, paying no mind that it paired so badly with the short sleeves of his button up.

Not that he would know, nor care.

And just when he had been feeling cold earlier too! "Thank you so much. This means a lot to me, especially since you don't usually give gifts."

You shake your head. "I don't, but it's not everyday one spends their twenty-fourth at the BAU."

He continues to observe the cloth that now hung around him. Smoothing his hands over it as he does with an expression unreadable to you.

You worry a bit and hurriedly mention, "I'm sorry if it isn't your color. I see purple show up on your mismatched socks more than any other color, so I just assumed. If it's any consolation, purple is a great color to contrast the warmer hues in brown eyes?"

He flushes at your admission, but matches your urgency to set you straight. "No! Please, I actually really like it-- It's beautiful."

You breathe out a sigh in relief and nod slowly at that.

"Speaking of the color, did you know the origin of purple dye is actually quite fascinating?" His voice filled with enthusiasm. With his eyes, bright, and filled with a child-like fascination that makes your chest feel warm at the sight.

"Historically, purple dye was incredibly rare and valuable, which is why it became associated with royalty and nobility. The earliest known purple dye, known as Tyrian purple, was produced by the ancient Phoenicians around 1200 BC. It was derived from the secretions of a particular type of sea snail, the bolinus brandaris, found in the Mediterranean Sea."

He paused for a moment, wondering if he was boring you, but sees that you're still very much paying attention to him.

"The process to obtain this dye was incredibly labor-intensive and complex. It required thousands of these sea snails to produce just a small amount of dye. The snails would then be collected and left to decompose in large vats. After several days, a gland from the snail was extracted and crushed to produce a purple mucus. This mucus would then be exposed to sunlight, undergoing a chemical reaction that transformed it into the deep, rich purple dye we commonly associate with our modern day equivalent."

As he kept going, he suddenly remembered what Morgan had told him all those weeks ago.

"Next time, try looking at what she does when you're the one talking."

So he does just that.

He observes the way that your shoulders are more relaxed, how your eyes never stray from him, and how the small upturned curve of your lip makes itself known as you rest your cheek onto your propped up fist.

How he has your undivided attention and yet you don't even look the least bit bored of what he has to say. Only silently appreciating and subtly nodding along with the slow blink of your eyelids.

All clear signs of unguarded comfort, and or interest, in his presence.

Had you really been looking at him like that all this time?

Now the idea of you liking your boss seems silly. Especially when you’re looking at him the way he imagines himself looking at you.

"I did know that, actually, Dr. Reid. At the time, Tyrian purple wasn't only desirable for its rarity, people said it was also incredibly lightfast. That it was resistant to fading under the sun and the weather. Not to mention all that hard work that just to get a single gram of it. Then again, modern studies do claim that its lightfastness was, in fact, not an accurate feature as it's color diminished when it was exposed to light and UV radiation."

You laughed a little again, as if remembering some anecdote, and that sound was steadily becoming one of his favorite sounds. Following only after your speaking voice.

"Fortunately for you, doctor, I could only afford a synthetically purple-dyed scarf. Though that means that you won't ever have to worry about it fading under the sun."

Hands up in faux surrender, you give him a tired smile that he returns with one of his own.

A calming silence enveloped the both of you as you continue to bask in each other's presence.

At some point you doze off, draping your blazer on top of yourself to shield yourself from the cold, and that's when he starts considering Elle's words again.

"Do you ever ask anyone out?"

"No,"

"That's why you can't get a date."

He nods to himself, and reclines a little more into his seat. Snuggling into his new scarf that still has the faintest smell of you.

Maybe he will ask you out on a a date later.

_____________________________

Like my work? Consider tipping me!!

[ohhiimweird]

Looking out the Window

In which Sunday learns about your favorite view on the express, but he's a little distracted

Character: Sunday

Reader Pronouns: They/them

Other Tags: Sunday is on the express, Post-2.7, 2.7 spoilers, Sunday is hardcore pining and it's kinda cringe

Sunday has never been without the crumbling pressure of responsibility on his shoulders. It's been happening ever since he was a child. That might've been why it's so hard for Sunday to adjust to being aboard the Astral Express. Of course, there were duties the passengers attended to. However, they were more like banal chores than actual duties. Sunday was a family head, though. Perhaps he shouldn't demand much more. He was merely glad that everyone on the express let him join them, even after all that he's done. It's also why Sunday couldn't seem to fall asleep for three days straight.

He wasn't sure why he went to the parlor car tonight. In the back of his mind, there was the thought of needing a change of scenery. That's where he found you staring out the huge window of the astral express. It was about the size of a wall.

The first time he saw you was at the Reverie Hotel. He knew then that you were beautiful. There was a blatant curiosity in your eyes that captivated the man. It as only a look you both shared in that moment. Words were not needed, not to Sunday.

You gave him that same look when you noticed shim in the parlor car. Sunday stopped in his tracks. Your gaze wasn't malicious, yet it felt like he was caught doing something bad.

"Can't sleep either, huh?" you asked. Your smile was so warm and inviting in the low light.

"I-I" Sunday covered up his stutter with a cough. "I suppose so. I thought merely a change of scenery would help me relax."

Sunday kept his distance, merely staring out the window, wondering what in particular you were looking at. There had to be something interesting in this sea of stars before you.

"Come on. Sit," you patted the seat next to you. "I'm not gonna bite."

Sunday hesitated. His heart jumped in his chest. Then, he decided to sit next to you. This is the closest he'd ever gotten to you physically. Wow. He was sitting next to you. It gave his spine chills without even meaning to.

"This is my favorite view on the express," you said. "I always come out here when I can't sleep. There are so many stars, planets, and galaxies out there, and we haven't gone to them yet. It changes with every stop too, so there's always new scenery."

Sunday glanced out the window. Right now, you are looking at Penacony from the outside. It's odd seeing his home planet from this angle. Never in a million years did he think he'd travel outside of Penacony. He wasn't like Robin, who had such a yearning for the stars, wanting to sing her songs for the whole universe. Right now, Sunday was at the threshold of home and something alien to him. He looked away, not wanting to be reminded of the home he lost and the sister he disappointed. Instead, he focuses on your beauty, your eyes lighting up from seeing the stars.

"Yes, it's quite beautiful," Sunday said while looking at you. He didn't want to offend you by saying it, but he was more captivated by your appearance than by the stars. Their radiance could not compare to you.

"Hey, you're not even looking," you huffed.

"I'm sorry. I got a bit distracted," Sunday said. "I found an even better view."

[hedwig221b]

Hey hey my lovely hedwig! I was wondering if you have any good bodyguard Derek fic recs for me to devour

Your recs are the best btw, top tier🏆

Aw, thank you! I present to you this feast

Where the Shadow Ends by Green

Derek goes undercover to Delphi to figure out what's wrong with the oracle. He doesn't mean to fall in love.

Strike Softly (Away From The Body) by qhuinn (tekla)

Derek is a bodyguard and Stiles his spoiled, resistant client.

Voice of Rage and Ruin by Qayin

Derek is hired as a bodyguard to this kid, Stiles. And the thing is, Stiles seems completely harmless, but everyone keeps telling Derek how he needs to be careful. Stiles is a nogitsune, a human possessed by a powerful deity of chaos and void, and not only does other people want him for his power, but he could potentially hurt others; and then it’s Derek’s job to protect those people — from his client.

Neither Here Nor There by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

"Oh!” He turned to Stiles. “Is he your new bodyguard?” Derek saw Stiles stiffen at that, wondering why, but before Stiles could open his mouth to insist that, why yes, Derek was his bodyguard like the brat he was, Derek spoke first. “I’m Mieczyslaw Stilinski’s bodyguard.” The confused look that crossed Scott’s face now was kind of annoying. Scott looked at Stiles, then back at Derek, and then at Stiles again. “I see…?”

just once by stilinskisparkles

"I’m your bodyguard!” “Yeah, I know, and I get that you’re worried I am somehow living under the illusion you are Kevin Costner and I’m Whitney Houston, but Derek?” Stiles grabs his tie before Derek can stop him, pulls him close enough to murmur in his ear, “I can’t sing.”

We Gotta Hide What We're Doin' by CharWright5

As a Bodyguard within the Stilinski Rodzina, Derek's one and only job is to watch over the Omega son—and only child—of the Family's Head, Stiles, a task that is easier said than done some nights. It's just good that the Alpha knows the best way to punish the little troublemaker when his bratty behavior threatens to expose a secret that could get the Bodyguard killed.

reGuardless by raisesomehale

The president had been to the point when he explained to Derek the rules of the job. Stiles was in the room while these rules were recited: Never take your eyes off of him in public. That’s how he liked to dodge his last bodyguards. No more than an arm's length apart. He’s more slippery than you’d think. Escort him to and from appearances. Intervene in any situation that might tarnish the Stilinski image… The list went on and on. As did the games of chicken Stiles initiated to test Derek with these rules.

I Would (And Did) Take A Bullet For You by luvsbitca

Derek Hale is Prince Stiles Stilinksi's bodyguard. Then he gets shot and things change between them.

Complicated Is An Understatement by haletostilinski

Stiles is the 17-year-old son of the POTUS, and Derek is his bodyguard. For the past few months they've been together in private, and only in the last few weeks did they take it all the way. And it isn't just sex between them, they're in love. Which makes their situation a whole lot more complicated.

The Darkness Inside by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

The sheriff watched him for a moment, then he sighed and turned slightly. He reached out to open a cabinet door beside him, and pulled out a shelf. It was on a track, so it rolled out of the cabinet fairly easily, and held a small CCTV. Derek frowned and inched his chair to the side a little bit so he could get a better angle. He was looking at a teenager, or someone at least young enough to be the same age as Scott. He was sitting on a bed in what looked to be a larger room, the area he was in surrounded by four glass walls, with his legs crossed and head tilted. He was also staring directly into the camera, as if he knew someone was watching. A creepy smile slowly slid onto the teen’s face, and he held up one hand, wiggling his fingers in a slow, eery wave. Derek felt his mouth run dry. He didn’t know who this kid was, but he didn’t like him. “Who is that?” he asked quietly. “That,” said the sheriff, “is my son.”

A Princely Knight by Dexterous_Sinistrous

He would stand by Stiles’ side, a constant shadow of protection until his death. A life for a life, one worth much more than an orphan turned thief turned royal guard could comprehend. In truth, Derek saw the one person he would gladly give his life for, because Stiles made this world better. ~*~ Or, Stiles is a prince and Derek is his knight.

[masterlist link]

[ariesprincesss]

Super Random Astro Observations Pt. III

view more astro observations here🔽

Super Random Astro Observations

Super Random Astro Observations Pt II

Super Random Astro Observations Pt IV

( i am not an astrologer just a silly girl that knows a lot about astrology🤓)

˚✧ lowkey though in my astrology journey ive learned to lower expectations for how you think something can go even if given the ��perfect” synastry aspects or soulmate indicators. any of it honestly. lunar return charts do not work perfectly for every month. sometimes even transits aren’t even really felt strongly. what i’m trying to say is see things as opportunities not finalities.

˚✧ this man i know is a leo rising & i swear he looks like this 🦁

˚✧ progressed moon conjuct jupiter when i had a life altering event!

˚✧ transit 8h Northnode conjucted my chart ruler , trine my natal pluto, transit 8h chiron conjuncted my natal sun sun, transit 1h mercury square natal 4h pluto- When I had another life altering event that essentially changed dynamics within how i relate to others in my family.

˚✧ vertex in 8th house in my lunar return chart when i lost my virginity☠️

˚✧ currently have the sun & moon in my 12th house lunar return chart & am absolutely going through it😭😭😭 edit: also going through a mental breakthrough tho which might have something to do with 1h pluto in that same chart so…🙏

˚✧ transit chiron conjuct my natal sun when i was in just the most terrible mood imaginable…

˚✧ transit venus conjuct my natal jupiter the day i met a romantic partner!!

˚✧ i also had vertex ,chiron ,& north node in my 7h lunar return chart when i met them too!

˚✧ okay but the month i had north node and both saturn & neptune retrograding in my 7th house i could not stop thinking ab my ex & eventually ended up texting him😭

˚✧ this is random but is in my head bc ive been watching bob ross videos lately LOL. but i was wondering why he had so much success and after looking at his chart, i feel like like it could possibly be linked to his libra stellium. he had libra mercury, neptune ,& mars. It definitely feels like he would have an ambition for beauty , making something beautiful, an “eye” for beautiful things , or speaking in a beautiful way.

˚✧ i can also say that with south node currently transiting my 1st house as a virgo rising starting literally yesterday i already feel like this weight of feeling like i have to be perfect and appear as such is fading 100%. big on embracing imperfection….🤔

˚✧ so another instance where i had a partners moon square my mercury (their moon was in my 5h) he was like super lovey with me to the point of love bombing , but it just made me feel kind of smothered/awkward when he would make like grand romantic gestures. (his natal moon was also in 7h🫢)

˚✧ a transformative relationship came to me when the asc dc angles were in my natal 1st/7th houses in my lunar return chart!!

˚✧ i definitely recommend doing “solar return synastry charts” between you and those close to you as i think it provides valuable insight on what events occur between you or others in that year! A chart between me and my best friend showed her jupiter in the 10th house squaring my 12h moon, 6h venus ,& 6h saturn in the src.It showed how she has started to work more hours thus having less time to talk to me everyday or as consistently as possible making me feel kind of like :/ bc i want to talk to my bff!!! This showed up 3 months before my birthday so i def agree with solar return energy showing up early.

˚✧ ive said it before but i will say it again when you meet someone of your rising sign they are essentially mirroring you BADDD. especially if you share placements together.

[miedei]

hi lovey!!!!! youve given me roommate spencer brainrot and after you mentioned it in that blurb im obsessed with the thought of him going to reader for touch/physical intimacy whenever hes burnt out from a case or something because hes so reluctant to accept touch from anyone else???

love you!!!

hihihi angel!! you're sooo real roommate!spence has taken over my brain recently i loveee this prompt so i wrote a drabble

had to inject a whole bunch of oblivious idiots who are in love because I'm nothing if not predictable <3 hope you like it!

roommate!spence fic | blurb 1

When you first met Spencer, he'd refused to shake your hand. To be fair, he'd given you a very convincing argument as to why, and you never held it against him. But it's very difficult to reconcile the memory of that Spencer, with the one you find yourself on the couch with now.

The length of his right arm is pressed up against yours, his tall body slumped down against the cushions so he can rest his head on your shoulder. The curling ends of his too-long hair tickle the sensitive skin on your neck, but you don't move away. You'd never move away from this.

He'd come home half an hour ago, late at night. You had been curled up on the couch, and you could see the exhaustion rolling off him in heady waves. The moment he shut the door behind him, he was shedding his coat and bag, thrusting them haphazardly somewhere near their allocated spots as he shuffled slowly towards you.

“Hey. All good?” Your own sleepiness was reflected in the short sentences, but you’d hoped that your eyes conveyed your concern adequately enough. 

It seemed like it worked, his hooded eyes raising to smile weakly at you. As he padded closer to where you sit on the couch, he nodded at the spot next to you in question. You shifted over, freeing up the space for him to crash, leaning heavily against you like he’s trying to meld himself to your side.

Which brings you to now. Whatever sitcom you were half-watching drones on in the background, the glow of the television splayed out over the delicate features of his face. His eyes are closed, eyelashes fanning over his cheeks, but you know he’s not asleep by the way he periodically presses himself closer to you. 

You’d questioned him once on his willingness and active initiation of physical contact with you, after you’d lived together for over a year. “I like it,” He’d said simply. “It’s comfortable. And it’s not that I dislike physical touch, I just can’t get over the thought of all those foreign pathogens on me. But, with you, I don’t have to worry about it. We spend so much time together. Did you know that living with someone for an extended period of time causes your microbiomes to change to share lots of traits? So you and I would share a lot, like-”

He’d continued to ramble for fifteen minutes. You’d taken it as an excuse to admire him openly. 

You’re taking this as another opportunity. Your head is bent at an awkward angle, but it provides you the best view of his exhausted visage, soft breaths ruffling the thin fabric of your shirt. 

He looks especially unguarded, an expression you’ve learned to value in the time that you’ve known him. It’s comfortable and soft, the feeling in your chest so warm that it entreats you to rest your eyelids for a second.

Spencer never expected to feel this comfortable with someone. He wonders what the him of five years ago would think of this— him, resting against someone, and them trusting him enough to lean just as heavily against him. It sends a spark of giddiness down his spine, one that he works very hard to not let shudder into the rest of his body, lest it disturb you.

Because of the angle at which his head is tilted, a lock of his hair slips down his forehead, finally falling to cover his eye. His nose wrinkles in response, but he’s not going to do anything. Not when you’re pressed up against him, leaning on his upper arm in a way that makes his heart squeeze in his chest. He’ll endure it. 

But he doesn’t have to endure it for long. As if you’ve heard his thoughts, he watches as your eyes flutter open slowly, pupils swivelling over to his face immediately. An easy smile tugs at your lips, and his breath hitches when you raise a hand to his face, gently capturing the hair and brushing it back to the top of his head. 

And as if that action wasn’t mind-boggling enough, your hand stays there, fingers tangled in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. 

Spencer can hardly hold in the pleased sigh that slips out, the feeling sending a rush of calm through his limbs. His eyes can’t tear away from yours, and he makes a mental note to read up on sirens, make sure that the attraction he feels to the depths of your irises isn’t supernatural in nature.

Either way, the two of you are not moving any time soon. The little bubble you find yourselves in is impossibly quiet, and yet it feels as though you’re saying more than you could in hours, through soft touches and bewitching eye contact.

The contact is slow, moving steadily across the crown of his head, and he feels like he could fall asleep right there. Or kiss you. Who knows.