#it wouldn’t FIX me but it would make everything a little easier ;^;

[ballroomeddie]

ok, so i was talking to some lovely mutuals @atlasblue85 @livesbetweenpages about these two scenes and it got me thinking about something that i’ve been mulling over for a while; what eddie means when talks about buck making everything about buck.

turns out i'm not one for brevity (oops) sooo tldr at the end.

imo the most pivotal buck lines from the wanna go for the title scene (apart from the aforementioned) are: a) Look, I’m sorry that I wasn’t there, Eddie… I should have been there. b) If you’re not gonna be honest with Frank, at least be honest with me. c) …you prefer to work it out in the ring. d) You don’t think while you were going through your phase, just maybe, you were throwing your punches at the wrong guy? 

the way i see it buck is saying (in order) a) i consider it my responsibility to be there for you and to take care of you (and chris). i’m sorry i failed. b) please, let me be there for you c) i see you. i understand that fighting is/was therapeutic for you. i’m not judging you for it d) if fighting is how you work out your issues, then i think you should fight me. i’m the one you have a problem with. i’m the one who failed you.

pivotal eddie lines--apart from Not that you didn’t deserve it, but I wouldn’t do that. You’re on blood thinners😏 (my cunty king. i luv him sm)--: a) We’re way past that, Buck. b) Look, things got a little out of hand for both of us. Don’t beat yourself up about it. c) Who said I wasn’t being honest with Frank… Maybe I’m just not a therapy kind of guy. d) Seriously? You’re gonna make it about you, again?

imo the underlying meaning here is: a) there’s nothing to apologize for b) please, stop apologizing. i don’t need saving, you didn’t fail me, you didn’t do anything wrong. i know it looked like i needed you from your vantage point, but i'm fine. promise. pretend you didn’t see that. there’s nothing to see here. i’m self sufficient. c) look, buck, i don’t need therapy, i don’t need anything, you have no idea what you’re talking about. i’m S E L F SUFFICIENT. d) my guy, you’re starting to piss me off. i understand that you have this incessant need to fix everything for everyone, but i’m not the one. you have this need to be a good boy but you don’t have to bring me, and the issues that i definitely don’t have, into it. because i’m fuckin SELF SUF.FI.CIENT!

interesting interesting interesting. thoughts thoughts thoughts.

but what about 8x09, sob stories?

pivotal eddie lines--apart from his beautiful brown bambi eyes 🥺 that say sosososo much--: a) It really is always about you isn’t it? b) [I was trying to be supportive, okay?] And you succeeded up to a point c) If you need to be pissed off at me to make it easier for you, then be pissed off. d) I don’t like it any more than you do. e) …if you're gonna make this about me having to choose between you or my son, you’re gonna lose every time. f) What about your loft…. You really did that for me?

my interpretation. a) here you go again, trying to fix shit. please stop. there’s nothing to fix. and tbh, lately you’ve only made things worse. b) i’m so sorry 🥺 i didn’t mean that. things are always better when you’re around. it’s just… things are complicated rn. we’re in an unprecedented situation and idk how to handle it. c) look, i’m sorry for putting you in this awful situation. you’re allowed to be mad at me. you should be mad at me. d) this is not easy for me. it’s not nothing. i’m mad at me too. e) i’m honestly hurt and disappointed that you would try to exploit my feelings for the fact that i’m gonna miss you. if i have to choose between missing you and hurting my son, i’ll choose the former. everytime. f) you can’t do this. you don’t have to do this. i can’t ask you to do this. you’re a renter… how did you know? why would...? thank you. i don’t deserve you it. thank you.

i’m not even gonna break down the pivotal buck likes (other than to remind anyone who’s still reading about I didn’t mean to out you. <- bdjdnd 💀). everything he says boils down to, i couldn’t stop myself from taking care of you if i tried. 

y’all remember buck introducing eddie to carla? remember that? that’s how it started and this ⬆️ is how it’s going. actually the facetime calls is how that’s going but i won’t get into that. 

conclusion/tldr: buck promised himself, before/around the time that he introduced eddie and carla to each other, that he’d always take care of eddie. because he can. because he wants to. and because it’s the natural, easy, obvious, damn near biologically imperative thing to do. the problem is that eddie doesn’t want to be taken care of. he’s convinced himself that he doesn’t need it or deserve it. so when buck waltzes in and says, lol lmfao rofl even. you’re lying to yourself. you do need someone to take care of you. you do deserve it. and i’m gonna do it whether you ask me to or not… well, that sets eddie on edge. buck is challenging a long held belief of his, a belief that he’s not ready to interrogate. so he finds a way to push back everytime buck brings attention to the self-effacing, self-sacrificing, self-critical, self-punishing elephant in his subconscious. and one of eddie’s go-tos when he’s pushing back is, this is about you, this is about your need to fix things but i don’t need fixing. and the way i see it, when eddie says, stop making this about you, he means, stop bringing attention to the fact that i might not be as self-sufficient as i believe myself to be.

also @atlasblue85 said something so bang on that i had to include it.

"it makes so much sense that Eddie says [that buck is making things about himself] as a self defense thing because he knows it's a way to get Buck to back off when he's feeling vulnerable and doesn't want to fully confront what he's actually dealing with"

👆⬆️ EXAACTTLY ‼️‼️‼️

[kitten4sannie]

[maskedbyghost]

You always find Simon in the same spot—sitting on his couch with a mug of tea in one hand, the TV on but the volume low, like he’s watching it just for background noise. He barely moves when you come in, just shifts his head a little like he was expecting you, even though you never text to say you're coming.

“And then she rolled her eyes at me,” you say as you drop down next to him, letting out an annoyed sigh. “Like I was the one being unreasonable for asking her to hold the door.”

Simon doesn’t react right away, which isn’t unusual. He lets a second or two pass, like he’s thinking it through, even though he probably made up his mind as soon as he heard your tone. Finally, he hums quietly and says, “She’s not worth your breath,” while reaching over to pat the top of your head in that way he always does.

You don’t even bother hiding how much you like that. You lean into his hand just a little, and for a moment you let the annoyance melt off your face.

It’s always like this between you and Simon. You walk in, already mid-rant about something that annoyed you during training or some dumb argument someone had in the mess, and he just listens. Or, well—he sits there while you go off, mostly quiet, only chiming in with a few words here and there.

But he always makes it clear he’s paying attention. The way his eyes shift to look at you when your voice tightens. The way he’ll hand you a blanket or a snack before you even ask. The way he remembers the tiny details you forget you even told him.

You joke sometimes that you adopted him. That you took in this emotionally unavailable soldier who barely likes people and decided that he’s your best friend now, whether he wanted that or not. He never complains. He never tells you to leave. Even when you steal his cookies or fall asleep on his couch, he just lets you stay.

He’s quiet, sure, but he’s also dependable in a way that makes everything feel easier when you’re around him. You can talk to him for hours and he won’t interrupt, won’t judge, won’t try to fix it unless it’s something he can fix. And when it is, he usually does—without making a big deal out of it.

So when you started seeing that guy from base, Simon didn’t say anything. You thought maybe he just didn’t care, or that he wasn’t the type to get involved in stuff like that. He didn’t ask many questions. Just nodded and said, “He treatin’ you right?” in that low voice of his that didn’t give much away.

You smiled and said yes, because at the time, it felt like the right answer.

He stayed the same after that. Still your go-to person for venting. Still the only one who ever made you feel like you could talk without holding back.

But every now and then, you noticed something shift. He wouldn’t look at you as much when you brought up your boyfriend. He’d change the subject quicker. And when you said something like, “he forgot our plans again,” Simon would just sigh and hand you tea or cookies or whatever he had nearby, like he didn’t want to say what was really on his mind.

You remember one night clearly, when you showed up outside Simon’s door after a long shift. You were quiet, which was rare, and you didn’t even try to hide the frustration in your eyes.

“He forgot again,” you mumbled, pulling your knees up onto the couch. “Said he’d pick me up, and then just... nothing. Not even a text.”

Simon didn’t say much in response. He just handed you the remote and tapped your shoulder once, like that was his way of saying you deserved better without actually having to say the words out loud.

But the breaking point came later. One night, you showed up to his room without even thinking, your eyes red and puffy, your hands trembling a little as you wiped at your face. He didn’t ask what happened. He didn’t need to. He just stepped aside and let you walk in, like he’d been expecting you again, like he knew this was coming.

“He cheated,” you said, and the words felt so bitter and small in your mouth that you almost didn’t believe them yourself.

Simon pulled you into a hug before you could even finish the sentence. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to offer advice or tell you what you should’ve done. He just held you, solid and quiet, with one hand pressed between your shoulder blades and the other smoothing over your hair. You didn’t realize you were crying until your face was already buried in his shirt.

At some point, he moved you to his bed. You weren’t even sure how, but you ended up under his blanket, wrapped in warmth that didn’t come from the sheets, and you felt safer than you had in weeks. His voice was low when he whispered, “Don’t worry about it,” like he was promising to carry the weight of it for you.

You didn’t know it then, but he didn’t sleep that night. He stayed up until you were out cold, then got up quietly, left his room, and came back a few hours later like nothing happened. What you also didn’t know—what he would never admit unless you asked him directly—was that he had counted every single tear that rolled down your face. Every shaky breath, every time your chest stuttered with a sob. He remembered the number. Kept it in his head. Then found your ex and hit him that many times. One punch for every tear you cried.

A few days passed, and word started going around base that your ex hadn’t been seen. Missed duty. No one could get ahold of him. You didn’t ask Simon anything. You just looked at him across the mess hall, saw the way he was nursing a cup of tea with a blank expression and fresh tape wrapped around his hand, and something in your chest clicked into place.

You didn’t smile. Didn’t say anything. You just looked at him, and he looked back, and that was enough.

Later, after things calmed down, you found yourself back in his room. Same spot on the couch. Same blanket. Same you and Simon. But this time, out of nowhere, he said, “I’m in love with you.”

It wasn’t dramatic or emotional. He said it like it was just a fact—like he was finally telling the truth after hiding it for too long.

You blinked at him, not even sure you heard him right. “What?”

He shrugged a little, like it didn’t matter if you believed him or not. “Figured you should know.”

You didn’t know what to say right then. There was too much in your head. But a few days later, he took you somewhere quiet, away from base, with a folded blanket under his arm and your favorite cookies packed in a tin. He made tea and handed you the mug like he always did, and when you sipped it, it was just the way you liked it—strong, with that little bit of honey he adds even when you don’t ask.

You sat next to him, legs stretched out on the grass, shoulder pressed against his. After a while, you turned to look at him and said, “You’ve been looking at me like that for a long time, haven’t you?”

He tilted his head slightly. “Like what?”

“Like I’m your whole world.”

Simon didn’t answer right away, but the look on his face said more than words ever could. Then he reached over, patted your head like he always did, and said, “Yeah. That’s about right.”

--------------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212

[tjwritesfanfics]

I’m not jealous (Aaron Hotchner)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Summary: Aaron was going to show you how not jealous he is.

Rating: Mature 18+ only

Warnings: Jealous Aaron (though he is adamant he isn't), Reader taking advantage of a sweet guy, manhandling, Dom!Aaron, condescending, being called good girl (which made me MELT), Aaron spanks her once, fingering, overstimulation, Aaron is a sweet aftercare guy

Words: 2.9k

Main Masterlist | Criminal Minds Masterlist

Jealousy can be very ugly.

It can also be very hot. And on Aaron Hotchner it was sexy as hell. The way his jaw clenched, his eyes darken, and the air around him just got thick with tension you knew about, but the line was never crossed.

You had feelings for Aaron, everyone in the BAU knew it, he knew it, and he still had yet to decide what, and if, he felt for you.

You always tried to push him, loving the way he seemed so close to losing it only to watch him attempt to reel himself in. Once you had danced with a guy at the bar after a long case and your eyes never left Aaron. No matter how many times the guy dipped his head to kiss (more like slobbered with how drunk he was) your neck, you continued to stare at him, surprised that the glass he was holding didn’t break with the force of his grip, his knuckles already white.

And when you decided you were done with your dance partner, you attempted to leave only to have him get aggressive. You knew you could fit him off if need be, but it was much more satisfying when Aaron strode over and introduced him to that amazing right hook of his.

It was even better when he took you roughly by the waist and led you out of the bar.

In his car, you tried to push a little more, wanting him to finally admit something to you.

“God,” You sigh and brush your hand down his arm, admiring the way they flex under your touch, “You are so hot when you are jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“There is no need to deny the chemistry between us, Aaron. We aren’t on the clock so you aren’t my Unit Chief, and I am not your underling, though I would so love to be under you.” You purr, warmth flooding your as his tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, your eyes following the motion longingly.

It would be easier if he would just give in to what was going on between the two of you.

But sadly, that was where the night ended for you.

Aaron took you back to your apartment, walked you up (like the gentleman he was), and left you there all alone.

Over the next few months you tried again and again to prove there was something between you, not only physically, but emotionally as well.

Pulling him out of his office for lunch or bringing it to him, just to make sure he would eat. Putting sticky notes on his monitor or his desk with little encouragements and reminders since you knew he could get too far into his own head and needed some help out.

And it wasn’t like he didn’t do things for you.

Bringing you coffee, made just to your liking, at the beginning of the shift or when you run low on your own coffee. He always seemed to know when you needed your fix. He also would save you a seat on the plane, the one next to the window because he knows you like to look out at the clouds during long flights.

“When we land, Y/n, Reid and I will go to the police station to set up. Morgan, you and Emily check out the crime scene.”

Aaron dished out the rest of the orders as the plane started to descend. Honestly after he told you where you were going to be, which of course was with him because he always seemed to think he needed to keep an eye on you, something you couldn’t decide if was out of how similar your skill sets are or because he has a constant need to be near you, you stopped listening.

You were certain that it was both. You knew Aaron wouldn’t sacrifice the case or the people involved just for a romantic feeling towards you.

Once you landed and got to the police station, everything seemed to flash by in a whirlwind.

You barely had any time to focus on anything other than catching the asshole that was killing women.

“You seem to be running into the ground, Agent.”

Officer Danny Grant was such a little cutie and seemed to immediately take a liking to you.

“I’ll rest when we catch this guy.” You reach for your cup of awful cop coffee, even though it was the only thing keeping you going at the moment, but frowned when you found the cup empty.

Cursing, you turn away from the board to get more.

“Here.” Grant offered you another cup, his face a little flushed and a smile on his lips. “I noticed you were low. I don’t know how you take it so I just made it black. If you need any creamer or sugar I can get it for you.”

“Thanks, Grant.” You smiled and took the cup. The warmth of it not only warming your hands, but your heart a little as well. Usually Aaron would bring you coffee, but this case seemed to take a toll on him, which you remind yourself you would have to check on him later. Now that someone else noticed and cared enough to bring you something so small, yet so vital, was sweet.

You take a sip of the black coffee, wishing it was sweeter, but the jolt of bitterness was the wake up you needed.

“I usually like it sweet, but black is fine. It’s just what I need.”

Grant continued to stick to your side, helping with the case whenever he could and bringing you more coffee (this time with a side of sugar). He was actually very helpful and you enjoyed the company of him, conversation and ideas bouncing easily.

Aaron on the other hand didn’t like the attention you were getting from the young, wide eyed officer.

He couldn’t stand the fact that he was distracting you from the case at hand (even though he wasn’t actually), the way you laughed when he said something you deemed funny, but it wasn’t, and the thing he hated the most was the smile you beamed at him when he brought you more coffee.

The smile you usually only gave him. Why were you giving it to this guy? Even when the group went out and you flirted with other men, knowing that it would get a rise out of him (though he would never admit it out loud) you never gave them that kind smile, the one that made your nose scrunch up so adorably.

It would be so easy for Aaron to go over there. He can imagine himself pulling you away from Grant. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how you felt pressed against his own body. The amount of nights he had to pull himself away from you, unable to cross that line, the line between boss and subordinate. A line that he’s tiptoed since the first time he saw you.

If only it was that simple to give into you.

A few hours later, you could feel your steam running out and your eyes drooping, no matter how much coffee you drank.

“There hasn’t been any new information.” Aaron’s voice woke you just before your head hit the conference table for the second time that night, “Let’s call it a night and look at this in the morning with fresh eyes.”

“No no,” you whine, failing to lift your eyelids, “I can keep going.”

“Agent Hotchner is right. Come on, let's get you to the hotel.”

Just as Grant reached for you, Aaron was quick to his feet, striding over to you with only a few steps and grabbing your shoulder before Grant could. “I have her.” Aaron lifted you up, one hand resting under both of your legs and the other on your back, smirking at Grant as you wrap your arms around his neck and snuggle into him.

The look of shock on the officer’s face was sickeningly satisfying.

Never would Aaron be this bold, especially in front of others, but he couldn’t help himself. He couldn't just let this man touch you. Not after spending all day watching his poor attempts at flirting.

You could, and probably would, be upset with him tomorrow.

Aaron lifted his chin, daring others to say anything as he made his way through the precinct with you tucked in his arms. Once you were outside, you push your face into his neck subconsciously, inhaling his scent and sending a shiver through him, thankful that at least some part of you waited until you were out of sight to get clingy with him.

“You are,” You yawn, lips brushing against his skin,”so hot when you are jealous.”

“I am not jealous.”

All you did was hum in response as you drift off to sleep in his arms.

For the rest of the case you stuck to Grant every chance you got, barely paying Aaron any attention.

He knew you were doing it on purpose. You knew he knew that you knew you were doing it on purpose.

Thankfully the team was able to wrap up the case and it was only one night left before you left.

No more case. No more reason to stay in California. No more Grant.

Aaron wonders if he should be as happy as he was as he pressed the button for your floor on the elevator. He doesn’t have much time to think about it when a minute later the elevator door opens and he sees Grant standing at your door, leaning against the open door with you.

“So now that the case is over, do you want to get dinner before you leave? I’m sure hotel food isn’t as good as a good burger at this little dive I know down the street.”

You giggle at his forwardness. While you do love and want Aaron, turning down a free meal from a cute man before you never see him again couldn’t hurt, right?

“You know a little dive? Is it a ‘California delicacy?’”

Grant leaned in, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Oh absolutely.”

Rage and jealousy flows through Aaron, his jaw and fists clenched. His legs carried him towards you before his brain could catch up.

No more games.

In a flash, Aaron grabbed Grant by the collar of his shirt, yanking him back and away from you.

“A Aaron?!” You squeak as the man pushes you into your hotel room, closing and locking the door behind you.

His hands grab your wrists, tugging and trapping them above your head, the air leaving you completely as his lips crash against yours.

The months and months of tension finally exploded within you, arching your hips to meet him, gasping when he grips your wrists tighter in warning.

“You really can’t resist flirting can you?” Aaron’s voice may have been calm, almost bored, but his eyes betrayed the fire, the anger he held. “You just love to rile me up.”

“I thought,” you moan when he moves to kiss your neck, “you weren’t jealous.”

His laugh is condescending, one of his hands snaking down to your side while the other held tight. This was the Aaron Hotchner you wanted, the one you knew he could be if you just pushed right, but now that he was here you didn’t quite know how to handle him.

Not that you would let him know. Not as your body shivers when he rests his hand on your waist, nails digging through the material of your jeans.

“You and I both know I am not. Why be jealous when your body is so truthful with me? It tells me everything,” His smirk widens as he cupped your cunt and you whine, subconsciously grinding against his hand, seeking the dull pleasure you could get through the two layers of fabric separating you, “I need to know. It is an open book for me.”

You want to cry when Aaron withdraws from you, only proving his point further. God you want him. More than absolutely anything.

“Now be a good girl and get on the bed. I want you naked and on all fours by the time I get out of the bathroom.”

“T The bathr…” Your words die on your lips when Aaron gives you a pointed stare, one that has you clenching around nothing, before he walks away from you and into the bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar, almost as if daring you to disobey him.

As much as you wanted to, just to see what he would do to you, you decided that would be for a different time. Quickly shedding your top and jeans, you obey like the good girl you want to be for him.

You wait for what feels like an eternity, but was probably only five minutes before you could hear Aaron’s footsteps coming out of the bathroom. Instinct has you turning your head to look at him, “Don’t you fucking move.” but his harsh voice has you snapping it back and a shiver running down your spine.

Or was that his fingers that danced along your back? Honestly you didn’t know, but you didn;t have time to ponder it before he splayed his open palm across one of your ass cheeks, drawing back and coming down with a swift smack.

You moan, the sudden motion causing you to fall forward, your arms giving out.

“Just a little taste of what happens when you play with me.” Aaron rubbed the spot where you were sure was going to be slightly red from the force. “But I won’t give you more since you seemed to follow my orders like such a good girl.”

A whine escapes you at his words. You wanted to hear them over and over. To be praised by him over and over. His fingers ghost from your ass straight to your center, pressing and feeling, but never fully sinking into you.

“Oh fuck,” You squirm under his carful attention, “Please. Please Aaron!”

“Please what? How will I know what you want without words?”

You cry as the tip of his finger comes dangerously close to your clit only for him to pull it away just as quickly. You knew what he was doing. He was teasing you just like you had teased him, almost like a form of sick payback, and though he did have the upper hand, you felt like you had already won.

You had him in bed.

“Please touch me, Aaron. I need your hands on me, in me, anything.”

“There we go.” 

The reward for your confession was sweet. His fingers circled your clit, applying the right amount of pressure that had you moaning loudly. Aaron continued to work you, leaving your brain in a haze of pleasure which only intensified when he finally moved to sink one finger into your core.

“Fuck..” Aaron curses, his finger setting a steady pace, thrusting in and out of you, admiring the embarrassingly wet noises your cunt makes. “You are so wet.”

You moan when he slides a second finger in, then a third, the stretch burning oh so deliciously.

He’s got you at his mercy, hips rocking back to meet his thrusts, drool pooling on the hotel sheets below you. “Aaron!” You cry, the coil in your gut pushing and pushing you closer to the edge, threatening to break and toss you into a sweet release.

“Let go.”

With his permission, and his fingers brushing that sweet spot that made you see stars, you do.

You scream as your orgasm crashes into you. If the outside could hear you, you didn’t care. All that mattered was Aaron, his name the only thing occupying your mind and the only thing spilling out of your mouth as if it was the only name you knew.

And right now it was.

Aaron continued to thrust his fingers into you, helping you through your orgasm until you tried to pull away from him, but his other hand gripped your waist, pulling you back and onto his fingers.

“Aaron!” You squirmed. It was too much, but you didn’t want him to stop as his fingers expertly stroked and thrust, bringing you to a second orgasm in record time. Tears prick your eyes, your body shaking, feeling weightless and not here.

You didn’t even notice when Aaron carefully turned you on your back, brushing your hair back from your face and kissing your forehead. He treated you like procaline, peppering kisses all over your face until you came back to him. “There’s my girl.”

His girl. The thought had you smiling like a lovesick fool, which was appropriate because you were. No longer were the steel eyes and lustful gaze, but soft brown eyes filled with an adoration you weren’t used to seeing. You swallow and reach for him. Aaron wrapped you in his arms and held you close.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Now what? Was he going to continue? Fuck you? Or, and something you hoped he wouldn’t do, leave you.

Aaron, the ever brilliant profiler he was, could see the war going on in your head before you could speak. He leaned down to kiss you, hand gently rubbing shapes on your upper thigh.

“Don’t worry. I will be right here for more when you wake.”

You feel a little guilty about not returning the favor, but Aaron quickly shuts that down. He grabs the hotel comfort and pulls it up, covering the two of you, tucking you into his chest. Your eyes feel heavy from the force of cumming twice (and Aaron’s skilled fingers) that you couldn’t seem to argue, eyes closing as sleep takes over.

You definitely would make him feel good when you wake up.

(Banners by cafekitsune)

[itaipava]

— little hints f1 boys would give that they have a crush on you.

˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS

he is interested in all your passions and hobbies: even if it is something he knows little about, he’ll ask you about your passions or things you like to do to have more to talk about with you and to get to know you even better. he also likes to research on the internet and send you videos that he finds about your favorite topics and, when you least expect it, he will start conversations about it, leaving you surprised but happy to know that he puts a lot of effort into connecting with your world.

˒ ⌕ GEORSE RUSSELL

he always includes you in his plans: whenever he travels, he talks as if you’re going too, without even inviting you directly. when you ask him about it, he usually says, “well, you’re going with me, aren’t you?” and when you can’t go because of work, he gets really frustrated, but he makes sure to keep you updated. he’s also always saying “we should check out that new place together… when are you free?” or “wouldn’t it be fun if you go with me for the next race?” he loves planting the idea of ​​future moments with you, and he loves it when they actually come true.

˒ ⌕ SEBASTIAN VETTEL

he loves teasing you: he always looks for a way to tease you, but always with a touch of flirting, which leaves you wondering if it's really just a joke or if he means something with it. he also hates it when someone else does this and he doesn’t hide his anger, and it’s at this moment that you also don't miss the opportunity to tease him; and the look in his eyes tells you that in fact, he doesn’t tease you just for fun.

˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ

he always offers to help you with whatever you need: no matter what you need, he will do whatever it takes for you and to make your life easier. he will get you a coffee (and a sweet treat) in minutes when you say you want it. he will buy you something you said you needed but couldn't because you were too busy. he will come to your house to fix that broken drawer. he will always be there for you, even when you don't ask him directly, he will be there.

˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC

he always remembers little details about you: sometimes he'll casually mention something small that you've said in the past, like your favorite snack or a specific memory. and sometimes you're delightfully surprised by how accurately he tells you these things because you could swear he'd forgotten or didn't really care, but he's always paying extra attention to you and everything you say is important to him.

˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON

he always compliments you a lot: but they’re not generic compliments that you always hear, he focuses on unique characteristics of yours that he really admires, like “you always have a way of making everything more fun and cool” or “you always seem to know the right things to say”, he’s always complimenting you, and he always means it.

˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI

he always looks for reasons to text you: he likes to send you news about your favorite singers, bands, authors or something he knows you’ll like. it’s things like “you popped into my head when i saw this, and i had to share” or “doesn’t this remind you of that joke you made?” and he always tries to keep the conversation going, no matter what.

˒ ⌕ LIAM LAWSON

he is always your biggest fan: whatever you do, he gives you all the support and help in the world. he is always the first one to show up when you need encouragement, whether it’s to wish you good luck at an event or send you a bouquet of flowers with a little note, or a brief message saying that he believes in you, and that he knows everything will turn out fine. he also loves talking about you to people like “did you see what y/n did? she’s amazing, right?” he is your biggest fan, and he doesn’t hide it from anyone.

˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN

he looks at you a lot: when you two make eye contact, you have to look at something else first because he can’t get enough of you - and he loves it when you get embarrassed about it. he also loves to admire you when you’re distracted and don’t realize he’s looking at you; he loves looking at you and learning your mannerisms. to him, you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, and even though sometimes you catch him staring at you and ask him with a smile what he’s looking at, he doesn’t stop or give you a serious answer, which creates a spark of curiosity in you.

[busyw0man]

⋆｡‧˚ʚ💋ɞ˚‧｡⋆ 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗲𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗱𝗶𝗮𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘂𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀

❝ i wouldn’t find the need to tell you ‘i told you so’ if you weren’t so allergic to admitting i’m right—but by all means, keep walking into walls just to prove a point. ❞

❝ there are better hills to die on, but i’ve always had a flair for the dramatic, so this one? this one suits me just fine. ❞

❝ would you come with me? i know i could go alone, but everything feels a little less terrifying when you’re beside me. ❞

❝ that’s not the worst thing i’ve ever heard, but it’s definitely in the top ten—and i’ve been to family dinners. ❞

❝ i would love to help you, truly, but i’m currently suffering from a terminal case of 'not my problem' and my doctor says there’s no cure. ❞

❝ could you, for just one second, think about someone other than yourself? i’m not asking for a miracle—just a moment of humanity. ❞

❝ i’m not going to stand here and argue with you about how badly you need rest. when you crash, don’t expect me to catch you. ❞

❝ would you be a dear and shut the hell up? there’s only so much self-centered rambling a person can survive in one sitting. ❞

❝ i know i need help. i know. but asking for it feels like walking into battle without armor—give me a second to find the words. ❞

❝ do you know where we’re going? or are we just letting the chaos guide us now? ❞

❝ i’m trusting you with this. that’s not something i give away easily, so please—don’t make me regret it. ❞

❝ do you like it here? not the place—the moment. the quiet. me. ❞

❝ are you still happy? and i don’t mean surface-level smiles and small talk. i mean really, truly happy. with me. with this. ❞

❝ i didn’t lie to you. i just told the truth in a way that made it easier to swallow. if that’s betrayal, then maybe you never wanted honesty—just comfort. ❞

❝ do you even like spending time with me anymore? because lately, it feels like all we do is circle the same argument and call it conversation. ❞

❝ one of us is going to have to be honest eventually, and i’m starting to think it’s going to have to be me—again. ❞

❝ i want to tell you something. something real. something raw. but i keep getting caught in the storm of my own hesitation. ❞

❝ if you were the religious type, i think i’d still find a way to make you worship me. or at least remember me in your prayers. ❞

❝ don’t tell me to stop being dramatic. it’s the only thing that makes this unbearable mess of a life remotely entertaining. ❞

❝ were you ever going to tell me, or were you just hoping i’d eventually give up trying to read your mind? ❞

❝ i never needed you to fix me. i just needed you to stay when i was falling apart. but even that was too much, wasn’t it? ❞

❝ sometimes i think you love the version of me that only exists in your head. the quiet one. the easy one. the one who doesn’t talk back. ❞

❝ i’m tired of being the bigger person. it’s lonely up here and the view isn’t even worth it. ❞

❝ you don’t get to disappear and then waltz back in like you didn’t shatter something on your way out. ❞

❝ if you wanted to hurt me, congratulations. you did it with terrifying precision. ❞

❝ it’s not that i don’t care anymore—it’s just that caring has become exhausting. ❞

❝ i don’t know what we are anymore. i don’t know if we ever really knew. ❞

❝ you keep saying everything’s fine like you’re trying to hypnotize me into believing it. ❞

❝ loving you felt like setting myself on fire and pretending it was candlelight. ❞

❝ i keep telling myself it’ll get better, but i’m starting to wonder if that’s just another bedtime story i made up to survive. ❞

❝ you can’t just say ‘i’m sorry’ and expect everything to go back to the way it was. apologies aren’t time machines. ❞

❝ you left. and somehow, i’m still the one who feels guilty. ❞

❝ i didn’t push you away. you just stopped reaching out. there’s a difference. ❞

[writeriguess]

Insecure chubby reader x big himbo kirishma but their relationship is secret and Mina has a crush on him and talks to reader all about it then one day after a big win she kisses red riot and their fans go crazy for it and reader falls apart doesn’t awnser Eijirou calls just shuts down and lays on her bed crying and hiding from the world and it only gets worst when kirishma try’s to fix it by post a pic of him and reader announcing she’s his gf of years and their fans tear reader apart.

Shattered in the Spotlight

The room is silent, save for the hum of your phone, lying face down on the nightstand as if it’s somehow easier to ignore the reality outside when it’s not in your line of sight. But you know it’s there. You feel the weight of the world pressing down on you, and it’s suffocating.

You’ve never felt this small, this insignificant. Not even when you first came to U.A., always worried about fitting in, about your body, about how you looked compared to everyone else. But Eijirou had always been different. He never made you feel like there was something wrong with you. You knew what the world thought of someone like you—overweight, clumsy, a little too much of everything, but not enough at the same time—but with him, it didn’t matter. His warmth, his attention, the way he made you feel like you were the only one in the room, made you believe that maybe you weren’t so bad after all.

But then there was Mina. Always bubbly, always upbeat, always just a little bit too sweet when it came to Eijirou. You had always noticed the way she looked at him, the way she smiled whenever his name came up, the way her voice would soften in his presence. It had never bothered you—at least, not too much. After all, you knew Mina wasn’t the type to make moves on someone who was already in a relationship, especially with the way she valued friendship. You convinced yourself that it was all harmless.

But then today, the conversation that had been brewing under the surface came rushing at you like a wave you were unprepared for. You didn’t expect it, not in the slightest.

You were sitting with her in the common area, chatting about random things as you often did, when it happened. Mina’s eyes lit up, a glint of something mischievous in them as she leaned in closer, almost conspiratorially.

"You know," she began, her voice light and teasing, "I think I’ve finally figured out why Eijirou is always so happy."

You blinked, unsure where this was going.

"Why’s that?" you asked, a small laugh escaping you, trying to ignore the nervous flutter in your chest.

"Because he’s so perfect, y'know?" She grinned widely, her words laced with admiration. "I mean, just look at him—he’s so strong, so sweet, and did you see his muscles after that last battle? Ugh, I can’t imagine being with someone like him. He’d just sweep me off my feet."

Your heart drops, the smile on your face faltering, though you try to hide it.

You nod, forcing yourself to laugh. "Yeah, he's great. I mean, who wouldn’t be happy to be around him?"

You try to brush it off, but it feels like she’s digging into the place inside you that’s always been tender—the place where all of your insecurities hide. She’s not just talking about him like a friend; she’s talking about him like someone who wishes they were with him, who sees him as something more than the big, goofy guy you love. It’s not like you didn’t already know, but hearing her say it so openly, so enthusiastically, makes it real in a way it wasn’t before.

You force yourself to smile, to nod, but you can feel the sting of jealousy rising, and it burns. What if she does want him? What if she’s just too polite to say anything?

Before you can think any more about it, the conversation shifts, and the tension in your chest doesn’t ease—if anything, it tightens. You try to push it to the back of your mind, but it doesn’t leave.

Later that evening, after a big victory—one that had the team hyped up and the atmosphere electric—you were there, cheering on your classmates, feeling proud of how far you’ve come. You should’ve been happy. You should’ve been celebrating. But when you turned and saw it—Eijirou and Mina standing together, her hand lightly resting on his arm as they laughed, and then the kiss.

It wasn’t a long kiss, not by any means, but it was a kiss. A kiss that lingered, full of affection, full of something you couldn’t define. The crowd cheered, and you stood frozen, the rush of heat flooding your body. Your heart was in your throat, and you could barely breathe. The camera flashes were blinding, the noise of the crowd felt deafening, but all you could hear was the sound of your own heart cracking. The image of them—together, so close—burned itself into your mind.

And you didn’t know what to do.

You couldn’t stay there, not with your emotions threatening to overtake you. You slipped away, as quietly as you could, trying not to draw attention, but you could already feel it—the weight of the world crashing down on you. You couldn’t escape it.

You just needed to be alone.

You didn’t answer any calls from Eijirou, even when his name flashed across your screen. You couldn’t face him—not now. Not after seeing that. Not after hearing Mina’s words and feeling so stupid for thinking you were the one he cared about.

So, you curled up in your bed, under the covers, hiding from the world, hoping it would just stop spinning for a moment. Maybe, if you closed your eyes, you could forget about the kiss. Forget about Mina. Forget about how small you felt, how insignificant you felt, knowing that someone like Eijirou, someone so amazing, could be kissed by someone like her.

But then, the phone buzzes again.

It’s a picture.

A picture of you and Eijirou, laughing, your body pressed against his, his arm wrapped protectively around you. The caption reads: "Finally letting the world know—she’s been mine for years."

And that’s when it all comes crashing down.

You stare at the screen, your mind going blank. Your heart aches, a dull throb in your chest as the comments flood in.

"She’s so lucky to be with someone like him." "She’s not good enough for him." "She’s too big for him." "She doesn’t deserve him."

Each comment is like a knife, each word cutting deeper, exposing every insecurity you’ve ever had. You can feel the weight of their judgment, their eyes on you, pulling at the fabric of your very existence.

You can’t breathe.

Your hands tremble as you scroll through the hateful messages, and the tears come—hot, stinging tears that blur your vision. You try to ignore them, try to force yourself to look away, but you can’t. They won’t stop. The world is tearing you apart, and you don’t know how to make it stop. You thought you could handle it. You thought you could keep your secret relationship safe from the world, but now it’s out in the open, and it’s not safe anymore.

You don’t answer Eijirou when he calls again. You can’t. Not when you know what’s coming.

The weight of his attempt to fix it—posting that picture, making everything public—only makes it worse. His fans tear into you, calling you names, questioning your worth, asking how someone like you could possibly be with someone like him.

You curl deeper into the bed, the world outside fading into a blur of pain and self-loathing. You want to disappear. You want to shut it all out, to bury yourself in the covers and never face the world again. But even in your hiding, you know this isn’t something that can be fixed so easily.

You love him. You know that. But this… this is too much.

And still, you can’t bring yourself to answer the calls. You can’t face the one person who should be there for you through all of this. Because how could he understand? How could he possibly know what it feels like to be torn apart in front of the entire world, to have every insecurity laid bare and picked apart by strangers?

You don’t know how to make it stop. You don’t know how to fix this.

But you also don’t know how to stop loving him.

[carlosainzgf]

a comforting presence

park gyeong seok x fem!reader (fluff)

the dormitory was a cacophony of whispers and restless shuffling, the air thick with tension and the faint, metallic scent of blood. dim, flickering fluorescent lights cast long shadows across the cold, concrete floor. thee rows of metal bunk beds loomed like prison bars, the faded green paint peeling in jagged lines that mirrored the desperation etched into everyone’s faces.

gyeong seok sat on the lower bunk, his back pressed against the icy wall, knees drawn up to his chest. his breaths were shallow, his pulse uneven, and his eyes darted to the far corner where you sat. you were tracing invisible patterns on the floor, your face obscured by the mess of your hair, but he could still catch the subtle quiver of your shoulders.

you didn’t cry, not outright. you were stronger than most here, maybe stronger than him, but your silence felt louder than the murmurs of the others.

he clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms, grounding himself in the sting. it was easier than thinking about tomorrow. easier than thinking about the blood-soaked arenas or the fact that, statistically, one of them wouldn’t see another sunrise.

the room hummed with the weight of unspoken alliances and festering betrayals, but all he could see was your fragile form in that cruel light. he rose, slowly, shoes scraping the floor like a deliberate confession. the movement caught your attention, your head tilting just slightly toward him.

sitting beside you, he could feel the faint warmth of your shoulder against his arm. it was absurd—how something so small could feel like salvation. he wanted to say something comforting, something that mattered, but the words choked in his throat. instead, he whispered, “there might be a fight tonight. when the lights go out make sure to hide. okay?”

“okay,” okay replied in a voice barely above a whisper.

he nodded, the knot in his stomach loosening just a fraction with her acceptance. the silence settled between them again, but it was not as oppressive. he kept his gaze fixed on you. the bruises on her face stood out harshly, purples and blues marring her fragile skin, and the cut on her lip looked especially painful. his stomach churned with a mixture of fury and helplessness.

he was an artist. it was kind of his job to look for beauty in things. it wasn’t hard to find beauty in you for him. but he wasn’t sure if he could draw you. not sure if he could manage to portray your beauty in a little canvas. not sure if it could fit it all in a tiny piece of paper.

───୨ৎ─── ───୨ৎ─── ───୨ৎ───

as the minutes ticked by you grew nervous. it was hard not to let your mind race, to think about all the possibilities that lay waiting for everyone in this room if a fight happens.

as the speaker announced it was two minutes till bed time your heart raced. you were somewhat sure you would die tonight. you got up on your feet without thinking. and your feet took you to gyeong seok’s bed.

he sat up almost immediately when he saw you.

“is everything okay?”

“im scared. can i stay with you?”

he nodded without hesitation. he scooted over a little to make room for you. there was something about the way he moved. it was full of sincerity.

he tried to keep your mind busy with talking as you both waited for the lights to go out.

when it finally went out. he held you hand and got out of bed quickly and as quietly as possible not to alert anyone. he then helped you on your feet. before anyone can notice you he got you both under the bunks.

you both laid down under there you could hear people fighting. screams, yells and pleads for helps of others consumed your ears. as someones dead and limp body right infront of your hiding place panic filled your eyes thinking of what would happen if anyone found you.

gyeong seok could feel your shaking body against his due to the little to no space you were in.

“look at me. don’t look out there. okay? just focus on me.”

he tried to keep your attention on him as he made you talk about nothing and everything, whispering sweet nothings into your ears and held your face to keep your eyes on him.

his gaze warmed you up. his words kept your mind busy. his calloused palms caressed your cheek.

he tuned out everything. you were so preoccupied and mesmerized by him you almost didn’t hear the gunshot to break up the fight.

he got up and helped you out too.

“are you ok-” his words were interrupted by you hugging him. you threw your arms around his neck, standing on tip toes, and pulled him as close as possible like he was going to slip away. he hesitantly wrapped his arms around your waist and caressed your back soothingly, he ran his fingers through your hair as you calmed down.

“thank you.” you whispered into his ear. you didn’t even have to say it your body was talking for itself. the way you grasped onto him as if your life depended on it.

this could have been the start of something beautiful if you weren’t in such a place. but who knows? time will tell.

𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯

yall please give me ideas about this man. or anyone really because your girl is lacking on creativity over here. and i may or not write a part two to this if you guys like it.

-love, a.

[aphroditelovesu]

can you please write 🦄 for either yan!steve or yan!bucky?

❝🦄❞ - ‘’I... I really can't let you go.’’

❝tw: kidnapping and slight angst.

When Steve found you at home, well, at least he considers it your home, you were lying on the couch, reading a book of your favorite genre. The mere sight of your presence made him smile and he unconsciously moved closer to you.

"Hey, honey." He murmured as he sat down next to you on the couch, close to your feet stretched out and bare beneath the soft fabric. Steve frowned slightly when you didn't respond to him. "Honey? I'm home." He tried again, his voice firmer.

But he got no response.

Steve sighed irritably when he realized what you were doing. The punishment of silence.

Steve ran a hand through his hair, feeling his frustration growing. He knew the punishment of silence was your way of showing that something was wrong, but he couldn't understand what he could have done to deserve it.

Everything he did was for you. Always for you and would always be for you.

He leaned forward, placing his hand gently on your knee. "Honey, please tell me what's going on." He pleaded, concern evident in his voice. "I can't fix what's wrong if you don't tell me."

The book in your hands continued to be your only answer. Steve sighed again, deeper this time, and decided to try a different approach. He got up and went to the kitchen, preparing your favorite drink. Maybe, with a little patience and a gesture of affection, he could break the silence and find out what was going on.

Steve quickly returned to the living room, bringing with him a silver tray with your favorite drink and snacks. He placed it in front of him, on the coffee table. However, you refused to talk to him, or even look at him.

Had he done something wrong?

Steve tried to search his mind for anything he could have done that triggered such a reaction from him, this coldness that hurt him more than anything. He sighed when he finally realized that it may have been the sudden change in your life that caused you to become so cold towards him.

You still hadn't completely gotten used to his presence, to living with him. It had been something sudden when he brought you here, but Steve couldn't leave you alone, not when the world was becoming more and more dangerous. He couldn't even imagine what he would do if something happened to you.

Steve sat next to him again, this time closer. He gently touched your shoulder, trying to get your attention. "I know things changed too quickly." He began, his voice low and full of regret, "I brought you here thinking it would be for the best, but perhaps I didn't consider how much it would affect you."

He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words, "I just wanted to protect you, make sure you were safe. But I understand if you're feeling like you've lost your freedom, your old life. I'm sorry if I was selfish in not realizing it sooner."

Silence still hung between you, but Steve continued, determined to get through to you. "I want you to feel at home here, not like a prisoner. And if there's anything I can do to make this easier for you, please tell me. I'm here to listen."

You finally looked at him and placed the book down in your lap. Your gaze met his and you spoke, your voice loud and clear. "I want to go home. To my real home."

His gaze suddenly hardened and the grip on your shoulders tightened, becoming painful. His voice was low but you could feel the anger, the pain, in them. "No."

Your heart skipped a beat at the sudden change in his behavior. Steve had always been protective, but he had never been so authoritarian. You tried to pull your shoulders away from his grip, but he wouldn’t budge.

"Steve, you're hurting me." You mumbled, trying to keep your voice calm even as fear rose within you.

He took a deep breath, eyes softening a little, but his grip still firm. "Sorry." He murmured, slowly releasing you. "I just... I can't let you go. It's dangerous out there, and I can't risk losing you."

You rubbed your shoulders, feeling relief mixed with growing discomfort. "But I can't live like this, Steve. I need my freedom, my space. I can't be a prisoner. I can't."

He shook his head, visibly struggling with his own emotions. "It's not a prison. It's to protect you. You have to understand that."

Steve grabbed your hands and squeezed them gently, touching you as if you were made of glass, and with any wrong touch, you could fall apart. He rubbed your fingers and replied, "I... I really can't let you go."

His words were painful to hear because you knew he was telling the truth. He would never let you go.

[alsofoundinpeas]

Dinner for Two(ish)

Summary: Since the beginning of your relationship, you and Spencer have made it a tradition to share a candlelit dinner at home every Valentine's Day. But this year, the evening has a surprise guest—one who’s about to change everything.

CONTENT WARNINGS: (While this fic itself isn't explicit content, my blog is 18+ so please keep this in mind!!) Mentions of past infertility issues. Pregnancy announcement. Both reader and Spencer cry but it's happy tears!! Established relationship. Fluff <3 (I think that's all but feel free to let me know if there are any I should add!)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader/afab!reader

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day my angels!! <3 This is way different than my usual fics so I hope you guys like it :') I figured something short and sweet (not a Sabrina reference but still giggling) would be best for today. I did try a different writing style instead of using Y/N so any feedback would be greatly appreciated! I also have a requested fic coming out Sunday or Monday that I'm excited for you guys to read <3 As always, please tell me what you think! If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and share it with your friends :) Thank you and I love you all!!

Nerves wrack your body as you pace the kitchen, your heart pounding so hard you swore it was bound to leap right out of your ribcage if you were to stop moving.

Spencer called a few minutes ago to let you know he was on his way home, leaving you with almost an hour to set everything up for his surprise. You’d kept the call brief and kept your voice even so he wouldn’t suspect anything—a surprising feat, considering your body was (and still is) trembling like a leaf caught in a windstorm. In a way, you were thankful he’d had back-to-back cases recently.

Despite missing him so much it ached and worrying about him every second you were awake (and even in your subconscious as you slept), Spencer being away so often made keeping your secret much easier.

The wedding ring on your finger spun endlessly as you continued to fidget with it—a nervous habit that you’d picked up the second Spencer slid it on. A glance at the clock on the stove told you he’d be home in roughly five minutes. A shaky sigh filled the air as you attempted to swallow your nerves, lighting the candles you’d set up on the dining table and fixing your plates with the food you spent over an hour preparing because everything had to be perfect for tonight.

The familiar sound of keys jingling and the lock turning sent your blood rushing through your veins, humming beneath your skin in an excited current as you wait for your husband to open the door.

Spencer stepped inside, wearing an exhausted smile and holding a bouquet of the most beautiful flowers he could find last minute before the florist down the street closed their shop. His face lit up at the sight of the candlelit dinner, the crinkles around his eyes making your nerves settle just a little. It reminded you that the man in front of you was the love of your life, and that, despite how scary it felt, everything would be just fine.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart,” he murmured as he made his way over to you, pulling you into a tight but mindful hug so that he didn’t crush your flowers. "Dinner smells amazing. You spoil me."

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you waved a hand dismissively, pressing a tender kiss to his before taking the flowers to put them in a vase. "You don’t need to butter me up, Spence. I’m already your wife," you teased, though your cheeks flushed at the compliment.

"Something I’m grateful for every day," Spencer said with sincerity, moving behind you to wrap his arms around you and place a soft kiss on the top of your head.

After arranging the flowers in the vase and setting them on the table, the two of you sat down to eat. As you picked at your food, Spencer noticed you nervously fidgeting with your ring. His brow furrowed in concern as he wondered what could possibly be making you so anxious. Finally, he set his fork down, unable to stay quiet any longer.

"Honey, what's wrong? What's got you so worked up?"

His voice caught your attention, causing you to glance up from where you were gathering another bite onto your fork. Your teeth dug into your lower lip as you averted your gaze, contemplating waiting until the both of you were done eating or just telling him right now so you could get it out of the way. With a deep breath, you decided on the latter, letting your fork hit the plate with a soft clink as you cleared your throat.

"I...um. I actually have a present for you this year. Stay right here," you whispered as you got up, ignoring his protests as you hurried into your shared bedroom to grab the small box you'd put together for him. The box couldn't have been more than half a pound at most, but its contents had you feeling like you were carrying the weight of the world in your hands—and technically, you were.

Spencer eyed you skeptically as you returned, his gaze immediately dropping to the box as you placed it in front of him. "Sweetheart, I've told you that the dinner is more than enough for me—"

"Just open it," you urged, gesturing for him to go ahead with a quick, impatient motion from where you stood beside him.

A surprised chuckle escaped him as he raised his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay! Sorry." His fingers fumbled with the red ribbon, unwinding it carefully as he slowly lifted the lid. You kept your eyes fixed on his face, anxiously watching for his reaction as he peered inside.

Inside was a tiny onesie with Baby Reid printed in delicate cursive, accompanied by an ultrasound photo and the three positive tests you’d taken (because you hadn’t quite believed the first one).

Spencer stared down at the items in complete shock, his mouth opening and closing for a moment before he glanced up at you. "W-we're having a baby?" His voice trembled, his eyes welling with tears at the realization.

For more than a year, you and Spencer had been trying to conceive, with him meticulously tracking your cycle and researching every possible method to increase your chances. But each time, you were met with heartache and disappointment, tossing negative test after negative test into the trash. Eventually, you both resigned yourselves to the reality that, as much as you longed for a baby of your own, it might not be in the cards.

You’d never been happier to be wrong in your life.

Nodding your head, tears began to well in your own eyes as you flashed him a watery smile. "We're having a baby, Spence."

Before you could even process what was happening, he was up and kneeling in front of you, his hands gently cradling your stomach as tears began to fall. A choked laugh escaped him as he looked up at you, eyes wide with awe. "We're having a baby," he whispered again, pressing a tender kiss to your stomach despite the barely-there bump—just over eight weeks along.

The sight made your heart swell, one hand instinctively wiping away his tears, even as your own continued to fall. The other hand rested gently beside his on your stomach. And as you watched your husband speak softly to your unborn baby, you couldn’t help but feel that everything you’d ever wanted was finally right there, just beneath your fingertips.

Continued A/N's: AHHH this got posted a little later than intended because I kept coming back to edit HAHA but I truly hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I did. I truly believe that man deserved a happy ending with baby geniuses of his own and this is my way of coping :') BUTTTT thank you so much for reading and Happy Valentine's Day again <3

REMINDER: I do NOT give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, TikTok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.

[spellwell]

secrets - dick grayson

dick grayson x reader one shot

fluff; sfw

warnings; none. characters may be out of character, this is my first time writing for them and I haven’t seen young justice in a while. Not edited well lol

universe: young justice

summary; Dick likes you, and you like Dick, it’s obvious. The only people that don’t seem in on it, are the both of you, the rest of young justice seems to have a plan to fix that.

By this point, you and the group of now nearly young adults have gotten quite close, you could even say they are like family. Every member seems to have their own very special relationship with you that has grown over time and nothing has quite as much value as that. Your relationship with Dick how ever, is probably the closest connection you’ve ever had. From the very start you took to him, finding his humor and opinions fit just right with your own, and everyone else has seemed to notice that as well. M’gann has always pushed the idea of you and Dick being more than friends, which you’ve admitted liking the idea of. Alas, your nerves have created a large pool of anxiety to sit at the bottom of your stomach at the simple idea of conveying your feelings to him.

“He obviously likes you back, in love even!”

“You’re nervous for no reason, what if someone else comes along? Don’t you want to secure him?”

“If you don’t tell him me and Conner will!”

“Oh come on y/n, why don’t you believe me?! He totally wants you!”

You’ve heard it all really, her begs and pleads, trying to reason with you to just gain the courage and tell him. Little does she know, it isn’t that easy and over time she’s seemed to give up. You’re not sure why you have such a hard time believing he would feel the same way, Dick is just so special and the chance that he doesn’t feel that way can’t be taken.

Other than that, everyone is very open and honest with each other, maybe even too open some times. That’s why their behavior’s have been… odd the past few days. Whispering, huddling, and glances to the side have made you question if there’s something wrong, but when you’ve asked they all say everything is fine and not to worry. Little did you know, they had a plan to fix this on-going back and forth between you and Dick.

“I actually can’t stand you, quit winning!” Aqua-lads laughing could be heard over Wally’s moaning and groaning. “Maybe if you were better at this game, you’d win.” Mg’ann walks over to you with a sheepish grin, motioning with her head over to the boys arguing on the couch. “How many times have they played this game today?” She asks, causing you to sigh and shrug your shoulders. “Today, you mean in the last week? Kid’s never going to win.” You both laugh and walk over to the couch, standing behind it to watch the boys start their new match. You could care less about the game, but watching Wally squirm always makes you laugh.

Conner makes his way into the room after a while of watching them argue, after Wally of course loses again. “Won’t you go a little easier on me dude, seriously it’s not even fun any more!” Conner throws his arm around the Martian next to you, rolling his eyes at the childish behavior. “You still wouldn’t win, if it’s not fun anymore how could you keep playing it? I could hear you shrieking from my room.” Wally whips around and shoots Conner a deadly look, one that seemed to not phase the super boy. “Oh yeah? You try beating this fish freak then!” Conner gives his girl friend a small peck on the cheek before hopping the back of the couch and taking a seat next to the boys. They began a new game and started at it, tension filling the room. “I don’t wanna be in here when Conner wins.” You said, walking off with a chuckle. Your best friend follows behind you, both of you heading back to the kitchen to snack on the grapes you’ve been picking at for the last hour.

Days like this, no missions, no jobs to do, tend to bore you all but the boys arguing always make the days go by faster.

The base announces that Robin has finally arrived, making you sigh in relief that there’d be someone to break it up when Wally finally loses his mind. “What did I miss?” His voice rings through the kitchen, making you smile. You turn to see him, his usual comfortable get up that he wears when he’s not actively Robin. “A whole lot of nothing.” You sigh out as he walks over and pops a grape in his mouth. You had gotten the green ones because you know they are his favorite, “green, my favorite.” He grins, walking over to the couch after stealing a few more. “Robin!” Wally yells with a grin, his eyes lighting up at the sight of his best friend arriving. “You’re here! They’ve been kicking my ass 1v1, you gotta jump in!” Dick takes no time hopping on the couch and grabbing a controller making you roll your eyes. All these boys do are play games in their free time, or spar with eachother when they are tired of that.

A few hours later, they decided they had enough of the silly games and wanted to eat. Being the good team mate and friend that you are, you decided to cook them something, feeling extra nice. They all sat on the couch, chatting and giggling while you slave away in the kitchen. You were left with your thoughts and the sound of bacon sizzling on the pan until Dick appeared behind you, watching the bacon cook. “Hey.” You nearly jump out of your skin, turning to see a chuckling Robin. “Scare you?” He said with a smirk, a gleam shining from his iconic sunglasses. You roll your eyes and softly smack him across the arm, “no.” He chuckles to himself again, grabbing the tongs from the counter and flipping a few pieces on the pan that needed it. “You can go sit down if you want, y/n.” A small blush threatens to crawl onto your cheeks, but your pride won’t let it. Dick is the only one that ever offers to help you cook, and you’ve always found that so sweet. “No, we can do it together.” You said, smiling up at him which he quickly returns.

As the bacon cooks and you listen to Dick talk about his day before arriving, you notice the racket from earlier had subsided… too much. From the kitchen, you look over to eye your friends on the couch who seem to be whispering like they have been for the last week. What on earth? Why do they keep doing that? Since when do we keep secrets? You decide to ignore it and focus back on what Dick is saying, along with the food that he just finished up. “Come get it!” He yells from beside you, turning off the stove and walking the pan over to the table. You find yourself forgetting the whispering, and instead begin to think about how sweet Dick truly is to you and the rest of the team, but especially you. Wally comes rushing in, everyone else following behind. “Thanks Rob.” He says with a grin before sitting down to munch and crunch. Everyone else takes a seat, including you. “Don’t thank me, thank y/n.” Dick said with a sheepish smile, taking a seat across from you and Wally.

Kid smirks to himself, leaning over and giving you a small peck on the cheek. “Thanks, y/n.” This is the first time he’s ever done something so flirtatious with you, besides his usual boyish humor. A small blush does creep onto your cheeks this time, a gulp attempting to swallow your confusion. “Yeah, no problem.” Dick seems to eye Wally, like he was also confused on why he did that but it was left at that, dinner commencing.

After everyone talked and ate, you decided that sitting and watching a movie would be fun and relaxing. The movie carried on normally, how any watch fest with the team would until Wally’s arm seemed to drape over your shoulder loosely half way through the movie. To be honest, you didn’t even notice it at first, until you felt him scoot a little closer on the couch. That was when you felt the weight of his arm, even a little tug to get you closer. Just like the behavior at the table this confused you, and flustered you at the same time. The feelings you have for Dick have never been something you’ve had for Wally, and you never thought he liked you like that either. You felt a pair of eyes staring into your forehead, which by investigation was Dick, who had a look on his face at what you assumed was the arm around you. No body else looked over or said anything, like this was normal and the movie is just that good, which it’s really not. You also let the arm thing slide, that was until about ten minutes later, you feel Kid’s hand begin to rub circles onto your upper arm. “Wally? What are you doing?” You ask calmly, scooting away a tad and glancing his direction. “Yeah Wally, what are you doing?” Dick’s voice comes from the other side of the couch, laced with irritation. “Oh I’m sorry y/n, am I not allowed to touch you?” Wally asks, softly, ignoring Robin. You go to open your mouth and respond but another voice cuts you off. “No. You’re not.” Dick’s voice sounds even darker than before, a look of disgust on his face. Wally’s lips turn into a smug smirk, his arm leaving your shoulder. “You’re not y/n, why not let her answer?” He says, now turning to you. Everyone’s eyes seem to be on you, some looks of intrigue like they want to know the answer and others just enjoying the show it seems. “Her answer is no.” Dick responds again before you can speak, but it isn’t like you knew what to say. Dick stands up and walks over, taking a quick seat on the other side of you. “What’s your sudden interest in y/n, huh? What makes you think she’d want you?” Wally smirks at him, that usual snarky little face he gets when he knows he has started something. “Why do you care so much, Rob? Jealous?” The idea of him being jealous makes a blush appear on your cheeks for the second time tonight. He tuts his lips at Wally’s question and sits back, arms crossed. “No.” This makes your heart ache a bit, but you decide to sit back and watch the screen again, happy to see everyone else finished with that conversation and do the same.

-

That night had ended, and the next day comes, starting like most days, until it got later and someone was missing. The night before everyone had decided to sleep there, but you watched as Dick left early, not saying a word to anyone. You know him well and this is very much unlike him, but no body seemed to bring it up.

After worrying about it all day, the base announces that Robin has arrived, making everyone who is currently sitting on the couch, look over in the direction he’s expected from. He comes in, seeming a bit more like himself as he starts talking to everyone about something Bruce was telling him this morning.

Wally had been normal all day, no incidents happening like yesterday, which makes you even more confused about the whole thing.

“Do you want to cook again, or are we ordering food?” M’gann asks, clearly having food on the brain. “Let’s give this babe a break and order something.” Wally says, motioning over to you. Babe? Why is he flirting with you? You go to tell him to knock it off honestly, you don’t get why he’s flirting with you, but M’gann and Conner interrupt, going on about what to order. You notice Dick go quiet after this, as do you. Wally’s hand comes down and rests on your knee, your eyes quickly darting down to it. Another pair of eyes seem to do the same, Dick’s eyes. He gets that same expression as he did last night, but this time he also looks… sad? Before you can move his hand, which you were about to do, Dick quickly stands up, but only you seemed to notice. His fist quickly made contact with Wally’s face, making him fall back into the couch. It was so quick, and it definitely caught everyone’s attention. “Hey!” Wally yells as he presses his hand to his own face, which was probably on fire. “You fucking knew!” Dick yelled, fists clenched. “You’ve always known how I feel about y/n and you have the nerve to go after her- in front of me!” Your face goes into shock, completely taken aback by what he said. “How dare you.” He says very seriously, but sadness laced his words. Before anyone could speak he storms off, in the direction of the room he stays in when he’s here. The room goes silent, eyes all quickly darting away from eachother. “I’m sorry, I set this up, I didn’t know he would get so upset.” M’gann finally spoke, making everyone look in her direction. “He wants to kill me.” Wally sighed, shoulders falling in defeat. You feel very confused and now borderline frustrated, finally you speak. “What’s going on?” You say, tone confused but firm. “What did you do?” You say, looking at M’gann. “It wasn’t just her, we planned it. We wanted one of you to confess your feelings so we set it up to make Rob jealous and confess, we didn’t know he would freak out on him.” Conner said from next to her, a guilty look painting all their faces. This has all been so confusing it just now hits you that, Dick likes you back.

“You have to go talk to him, I’ll take the beating for it later.” Wally says with a small side ways grin, making you sigh, a flustered feeling coating your stomach. “Okay…” You said softly, going to stand and walk in the direction he went.

You took your sweet time, feeling nervous, what do you say? A solid knock on his door is all you have the courage to do, but he doesn’t respond. You stand there for a moment, frozen in fear before you build up the courage to do it again. “What.” Is all you hear, flat and hurt. “Can I come in, Rob?” You say softly, hand on the door. It stays quiet before you hear a shuffle and the door open. You push your way in softly, seeing his figure stand next to the door, closing it behind you. “Do you really want Wally?” He asks, in a point blank tone, an expression you’ve never seen on his face. Your eyes widen in surprise, an answer stuttering out. “What? No.” You could tell from his eyes that he actually cried a bit, making you feel worse. “He- he didn’t mean it! It was just to get one of us to admit we like eachother.” His eyes now widened, picking up on the fact that you just admitted to feeling the same way he did the whole time. “So you don’t want him?” He asks, face softening much more than before. You shake your head, twiddling your fingers down at your waist, “no, I want you.” His eyes seemed to light up instantly, a grin appearing against his will.

“Yeah?” He said, a grin also quickly appearing on you as well. “Yeah.” It seemed like he’d never make a move, nervousness still covering his face so you move in closer and grab his jaw, gently placing a kiss on his lips. It doesn’t take but a second for you both to melt into each other, his hands coming to hold your waist. He pulls at you to come closer, a hum of satisfaction leaving his lips. This led to some more long awaited kissing, both of you clearly relieved to finally have what you’ve always wanted. He pulls away eventually, looking down at you with admiration in his eyes and swollen lips.

“I totally knew you’d want me and not a guy who sucks at video games.”

- end

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love, spell.

[snail-day]

how would yan!jjk react if readers anger never goes away🤔? since it seems that reader is sorta "used" to it

I think this applies to any Yandere situation - there’s only so much punishment a person can endure before that initial anger starts to simmer down.

TW: Yandere behaviors, cruel and unjust punishments.

At some point, it’s less about staying angry and more about survival. No matter how much rage someone has, if they’re constantly subjected to brutal punishments, that fire starts to dim. It’s not necessarily acceptance, but more like a learned response - resisting only brings more suffering, and the body/mind can only take so much before breaking.

Like, I don’t know about you, but if someone ripped my nail off or broke one of my bones? My temper wouldn’t just fade - it’d be replaced with something worse. Fear. Numbness. A deep, exhausted kind of defeat. And that’s exactly what some Yanderes want - not just submission but the complete erasure of any fight left in their darling.

Of course, some yanderes might actually miss that anger once it’s gone. If they thrived off your fire, if they loved having a reason to punish you, then seeing you go quiet might unsettle them. Maybe they start being “gentler,” coaxing reactions out of you again. Or maybe they take it as a victory, fully believing they’ve “fixed” you. Either way, once the anger is gone, there’s no going back - it changes everything.

How I think the various JJK members would react:

Gojo: At first, he’d find your anger adorable, a little firecracker constantly snapping at him. Though, deep down, this man just wants to be loved. The longer your rage lingers, the more desperate he becomes. If he can’t make you love him naturally, then he’ll just have to create the illusion of love. Keeping you drugged and happy is a small price to pay. At least when you’re loopy, when your body relaxes and you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, he can pretend. Pretend that you actually want to be there. Pretend that it’s real.

Sukuna: I rarely write him, but I feel like he’d thrive off a darling who never stops being angry. Your snarling, your spitting curses, the way you glare daggers at him- it excites him. He doesn’t want a docile little pet; he wants you feral, clawing at him like a wild animal. Don’t mistake his amusement for mercy. He owns you, and if he ever feels like your anger is stepping out of line, he’ll remind you who’s in charge. He’ll break every bone in your body, heal you, and do it again. He might even take your eyes - after all, you can’t glare at him if you can’t see. If you don’t watch your tongue? You might lose that too.

Geto: A very patient man, but patience has its limits. If you can endure his punishments, timeouts, drugs, forcing you to break your own bones, then he’ll just escalate. He’ll shift the pain elsewhere. First, your loved ones. Then, maybe innocent people - just to make sure you truly understand the stakes. He’ll take his time, making sure you watch, making sure you hear every scream. And right before he brands them with the cult’s insignia, he’ll glance over at you, mock disappointment in his eyes.

"You’re really making me do this, love."

A bad man through and through. Isn’t it easier to just give in?

Nanami: I’ve touched on this before, but Nanami is the type to treat you like a stray dog until you break. He doesn’t need to hurt you, not in the conventional sense; he has better methods. Starvation. Sleep deprivation. Isolation. He’ll strip away your comforts one by one until you’re soft like putty in his arms. If that doesn’t work? Then, like Gojo, he’ll simply keep you drugged. There’s no reason to make this harder than it needs to be. You’ll learn eventually.

[glitterjay]

ENEMIES TO LOVERS | 이희승.LHS

summary: heeseung finds himself drawn to the girl he initially clashed with. two competitive rivals notice the sparks that fly every time they encounter each other. beneath the surface of their hatred lies a hidden chemistry drawing them closer despite their efforts to resist. could love possibly fire up from sparks?

genre: feuding families, a little bit of everything (smut, fluff, angst), enemies to lovers

warnings: will contain smut, heeeseung and reader are in their late 20s, more to be added.

in case of wanting to be part of taglist, please send an ask with what fic you would like to get @ for as I will be making one list for each one. series masterlist

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taglist (open): @drunkhee @jvjsssnaa @minniejenseo @slut4hee @nyxtwixx @m1sskz @tanisha2060 @heelee-01 @enhypenlovre @rainingleaves @hommyy-tommy @hollyoongs @seungjiseyo @cheeryyyyyyyy @ramenoil @yorukoshii @pockettwinzz @samouryed @capri-cuntz @jjklvr9 @minjaexvz

lee incorporated, one of the biggest companies to rule the world, was now facing trouble with its sales—something never seen before in the many years the company has been in operation.

its success had been ongoing throughout the years, making it impossible for new competitors to even make it as such—until the last few years.

the feud between the two companies had been going on publicly, only adding to the sales of each one as well as increasing their popularity.

heeseung didn't understand why the other company seemed never to give up and, in fact, kept shooting up in sales before his very eyes. his family was counting on him to keep the legacy of lee incorporated, but he was beginning to think it was impossible.

throughout the last year, you've been meeting up with different investors who seem to be interested in having some kind of connection with your company. you've also had the opportunity to be in the same room as heeseung, the future owner of your competition.

it was evident how frustrated he would get when an investor would set up a meeting with the both of you, thus making it easier for them to see which company would be the better option. his eyes shot glares at you every time, as if every look was a dagger thrown straight at your back.

that was the case now. both of you stood side by side as you gave a presentation as to why the investors should choose one over the other. you were both professional enough to keep it calm but couldn't help glaring at each other from time to time.

"thank you for your time, both of you. we will be reaching out to the candidate we like most, and we wish the other party the best of luck."

both of you bowed politely until the meeting room was empty, leaving only the two of you in the room. you sighed, taking a seat in one of the chairs that had been occupied moments ago.

"if you're that tired, just give up," heeseung said, fixing the sleeves of his white button-down.

you scoffed, grabbing a fistful of hair to tie it into a bun. "as if."

every encounter ended almost like this. sometimes you would exchange more than two words; other times you would bicker until someone else caught both of your attentions; or sometimes you wouldn’t say anything at all, one of you walking out of the room right away.

there was a spark you felt between the both of you that only lit up in such moments. heeseung felt it, too. but it was only normal to feel such hatred when your enemy is in the same room as you.

© glitterjay | tumblr

if you could leave any type of feedback—whether it be an ask, reblog, or comment—that would help me a lot.

[lonely-cowboy]

breaking point

pairing: connor (rk800) x gn!reader

summary: to prove which of you is the better detective, you and connor like to play a little game. this time around, connor is more determined than ever to reach your breaking point.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: nothing but wildly ooc connor, it’s just them yapping away and being arrogant lil assholes

author's note: do i like this? not at all. am i gonna blame it on the fact it's 1am? sure. i just wanted to write smth ok, leave me alone

masterlist ⟡ requests

The best days at the precinct were the ones with no work. No crime scenes to investigate, no files to sort, no nothing. But they weren’t your favorite because you hated your job and the workload (quite the opposite, actually). No, they were your favorite because you could have some alone time with Connor, playing the little game you always did. 

As head forensic psychologist, you were primarily tasked with interviewing suspects and analyzing their reactions. Your job got a lot harder when Connor joined the department, making your job look so much easier than it actually was.

Rather than view him as your rival, you viewed Connor as a challenge. You wanted to prove (to yourself more than anyone else) that you were just as good at your job as any android. Besides, you respected Connor’s interrogation process far too much to hate him. Or rather, you liked watching him during his interrogation process. Really, you just liked watching him in general.

When there was no work and the precinct was nearly empty, you and Connor were allowed to take over the interrogation room. You would sit across from each other, doing everything you could to make the other break in a mock interrogation.

It was there that you found yourself, hands neatly clasped atop the table and brow raised in arrogant curiosity. Connor stood opposite you with his palms pressed against the table, scrutinizing you with narrowed eyes. His eyes scanned over you as he tilted his head in that annoyingly endearing way before pulling back and rubbing his hands together in thought.

“Do you believe Lieutenant Anderson is a good mentor?” Connor asked.

The two of you always asked each other meaningless questions, doing your best to refrain from answering or to successfully lie to the other. At this question, you remained silent for a moment longer than you should have. 

“Yes,” you replied simply, offering a nonchalant shrug in an attempt to throw Connor off.

“You’re lying,” he accused immediately.

“I would never,” you retorted. “I’m offended you would think so.”

Connor ceased his questioning to eye you suspiciously. His eyes trailed over your body for any indication of discomfort or nervousness. You hoped he wouldn’t find any.

“The brevity of your response and lack of natural movement suggest you’re lying,” Connor said as he studied you again. “You believe you’d be a better mentor than Lieutenant Anderson, don’t you?”

“In some aspects, yes,” you answered truthfully. After all, to lie properly was to occasionally tell the truth.

Connor nodded along with your response, noting the way you remained unaffected despite being caught in a lie. He would need to do something more to break you, something that would make you sweat.

Your gaze followed Connor as he started to pace the length of the room. Your attention was drawn to his LED as it flashed quickly between colors. Blue. Yellow. Red. Red? Yellow.

The occasional bright red made your brows furrow. Was he really that stumped? He couldn’t think of a single way to break you? You doubted it. Something else must have been on his mind, your thoughts racing at what could have him so conflicted.

“Connor,” you whispered hesitantly.

The sound of his name seemed to snap him back to attention. Connor immediately stopped pacing and fixed you with a steady gaze as if he had come to a decision. With careful steps, Connor rounded the table to stand beside you. He leaned against the table and looked down at you with his arms crossed confidently.

“You’re hard to break, aren’t you?” he murmured.

The crease between your brows deepened as your confusion grew. You were puzzled by Connor’s sudden proximity and the low tone of his voice.

“Well, I… I guess it’s part of the job,” you said softly.

Connor nodded and agreed simply, “Truth.”

Another beat of silence passed as Connor did nothing but watch you. His eyes flitted about your figure, though it seemed as though he wasn’t analyzing you this time around. It was like he was looking at you just to look at you.

“Do you find enjoyment in our little game? In successfully lying to me?” Connor inquired.

You were hesitant to answer, your confusion outweighing any thought. When you did speak, your voice cracked slightly when you answered, “Yes.”

“Do you find enjoyment in other ways from our game?” he continued.

“No.”

“Lie.”

You couldn’t help but stare at Connor. You wanted to tear your gaze away from his desperately, but there was something so appealing about the hardness of his typically gentle eyes. 

When you didn’t answer, Connor raised his brows and leaned forward expectantly. The intensity of his gaze made you suddenly nervous, your heart racing as you moved to fidget with your hands.

“I need a truthful answer, Detective,” Connor stated firmly.

He knew the answer. He knew you were lying. He just wanted you to say it. There was no point in denying anything now.

“Yes.”

Connor hummed and finally pulled his gaze away from you, allowing you to sigh in relief. There was something in his eyes that made you… inexplicably anxious. 

“Can you elaborate?” Connor prodded after a moment.

“I can,” you replied quietly. “But I don’t want to.”

At your refusal, Connor’s attention snapped back to you, the crinkle in his brow suggesting his mild surprise.

“Why is that, Detective?” he urged. When he got no response, only your steady gaze locked with his, he continued. “Are you worried it may incriminate you?”

“No,” you replied calmly. 

Admittedly, you were very proud of yourself for keeping such an unperturbed composure. Your face remained tranquil and your voice confident. But your external composure meant nothing, not when it was Connor interrogating you. He could detect your pounding heart and uneven breaths with ease. You bet he could even sense the claminess of your palms.

“Lie.”

You weren’t entirely sure why you even attempted to lie anymore. Connor was a walking polygraph, he could see through any of your lies no matter how believable they were.

But being as stubborn as you were, you refused to admit that Connor was right. Instead, you sucked in a slow breath and pressed your lips in a thin line, eyes locked on Connor the entire time. Your stubbornness made him frown, though you knew it was a quality he had always admired.

“Fine. If you won’t tell me yourself then I’ll just have to guess,” Connor shrugged with mock defeat. He pretended to think for a moment, lips pursed in a way that made your eyes dart to his mouth. “Is it because you find superiority in besting me?”

Connor started tame. Anyone would feel superior after besting an android, he was well aware of that. And you knew he was aware. What was he trying to get at?

“Yes, partially,” you said, cursing yourself for admitting that it was only part of the reason you found your mock interrogations so enjoyable.

Connor seemed unphased by your answer as if he already knew there was more to your enjoyment. He sat in quiet deliberation again, though he had already settled on his next question. 

“Is it because you’re attracted to me?” Connor questioned innocently.

Connor was smart, you knew this. You knew this and still thought that maybe– just maybe— he wouldn’t be able to guess correctly.

You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing away from Connor, knowing that it only made you look more suspicious. You swallowed hard, keeping your eyes focused on the wall in front of you. 

“Detective?” Connor pressed as he waited patiently for an answer.

You startled at the light touch of his hand on your chin as he slowly turned you back to him. He kept a gentle but firm grip on your chin, looking down at you questioningly. The feeling of his skin against yours didn’t help at all. It only worked to accelerate your heartbeat, which Connor immediately took note of.

“Your heart rate has increased by 32%, Detective,” Connor observed. “An increased and irregular heart rate is typically a sign of nervousness. Are you nervous?”

“You know the answer,” you mumbled.

“You’re right, I do,” he confessed easily. “But I want to hear it from you; are you nervous?”

“Yes.”

“Because I was correct in assuming you’re attracted to me?”

You inhaled slowly, working up the nerve to answer. But there was no point, you both knew your answer. He knew. You knew. It felt like everyone in the precinct– everyone in the world– knew.

“Yes…”

The corner of Connor’s lips quirked into a satisfied smirk having successfully broken his most stubborn participant. He slowly pulled his hand away from your chin, resting it flat against the tabletop. His arrogance sparked something inside you, compelling you to act unnaturally bold.

“Fine, you win,” you grunted, rising from your seat. “Congratulations.”

Without much thought, you reached for Connor’s tie and yanked him into you, smashing your lips against his. Your hand was tight around his tie, your nerves seeping into your grip. You pulled away sharply, only allowing him a quick kiss before your nerves could fully return. You released his tie and gently pushed his chest to put some distance between the two of you. 

“There’s your prize,” you hissed, though you both knew there was nothing menacing behind your tone.

It was Connor’s turn to feel flustered, finally. His cheeks were coated with a faint blush, his eyes wide and utterly perplexed. His lips were still parted slightly like he was savoring the feeling of your lips against his. Unease boiled in your chest the longer Connor did nothing.

But the look in his eyes settled any feelings of insecurity. He looked entirely infatuated with you. And when he spoke again, that infatuation only made itself clearer. 

“If that’s my prize, I’ll have to win more often.”

[cameronspecial]

I saw you were looking for some angst ideas lmao

So rafe and reader are together. Loves her more than life but his addiction gets in the way of that. One night they have a fuming argument and she doesn’t talk to him for a few days. He then makes a plan for them to talk about it somewhere private at nighttime, but when she shows up he’s not there. She waits for him for a while then she gets attacked by the rafes dealers because he owes them money and she was the next bet. Rafe finds her and he’s freaking out but she won’t let him near her and she blames him. You can choose how this ending goes or if you even want to write this but this has been on my mind

You Deserve Better

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Drug Use, Swearing, Stabbing, Blood, and Death

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.1K

Masterlist

The centre of Rafe’s life wasn’t always the white powder that tumbled around the little Ziploc bag that lined his pockets. His centre is supposed to snort or wheeze a little whenever she laughs, refusing to use her inhaler because she doesn’t want to embarrass him. It will stay up past her bedtime because she is in a flow with her work. His sun crosses her eyeballs whenever he presses a kiss on her nose because she knows it would make him chuckle. Y/N Y/L/N used to be his rock and now, all because of an accident, she isn’t anymore. That is something not a lot of people know. They assume his addiction started because he was a bored rich kid who had the money to spare. However, in reality, it began with a torn ACL. One wrong shift of his leg and his football career was over. At first, the oxycodone was only to manage the pain from the ACL surgery. He had the hope that he could recover the way he needed to get back on the field, but then the news came that he wasn’t progressing the way his doctor wanted… That was when the problem started, suddenly the drug he was taking to help ease his physical pain became the one to take away his mental pain too. The pain of not being able to play football. The pain of missing out. The pain of not knowing where his life was going.

Don’t get him wrong, Y/N was by his side the whole time, except a person can’t be everything to someone else and he needed a therapist. He just wasn’t ready to admit that. It was only when he stopped being prescribed oxycodone that he turned to cocaine to fill the mental hole the prescription used to be for.

———

Rafe’s blown pupils are hidden by his eyelids as he lies back on the couch. Y/N is still out with her friends, so he isn’t sleeping. Not when she is not at home. The front door opening and closing makes him jerk forward. His eyelids are just a sliver because the light from the ceiling is too bright for him. Her footsteps approach the living room and the large sigh she lets out makes her arrival known. “You didn’t do the dishes,” she states, her hand resting on her jut-out hip. “And the hole in the hallway is still there.” Yesterday, Rafe, in a high state, accidentally made a hole in the wall when trying to put up a picture frame for her. He promised her before she left for work this morning that he would get what he needed to fix it this morning and in the afternoon, he would fix it. However, before he could get himself to the store, he saw a post from one of his old football teammates, who went pro and he spiralled. 

He doesn’t mean to roll his eyes, yet it happens and this causes her to let out another huff. “I didn’t get a chance to go to the store,” he grumbles like he didn’t care. He really did though. He wanted to be able to do something that simple for the girl who meant everything to him, except his mind seemed to disagree with his heart. It is easier to pretend it doesn’t bother him. Her eyes narrow in on the residue of powder on their coffee table, “Let me guess, you got your nose caught up in some business. Rafe, you promised me you wouldn’t do that shit at home.” He can’t keep looking at the way tears start to appear because he knows how worried she gets when he does drugs, always scared he might overdose. He looks anywhere but at her. “Don’t get on my ass about this again Y/N. You don’t know what I am dealing with,” he argues.

“I don’t and that’s the problem. You need to talk to someone about how you are feeling because you are going to put yourself in an early grave if you keep doing what you are doing now.”

“Seriously, we are going to argue about this again because I didn’t do the dishes or fix a little hole in the wall.”

“No, we are going to argue about it because you aren’t the man I fell in love with anymore and I don’t think if I can do this anymore. I want to be by your side to help you get better but if you don’t want to, then I don’t know if I can be here forever.”

Her words hit his ears at the same intensity as they would if he were sitting next to an airplane engine. They had arguments about his sobriety so many times before, yet those fights always had the underlying understanding that she would be there to help him. She never once mentioned the possibility of her leaving him because she truly did want to help him find his sobriety. His mouth falls open to talk. No words come out. How can he possibly swear that he wants to get better when he isn’t at the self-realization point in his journey? She takes the silence as an admittance that getting clean isn’t on his mind. “I need some time apart. I’m going to sleep at Deliah’s place tonight,” she informs, turning to leave. He doesn’t stop her; he wants to give her the space she needs in hopes that she realizes she can hold on for a little bit longer. The only word he can respond with is “Okay”, right before she closes the door behind her. 

———

She hasn’t answered any of his texts and calls. Her night of taking some space turned into a week and it is driving him crazy. Her non-existence return may have to do with his unwillingness to agree to go to a therapist. After the thousandth attempt at calling her, she finally answers the call. “Normally, when a person doesn’t pick up the call, it means they don’t want to talk to you.” He lets out an internal sigh, “I know, I just need to talk to you. Please, can we meet at our spot, Sunshine?” She could never resist the usage of his nickname for her. “Okay, meet me there in an hour,” she agrees. The call drops right after her response and he gives himself a small smile. Not only does he get to see her again, he gets to try to get her back. 

———

By the time she realizes she is being followed, she is alone under the bleachers, where she and Rafe used to spend their time in high school. It was where they found themselves when they didn’t feel like going to class or they needed to get away from the chaos after his team won a game. It was the place she fell in love with him in because even before they were dating when they were just friends, it was their spot. She spins around at the sound of grass being pressed down by a set of feet, ready to scold him for being late. It isn’t Rafe as she expected; instead, an average-height man with a dangerous air that scares her. The gleam behind his eyes tells her the bald man is up to no good, which is confirmed when he pulls out the hunting knife from his hoodie pocket. She steps back in an attempt to get away from him, but her back hits against a metal beam. The man rushes toward her and presses the sharp edge against the soft skin of her neck. “Your boy owes me money and since he is taking too long to get it back to me, I thought I would hold onto something precious to him until I get what I want,” the man explains with a wicked grin. She refuses to show him fear and looks him dead in the eyes, “Rafe’s dealer is Barry so I have no idea what you are talking about.” “He stopped going to Barry because Barry started getting on his case about how much he is using,” the male growled, not enjoying the bite to her bark. She chuckles like a maniac, “When Rafe comes, he is going to beat your ass.” “Shut up, Bitch.” Angered by his words, her knees find their target between his legs. 

He lets out a howl and doubles over in pain. She uses this as her opportunity to attempt an escape, trying to run past him. Unfortunately, he reaches out to stop her and this results in the blade driving into her abdomen. A gasp passes her lips, causing the dealer to look in her direction. “Shit.” His eyes bloom open and immediately begins to pull it out. “No. Don’t pu-,” she warns, except it is too late. The weapon is already out and he is running toward the exit. She hunches forward and stumbles back against the beam, pressing her hand to her stomach to keep from bleeding out, feeling as though she has been punched. Calling 911 seems to be the logical answer; however, when she goes for her phone, she finds it broken on the floor. She thinks about going to her car and is stopped by the feeling of even more blood gushing out of the wound as she tries to push off the beam. It doesn’t hurt as much as she thought it would. 

“Sunshine,” rings through her ears. Her dizziness makes it difficult to focus on the speaker, yet she knows who it is based on the nickname. She slides down the beam because her legs lose all their strength. Rafe rushes to her side and kneels beside her. “Shit, Sunshine. It’s going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay. I’m going to call the police. They are going to fix everything,” his voice breaks as his hand joins hers to stop the flow of his blood. She can hear him relaying the information to the dispatcher, but her body is telling her something Rafe isn’t going to be ready to hear. He places his phone on the floor so both of his hands can press on her abdomen. “They’re coming, Sunshine, just hold on. I promise. I’ll be here the whole time.” Her handshakes as she raises to his cheek, staining it with her blood. Her tears water at the edge of her bottom eyelid, “I don’t think I’m going to make it.” His head shakes vigorously. “Don’t say tha-.” She cuts him off, “Can you please just listen to me?” He nods to let her continue. “It was your dealer. I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad. Just to make sure he gets arrested. But I need you to know that you are more than just your addiction and football. I know you don’t think so, but you are and if you just realize that, then you will see the man that I fell in love with.” “I don’t deserve that though. Look at all the shit I put you through. You deserve more than a druggie as a boyfriend,” he cries, holding her hand against his skin.

She smiles up at him, “You deserve more too. You deserve to be truly happy. You deserve to try to find a new purpose in life. I want that for you.” “How can I find all of that if you are gone?” he questions. Her breathing begins to become laboured, “You’ll find yourself and once you grieve, you’ll find someone who can help heal your broken heart. That’s how.”

“I don’t want anyone else. I just want you. Please, don’t go. Will you please stay if I promise to get sober?” 

“I will be with you every step of the way.”

The words tear his heart in two. He knows what it means. She truly doesn’t think she is coming out of this alive. “I want you to see me get better though. Please. Just hang on a little longer.” His tears cloud his vision. When he doesn’t hear a response, he wipes his eyes to get a closer look at her. The world goes dark at the sight of her glassy eyes only reflecting back his face with no recognition or life behind them. The rise and fall of her chest have stopped. The universe decides to answer his calls for help at a cruel moment as he hears the siren finally approach. There is no use in their hurry if the person who needs saving is the one to do it because Rafe isn’t going to let her last words die with her. He is going to get better, not only for her but for him too. He deserves more than a life of chasing his pain away with drugs and he is determined to achieve that.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura

[diggity-didge]

Reassigning the Main Six Ninja Weapons Because I Lowkey Hate Them

The more I watch Ninjago, the more I realize one thing: I hate the weapons assigned to the ninja. Like, LOATHE them.

So, to fix that, here's me reassigning the ninja weapons that fit their element/fighting style/overall vibes more!

Before I start, I will acknowledge that: a) Ninjago is meant to sell toy sets. I get it. The weapons were probably chosen off of what stereotypical ninja weapon looks coolest, and b) that being a Lego restricts what can be made (it’s hard to make Lego gauntlets the size of a minifigure. I get it.), and c) I’m insane and really enjoy the different types of premodern combat weapons the world has to offer and they probably thought people over the age of 11 wouldn’t get quite as invested into Ninjago as I would.

Anyways. Me being a hater outweighs all those disclaimers. This post is a little bit of an essay, so I put everything under the cut.

Cole: I'm starting with Cole because he is, by far, the WORST. He's the reason I made this post.

What screams "rocks, dirt, earth and superstrength" more than a scythe? Just about every other option! In the show, Cole barely even uses his scythe, opting to instead throw hands, which makes so much more sense for someone with SUPERSTRENGTH. Scythes are notoriously not actually weapons and are not good at being a viable weapon. They are hard to inflict damage with due to their limited range and shape of the blade, and the blade can be snapped off with enough force (which Cole has in spades). Piercing an enemy is difficult as the point of a scythe is curved and flat and very small, and very far away from the user so accuracy is also difficult. Big sweeping strikes are not optimal as they are easy to block or evade. If he was the elemental ninja of nature or plants or whatever, he'd get a pass for aesthetics because farmers use scythes.

The solution is to lean into Cole’s strength: strength. Give him gauntlets, like Vi from Arcane or Generator Rex. He's a close range brick shithouse, might as well make him even more of one. Other options for the “boxer on steroids” theme include push daggers (small knives designed for in-between the fingers) or, to really push home the "ninja" bit, give him Chinese deer horn knives.

But, gauntlets aren’t the only weapon associated with feats of strength. To keep with the original scythe having a handle, he could also be given a large hammer or axe, like Amy Rose or Hilda from Fire Emblem: 3 Houses. He’s big and strong and needs something that can handle-and dish out- that same power.

Jay: the second worst offender. He, to me, is the opposite of Cole- the unstoppable force to Cole's immovable object. He is based around speed and long range, and NUNCHAKU ARE ONLY ONE OF THOSE THINGS. It's also very difficult to conduct electricity with such a short weapon, when chain lightning is basically thee lightning attack.

Give him a chain whip (metal is a conductor, after all) or a rope dart. Something that can be thrown far and whipped around (WHIP? LIKE HIT SONG AND NINJAGO THEME WEEKEND WHI-). It’s also a very flashy and eye catching weapon that needs quite a bit of movement and precision to use, and I think it suits Jay’s personality well! He’s a very intelligent character and something that needs precision and maybe even calculations would fit him. Rope darts in particular are, well, as quick as lightning. Speed is his greatest ally, and the wide range and high flexibility allotted to him serves to only make his job easier.

Zane: Shuriken aren’t the worst thing, but they also don’t fit Zane. He's a versatile fighter when it comes to range and never uses his shuriken close-up since they’re typically used as throwing weapons and are too small to really be good at defensive maneuvers.

I would give him either a polearm or chakrams- both weapons that can be either short or long range and take skill to master. (Chakrams are circular blades that originate from India and Southeast Asia that can be thrown or used as hand to hand weapons.) I could also see Zane using throwing knives- once again, they are both long- and short-range weapons that a user can have multiple at a time. In fan art, I usually see him drawn with a bow and arrow (I’m only on season five so I don’t know if he does switch to a bow as his go to weapon), but unless he’s Legolas, if an enemy gets close, he’s cooked.

Lloyd: Lloyd suffers from Specialest Character Syndrome, where the Specialest Character gets the most boring weapon because that’s the most easily identifiable one. He has a katana, which, yeah, cool, he’s a ninja…BORING!! I think he should get Jay’s nunchaku. One of the biggest themes around Lloyd is duality. He’s the green ninja, he’s the golden ninja. He’s so young, but also old after being forcefully aged. He’s a human…but half oni. He’s the son of Garmadon, but the protector of Ninjago, etc. Having a double-grip weapon symbolizes that and allows for enough speed and enough brute strength for him to use effectively. And it’s very ninja.

Kai: Specialest Character Syndrome #2. He’s the Main Guy, and as the Main Guy of a Team, he gets to be red. And have a sword. And have fire powers. It’s just how these things work. It’s cliched, yes, but fire is an interesting element. It’s quick, but devastating. Strong and painful, but not solid.

A sword allows for quick, successive strikes, but also allows for heavy and powerful swings. It’s a good balance, and very unassuming. For someone like Kai, who thought he was the Green Ninja and likes being the center of attention, having such a simple and basic weapon and being forced to learn it’s actually a good choice with a lot of versatility would work. (I can practically hear him complaining: “but, Sensei, even Jay’s weapon is cooler than mine!”) I think he should stick with the sword! There are lots of types depending on the area of the world and time period, so this allows a lot of flexibility.

Nya: I'm not that far into the series so I actually haven't seen her become a ninja and am going off of vibes alone.

Make her spear a trident. Guys. C’mon. It's RIGHT THERE. I think a spear fits the elegant and fluid nature of water, and trident goes with the theme! Yeah, it’s a little obvious, but sometimes you just gotta commit to the bit.