#like okay i can admit where it goes wrong but it goes right so much for me 🙏🙏

[art--harridan]

[Image description: A digital drawing based on the film Knightriders. There are five different objects on the page, drawn across a diagonal. At the bottom right of the piece, there's a motorcycle which has a front modelled after a Medieval shield. Above this, there's a similarly styled helmet, which has a visor and a plume on the top. Below this, there's a sword which is pointed downwards. Above the two items, there's a mace with its chain leading off of the view of the page. Further above, there's an exaggeratedly big ornate crowd. These elements are drawn with a dark green and all coloured with a flat blue-grey. There's a red outline around the objects, although it is not flush to them. The background is a bright orange.]

Inktober - Day 10 (Nomadic)

Film - Knightriders (George A. Romero, 1981)

[nereidprinc3ss]

slumber party

in which there's only one bed. fem bau!reader x spencer reid

fluff! warnings/tags: dark humor, (the word molest is used jokingly once but in my defense your honor its completely on brand for early seasons cm humor, if u cancel me u have to cancel the whole cast those are the rules, its just a joke cause reader always flirts w him aggressively, pls don't come for me i have a wife and children and three boyfriends to take care of,) mutual pining, bullying and death threats as flirting, they love each other so much and bicker like children, glasses spencer, (moans), emily and rossi are mentioned bc canon means fuck all to me, i think thats it but this is my most out of pocket duo so if i'm wrong lmk a/n: just a silly little thing that i cooked up, not a masterpiece but i think its cute!! I hope u enjoy!! lmk what you think!! looooveee youuuu

“Oh, there is no way.”

Your duffel bag hits the dingy carpet as Spencer is still closing the door behind you. 

“What? Is it—”

You give him a look over your shoulder, eyebrows raised as if to say, what are you going to do about this?

But he only manages to meet your eyes for a split second before they���re back to the singular queen bed, darting over the white sheets and pillows like he might find another mattress if he looks hard enough. 

Sharing a room with Spencer, you can handle. You've done it before. Whenever the team has to pair up at a hotel, you two are an obvious choice. And while you occasionally butt heads, mostly you adore each other and it's great.

But sharing a bed is a whole other situation.

One you were not prepared for. And evidently, neither is he.

Watching his big anxious eyes flit around the room nervously, you feel sort of bad for your reaction. You know you can be a bit… abrasive, sometimes. 

“It’s fine, I’ll just—I’ll see if I can share a bed with Emily or JJ in their room—”

Just then there’s a knock at the door. Spencer looks relieved to have something else to focus on, turning back around and quickly undoing the latch again before opening the door to reveal your favorite raven-haired SSA. Emily leans past the doorjamb, eyes immediately honing in on the awkward sleeping arrangement. 

“Oh my god! You guys too?”

“What?” You and Spencer ask at the same time. Emily raises her eyebrows at this and glances between you, but otherwise doesn’t comment. 

“Me and JJ only have the one bed. I thought it might just have been us.”

You frown. There goes your plan of sharing a room with them. 

“What about Morgan and Garcia?”

Spencer snorts.

“Something tells me Penelope wouldn’t be too torn up about it if that's the case.”

“Hotch and Rossi?”

The room goes quiet and a little chilly as the thought disturbs everyone equally. Emily frowns deeply.

“I don’t even… I can’t picture that.”

“Can we please not try to picture it?”

“Great. Okay, well. I just wanted to make sure everyone is suffering equally. Good luck, champs.”

“Thanks,” Spencer mutters dryly. Emily smiles, eyes darting between the two of you for just a moment too long, before pushing off the door frame and disappearing from sight. Once the door is closed again, a heavy silence ensues. “I’ll… I can take the floor—”

“It’s fine, Spencer. I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor. We’re both grown-ups. Besides, we like each other, right? It’ll be like a slumber party.”

“I’ve never had one,” he admits. His glasses slip further down his nose as he frowns. Your fingers itch to push them back up. 

“Then I’m happy to be your first,” you tease, facing him fully with your hand on your hip and barely resisting the urge to add, I’ll be gentle. “Do you want the shower first or can I?”

Spencer has a habit of looking you up and down like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. Some might find it odd, but his utter lack of social graces is, lucky for him, incredibly endearing to you. 

“You can have it first,” he says, meeting your eyes again. “Just don’t do that thing where you get the entire bathroom soaking wet.”

“Aw. But I love doing that. It’s my favorite part,” you tease, scooping up your bag once more.

Twenty minutes later you’re emerging from the bathroom with damp hair, clad in loose shorts and a college hoodie. 

“Nice outfit,” Spencer says from the spinny-chair at the desk, examining your outfit choice with a scrutiny you wish you’d been prepared for. Really, you wish you’d known ahead of time you’d have a roommate and brought some alternate sleeping clothes. “I had no idea you felt so passionately about… Scooby Doo?”

“Shut up right now,” you grit, tossing your bag into the corner of the room and tugging your hoodie down over your cartoon-patterned shorts as far as you can. 

“What?” He’s laughing as he brushes past you on his way into the bathroom, bearing his own bag. “It’s a good look for you.”

Your face is burning as you choose the side of the bed furthest from the door. Springs creak underneath your weight as you sink down, sitting with your legs hanging off the side for a moment before swinging them up onto the mattress, leaning against the headboard and side-eyeing the empty space next to you. There’s really not very much of it. The bed feels even smaller than it looks. 

From the bathroom you hear the sound of the shower squeaking and starting up again—a cacophony of droplets against tile on the other side of the wall. You try not to be nervous as you imagine Spencer filling the space beside you in just a few minutes, hair wet and in pajamas. And yet you spend each second wondering if he’s almost done, wondering if the shower will finally sputter to a halt, and once it does, wondering how long it’ll be before he’s out again. It’s ridiculous how impatient you're getting—and by the time you finally watch the door knob twist you feel crazy. 

“I think that was your longest shower yet, Dr. Reid.”

The teasing affords you a moment to ogle him head to toe, taking in his choice of pajamas—tonight, familiar plaid pants and an MIT crewneck—as well as his hair which has already begun to dry. Briefly you wonder if he does that thing guys do, where they lean down and haphazardly dry their hair with a towel because they have no concern for its texture whatsoever. But you kind of doubt it, because his hair always looks so soft. 

“You were sitting here waiting for me?” He chuckles, and honestly you’d been expecting a shyer response. But you adapt quickly. 

“Maybe I was. Big spoon or little spoon?”

“Ha-ha.” He opens a drawer in the dresser and begins unpacking his clothes into it. It's a funny habit of his. You never unpack your duffel. “You took the better side of the bed.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m the woman. I get to do that.”

“Well you should know that if an intruder breaks in, I’m not fighting him off. You’d probably have a better chance than me.”

“And my chances will be even better if he’s distracted with you first.”

“So I’m just bait?” He scoffs, looking back at you. Strands of wet hair hang so prettily around his face, like the perfect frame around a work of art. You smile sweetly from your spot on the bed before playfully biting at the air in his direction. The message goes unspoken but reads loud and clear. Of course you are. You make such good bait. 

That gets a blush out of him and he has nothing else to say as he turns back to his drawer. Happily you lean back against the headboard, stretching your legs out and bouncing slightly in place. Beneath you the mattress springs groan and squeak in protest. 

“I hope you're not going to be this irritating all night.”

It's clearly lighthearted, but you promptly stop and frown at his back. 

“Call me irritating again and see where you end up sleeping tonight.”

“I just don’t see how you’re even more hyperactive than usual right now. Has anybody ever told you that you’re crepuscular?” Spencer asks, finally sliding the drawer shut and going to shut the overhead light off. Your eyes narrow. 

“Obviously nobody has told me that.”

“It means y—”

“I’m most energetic within the few hours around dusk and dawn. Contrary to your belief, Dr. Reid, other people are also capable of looking up words in a dictionary and remembering what they mean. Are you going to stand in the corner all night or are you gonna come to bed?”

“I am,” he scoffs, clearly embarrassed and shy and embarrassed of being shy. “I’m just… you look like you kick in your sleep. And hog the blankets.”

You shrug, folding your knees to your chest and hugging them quaintly. 

“I’ve never had any complaints. In fact, you should be so lucky to share a bed with me. All five star reviews, baby.” 

You toss a suggestive wink in at the end, which seems garish enough to break the tension so that Spencer can stop lingering in the corner like a sleep-paralysis demon and move to carefully take his place next to you. He almost mirrors your position, but his legs are too long to quite manage your level of compactness and so they simply fold underneath him. A few silent moments go by, in which you have the dumbest smile on your face and you keep glancing over to the side, waiting for him to be looking back at you. 

“This is already the least relaxed I have ever been in a bed.”

“Good thing we’re not going to sleep yet.”

Finally he looks at you, a casual mix of hesitance, concern, and moderate curiosity coloring his features. 

“We’re not?”

“Oh, my god, Spencer,” you snort. “I’m not gonna molest you. We have to do slumber party stuff, remember?”

He flushes again, glancing at the digital clock in his bedside table. 

“But it’s late. We should go to sleep.”

“At slumber parties you have to stay up until you literally can’t keep your eyes open anymore. Those are the rules. I don’t make them.”

Still, your insistence that you follow the international code of sleepover law goes unabided by Spencer. He simply leans over to flick off his lamp, bathing the room in darkness. 

“I appreciate the effort,” he says, and your eyes haven’t adjusted but you can hear the rustle of sheets and blankets as he gets under them, “but unfortunately we have to be awake and alert in five hours.”

“You’re no fun,” you huff, but climb under your own side of the cover and scoot down until you’re flat on your back, covered in blanket and hands folded on your sternum. 

Spencer doesn’t respond. 

It’s silent for maybe five minutes, during which your brain doesn’t slow down at all. Maybe you are crepuscular. Or slightly nocturnal. You have nothing but energy. 

In an attempt to get comfortable, you try adjusting your position.

The mattress squeaks. 

You do it again. 

Another squeak. 

A second goes by, and now you’re intentionally jostling about, squeaking the mattress as much as you can. 

“Would you stop that?” Spencer says, voice already gravelly with sleep. You manage, but you’re already devolving into a fit of giggles. “I’m going to smother you with this pillow,” he threatens, but you hear the disgruntled smile curling his words. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just not in the mood to rest.”

Another moment passes. He sighs deeply. You smile into the dark. 

“What are you in the mood for?” He asks flatly, and you’ve won. 

“Tell me a secret,” you immediately demand in a hushed tone, flipping on your side to face his back. “Something you’ve never told anyone else.”

“I don’t—”

“Shh! You have to whisper it. Those are the slumber party rules.”

“I don’t have any secrets,” he whispers, clearly flustered, and to your delight, rolling to face the ceiling. “None that you’d want to hear.”

“Oh, now that’s just not true. You’re an enigma, Spencer Reid. You fascinate me.”

You’re only sort of kidding. 

“I… fascinate you?”

“Completely. You know, ever since you moved your desk across from mine I get distracted just staring at you and wondering what you’re thinking about. But you’re very… hard to read, sometimes. I think it’s because you’re a Scorpio.”

“The position of the stars at the time I was born has no bearing on my personality.”

“Fine,” you concede, still in a glorified stage whisper. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t display the archetypal Scorpio traits. You’re all brooding, mysterious. Kinda, I don't know... intense and sexy and unknowable…”

“Sexy?” He laughs, breaking the whisper rule. You grin and let it slide. You’d hoped he would catch that one. 

“Hey,” you snap, losing the smile immediately and lightly shoving against what you hope is his shoulder. “You’re supposed to be telling me a secret, damnit. I won’t let your wiles and charm distract me from getting what I want.”

“When have you ever let anything stop you from getting what you want?”

Truly, your cheeks are going to start aching with this constant back and forth between poker-faced and huge Cheshire smile. 

“Stop flirting and answer my question, Reid.”

With the amount of times you’ve made him sigh tonight he must be dizzy. You chew your lip apprehensively in the silence, picking a loose thread on your pillow. It’s so pitch black in the room, you can’t see him where he lies only a few meager inches from you. But you can feel his presence. You can feel the unexpected bass to his voice when he’s tired and speaking this lowly, which you’ve never heard before.

“All the secrets I’ve never told anyone are just… depressing.”

Your heart sinks a little at the way he swallows between words, like that in and of itself was hard to admit. Unthinkingly your hand slides into the small gap of white cotton between the two of you. 

“Not very good slumber party material, I think,” he laughs self-consciously. 

“You’d be surprised.” 

The sentiment comes quieter and more serious than you’ve been all night. If only you had the words to tell him that he can tell you anything. That you want to hold his secrets for him under lock and key. That you would never, ever do anything less than offer him kindness and support—even if it doesn’t always seem that way when you’re teasing him. 

“Do you have any secrets you’ve never told anyone else?” He murmurs eventually, so soft it could kill you. 

And you do. There are plenty of dark ones, probably not all dissimilar from those he’d elected not to share only a moment ago. 

But you don’t bring those up. 

Instead, you decide to admit to something silly. Still, it makes you nervous as you feel it coming loose in your chest. You’ve really never told anyone this, and it’s perhaps more vulnerable than you’d realized before the words were already leaving your mouth. 

“I, have…” You pause to laugh at yourself, and continue on. “I have a stuffed dragon that I take with me on every single case.”

“You do?” Spencer laughs, so loud and unexpected it almost hurts your ears, angling his head toward you. Blood rushes to your face. 

“Yes. He usually sleeps in bed with me. He’s an excellent listener and has been the origin of several of my most genius breakthroughs. You remember Gibson Cooper?”

“Family annihilator from Houston?” 

“Correct. He’s in prison because Oscar helped me make the Cook Creek Campground connection between the O’Hara and Diangelo families.”

“You have a stuffed profiler dragon named Oscar? Is he here?”

“He’s—I mean, I wasn’t expecting to share a room with someone.”

“So he’s in your bag.”

“Yes,” you seethe, “and I will not be introducing you to him. He doesn’t do well with men.”

“You are genuinely psychotic.”

You huff.

“Fine. I’m sorry I told you anything.”

You’re about to roll over onto your other side—but Spencer surprises you by catching the hand that had been outstretched in his direction. He carefully intertwines your fingers and squeezes gently. 

“You’re right. That was mean. Thank you for telling me about Oscar.” His tone is surprisingly teasing, and you’re so uncharacteristically flustered by this rare show of physicality and affection that you can’t muster an adequate comeback. Spencer doesn’t seem to mind filling your silence, though, sounding a little more solemn now. “I’m sorry I don’t have any secrets for you.”

The way his voice gets all thin and scratchy sometimes—it’s like the earnest sincerity just pours out of him. He can’t control it. He can’t be anyone other than who he is. Maybe that’s a part of why you love him so much. You wonder if he knows how much you love him. It’s not exactly a secret—anyone on the team would be able to tell as much. You’ve been relentlessly teased for the way you are with him. For your batting lashes and your lingering touches and your unabashed flirting. But beneath it all is true affection, and nobody doubts that. 

“It’s okay,” you decide with a squeeze of your own, after a moment of deliberation. “You’ll think of something. ’Cause, y’know—you’re stuck with me for at least a few more days.”

“Oh, god,” he laughs, and releases your hand, rolling over to face away from you. But you don’t mind. You’ll get lots more time to invade his personal space over the coming week or so. “Goodnight.”

“Sweet dreams,” you sing-song, turning away to face the wall with what is perhaps your biggest, stupidest smile yet.

[luveline]

hi! i just remembered a scene from friends where chandler says to monica it's ok she's high maintenance cause he likes maintaining her and i think this is soooo spencer and bombshell!reader coded. you're ok with writing this as a request? love u jadey

ty (ily)!! fem!reader

Spencer’s feet ache dully with each step he takes, but you have your hand in his, and you’re pulling him along with a smile. Your smile could cure anything, he thinks stupidly. It’s completely outside of his beliefs, goes against every book on medicine he’s ever read. 

“Why are you frowning?” you ask, swinging his hand as you turn the corner together. 

“I’m not.” 

You step closer, arm stuck to his arm, nearly one body walking together against the summer breeze. “You’re frowning, Spence. You have a very obvious pout. It is so so cute.” You lean in to kiss him quickly, his heart turning to a pitter-patter under his ribs. 

“I’m tired,” he explains, not wanting you to think his bad mood has anything to do with you. 

“You’ve had a long day, that’s why. When we get back to your place I’ll give you an incredible foot massage and everything will be okay again.” 

“I don’t want a foot massage. My feet don’t even hurt,” he lies.

“Don’t bother.” You untangle your fingers from his and wave him away. “I know all your tells, baby boy,” —he laughs through a wrinkled nose— “nothing gets past me.” 

“Why’d you choose a dry cleaners so far from your apartment?” he asks. You could’ve picked the one beside work, which has a yellow pages worth of fantastic reviews. The one second closest to his place is new but raved about at length. This dry cleaners is nearly twenty-five blocks away.

“They do things exactly how I like it, I guess. I never have to worry about it when I give them my best clothes, and it’s kind of expensive if they were to accidentally ruin something, right?” You have expensive taste; you like things sturdy, fitted, and fashionable. 

“Do you think I should get someone to do my laundry?” he asks. 

“You can afford it. But maybe not. There’s nothing wrong with your own washing machine and a steamer.” You side eye him carefully. “Maybe I’m over the top.” 

“You’re high maintenance,” he agrees. “Is it expensive, getting your clothes dry cleaned all the time? I could pay for that.” 

“What? Why would you pay for it?” 

“‘Cos we’re together?” He’s more worried than dry about it. “I’d like to pay for your manicures and your hair, too, but I didn’t think you’d let me.”

“And I won’t… s’kind of nice you want to though. Really nice, um.” You’re blinking funny. “I think that’s more of a husband thing. You really want to pay for me to get manicures?” 

Spencer pays for lots of your stuff because he loves you. Good food mostly, but treats, clothes, anything he might think you’re interested in, actually. He likes to spoil you. You tend to spoil him back, if not with money then affection. “I like maintaining you.” 

You curl your arm through his. “That’s a funny way to say it.” 

He laughs at your obvious delight. “I like taking care of you,” he admits. “You like being high maintenance, it makes you happy, and I like making you happy.” 

“Thank you very much,” you say, softer now as your hand works up his neck and you turn his face to you, the sidewalk and the streetlines melting away under your warm touch. “You make me happier than you know.” 

His cheeks turn pink. He doesn’t need to see himself to confirm. It’s a high statistical probability. 

“Kiss?” you ask, voice still soft. 

Spencer walks you back nearer to the side of a building and out of the way, his hands at your neck and waist as he leans down just a touch to close your gap. He acts selfishly, perhaps, taking your hand from his face in order to hold yours in both of his without anything in the way of it. He kisses, he breathes you in, his head tilting more heavily to the side as the kiss lengthens, lingers. You’re like a flower in his hand, blooming slowly under the effects of a little heat. 

“What if you pay for my dry cleaning,” you begin, a smile evident in your voice though Spencer keeps his eyes closed. Tracing the hill of your cheek with his fingers just a moment longer. “And I pay for yours?” 

Spencer thumbs along your jaw. “I don’t want anything from you, just you.” 

“Well, what if I treat us to some Indian takeout tonight?” you ask. “Would you eat that? Or am I enough to sustain you, my love?” 

He could enjoy being taken care of in turn, he thinks. 

[aireia]

pretty. — shopping for your wedding gown went a little wrong.

tw/cw: tooth rotting fluff, not proofread, fluff/crack, reader wears a dress + satoru calls them his future wife —masterlist

you smile and place your palms under your chin, wondering how you got to this point. your snowy haired fiancé is currently twirling around with a custom tailored wedding gown… which he wasn’t going to be wearing on your wedding day anyway, because he would never hear the end of it from his first year trio. okay, yuji probably wouldn’t have said anything, but nobara and megumi would bully him out of his own wedding. without a doubt, 100 percent.

your mind tried running through the events that had unfolded over the past two weeks, finally stopping at where everything started.

-

“pretty.” 

those were the only words that satoru gojo had to say the moment the both of you had found the perfect wedding dress for you. detailed right down to the final bits of the dress, it matched you perfectly with your favourite flowers weaved into the design, just the perfect length… it was everything you were looking for.

the sound of your soft laughter brought him out of his awestruck expression. “thank you, but as much as i love it, it feels just a little uncomfortable.” you sounded a little disappointed, and satoru couldn’t help but notice every little shift and movement you made… especially that mischievous look in your eyes and grin plastered on your face the moment you thought of a ‘solution.’ 

“maybe you should be the one in a dress at our wedding. i’m sure the strongest can handle a little bit of discomfort.”  

now, you and gojo had known each other for probably more than a decade. he knew better than anyone else that you were joking. but you were basically challenging him with that last sentence, right? 

he abruptly stood up from the couch he was sitting on once you had gotten to changing out of the wedding gown before marching off to one of the nearby employees and asking about any dresses his size, only to be met with the response of, “this is an unusual request, but there are quite a few dresses that would compliment you-” the employee coughed a few times before continuing, “-but we are closing soon, so there might not be enough time to try them on-” 

“i'll take all of them.”

“pardon?”

“including the one my future wife chose. okay thanks!”

the total came up to about 1.2 million yen. for a dress for you and those 3 gowns the employee picked out, it horrified everyone present at the counter. everyone but him, of course. 

back to present time, that’s how you found yourself being the one and only audience member for your beloved’s fashion show. for a good reason, you wanted to chew him out for spending that recklessly. then again, this is the same guy who decides to buy two of the same items no matter how expensive it is “just in case the other one goes missing.”

you sigh softly before turning your attention back onto him. he’s currently trying on the final dress, and has finally got rid of the sunglasses. you can’t help but admit that he actually looks good in the dress, sparkling with all the right types of gems and jewels, paired with his now visible long eyelashes, he looks pretty. 

“so? how do i look!!?” satoru asks with enthusiasm, spinning around you in circles. 

“hmm, maybe i should be the one wearing your suit that day instead,” you jokingly say to him. he understood, laughing before ruffling your hair. 

“as if i’d let you.” a comfortable silence filled the air afterwards, being broken afterwards by satoru confessing, “i dream of seeing you wearing that in front of me at the altar, you know?”

your eyes at this. you weren’t expecting him to say something like that so sudden. 

“i can wear it at night when-” satoru’s sentence was cut off by a light punch to his gut. 

“hell no.”

by user @ aireia, do not plagiarize and/or translate.

@rninies still can't write fluff unfortunately, writing this fried my brain

[reidmania]

hi!! i saw you taking request so here is an idea :)

fem!reader and spencer in an established relationship and they really love each other but they get into a fight. they both say things they dont mean so reader rushes out and while driving away she feels sorry and calls spencer but it goes to voicemail. she starts to send him one saying how sorry she is and that she loves him but is cut off with a loud crash. spencer gets the voicemail and hears about her car accident and rushes to hospital, you can end it however you want hahah. im sorry if this is too much but i feel like you are the only one who can do justice to this <33

guilt ridden | spencer reid

summary ; reader and spencer get into a silly argument that ends in hospital trips and a lot of apologises.

warnings; fem reader, established relationships, arguments, cm things, car accidents and hospitals, arguments, spencer being an ass and reader also being an ass which is all forgotten when things get serious, kinda rushed. angst, happish ending, hurt x comfort kindaish.

an; im sorry this took me so long and im sorry if its horrible. i really just wanted to get this one out of the way bc i rlly enjoyed the idea!!

“I’m sorry, I’ll be back in the morning at some point so I don’t want you to worry and I know you will probably be pissed right now and that okay— You should be. I am too, but I am sorry. I didn’t mean it — I shouldn’t have said it but it was just, in the moment I wasn’t thinking.. Im sorry Spence. I love—”

There was the sound of a gasp, then a bang and then it was silent for a minute until the voice message ended itself. The sound sent goosebumps along Spencer’s arms and sweat to build up over the back of his neck as anxiety made its bed in his stomach.

His entire body went cold as he stood in the kitchen — The same place he had been standing when the stupid argument took place before you grabbed your keys and walked out, muttering how if he was that sick of you, you’d get out of his way before the door slammed behind you.

He had thought about following you and telling you to stay but in the moment he was just angry. So angry. Not even entirely at you, just everything.

He had just gotten home from a case after being away for a week — a case where they couldn’t save the victims. It was one that affected Spencer more than he wanted to admit, all he wanted was to come home and shower.

Then he got home and you immediately hugged him and rambled on about how you missed him and normally — any other time he would adore the feeling of your arms around him, he would breathe in your scent and breath it back out before going on about the case.

This time was different, everything was too much. The grasp of your arms made his body tense rather than relax, your scent was suffocating mixed with the smell of the food on the stove and the candle lit in the living room. It was all just too much.

Not because it was you, there was nothing wrong with you. It was just the day built up, and it was too much for him.

So he pushed you away and began his way to the bedroom wordlessly, where he showered, and eventually came back a little more relaxed — only now you were the one in the bad mood.

Which ended in an argument between the two of you, you called him childish and immature, he called you suffocating and needy.

Neither of you meant it.

But that didn’t stop the hurt that seeped in and the tension that grew between the two of you. Until you were shaking your head telling him to go fuck himself, grabbing your keys and walking towards the front door.

Spencer regretted his words almost immediately when the door slammed shut and didn’t open again. He didn’t mean it but he couldn’t bring himself to follow you yet — he needed to calm down and he was sure you did as well.

He didn’t ignore your call, not on purpose. He was unpacking his stuff when his phone rang from where he had left it in the kitchen. Finding it ten minutes later to hear the voice mail you left, well he had never felt a more intense ache in his chest.

Something was wrong, seriously wrong. He tried calling again and again to no avail as the call went straight to voicemail every-time. He texted you as well.

He was in his car moments later, driving to the nearest hospital because if you were anywhere — it would be there. He heard the ambulance sirens on the way and they did nothing but build the tension in between his muscle and bones.

It wasn’t until an hour later of waiting and pacing around in the hospital waiting room that someone came to tell him that you were here — stable, but in a lot of pain.

He had never felt something like this. Every bit of his mind went blank as walked fast towards the room the nurse had directed him to. His knees felt like jelly and he felt sick to his stomach.

That sick didn’t compare to the one he felt when he saw you lying in the hospital bed, fading in and out of consciousness, a doctor by your side. You were bruised and bloodied and Spencer didn’t think he could stand for another minute as his legs carried him towards the chair next to your bed.

“Honey.” His voice came out a gasp.

But all the same concerned and guilty. Your head turned slightly towards the sound of his voice and he was almost sure his heart broke at the sound of pain that left your lips when moving.

“Spence” You were hardly audible, voice small and so quiet, full of hurt. Genuine pain, you were in genuine pain that you wouldn’t have been in if Spencer had just pulled his head in and didn’t act like an absolute idiot.

It was hard to think about the argument now, how it felt like everything at the time and nothing now. His hand reached out for yours as he tried to ignore the tears that burned in the back of his eyes.

“Im so sorry” He mumbled out. It didn’t even begin to describe the amount of guilt he felt burnt into his stomach, and every inch of his body. He felt sick to his stomach and was almost sure he was going to throw up. “Im so sorry- God Im sorry” He couldn’t help the series of apologies that streamed from his lips, still they didn’t even slightly cover the blame he took in his mind.

“Spence” You said again, almost as if you were unable to say or think about anything else. Despite the pain medication that you had been given — everything hurt.

“Im right here— Im right here.” He repeated, moving the chair in closer, he saw a soft sigh leave your lips despite it being so quiet he couldn’t hear it. He saw your eyes closed and for a moment he genuinely felt his heart break and drop, until they opened again.

You squeeze his hand slightly, it was soft and gentle, all the energy you could muster up put into doing so. “I know. Im sorry” You apologised and it hurt Spencer.

It genuinely made him feel pain in his stomach that you were lying in a hospital bed in an abundance of pain and yet — apologising to him for an argument that seemed so insignificant now.

“Don’t.” Spencer shook his head.

“Don’t apologise, I was an ass— I deserved it. you- You didn’t deserve this. God please don’t apologise.” He almost begged.

The words died on your tongue. Whatever you were going to say now a second thought as you realised Spencer was going to drive himself insane with the guilt and blame of this.

“Its not your fault.” You huffed out.

It was enough to sooth a small part of Spencer’s mind, your voice outweighing the one in his head that held him responsible. Your comfort the one he needed. His hand squeezed yours back.

“I love you — So much. You aren’t suffocating or needy in the slightest.” He felt the need to let you know. God if something happened to you and the last thing you’d heard him say was that he thought you were something— anything other than the most important person in his life and the one who he turned to for everything, the one person he truly loved and adored

Well he would never forgive himself

“I love you” You muttered back weekly, shuffling over on the hospital bed despite the pain that coursed through your body in doing so you made room for him. “Lay with me?” You asked.

He huffed something out before shaking his head, standing up and lowering himself onto the hospital bed. He was careful of your injuries and any pain you may be in as he wrapped his arms around you.

“I love you” He repeated as he placed a soft kiss on the corner of your shoulder. It made a sigh leave your lips, before turning your head to face him.

“I love you.”

[tinytennisskirt]

best friend!patrick zweig who is totally not in love with you…

headcanons with a plot <3

warnings: mentions of sex, kissing, marijuana, smoking, casual touches, jealousy, and silent yearningggg

- insists that he drives you home even if you’re the slightest bit tired. you yawn at his place- you’re not driving home. he says it’s to keep you safe but really, he just wants more time with you.

“it’s like twenty minutes out, i’ll drive, it’s nothing.”

“i’m perfectly fine to drive! i just yawned, i’m not tired.”

his foot is down. “yeah, that’s not happening.”

“you’re going to take a bus home? patrick…”

“i’ll take a taxi if it makes you feel better?”

“uh huh.”

- he follows the sidewalk rule. he’s never heard of it before but he does it, just on his own.

- saves you the last slice or even bite of anything he’s eating that’s worth it. he orders a really good burger, the very last bit left is yours. ordering a pizza, the last slice is yours. even a slice of cheesecake, the last bite is yours. bonus points to him for making sure the last bite contains all elements of what he had. the burger has all toppings left on the last bite, the cheesecake has the crust and the caramel drizzle, etc.

- doesn’t get why you choose such shitty men to go out with and waste your best dresses for the wrong eyes. he plays it off as caring about you, but he’s jealousss

“i have another date tonight with tony,” you tell him. he looks up from the can of ravioli he’s opening.

“tony with the hair or tony with the fake hair?”

you tsk, “with the hair.”

“the guy with the weird moustache who runs the laundromat? really?”

“he’s nice!”

“just nice shouldn’t cut it. and doesn’t he have the weird butt-chin thing? come on.”

“he treats me well! compliments me, pays for things…”

“yeah okay, with the laundromat money, you’re sure it’s not going on credit?”

by the end of the conversation he’s telling you that you look nice, a little defeated, but he means it. he can’t talk you out of it truly without first admitting he likes you and secondly, admitting to you he likes you.

- he’s always down to spend time with you. he might say he’s busy but he’s not. and when he is, he moves things around just to see you, but he won’t tell you that.

- he buys the drinks you like just to keep them in the fridge. he buys more every time he goes out so the stock of it keeps growing and soon enough it’s taking up two shelves in his fridge.

“i’m going to make something to eat for dinner,” you say, opening the fridge. and the fridge is near-full of your favourite drink. he usually gets it for you, you’d assume he just had a few but no. he has so many. and the thing is, he doesn’t like the drinks. so it’s just really weird. there’s a million of your drinks and then in the empty spaces, ketchup, mustard, milk, ground beef, cheese, and two red peppers next to the can of opened redbull. what for? who knows. you walk back out to where patrick is sitting and he looks up from his phone.

“we can get groceries. don’t have much right now,” he reaches for his keys and you laugh just a little, which stops him. you hold up one of the drinks and he just stares at it, knowing you know about the shelves upon shelves of it. “they were on sale, fuck off.”

- any time you’ve slept at his place he either gives up his bed and sleeps on the couch, or if you fall asleep on the couch you always wake up the next morning with a comfy blanket over you and a proper pillow under your head. he won’t move you, he’s too afraid to wake you. or on nights when you know you’re staying over or even on a whim, he’s used to giving you his clothes to sleep in because he knows you like the fit of them. they’re comfortable.

- without you coming over, patrick wouldn’t do any of his chores. he’s only motivated by the idea that you might come over and think he’s a slob. you already know he’s a slob, but he does a good job at hiding it. it always smells a bit like febreeze when you come over and not that you mind it- it smells good. but it can’t mask the slight cigarette scent and the scent of his cologne which is without a doubt on every surface he’s ever layed on.

- he’s the guy you can go to for honest opinions because he’ll always shamelessly side with you. a fight with a friend who was clearly in the wrong? he doesn’t even try to see the other perspective, he’s on your side no matter what. your ex and his new girl? he thinks she’s ugly and a downgrade and he’s an asshole for posting the grocery store flowers he got for her. he’s jealous, but he’s good knowing your ex fumbled you.

“they’re yellow.”

“he got her yellow chrysanthemums?”

you chuckle and look at him. “you know what flowers those are?”

“saw them the other day at the store. on sale, $5. same ones, look at the wrapping.” he says, pointing at the laptop. “he’s broke and she doesn’t even know it.”

you laugh. he’s glad to hear it.

- when you go out to bars he pays for your drinks. says you deserve it- you do come over and cook all the time so why not?

- patrick is known to crack a few jokes but when you’re serious, so is he. you’re upset? he’s listening, he won’t make fun of you unless he knows it’ll make you feel better. he’ll sit next to you, let you talk, cry, get really angry, get really sad. he’s there. and he’ll comfort you in whichever way you need. it’s his softer side, the one you bring out. lets you lean against him, he’ll even hug you if you ask.

- he’s a GOOD HUGGER. he gives amazing hugs, they are so enveloping, so comfortable. his arms wrap all the way around and not only do his arms squeeze you the perfect amount of tight, but his hands as well. he’s always warm but not hot, and he smells like good cologne and slightly of cigarettes. he’ll take any chance to hug you and you’ll gladly have it.

- struggling not to think about fucking you when you’re trying on dresses for a date. he’s thinking ‘what will these guys think when they see you?’ and his mind is on one thing that they’ll be thinking. but his mind is on it too, when you come out in a little black tube dress and you ask him if it’s too short. it’s too short for sure.

“what about the cleavage though? too much? not enough?”

“hm?” he’s not paying attention to your words.

“the cleavage. too much?”

“yeah. maybe try a turtleneck.”

yeah yeah it’s wrong to think about sex with your best friend, but the dresses, each shorter and showing more skin than the next we’re making him so incredibly horny. he doesn’t do well with that. goes home and fucks his own hand at the thought. helps to distract himself from the fact you’re out on a date with someone else who might actually get to take off that dress :(

- he’ll show up at your place with whatever it is you say you’ve been wanting and he will make a night out of it. wings? he’s at your door with them in an hour. drinks? yeah he stopped for a six pack of whatever he grabbed. he’s always down to get food. you want to go out? he’ll pick you up to go get whatever it is you’ve been wanting. a good excuse to actually work on bulking. not that it’s date-like.

- he’s got a photo of you in his wallet. it’s a platonic thing, he swears to the girl he takes on a date. she’s pretty but she’s not you. the photo of you sitting pretty with a potted plant doesn’t give off ‘available’ and yeah he kisses her but she is not you. he leaves early and calls you on his way back. he’s pretty sure he’s fucked forever because he’s realizing he only wants you.

- he’s protective at parties. he’s already watching you dance and have fun but when you come there with him and start flirting with guys it provokes him just a little more than it would if he were sober. he’ll walk over and slip his arm around your shoulder or even your waist if he’s had enough to drink and he’ll ask the guy how he’s doing and he’s 100% running interference pretending he’s just out of it from the alcohol and it isn’t the fact he’s jealous.

“hey man,” patrick usually greets the guy, hand resting on the small of your back. he’s always got a big smirk on his face, tongue against his cheek. “what’s up?” the move usually scares the guy off and you playfully hit or elbow him, but it’s worth it.

- his doors are always open to you. you have a key if you need it. so when you show up, soaked from the rain, upset over tony the laundromat guy being the dick patrick was so right about him being (despite not knowing the guy at all), he wraps you in his arms and he listens to the whole story. you’re complaining about genuine men being so hard to find and he’s sitting right there. he just brings his hand to rest against his jaw and looks off to the side at something as you continue speaking and he’s listening, he just hates what he’s hearing.

- he’ll take off whatever jacket he’s wearing if you’re cold. he won’t be happy about it- or look happy about it, but he might be a little happy about it… he’ll complain about what he’s going to do in the cold but the sweater or jacket is on you within five minutes of your ask.

- he’ll begrudgingly do whatever you ask of him. like he does not want to get up at 4:50 in the morning and drive to the hilltop to watch the sunrise. he wants to stay asleep, snoring in his bed, but you wake him up and he hates it, but it’s you and it’s the sunset so he goes with you. but in his still-tired state all he can seem to focus on is the light of the sunrise hitting your skin. he’ll either do it super slowly or begrudgingly, sometimes he might even say no. but it never stays a no.

- again. can’t stand that you keep giving your time to men who don’t know how to treat you. he goes to the bar, he drinks about it a little, he talks to the bartender about you. the bartender knows you by name, knows your favourite album, knows you go out with guys who aren’t him, and he knows you’re beautiful, having your features described by a drunk patrick who uses his hands a lot to gesture. it’s weird when you go to the bar with patrick another night and the bartender already knows your name and the drink you want.

- drunk patrick uses all the self control he has not to tell you he wants you. he almost lets it slip with unfinished sentences. does everything he can to fend himself off, but he’s very close to you when he’s drunk, his already-bad spatial awareness so much worse while impaired. his face always close to yours, nose sometimes hitting yours, he comes so close. hands reach for your waist when he’s near you. you don’t mind it- it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. it’s a different feeling. you manage to wrangle him into his bed and make him drink water. he’s talking to you like there are important things you need to know before he absolutely passes out.

“if that tony guy comes around again i hope he knows i owe him a broken nose,” he’ll say and he’s grinning and you’re just rolling your eyes at him, he’s so stupid. “you have to stop dating these guys, fucking douchebags. i know i’m not much better, but at least i don’t wear axe body spray and pick you up in a beat up honda.”

“patrick, you drive a honda,”

“mine isn’t beat up.” he says. so honest. you laugh at him and hand him back the cup of water. but he says it, “you deserve more than that kind of guy. want you to have someone who really gives a fuck, you know?”

“if i could find one,” you say. half-oblivious, half-looking for him to say something that’ll have meaning. it’s the first time his drunk mind is telling him the feeling in his chest is heartache. oh my god, he feels like such a girl- he just grins, dimples on his cheek crawling all the way up. he covers his face.

- when you’re hanging out with mutual friends, smoking, talking, he’s always taking the seat next to you. your friends all know he’s into you- most of them suspect you’re already dating on the down low, the way you guys are so close. you’re sitting on the couch and his arm is up on the back of the couch behind you, your hand sometimes resting on his leg, you have your own conversations on the side and you’re laughing and leaning toward each other. it’s obvious. he’s obvious. YOU are obvious. and oblivious! painfully.

- patrick will shave his beard for your birthday. he’ll trim it regularly but on your birthday he shaves it all off, it’s an annual thing. bare-faced and you find it so so fun to see him without.

- the dress you wear on your birthday is a little too perfect. the mix of you and your hair done and your makeup and the intention of drinking with your girl friends and asking him how you look before you leave. you usually ask him before you go out. he’s going out with you and your friends, but he comes over a little early, just how things are. he’s always honest.

“you look… wow.” he’s looking at you. you’re standing in front of him, little dress, perfectly fit to your body. and you’re smiling, doing a little spin. and you’re beautiful and god you’re so fucking hot. patrick fears for the possibility of his sober thoughts becoming drunk words later. you’re already unbearably fucking beautiful what is he going to do with himself?

- he’s a touchy drunk. not with everyone, not the same way he is with you. when he drinks his hands are magnetic to you, resting on your hands, hand on the small of your back, your waist, your arm. like i said before, you’re used to it, you don’t mind it, but it’s different when he’s staying somewhat sober because he’s afraid of how he’d act if he had more than three shots. he wouldn’t do anything you’re not comfortable with- it’s not that, it’s the fact he’s scared if he drinks tonight that you in your element, dancing, laughing, having fun in that little dress would provoke him to spill all of his secrets. he’s got a stoic form of self-understanding he’s taking to prevent anything dumb from falling out of his mouth under the influence.

- he does, however, fend off the creepy guys or just the assholes who try and buy you more drinks or even talk to you. he won’t let them get so far as to ask for your name. you whine but he just tells you, “you wouldn’t want to talk to them sober.” and you’re like hmm true. the defender position includes closing your tab, getting you home, and getting you inside safely. and usually you take care of him when he’s drunk or high, but he takes the opportunity very seriously. before he’s helped you get to bed but this particular time you’re asking him to undo the zipper on your dress and you’re lifting your hair.

he’s not going to tell you no, so he undoes the zipper and in seconds you’re stripping in front of him unabashedly and he turns around, arms folded, grinning to himself because of course this was happening. he is not an asshole, so he won’t turn around until you’re dressed, but when he turns around you’re only in one of his shirts that he’s been wondering where it went- and your underwear and you’re asking him to come sit with you because it’s still technically your birthday (it’s not).

he will, but he doesn’t want to stick around too long. despite the lack of alcohol, there’s still a pull to tell you how he feels, but that’s girly. and you’re drunk. he puts you to bed after making you drink water.

- he’s the kind of guy to keep a condom in his wallet- he’s never going to use it, it’s probably expired and worn in front his wallet being in his pocket but he has it in there. in fact it’s right behind the photo of you.

- he also has a stolen street sign in his living room from when he was on tour after high school. it’s custom for all guests visiting his place to slap it before they enter the room. if you don’t, there’s no consequences, but it’s just wrong not to. he will, however, catch YOU on it if you forget. holds you to it in whichever way he can.

- he’s totally debating on kissing you almost every time he’s with you. it’s getting progressively worse every time he’s with you he swears he’s going to do it but he doesn’t want to. (he wants to sooo fucking badly, it’s insane). any time you pass him by, every time you say his name, when you sit next to him, when you’re talking to him about anything, engaging with him, looking him in his eyes. it’s a struggle not to.

and you’re friends, longtime friends so the casual touches get to be too much, even. you cup his face with your hands saying he needs to shave and he’s only staring at your lips.

or you sit sideways next to him on the couch facing him and your hand is on his shoulder and you’re so close to him when you talk he really could just reach over and kiss you.

you sit on his counter while he’s making spaghetti and you’re eating the shredded cheese out of the bag and it’s weird but the height your at, it would be perfect.

- you are the cause of his biggest grins and most laughter. you don’t even have to try. he enjoys your company more than anyone else’s. platonically, romantically, in every way. you are his best friend. you get him on a level even art didn’t.

- he’ll pick you up whenever you need him to. doctors appointment, from a friend’s- so when your self-proclaimed final attempt at a date ends up terribly, he’s the first person you call. you’re all pretty for another piece of shit and patrick has to pretend he’s not happy the guy was so weird. you get in the car and his eyes fall on your collarbone and your thighs and you yourself catch it. his eyes. you pull a knowing little look. “shut up,” he says, driving away without even letting you get your seatbelt on.

- he’s not a door holder very often. maybe for old ladies and kids, and the occasional friend, but he’s holding every door open for you. he even opens the car door for you most times. get back to his place, you don’t want to go home yet, he holds the door for you on your way in. you hit the street sign on the wall before flopping down on his couch. it smells like citrusy febreeze and a bit like his cologne. out of his personal needs of restraint, he tosses you one of his comfy shirts and shorts so you can be out of that little dress. and after you take them to his bathroom to get changed, he’s still feeling the same way about the way you look. it was not the dress’ fault.

- the thing with patrick and other women is he’s never been afraid to go up to a girl, hit on her, he’s hardly been afraid to kiss a girl. he’s pretty confident all around but you are so different. the need to kiss you is all-consuming. he wonders if he should talk to you about things first when he’s never considered more than the flavour of a girl’s lip balm in the past. you make him nervous, sitting there in his clothes. i say there, but you’re next to him, hair behind your ears, talking about how you think you’re done with dating and you’re going to wait until the perfect guy falls into your lap. you’re playing some angle but he’s thinking that it’s a good thing. the conversation turns to joking, he’s teasing you, you tease back it’s just normal.

- of course patrick has a snack pantry. if he doesn’t have groceries, he has snacks. at a random point in conversation you tell him you could really go for an oreo right now and he’s so on that. so you both take a trip to the kitchen and you’re looking in the cabinet and you find the oreos and share them while continuing to talk at the counter. you’re going on about how strange your date was and how you felt if you stayed you’d be on a true crime document and the conversation begins to turn to thanking him for coming to get you. but like mentioned before, he’d always come get you. didn’t matter how far you were but he wouldn’t say that.

“it’s different, it’s not like you picking me up from the dentist, it’s you picking me up when i know you were busy.” you say. he smiles because he really wasn’t that busy- he was just out with friends of course he’d drop them for you. “i just want you to know i’m grateful is all.”

“don’t need to be-“ he says with his mouth full of oreo. “it was nothing, i was nearby anyway.” he wasn’t. he sped. in his honda.

“you’re so weird,” you giggle. “why can’t you just be normal about people thanking you for things you do? you go out of your way far too often.”

patrick chuckles to himself, shutting the package of oreos. he doesn’t do it for anyone else. “how do i be normal about it?”

“you could say ‘you’re welcome’, maybe?” you say. he nods. “i say i’m grateful for you and the things you do for the people you care about, namely me and you say ‘you’re welcome’.”

“we’re rehearsing?” he straightened himself as if getting ready and you pressed your hand to your forehead, smiling. “go for it. say how grateful you are for me and the things i do for you. only you.”

“so stupid, just say you’re welcome.” you giggle, throwing your hands up in the air in defeat. he grins, a sly grin, dimple on full display, gorgeous. he turns away from you to put away the oreos (if you weren’t there he wouldn’t have put them away). he shuts the cabinet door. “patrick?”

“yeah?”

and he’s met with your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss.

- the way patrick kisses is very passionately. that’s who he is. he kissed a lot of girls in high school, met a few on tour that were worth making out with. his kisses are full of passion. but this kiss is from you, so he receives it like a gift. surprisingly politely. he’s never ever been caught so off-guard by a kiss. he didn’t see it coming at all. it’s a small kiss, a few seconds of lips fitting together perfectly, but you pull away. his face stays close to yours. he’s never had a kiss like this before. in the crowd of girls he’s ever kissed. it’s never felt like this. and it was so small.

“i’m sorry,” you say, hushed, but you’re smiling, so how sorry are you? he grins and in an instant, you’re kissing again, deeper, more, hands in his hair and his on your waist, holding tight. it’s all he’s thought about for a month on end. there’s something better than drugs and it’s this, patrick thinks. your back against the pantry door, him against you.

- he’s never been so in need of a kiss before. he’s never been kissed like this before. it’s somehow everything he’s ever wanted and everything he’s never gotten from every girl he’s ever kissed. and the thing about patrick is, like mentioned, he’s a moderately horny guy but this to him is all he wants. he only wants to kiss you. a few minutes pass and he’s doing something he’s never done and that’s talking it out with you. but as soon as he admits he likes you, he’s telling you to shut up because you’re giggling and it’s adorable and you can’t be calling him out on his crush like that…

- you admit to being a little oblivious and maybe admitting to repressing feelings because you weren’t entirely sure- and he’s instantly on making fun of you for it. he makes fun of himself for not seeing it sooner or for making a move sooner but there’s no room for apologies between another kiss. a kiss full of laughter where you just can’t stop laughing but you also won’t stop kissing him and it’s kind of perfect.

[haruchi-slit]

"TAKE A LOOK IN MY EYES, CAN YOU FEEL THE TENSION?"

kinktober '24 | warnings: enemies who fucks each other + reader is called as: "miss president" + they're literally enemies + p in v

ryomen sukuna was notorious for being a trouble maker at your university, for fuck's sake he doesn't have any proper bone in his body he's always having the time of his life, fucking girls in vacant classrooms, always out for after school fights, he believes it's for the "thrill" and he's always been a pain in your ass, he's you call him "pain in the ass sukuna" with how much trouble he's dragging you, both of you are just so opposite at everything, but they say "opposites attract" and fucking hell why is it right?

"this is the 3rd time the two of you got in trouble, do you want me to expell both of you!?" the principal's voice roared thru his office. you flinched as the principal shouts, you're standing beside the one and only fucker who got you dragged on his mess, "no, of course not." he responds, making the principal's brows twitch. "I'm so disappointed on you miss president. how can you not prevented this to happen?" the principal said, "the two of are going to clean the basketball court as punishment. this is the last time I'll be seeing the both of you here. get out. the two of you GET OUT!" the principal screamed, you saw him getting red with frustration, which you found funny.

"this is all your fucking fault" you huffed, with furrowed brows, "my fault?" he twitched, "it's our fault dumb bitch." he huffed back, you gasped, "call me bitch one more time i swear you fuckin' monkey" he smirks, "okay...biiiiitch" and oh, all hell breaks loose. you threw the broom on the floor before marching angrily towards him as he awaits with a devious smirk, but before you could punch him, the principal walks in, almost catching you red handed... "what's going on?" you quickly retrieved your fist and jabbed sukuna on his side "fuck-ing ouch!" , "nothing sir! he was telling me a joke! righttt?" "no you-" you jabbed him once more and he winced in pain, "yeah, yeah, and then the frog jumped out the window!" "OH hahahaha! that's so funny sukuna" you laughed, while shooting deadly glares at him, "oh is that so? very well then I'll leave you two be." the principal squints before going out.

you took a deep breath before picking up the broom "let's get this over with." "why do you hate me that much, hm?" he sighs angrily, "cause you're a pain in the ass, you're a frat boy, you're ugly, you act like a stupid fucking monkey and the list goes on"

you saw his eyes twitch as you enumerated his flaws, "are you fucking blind? ugly? where? fucking bitch."

the two of you were always at odds, constantly trying to outdo one another in everything. Whether it was in the classroom, on the sports field, or in any other aspect of life, you and Sukuna were rivals...

but there was always an underlying tension between the two of you, a spark of attraction that neither of you wanted to admit it was bad and you knew it. it was a dangerous game with fire, this constant push and pull, but neither of you could resist.

"close the damn door before you head out airhead" you shout, picking up your bag from the floor, "why should i?" he hissed, "just do it fucking hell!" you shout louder, "fuck you!" sukuna shouts back "no, fuck you bitch!" you spat back before walking out. after the incident, you didn't saw nor heard of him for a week, which is a fucking relief, but for fuck's sake why's destiny always ruining good things for you?

"WHAT the hell is wrong with the two of you?!" the principal shouts, "this is the fourth time, i need the two of you to work on your attitudes, you two are INSANE, who in their right mind would fight Infront a teacher?!" "the principal adds, "it wasn't my fault i swear!" you tried to justify, "sure, it wasn't your fault." "tell him sukuna." you screamed, "tell him what?" he scoffs, "get the fuck out of my office, NOW!"

the both of you were punished to clean the rest room and locker room for a whole semester, after the heated you both are now in the locker room,

"fuck you, fuck you, FUCK YOU why do you need to ruin my day?! you're bat shit crazy! get a life for fuck's sake!"

"can i use you for that?" sukuna smirked

"go fuck yourself"

and the argument between the two of you goes on and on, that it turned into a physical altercation, "fuck you" you shout, "you wanna fuck me that badly?" he laughs, shoving you to the ground, "go to hell, fucker!" you spat, kicking his knees hard "I'll drag you down with me bitch." and before you knew it, you were pinned against the floor, sukuna's lips crashing down on yours in a fiery kiss.

"what-the fuck, mhmm.. are you doing-" you paused between kisses, "you're pretty when you shut the fuck up, -you mnnn, should do that-fuck- more," "oh-ngh why don't you shut the fuck up too?" you groaned, unbuttoning your blouse off, it was like a switch had been flipped, all that pent up frustration and desire exploding between the two of you. clothes were quickly discarded, sukuna's hands roaming over heated skin as you both gave into the pool of undeniable lust and pleasure, "fucking hell, you're so good, fuckkk, you smell so sweet, i wanna destroy you so bad.." sukuna lets out a shaky moan, "s-shut up- airhead" you whimpered, arching your back as you feel his member sliding in, your eyes rolls back in the deepest depths of your skull, while sukuna's hands roam freely on your body, "you infuriate me -so ugh fuck!-much" you babbled, "yet you can't even resist my touch" sukuna chuckles, "c'mon miss president, your face's flushing so hard"

"s-hut up!" you struggled to form a word, in that moment, all previous hatred and animosity were forgotten as you both lost yourselves in each other. bodies moving in perfect sync as you both reached new heights of pleasure.

"f-fuck sukunaaa- yes just like that- mhn-" you cried, "can you say "please" miss president?" "go fuck- yourself!" sukuna laughs before he lifts your leg up and placed it on his shoulder, "fuck you're squeezing me so fucking tight" he says, pounding his hips to yours, "fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckkk!" you yelped, "gonna cum, miss president?" "oh-nghhmm, yes yes!" sukuna grinned, stretching your leg further to it's limits, "fuck-" and with the last final thrust both of you came to your climax, you can feel his member twitch inside of you as he shoots thick strings of cum in you, "this never happ-" *KNOCK KNOCK*

"hello, is someone in there?"

...

taglist: @catobsessedlady @tojis-ball-sack @sukunawhores @sugoroo

[blu3n]

Hiii can you write a Jason Todd x reader where the reader asks Jason to teach her self defense and Jason has a hard time with it because he imagines her getting hurt

omelet.

Blue : Thank you very much for asking, I hope I did what you asked and in a coherent way, if you didn't like it please leave an ask or comment in a respectful and kind way.

Sinopse : Jason x reader, he teaches you how to fight but it all ends up going wrong.

At first, Jason is a little hesitant, knowing the dangers that come with getting involved in such scenarios. Jason wouldn't want to see you get hurt, but he'd be willing to help you anyway..

Jason Todd would be careful, just making gestures so you could pick it up and practice..

From how to punch someone, kick a man in the right places or escape from a robbery.

Already placing the mat on the floor, he went over the techniques with Hoce a few times to remember how and when to use them in combat..

"Okay, you know how to defend yourself now here I go" he says in a firm tone for you to prepare yourself. When he goes for you, everything happened so fast you didn't know how to run, fight or anything like that but in desperation or maybe just out of pure adrenaline you kick him right in the middle of the balls in defense.

Jason's eyes widened comically as his foot connected with his most sensitive area. He let out a gasp of pain and doubled over, his hand flying down to clutch his groin. "Holy shit!" he choked out through clenched teeth. "That—wasn't—for—kicking—me—in—the—balls," he breathed, his voice tight with pain. "Jesus—"

You covered your mouth with your hand, your eyes wide. "I'm sorry," you said, worried about his situation. "When you told me to prepare myself, I went in desperation."

Jason was still crouched down, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to deal with the initial pain. He lifted his head and looked at her through narrowed eyes. "You're doing great, babe, just try not to use your feet next time?" he murmured, his voice cracking with pain..

Holding back your laughter, you grab an ice pack and place it on the sore spot, still worried about your situation..

Jason watched you walk away, still holding back a laugh. He leaned against the wall, still looking uncomfortable due to the pain in the area in question.

When you came back, you handed him an ice pack, and he frowned as he put the pack away. "That was a little brutal, you know? I bet any guy who messes with you will think twice," he complained, but again with a playful tone in his voice.

"You're the one who taught me this technique," you say in a playful tone, soon seeing him sigh in relief at the cold sensation between the injured area.

Jason looked up at you with a serious expression, although his body relaxed a little with the relief caused by the cold.

"Yes, I did," he admitted, "but when I said 'use all the tools at hand,' I forgot to specify that it didn't include my testicles."

"Oops" You tried not to laugh, you didn't want to give the impression that you were having fun but the situation so far made you laugh so much that you ended up falling backwards on the mat. "Sorry babe-" You tried to hold back your laughter but without success the sound echoed in the place.

Jason looked at you, still with a slightly irritated expression, as you tried to contain your laughter. But when you fell backwards onto the mat and the sound of your laughter echoed through the room, he couldn't keep his seriousness. A small, mischievous smile appeared on his lips.

Before the two burst out laughing.

Jason bent down to where you lay on the mat, still laughing. “You’re a pest, you know that?” he said, but there was a note of affection in his voice. He sat down next to you, the laugh still trembling on his lips.

They both laughed all afternoon that day, and after he recovered he engraved in his mind to never let you be scared when they went to train hand to hand.

[hiding-in-my-blanket-fort]

Friends to lovers headcanons with Tyler Harrison (gender neutral Reader)

Teasing! So much teasing and playful banter. Literally EVERYONE knows it’s flirting and they poke fun at you both. “God, just make out already.” “Get a room, you two!”

Tyler likes to rough house, and you have no problem playing rough right back.

Maybe because it helps you cope with those goddamn butterflies in your stomach every time there’s any physical contact between you two.

But sometimes the rough housing goes a little too far by accident. Generally, when it comes to you, Tyler pulls his punches. He doesn’t want you to get hurt, especially not because of him.

When you catch an elbow to the face though, GOD, HE FEELS SO GUILTY. He immediately screeches to a stop and checks to make sure you’re okay.

When he cups your face and angles your head to look at him…brain.exe has stopped working, error 404 not found. You’re tongue tied like an idiot.

Bjorn often talks smack about you, but Tyler doesn’t tolerate it. He’ll snap at Bjorn to shut the fuck up and leave you alone.

You get to see a side of Tyler that no one else gets to see. He shares his insecurities with you, his greatest fears, his worries, his nightmares - all of it.

The first time he did it, he swore you to secrecy. You could tell that he was worried you would blab to other people.

But you never did. You kept his secret, and he gradually opened up to you more. Late night chats were a common occurrence between you two where you would just talk about anything and everything, spilling your guts. And in the morning, you felt lighter, knowing you had each other’s backs.

If you get harassed in a public place - on the street, at a shop, on market day, etc - Tyler won’t hesitate to pretend to be your boyfriend. Slinging an around your shoulder or waist and pulling you into his side protectively.

“There you are, babe. Been looking everywhere for you,” he says with a kiss to your temple and a glare at the offender who has been pestering you.

Afterward, Tyler is absolutely insufferable. He’s so smug about it!!! Gloating like, “I was a pretty good boyfriend back there, huh?”

Neither one of you will admit your feelings for each other though. You just can’t take that risk. You don’t want to ruin your friendship.

The two of you can’t deny it anymore when Tyler gets into a fight over you.

Someone on the street made an inappropriate, crass comment toward you.

Tyler saw red.

The next thing you knew, you had to drag him away with bloodied knuckles and a black eye, otherwise you were scared he might kill the guy with his bare hands.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Ty? I’ve never seen you like this!”

“He shouldn’t have spoken to you that way!”

“That doesn’t mean you pick a fight over it!”

He storms off, and you’re left there bewildered, wondering what the hell was going on.

Later that night, Tyler knocks on your door. He’s quiet, head bowed, hands braced on your door frame.

“I’m in love with you.” His voice sounds utterly wrecked. “I thought - I thought it would go away if I ignored it. But I…it’s not working.”

You stand there gaping like a fish. He looks more and more green around the gills by the second.

“Say something. Please. Tell me I didn’t just make the biggest screw up of my life.”

You step forward, sliding your hands inside his coat, around his waist.

When you press your lips to his in a kiss, Tyler sighs with relief and you can feel him smile against your mouth as he kisses you back.

Masterlist

[nmakii]

SO DIM THAT SPOTLIGHT…

for, M— maisie, or maybe even miya osamu; my twin, my superstar, and my biggest blessing.

inarizaki doesn’t need memories, nor do they need to rely on their team manager; everything that matters happens in the court anyways. but, the week you’ve disappeared from practice— they can’t help but find themselves missing you.

fem!reader, atsumu kinda clingy, writeen on 0 hours of sleep, sum1 MIGHT be ooc… AESPA FANS RISE

inarizaki doesn’t need their team manager. they’re very adamant on their independence, especially atsumu. sure, it’s nice to be coddled after a long day of volleyball, but it’s merely a bonus! they don’t rely on you, definitely…

“where’s s/o?” atsumu frowns, looking across the gym for you. “coach said she had a family emergency…” kita says, a hint of worry in his voice. osamu tilted his head in worry. “family emergency? is something wrong?”

kita sighs. “coach didn’t give any further details.” to this, atsumu whined. “whaat?! is she okay?!” he yelled out, going on a path that goes nowhere. “he just said he didn’t get any further details…” suna deadpans.

“well, we shouldn’t dwell on it right now. next week is the inarizaki winter festival… we’ve been instructed to create a promotional video with our most flashy moves as to get more people to support us during nationals.” kita explains.

atsumu rolls his eyes, hearing what a ridiculous idea it was. “setting up a video… we already have a crowd full of fans… we should be practicing…” he mumbles, not that anyone in particular cares to comment on.

“right… well, i think we should shoot atsumu’s shots first since he’s is the most popular after all” kita says, preparing the camera while ginjima had set up the tripod. “just… do a strong spike serve, okay?” he instructs as atsumu bounces the ball, preparing for his shot.

atsumu takes a deep breath, preparing for his shot; the look on his face so serious, you’d think he was in an official match. he throws the ball into the air…

before miserably missing the shot.

the silence in the gym so thick, you could cut it with a knife. until osamu broke the tension with roaring laughter. “hah! what happened to being so perfect all the time?!” osamu points at him, laughing like a middle school bully. “shut your trap! i was just thinking ‘bout somethin’!” atsumu yells back, angrily marching to retrieve his ball. “thinkin’ ‘bout what?! about how ‘ya can’t even serve properly cause your dear s/o is gone?!” osamu scoffs, not particularly set on admitting how much he’ll miss your presence this week. still, he doesn’t have much time to think about that before atsumu steers straight into osamu’s path. “you..!” atsumu huffs, grabbing osamu by his shirt collar and wrestling him.

omimi runs in between the two of them, trying to break the fight as suna records the two, turning to kita. “maybe this’ll make good promotional content, everyone loves to see these two fight...” and in response, kita can only sigh at suna’s nonchalant attitude, pressing a palm to both of the boys’ chests. “fighting won’t do anything. stop it, please.” he says, unknowingly placing a somewhat hostile tone in his words, scaring the twins into backing off of each other.

despite whatever complaints the team had, the week passed by fairly quickly and soon enough, it was the inarizaki winter festival. there were snack carts, game booths, and of course, on one of the main screens, starred the boy’s volleyball team promotional video. and, exactly as kita said, it persuaded many girls to come support the team by the time nationals starts.

as the miyas inattentively chatted with the girls carrying fans with their names on it, both their eyes roamed the festival for an excuse to leave— when the stage announced a name they were all too familiar with.

“when is s/o returning? it’s already been a week, and she hasn’t returned, much less answer any of our calls…” kita asks, clearly worried for your wellbeing. coach kurosu can’t help but let out a slight smile, waving off the boy’s concerns. “she’s fine. in fact…” he trails off, turning to the stage.

confused, kita furrows his brow, and follows his gaze as to what he could mean.

“and, without further ado..! s/o from class 3-4, performing a solo cover of supernova by aespa!”

even from how scattered they were across the fair, they all froze, looking for each other as if to silently ask ‘is this real..?’. the lights slowly flashed onto you, as you sang the lyrics in what they could only think would be recognizable korean. hell, even if it was absolute nonsense, you’d still sound amazing.

your distinct and sharp dance moves were complimented by the cropped black tee and the baggy jeans you wore, making you look absolutely graceful as you danced. even the very fact that you were able to wear those kinds of clothes in the middle of december was commendable enough.

sparklers popped from the edges of the stage, as if you were at your very own solo concert, the lights dimmed to from white, to purple, to blue, as confetti streamed down. and when it came to an end, the audience roared in cheer.

you waved to everyone and bowed respectfully before running off the stage. the entire team was more than shocked to see that, ‘family emergency’, as if! almost every single one of then dropped what they had been previously doing and ran to the back of the stage, ready to praise you.

“s/o, that was incredible!” atsumu yelled, giving you a big hug before yelling at you. “why’dya leave us for a week?!” he huffed. “ahaha… practice, of course! coach had to cover for me…” you giggled, shivering a bit from how cold the snow was. “you… don’t wear revealing clothes in winter, you’ll catch a cold…” osamu sighed, wrapping his tracksuit around you.

kita went over to you, observing your condition. “i’m glad you’re well, s/o. i was starting to get worried when you wouldn’t answer our calls. your performance was amazing.” he smiled. aran agreed, greeting you with a soft slap on your back. “you did great! the way you did this..! and then suddenly you..!” he fumbles, imitating your dance moves.

it seems he’s exhilarated just by watching you perform…

and finally, suna makes it over to the backstage, giving you a thumbs up and a smile. “you did great. i only recorded halfway…” he says disappointedly, looking over the clip he took. “pfft, that’s okay, suna…” you shrug. “i’m really glad to be back with you guys, though” you smile contentedly.

aran glared at you as if you dishonored his family, “what are you even talking about?! with moves like that, you shouldn’t be stuck being a volleyball team manager; you’ve gotta become an idol! in front of millions!” he encourages you, before atsumu argues back. “haah?! like hell! she’s gotta stay here with us!”

“it’s her life, she should have control over what she does in life.” kita says, in an attempt to mediate. sadly, his attempt falls on deaf ears as the two argue like a married couple bickering on their child’s future.

you laugh, missing the chaos in your life. “hahah… i don’t think i’m gonna perform again anytime soon… it was terrifying, not to mention— so much effort. for now, i guess i’m stuck here with you guys…”

that wouldn’t be a problem though. not when it’s you.

inarizaki doesn’t need the memories. cherishing the present is much better anyways. but, maybe it is pretty nice to have a team manager. especially when they’re as talented as you.

[cameronspecial]

Drew and Y/N are friends with feelings for each other and they argue since Drew is stupidly trying to make her jealous, Y/N doesn't like his behavior, she wastes no time on this kind of drama. Pleaseeeeeeeeeee <3

Childish Game

Pairing: Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.7K

Masterlist

Every brush of their hands. Every met eye contact. Every laugh they can pull from each other. The friends know that it isn’t normal to feel the little flutter at every single one of those things, but they have never acted on the feeling. Drew is head over heels for the girl and he doesn’t know what to do about it. His flirting goes unnoticed. Y/N always has the eyes of every man in the room on her and it makes the green-eyed monster rear its ugly head. Drew just wants her attention and he only knows one way to get it. 

He has been ignoring her; she knows it. When she got to the party, she made her rounds greeting people and as she approached Drew, he didn’t so much as look in her direction. He continued talking to the woman in front of him. She’s taller than Y/N. Her hair is styled perfectly and has a shine that says there is product running through it. Her lips are glossy with tinted lipgloss. Y/N waited to see if maybe he was just going to finish his sentence before addressing her, but he didn’t turn toward her at the end of his sentence. She left his side once it was clear that she wasn’t going to get a response. During the whole party, he remained by the other woman’s side, even though he invited Y/N here himself. It becomes clear to him what he is trying to do and she won’t tolerate his childish behaviour. She isn’t going to acknowledge what he is doing, storming right past him as she leaves for the night. Her head shakes and she can hear her heels clacking against the pavement as she walks to her car. Soon, his footsteps mix in with hers. 

“Y/N, Pumpkin, where are you going?” Drew yells, chasing after her. She continues to walk without so much of a glance in his direction. She gets to her car and uses the fob to unlock the door. She tugs at the door, which is promptly shut again by Drew. “I asked you a question,” he points out with his hand still on the car door. She has to turn toward him, “Wow, does the Drew Starkey finally have time to acknowledge me? I feel so honoured. Thank you so much!” He can hear the venom dripping off of her voice, yet he still feels victorious. “Awww. Pumpkin, are you jealous?” he chuckles, thinking she is teasing him or something.  

“Oh, you wish. But I see right through your little game, Drew. Honestly, it’s pathetic that you think this is going to do anything,” she criticizes. She tries to pull the door open again. He doesn’t let her. He plays dumb, “I don’t know what you are talking about.” “Right. You know, I thought you actually liked me. This proved me wrong,” she confesses, shaking her head. She gives up on trying to get into her car and crosses her arms to close herself off. Drew’s face falls, “No. Pumpkin, I do like you.” “If you liked me, then you wouldn’t have done something that would hurt me,” she argues. He takes a step forward, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted your attention. Every guy in that room is always looking at you and I was hoping you would be looking at me.” “Drew, you and I both know that I would’ve been looking at you without a care for anyone else already. You didn’t have to flirt with her for that. If you liked me, you wouldn’t have played this game. You would have asked me out on a date,” she explains, dragging her foot on the ground. He tries to rest his hand above her elbow. She jerks her arm away from him. “Okay, I admit. What I did was stupid. I’m sorry, but I just… I just wasn’t sure if you did like me.”

Y/N lets out a low laugh, “You weren’t sure if I liked you? You are the only person who can call me by a nickname. You are the only person that I let touch me without me initiating it. You are the only person that I would drag myself out of my house on a Friday night for. And if you didn’t know those things meant I liked you, then maybe I didn’t know you as well as I thought.” She grabs his wrist and tears it away from her vehicle. She gets into the car without looking back as she drives back home. Tears blur her vision. Drew screams into the night, realizing how stupid his mistake was.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @victory-in-the-llama @drewsmusee @starkowswife

[hopelesslydevoted2paige]

003. opposite

pairings: paige bueckers x fem singer! reader

word count: 564

warnings: none i think

su’s notes: 3rd chapter GRRRRREEEE this poor girl somethings always gotta happen when she goes out.. 😞 this kinda reminds me of deja vu by olivia rodrigo too 😆 anyway hope u guys likeit i love this song so much

series masterlist

she looks nothing like me, so why do you look so happy?

“Wanna eat out?” Azzi asked you, her eyes still on the game in front of her.

You’ve gotten slightly better in the past two weeks while you were staying with her. You did have enough money to get a place of your own, but no one had brought it up.

Azzi didn’t want to admit it, but she enjoyed your company. She wouldn’t mind if you decided to live with her permanently.

You looked up from your phone screen. “Yeah sure. Where are we eating?”

“We can go to the pizza place a few blocks away?”

You stiffened, the memories with Paige flooding your head. “Uh-“

“Fuck, sorry. We can always go somewhere else-“

“No it’s fine!”

Azzi placed her controller on the table. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna have to get over it eventually.”

—

You walked into the restaurant, the warm air immediately hitting you both.

The waitress looked up at the two of you. “Table for two?”

You nodded as you both followed her to your booth.

“Wanna share?” Azzi asked as you both got settled.

“Cheese?”

Azzi grinned. “You know it.”

“One four cheese pizza please.” The waitress wrote down your order while nodding.

“Any drinks?”

You shook your head. “Just water thanks.”

“Me too.” The waitress nodded and walked away.

While waiting for your food, you and Azzi engaged in conversations about random topics and joked around.

“I never said that!” You laughed loudly, making people look at you weirdly.

“Yes you did! I remember it very clearly. You were like-“

Your attention went to the door as the door chime echoed throughout the restaurant.

Your smile dropped, making eye contact with the blue eyes you knew too well.

“Y/N? You okay?” Azzi placed a hand on your arm.

Paige mirrored your expression with her arm around her ex’s shoulders. Well, girlfriend.

Azzi looked over her shoulder. “Oh.”

“One cheese pizza?” The waitress smiled warmly and placed the plate on your table.

“Thank you.” Azzi smiled awkwardly and turned back to you. “You wanna leave?”

You shook your head, tearing your eyes away from Paige. “It’s fine. Let’s just eat and get out of here.”

Azzi looked at you sympathetically before nodding and grabbing a slice.

She tried to distract you with some small talk, but it didn’t really help when Paige was in the booth right next to yours, giggling and looking as happy as ever.

“Paige stop!” Her girlfriend giggled, wiping the tomato sauce off her cheek.

Paige scoffs. “Oh please, you still look pretty.”

You felt like your heart shattered into a million pieces. What hurt you the most is that Paige wasn’t even wrong. She was gorgeous.

“Azzi, i’m sorry. I just can’t-“

She nodded, raising her hand as the waitress from earlier went up to you guys.

“Can we get this to-go?”

She smiled warmly. “Of course! I’ll be right back.”

Thank god the service was fast. Less than two minutes later, the waitress brought your take-out bag as Azzi handed her a twenty dollar bill.

“Keep the change.”

“Thank you so much! Have a nice night.”

“I’ll try to.” You mumbled under your breath.

Azzi nudged your shoulder. “Let’s go.”

You glanced at Paige one last time, to find her already looking at you. You could tell from the pained expression in her eyes that she wanted to make things right with you.

You sigh and look away. “Let’s go.”

and i know now, even if i tried to change, that somehow you’ll end up with her anyway.

[luveline]

I would love to do a request if you would like! Some sort of Spencer Reid x Reader where the reader is super bad ass, tough, doesn’t show much emotion is kind of cold to others but has the biggest soft spot for Spencer!! 🫶🏻

thanks for your request lovey, I would love to write more of this pairing if you have any more requests ♡ fem!reader

"Here comes the ice queen," Morgan mutters, turning his chair away from the walkway. 

You walk down the steps from Hotch's office. Whether you were praised or reprimanded is anybody's guess —your face never gives anything away. Spencer doesn't necessarily agree with the way Morgan's categorised you, but he isn't wrong either. You're like Hotch in temperament, if Hotch were soft on only Spencer. 

That might have something to do with why Spencer won't call you cold. You're never cold with him. 

"What did boss man want?" Morgan asks. 

"If it were your business, Morgan, I'm sure you'd already know." You don't say it spitefully, but it's far from a warm answer.

Spencer honestly asks just to piss Morgan off, "Everything okay?" 

You visibly soften. Walking past Morgan without notice, you pause by Spencer's desk, your voice quieter, gentler. "Don't worry, Spence, everything's fine. You still reading that book about sex crimes in Arizona?" 

"I finished it. Doesn't take long." 

"No, you're fast," you agree. "What are you gonna read next?" 

It's amazing how swiftly you shift gears. Your body language totally changes, your shoulders slouching toward him, your hand open and resting on the back of his chair as if you might touch his hair. Morgan shoots Reid a look that says, What is happening right now?

"I was thinking about reading up on the Milk Killer, from 1954. He tried to give his victims blood transfusions high in lactose in an attempt to cure intolerance." 

Even Spencer admits that that sounds boring, but your face lights up with genuine interest. "That could be good. You'll have to tell me how it goes." 

"Sure." Spencer squints at you. "You have something on your face." 

"Yeah?" you ask, and Morgan goes wild behind you, dipping back in his chair in disbelief at your breathless tone. "What is it? Can you get it for me?" 

You bend a little and Spencer wipes the lint from your face sweetly. He wonders if he should be blushing, your affection for him as clear as it is, but for once, Spencer Reid feels smug. He can melt someone that Morgan can't. "All gone," he says. Smugness aside, you're a friend (and maybe a little more than that).

"Thanks, Spence," you say, popping a kiss against his cheek. "You saved me from embarrassing myself." 

Morgan clears his throat. You barely move, your hands twisting behind your back. "Hey, lovergirl," he says, making himself heard. 

"What, Morgan?" you ask, finally looking away from Spencer's pinking cheeks. 

"You have something," he says, pointing at the corner of his mouth. 

"So?" you ask indifferently. You turn back to Spencer as though nothing occurred. "Do you want to go to the movies again this weekend? They're playing a silent film. I think you'll like it." 

Spencer smiles genuinely. It's not his main concern, but it's definitely an added bonus to hear Morgan's sighed, "Are you kidding?" as he nods vehemently. 

"I'd love to," Spencer says. 

"Okay. It's a date," you say, smiling at him so nicely it feels like he can't breathe. 

"What's a date?" Emily asks as she returns from the kitchenette, eyebrows jumping. 

"It's a marker used to denote the day or month within a year," you say primly. "I have to go make copies for Hotch." 

You don't say goodbye. Morgan likes you, really, in the same way you like Morgan, so he gives Spencer a dazed look followed by a small smile. "Good luck with that." 

Spencer looks over his shoulder to follow your figure as you carry a box of reports to the photocopier. "I don't think I need luck," he murmurs. You glare at the copier, clicking one of its buttons aggressively. "She's nicer than you guys think." 

"Sure."

[shima-draws]

Okay so a few things about the ending to the DLC. Spoilers below obviously

-Really REALLY disappointed they didn’t go with the whole toxic possession arc thing with Kieran and the new mythical (Pecharunt?) TO BE FAIR that was more of a fan theory than anything but it was one that made a lot of sense and had a lot of evidence to back it up. I guess I got too attached to the idea and was inevitably let down when the game didn’t go in that direction. Still it would have made more sense to give that extra edge as to why Kieran’s treating everyone so awfully,, and having him finally break free of that control during the final fight VS Terapagos would have been SO sick. Either that or before we even get to Terapagos Carmine calls Kieran out and that’s when he finally fucking explodes and rages and vents about his inferiority complex—and THAT is what summons Pecharunt, those negative feelings that it probably feeds off of or smth idk. Then we’d get a split second of Kieran finally being back in control and begging for help. And then Carmine realizing her brother has been under the influence of this Pokemon the entire time and. Okay I’m getting off track into AU territory now lmao sorry moving on

-Switching back to the Terapagos fight, I really enjoyed it! It wasn’t too long of a fight to be drawn out, but it was just long enough that it didn’t feel anticlimactic (also the MUSIC? STELLAR. Pun intended). ALSO ARGHFHH the five stages of grief Kieran goes through in that fight to finally accepting that he’s been going about this the wrong way and has been an awful friend and the way the LIGHT COMES BACK INTO HIS EYES I ALMOST CRIED. This is 10000x more emotional and powerful if you choose to bring Ogerpon with you and fight with her bc that really just. Hammers in the fact that despite all the bad blood and bitterness, Kieran still chooses to fight alongside you and the Pokemon he coveted so much…AND he even processes things enough to fully let go of all his hatred and anger and allows you to catch Terapagos because he KNOWS you’ll take good care of it and after all this time he still trusts you even though he’d probably hate to admit it. #GOOD WRITING

-Something really scary I realized. Kieran brought a Master Ball with him to catch Terapagos. 1. Where did homie even get that. 2. The fact that he was READY and didn’t even give Terapagos a chance to react, that he was essentially catching it against its will (which probably led to its power going out of control), that he was enforcing his own twisted desires and beliefs onto it and not considering its feelings (sound familiar? Looks at Ogerpon). BOY. 3. We’ve only ever seen ONE other person use Master Balls in SV. The AI Professor. I don’t know if this is significant in any way but if the Pecharunt theory WAS true that would make them so so similar and that’s eerie to me. Two characters controlled by something greater than them that they can’t fight…can you imagine how INSANE the dynamics would be listen to me

-Another thing I was kinda disappointed about was Briar? I guess I was just picking up on the vibes that she was actually a villain and would try to steal Terapagos from the player, but I probably gave Nintendo too much credit on that one lol. I do like that she’s not inherently evil, she’s just too absorbed and obsessed with her research to really pay attention to what’s going on around her. BUT. They should have pushed that WAY further. Either commit and do the full villain arc where she snatches Terapagos from Kieran right after he catches it to use it for her own purposes, or pressure him into Terastallizing it so much that it makes him uncomfortable. I want to see Lusamine levels of unhinged obsession. What she had was just a little bit too excited about Area Zero, not a full blown unhealthy and dangerous thing that puts everyone around her in danger.

-Following up on that. Drayton. I kept expecting him to also go villain arc IDK LOL I guess I want everyone to be gay do crime in this DLC 😂 But I seriously kept thinking he was just using the player to knock Kieran off his throne so he could take it right back from us. But no he actually genuinely cared about Kieran and kept pressuring us to beat the Elite Four so WE could knock some sense into him since Drayton wasn’t strong enough to do it himself. Which is a very sweet sentiment, I think :’) But am I the only one who was like bro calm down right after the fight where he was getting up in Kieran’s face and calling him ex-champion…..either he’s way too honest and doesn’t realize he was being cruel OR he was doing it on purpose to be a silly goober (but everyone else was like DUDE. LOW blow.)

-I still have questions. HELLO. HELLO. The notes in Area Zero mentioned the professor meeting a child with a white(?) book? Is that the Scarlet/Violet book? We still don’t know how the whole time travel paradox happened and why Heath talked about meeting Paradox Pokemon DECADES before the professor even brought them to Area Zero through the time machine? What is with the weird ass crystal tree sitting in the middle of a lake in the depths? Is there any significance to the Crystal Pool in Kitakami being connected to terastallizing and Area Zero? I’M JUST. AGHHH. I’m fairly certain we’re getting more content, maybe an epilogue to the DLCs but I’m going CRAZY I NEED TO KNOW NOWWW

-Also isn’t Area Zero like. Top secret hush hush. Why did Geeta let Briar publish a whole ass book about the HIDDEN SECRET of Area Zero that was miles under a closed off SECRET lab. I thought they were denying Briar access to Area Zero for YEARS, probably because they didn’t want her blabbing to the public. Idk. Maybe my memory is fuzzy on that one. Just feels very contradictory fhhdd

-The small little subtleties of Kieran regaining his regular personality as we went down….I ADORED that. His little smiles and him unable to contain his childish excitement and Carmine smiling at him with a knowing look bc after all this time her brother is FINALLY acting more like himself. And Kieran trying to brush it off like “wh-whatever” like he’s some sort of edgy teenager pretending he doesn’t care. GAHHHH it was so cute I wanted to cry 😭

ALL IN ALL it didn’t QUITE meet my expectations but it was still really good, especially considering this was all DLC content. Nothing will ever EVER top the main story of SV but the entirety of TTM and TID came pretty darn close. Kieran my sweet baby boy my blorbo I’m so glad you got your redemption arc and that you finally came to terms with your perception of strength and how it affects others. Baller DLC Nintendo do it again 👏

[starkwlkr]

hi babe!! love your dad!Charles ideass!! ABSOLUTELY MY EVERYDAY READ!! anyway if you don’t mind, can you make where ruby is jealous of her little sister/brother because her parents give too much attention to him/her and she thinks they forget her.

why not me? | charles leclerc

am i using a mitski lyric as the title? yes. i also got another request similar except uncle pierre makes an appearance

request: Hi! You should do a baby Leclerc one shot where she tells Pierre she’s going to live w him since they had the baby and she thinks they’ve forgotten her

Mathéo was crying too much, that’s what Ruby thought. She didn’t really understood why he even cried. Y/n always fed him, changed his diaper and even called him sweet names to comfort him. Years ago, Ruby was in Mathéo’s position, but now she was older and she didn’t like being pushed to the side.

Ruby was in her playroom. She was coloring in her Barbie book when she heard Mathéo cry. Charles was away for another race so it was just Y/n with her children in their home. Ruby ignored the crying baby since Y/n was taking care of him and continued coloring in. Once she was done, she put down her crayon and walked into Mathéo’s nursery where she found her mother attempting to calm the baby down. Y/n looked stressed, she probably slept about three hours since Mathéo didn’t want to sleep so he cried all night long.

“Mama, look! You’re not looking! I colored Barbie! I want to show grand-mére, can you take a picture and send it to her?” Ruby showed her work proudly.

“Give me a second, Ruby, your brother needs me right now.” Y/n adjusted the baby in her arms.

Ruby watched as her mother held the baby close to her. She felt jealous, she’ll admit that. They went four years with Ruby as their only child and suddenly Mathéo came. Now she had to share everything, especially the love and attention from her parents, uncles, aunts and most importantly, her grand-mére.

“Can you take a picture now?”

“Ruby, I can’t, I’m taking care of your brother.” Y/n sighed as Mathéo continued crying.

“But you always take care of him!”

Ruby ran out of the room nearly in tears. She decided that her parents didn’t need her, not since the new baby arrived. She ran to the living room and saw her mother’s phone on the kitchen counter. She knew she was still on a phone ban but she picked it up and unlocked it. She clicked on the messages icon and saw pierre’s name. She opened up the messages and typed out one of her own.

Y/n

uncle peair can i c ome live wiht you ?

She hit send and waited for a response. Luckily for her, pierre wasn’t busy.

Pierre

what’s wrong, my little ruby?

Y/n

mama do es not love m e

Pierre

Of course she does.

Y/n

No

I want to live wiht u and ki ka

Ruby didn’t get a response back from Pierre. She immediately thought that Pierre was already on his way to pick her up. What she didn’t know was that Pierre has shown the messages to Charles.

Suddenly Y/n’s phone started ringing with Charles’ contact name appearing on the screen. Ruby took the phone to her mother and then ran back to her room.

“Hey, you okay?” Y/n said when she answered the call. She put the call on speaker since she was about to change Mathéo’s diaper.

“I’m okay. But Pierre just received some messages from Ruby. They came from your phone.” Charles explained so Y/n checked her texts and saw what Ruby had typed to the Frenchman.

“Oh, Ruby.” Y/n sighed. “She was trying to show me her coloring book and Mathéo was crying. I’ll talk to her.”

“Give her kisses for me, I’ll be home soon. Let me know how it goes.” Charles said then Y/n hung up.

After changing Mathéo, Y/n carried him to Ruby’s room where she was all snuggled up with blankets in her bed watching ‘Cars’ on her iPad.

“Ruby, papa told me that you sent uncle pierre some messages. You want to live with uncle pierre and kika?” Y/n entered the room and sat on her daughter’s bed.

“Yes and he’s already on his way.” She said confidently.

“Well uncle pierre lives in Italy and papa and i would miss you so much.” Y/n said.

“No you wouldn’t! You have the baby.” Ruby replied.

“Ruby, papa and i love you and the baby so much. You’re my special little girl and Mathéo is my special little boy. You were the one who made me a mama. You know before you were born, I thought I was never going to be able to have children and then you came. That’s why you’re my special little girl, Ruby Jules.”

“Am I papa’s special girl too?” She asked curiously.

“You’ve always been, baby. He was so excited to meet you. He cried so many times but don’t tell him I told you.” Y/n chuckled when she saw Ruby laugh at the thought of her papa crying.

“So you still love me?”

“Ruby Jules, we never stopped loving you.”

[myimaginarywonderland]

I am sorry but I am just imaging that if we keep Tommy and have Bucktommy for a while (as we should), there will inevitably be an episode where Tommy's helicopter goes down right?

Like, we all know that if Tommy stays because the fan support will presumably only grow for him, they are going to traumatize him in the typical 118 fashion?

Now, imagine Buck and Tommy have been dating for something around half a year obviously going strong and maybe Buck is at a stage where he considers the "I love you" even.

And then, there is a call.

The 118 is called to a helicopter crash somewhere and Buck feels anxiety but it's fine because he knows Tommy has his day off so it can't be him, right?

Except suddenly dispatch informs them that it is from Tommy's hanger because of a bigger call. They are already nearly at the scene so there is not turning back.

And Buck's anxiety sky rockets.

Everyone tenses up. Bobby, tentatively asks Maddie (because it has to be Maddie to make it more dramatic) if they know who is in the helicopter, how many.

There is a short silence.

And Buck knows. It hits him like a fucking train. He knows his sister even if it is only a split second, so minimal most wouldn't notice.

Maddie just says that there were a 2 pilots, a paramedic and a civilian.

And Buck has to know, he has to be sure, he needs to confirm, needs to hear it.

He tells Bobby to ask Maddie. Bobby hesitates, clearly not wanting to upset Buck but he is getting frantic, because he knows deep down that something is so wrong.

After a few arguments and silence Buck comes onto the comms and ask "What pilots? Is it Tommy?"

And there is silence.

A silence that speaks louder.

And Buck demands, he has to know if Tommy is okay, still clinging to that tiny bit of hope but then he hears Josh (who has to take over because he tells Maddie she is too close eventhough he feels himself breaking too) "Firefighter Kinard was one of the helicopter pilots."

Another short silence.

"We haven't heard anything since there mayday call."

By now they are at the scene.

And Buck acts before he can even think, before anyone can even attempt to stop him.

He is jumping, running, sprinting towards where he can see the helicopter crashed into a small valley. He is ready to run down, already preparing himself to jump to get down when he feels arms holding him back. It's Bobby.

And Buck is kicking, screaming, not even noticing because he needs to get to Tommy.

Because Tommy has to be okay.

Because Tommy is always there.

Tommy can't be gone.

He just can't.

And then Buck's scream for Tommy shatters the quietness that didn't even realise.

There is nothing, no response, no sound, no movement.

Buck just slumps. He is like a puppet whose strings were cute, all the energy drained from him.

Bobby tightens his hold, directs everyone else on what to do while he himself has to stay up here, holding Buck.

Buck isn't aware of anything.

He just slides to the ground, Bobby gently going with him, not losing his grip.

Bobby feels horrible because he knows. He knows what Buck is feeling and he prays that if nothing else, that at least Tommy somehow survives this because he doesn't know how Buck would survive without Tommy.

Tommy (which none of them saw coming Bobby admits to himself) has calmed Buck in a way he never thought possible.

Tommy has grounded this wonderful man who he is proud to see as a son.

And Bobby can't see Buck losing him because he knows that Buck would lose himself too so he holds onto Buck, praying (for the first time in a long time) that please, do not take this from him. Buck has already lost so much, has already been through so much, experienced death more than any person should and he isn't sure that Tommy's death wouldn't be worse than Buck actually dying himself for the younger man.

So Bobby holds on, tightens his grip on Buck and knows that as soon as he let's go it will only be to let his son reunite with his boyfriend.

Buck is numb.

He can't hear, feel or see anything.

The world, his world has gone still.

His world might never start again if he can't see Tommy's little nose scrunch, hear his loud laugh, feel his strong arms, smell his stupid shampoo (he will forever deny he likes the weird mixture of sweet and bitter that Tommy's hair have after a fresh showe) or feel his giggle against his mouth.

His world is Tommy and he never told him.

How could he have never told him?

Buck only starts breathing, living again, when he bears the crackle of the radio.

"We have a survivor, coming right up, needs an immediate transport to the hospital."

Bobby hopes, hopes to a power he barely believes in that someone up there heard him and granted a wish. It doesn't even need to be for him, just spare Buck this. He breathes and ask "Do we have an ID?"

"Firefighter Kinard. Tommy is alive.