#no I will not shut up about all the things I can see now

[missdynamighttt]

fantasizing about bf! katsuki paying for his pretty little girlfriend's nails because he wants to spoil you rotten.

at first, you were reluctant to book an appointment because you didn't have the time or the money. however, your pro hero boyfriend was wealthy, insistent, and super fucking stubborn.

“woman, if it’s something you want, i’ll pay for it," katsuki says softly, enjoying the feeling of resting his chin on the top of your head.

you were currently cuddling on your shared bed in the apartment, one of those slow days where you both had nothing to do but relax in each others arms. "i can drive you there if its a problem. no big deal.”

"katsuki, i can't ask you to do that," you say, looking up at him. "its too much. i'll just buy press ons or something—"

katsuki’s face scrunches up in the disgust at the idea of you using those press ons. back when you just moved in a few months into the relationship, those damn press ons were always everywhere around the apartment.

and sometimes, it'd get awkward when you're digging your nails into his flesh, moaning softly around him as he thrusts into you but then you make him stop half-way because your nail fell from the bed.

it got to the point where he found one of them under the drawer where you kept your... toys, and he knew they had to go. it took you some convincing, so he wasn't about let his hard work die in vain now.

"fuck no. i ain’t letting you walk around wearin' that cheap ass shit again," he scowled at you. "and the hell you can’t ask me. you're not askin', i'm offerin.”

"i dunno, katsuki..." you bit your bottom lip, reluctant to accept. it was nice that your boyfriend wanted to treat you but you couldn't help but feel guilty. "i don't wanna bother you. i don't need it that much 'nyway. and you could just spend your money on.. well, other things."

"the only thing botherin' me is you being difficult," he pouts at you, leaning down to give your lips a soft peck. "so, sweets, shut up. just let me take care of you, alright?"

and you were grateful you let him take care of you as you admired your freshly done nails a few days later, the glossy finish catching the light perfectly. you couldn’t stop smiling, especially when you remembered telling your nail tech about katsuki and she told you: "girl, hes so doing this because hes gonna propose. please say yes, for the love of god!"

of course, you wanted to express your gratitude for him. and what better way to thank him by wrapping your hands around his cock, fingers lingering on his length, showing off your new nails to him?

"fuck," katsuki hisses, breath shallow as he looks down at you. "god, baby, you look so pretty like this..."

you were on your knees, only wearing his shirt and your panties as a hand jerks off his length. the other holds his hand, fingers intertwined as you mouthed at his cock. you licked on the throbbing, pink tip, sucking the precum out of him with a blissed out expression.

you almost looked like you were in a trance. and seeing you there, looking all pretty and disheveled like a succubus, never failed to make his cock hard.

"yeah?" you look up at him with smiling eyes, pulling away from his cock with a soft, wet pop, rubbing a thumb on his aching tip before flicking your tongue at it again.

katsuki can’t hold back the soft moan that leaves his lips, his head lolling back as he tries to keep his breathing under control. he groans, his hips bucking against your touch.“fuckin' hell, woman, yeah.. so pretty.. just like that..."

katsuki's hand tightens around yours, looking at your newly manicured nails. he lifts your hand up, admiring them. the glossy finish really does look so pretty on you.

“fuck. they look so beautiful,” he murmurs, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "look so beautiful wrapped around my cock..."

"thank you, baby.." you flush a little, your tongue swirling around his tip. "..really appreciate it, i do. hope this serves as a nice thank you.."

katsuki’s face is tinged with a faint blush, his expression softening at your words.

“no need to thank me, sweets. your happiness is all the thanks i need. but this— shit,” he lets out a low moan when you suck on his tip again. "this is always.. a nice surprise..”

"surprise?" you smile. "you didn't think i'd do this to you..." you lap up his tip in between words. "after being so nice to me?"

katsuki lets out a quiet laugh, “you wanted to make me feel good, sweets? yeah? that why you’re on your knees for me?”

he gives you a playful grin, watching as your hand continues to move over his cock. his free hand tucks a strand on hair in between your ears, cupping your cheek. “always my good girl..”

you flush with embarrassment, thighs clenching from his words. "shut up.. bet if i bought you something you like, you'd go down on me too..."

katsuki can’t help but bark out a laugh at your comment, the image of you buying him a gift and him then going down on you was an appealing thought. but. he grabs your chin and tilts it up, forcing you to look at him and slowing down the pace.

“oh, baby. i’d make you feel so good. i'd eat you out like you were my last meal."

he gestures for you to open your mouth, his thumb tugging down your chin. and when you do, he suddenly spits on your tongue. you felt strangely vulnerable, swallowing it as his thumb rubs your swollen lips.

"but no way you’re buying me shit. that’s my job. to spoil you," his eyes darken at the sight of you sucking on his thumb, roaming over the concave of your mouth.

embarassment rose to your cheeks as you looked up at him, feeling flustered. "but... i wanna spoil you too."

he lets out a low hiss, feeling the vibrations of your hum around his thumb. he pulls his thumb out, his hand coming down to grab your chin, leaning down to face you.

"don't even think about it, sweets. i'm not asking," he tilts his head at you with a pout. "if you so much as buy me a pack of gum, i’m going to take you on a trip to bali."

your eyes widened in surprise, not sure how to, and voice your concern. a trip to bali would be great, but you just wanted to give him something too. "isn't that... uhm, isn't that a bit much?"

"don't give a shit. just let me have this one, alright?" he sighs, looking down at you.

"i want to take care of you," katsuki stroked your cheek with his thumb, a small smile creeping onto his face. "i like seeing that smile on your face when i do. makes me happy."

you felt your heart almost burst, looking at him with what feels like so much affection. he was just showing you so much love, how could you not melt?

katsuki knew he was getting soft, clicking his tongue at you. he scoffs, rolls his eyes and squeezes your cheek. "your nails looks cute anyway. got that?"

you bit your lip. whats the worse he could do when you bought him something anyway? after a moment of contemplation, you nodded, katsuki's grin spreading across his lips.

"good. now, get up here and gimme a kiss."

you nodded again, your heart racing as you stood up and perched yourself on his lap, breath hitching when you feel his cock press against your damp panties before pulling him in for a gentle, but passionate kiss.

katsuki groans into the kiss as you straddle his lap, his hands immediately finding your hips and pressing you down against his bulge. you can feel how hard he is beneath you, whimpering as he deepens the kiss.

“such a pretty thing,” katsuki murmurs, feeling how wet you are against him, looking down at the heat of your arousals. “gettin' me this hard and still having this on…”

katsuki's finger tugs on your panties as he kisses you in between words. he fists his cock, and hits the fat tip against your panties, hissing softly from underneath you. "you're so fuckin' wet, sweets, and i've barely even touched you..."

"katsuki..." you whimper, whining as you feel the head of his cock against you, almost kissing your clit through your panties. "please... can't handle it anymore... please, j-just—"

katsuki lets out a soft growl, leaning into your shoulder to bite on the curve of the skin. you squeal when you feel his lips and teeth graze your shoulder, sinking into your flesh, just wanting more of him, whining his name.

"please what, baby?" he murmurs, kissing the skin he's bruised on you. "be a good girl and use your words."

"wanna.. say thank you," you gasp, slowly grinding yourself on him. "please... please, fuck me.. katsuki.."

katsuki grins against your skin. there she was. his needy little thing he loved so much, practically begging to be ruined.

you’re suddenly on your back, the couch cushion soft against your back.

“atta girl.. now we’re getting somewhere,” his hands are already on your shirt, roughly yanking it up. “you gonna be a good girl and do what i tell you?”

you nodded eagerly, breathless as you let him strip you. not like you wanted anything else anyway. you tug down hard on your panties, tossing them to the floor and leaving you naked, your soft skin hitting the cold air.

katsuki watches as you kick off your panties, clearly looking all too pleased. he shifts, his torso hovering above you and caging you in between the couch. one hand moves up to your chin, pinning you to the couch and forcing you to look at him.

“you’re gonna cum screaming my name, got it?”

you hold onto his back, nodding as you whine from underneath him, ready to take what he could give you.

and when your newly-manicured nails digged into his skin as he thrusts into you, hot red nail marks decorating his back, katsuki felt nothing but pure bliss.

[subtlyeuphoric]

So, I know this is about forest horror and not video game horror, but I was playing FOREWARNED with my friends and had a very weird 'just let it follow you' moment.

FOREWARNED is a horror co-op game where you're graverobbers going into Egyptian tombs and are rightfully being hunted down by the spirits within who are pissed that you're grave robbing. Every tomb is protected by a random spirit that will hunt you after a certain point. Your game objective is to find a bunch of archeological artifacts and then treasure if you're brave enough. The spirits all have different things they do in order to try and find and then kill you.

We can all recognize this game's premise and go into it to be scared because I can be jump scared by a properly timed breeze.

What is very important to this is that it has an in game communication system. If you're killed, you can't talk to anyone any more, but you can hear things. Talking after a certain point can help the game spirit find you and kill you. If you die, you can come back as a mummy and either kill your other players or try and point them in the right direction.

So, this is about my third game and we're in a relatively big tomb and I am still so insanely unsure about how this game works. I get separated from my friends and can't hear them any more. I am lost and just want to get out of the tomb and back to the jeep. I keep asking my friends where to go with absolutely no response. I turn a corner and then I see one of them. Relieved, she starts to follow me and I feel so much better. I try to ask her how to get the fuck out of here, but she says nothing.

That makes me worried, but I think I'm being a newbie and should just shut up and so I stop saying anything. Instead, I sort of juke left and right to indicate where I want to go and what I'm doing.

Every now and again, a mummy runs up to me and I freak out and throw torches at it and run in the opposite direction. Eventually, I find scaffolding up. My friend refuses to come up, but the mummies come dashing after me and I run up terrified. The game ends.

Finally, I can hear my friends again. The spirit took on the form of one of the players and would follow you around until you spoke and then it murdered you. Apparently, my voice was glitched the entire game, so my friends couldn't hear me and were killed instantly by the spirit, so they came back as mummies to warn me. I just led this creature around asking where I should go and it didn't kill me because it could not hear me. However, when it was with me it was such a comfort.

What, the forest-dwelling entities with imperfect human mimicry who insinuate themselves into groups of hikers? Yeah, we had one of those. Clocked it immediately, of course. Honestly it kind of fell in that so-inept-it's-kind-of-charming range. We just played along until it'd had it's fill of marshmallows and shambled back into the treeline. We might have been violating some kind of killjoy wildlife contact best practices but what the hell, can't plan around every little thing. Why, what happened to you guys

[moonstruckme]

Pookie! I need you to write me something pretty please :)

Can you write Remus comforting a reader with an anxiety disorder when someone told them "there's nothing to be anxious about. You just want attention" ??? Pretty please?? Love you pookieeeeeee

Thanks for requesting!

cw: mean girl stuff, social anxiety

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 929 words

“Shh.” Remus holds you close to his chest, his hand moving up and down your arm now that your crying has slowed. “It’s okay. It’s just us, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you echo, croakily. You’re glad you can’t see your boyfriend’s face, for fear you’d die of embarrassment otherwise. The looming insecurity of your day stands over you like a grim reaper. 

You arrived home from a friend’s birthday dinner to find Remus sitting on the couch, already marking the page of his book as he turned to you with a soft smile. 

“Hi, sweetheart. How was it?” 

You replied, through a laugh that turned into a sob halfway through, “Not great.” 

The dinner had been an event of foreboding for you since your invite. You’d been determined to be a good friend by not bailing, but actually going had confirmed your worst fears; it was loud, crowded, filled with people you didn’t know and didn’t fit with. Your outfit wasn’t right, the menu was daunting, and conversation swirled all around you about things you weren’t a part of. The fallout was basically inevitable. 

You perhaps waited too long to excuse yourself. You were sweating buckets and breathing around a lump by the time you did, whispering an explanation to your friend before locking yourself into a bathroom stall to talk yourself down. You’re sure she didn’t mean anything by telling the people sitting closest to her why you were gone—you don’t think she’d do it to gossip, and she’s never talked down to you about that sort of thing, at least not to your face—but by the time you returned one of her friends—a stranger to you, who’s name you can’t even remember—had formulated a fairly decisive opinion and dubbed you an attention seeker. 

You stayed only a little longer after that. Just long enough to avoid attracting more attention. And you worked yourself up well enough on the way home that all it took was one innocent question from Remus to send you crumpling into his arms. 

You’ve tried to steel yourself more than once, but any attempts at stoicism have been foiled by your boyfriend’s tender looks and whispered placations, which only make you cry harder. If you’re an attention seeker, Remus is your holy grail. Self loathing sits lodged in your throat like a stone. 

“Whose friend was it, again?” Remus asks, stroking your arm gently. 

You take a breath, trying to steady your voice. “Does it matter?” 

“I don’t mean it’s your friend’s fault, sweetheart,” Remus says. He’s all softness and patience, better than you could ever deserve. “I just thought you might talk to her, if you want to. She ought to know her friend is going around saying cruel things.” 

“She was there.” Your throat tightens at the memory. 

“Oh. Then I don’t suppose you need to say anything; I’m sure she’s already very upset for you.” 

You try to laugh, frustrated with yourself when it only seems to spur another wave of tears. “Rem. You’re biased.” 

“What?” Remus sounds genuinely surprised. “You don’t think she’s angry with that other girl?”

“She’s her friend.” 

“So are you.” His arms tighten around you protectively, chin bumping your head. “I may be biased, but the other girl was clearly in the wrong. There’s no excuse for the way she acted.” 

A dozen rebuttals fly about your head, but you keep your mouth shut. You don’t have the energy to argue. Unfortunately, Remus hears your argument in the silence anyway. 

“Sweetheart,” he says softly, “no one puts themselves through what you do for attention. You don’t choose to feel that way.”

You hunch your back, tucking your head underneath his chin. “I do get attention for it, though.” 

“That doesn’t mean you want it.” 

“But I—”

“Do you want it?” You can’t see Remus, but you hear the hardened edge to his tone. “Did you like it, when that girl called attention to you in the middle of the dinner?” 

Your voice smalls. “No.” 

“Right.” The gentleness returns. Remus puts his lips to your head. “I know you didn’t, dovey. So don’t torment yourself, please. She doesn’t know anything about you.” 

You push your lips together. He lets you chew on your next words for a while, his thumb swiping softly back and forth over your upper arm, the sleeve of your top shifting slightly with the motion. 

“What if…” You gnaw the inside of your cheek. Remus waits. “What if everyone thinks that?” 

“Mm. Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t think most people would. Surely not anyone who knows you, or anyone worth being around.” He takes a breath, thinking. “You can’t always control what people think. I know you say I’m biased, but anyone who thinks something like that really isn’t worth thinking about at all. You’ve got enough going through that head of yours, yeah?” He kisses your hair fondly. 

“I guess so,” you admit. 

“Yeah,” Remus decides. He pulls away to see your face, pushing hair away from your tacky cheeks. “I’d say so.” 

You wonder if you look as horrendously in love as you feel. You think you must, because your boyfriend’s expression softens impossibly further as he turns his head to give you a proper kiss. You feel raw but comforted, and suddenly, totally exhausted. 

“Let the bullies worry about themselves.” Remus gives you a tender look. “I’ll worry about you.” 

You let a small smile tilt your lips. “And what am I left to worry about?” 

“Nothing,” he says solemnly. “Think you can manage that?” 

“Nope.” 

“Mm. Well, try.” 

[katsu28]

summer's golden haze - chapter five

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: a day trip to ibiza, a nightclub, and max—who can't keep his mouth shut. (5.3k)

a/n: apologies for the lack of new chapters these past few months! writer’s block is such a bitch but i’m happy to say that i am back and working on this series as best i can <3

previous chapter | masterlist

Everything people say about time flying when you’re having fun has never been truer. You’ve developed a close friendship with Lando and his friends, and something even better with the boy himself. 

You’d say you were surprised at how fast you’ve fallen for him, but you’d be lying. Sure, you haven’t known him long at all, but it wasn’t hard to figure out that Lando Norris really was that missing thing in your life. He slots in like he was meant to, just as you hoped he would. 

You’ve all found yourselves spending more time at their place than yours because it’s just nicer. Today is no different. 

Lando’s chin sits hooked over your shoulder comfortably, stubble on his face a little scratchy, but it doesn’t annoy you. Especially not with the way the thumb of his hand on your waist is rubbing circles into the sliver of bare skin between your top and shorts.

He’s warm to the touch, but not unbearably so, more like a comforting warmth draped against you as he nuzzles closer. 

He likes to be close to you, you've learned very quickly—more often than not always having some part of him touching you. Fingers intertwined with yours, an arm slung over your shoulders, a hand on your waist. When you're sitting, it's a thigh pressed against yours, a warm palm blanketing your knee. 

Right now, he’s decided on sharing the same sun lounger as you, wedged himself in behind you comfortably.

Normally, you might’ve been put off by the sheer amount of casual physical affection he shows, but you can’t bring yourself to mind it. You want to be close to him all the time too, you’re just taking a little longer to warm up to instigating it. 

“What’re you lot up to tomorrow?” He asks casually, walking his fingers down your arm. 

“Mm, nothing probably. Might just do a beach day and chill out. Maybe take a little walk, I dunno.” You shrug. “You?” 

“Flying to Ibiza for the day. My mate Martin’s doing a DJ thing at a club there, figured we’d go support a friend.” 

You pout up at him, cooing. “You guys are so sweet.” 

“Yeah, yeah, alright. Come off it now.” He rolls his eyes, pinching your hip. You squirm at the ticklish feeling, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. He perks up then, and you swear you can almost see the gears turning in his brain. “Would you guys wanna come with us? We could hit up the beach together, hit up Martin’s gig at night, then fly back here afterwards.”

“It’s a boys’ day trip, we wouldn’t want to crash it,” You insist, shaking your head. “We’ll see each other when you get back.” 

“But I’ll miss you.” He frowns, wrapping an arm around your waist. 

“I think you’ll be fine.” 

He buries his nose into the crook of your neck, muffling his response. “No, I think I might die.”

It’s kind of sweet, you think, that Lando gets so pouty over not getting to see you for just a day. One might call him clingy, but you find it cute.

You attest it to the two of you still being in the honeymoon phase of your relationship, and it makes you happy, but something else gnaws at your stomach. You’re not even sure what it is. 

Before you can say anything, he angles his head towards the rest of the group, covering your ears gently before shouting, “Oi! We’re all going to Ibiza tomorrow, it’s been settled already. We’ll swing round yours to pick you girls up, then head to the airport.” 

He gets no objections from anyone, which you didn’t think he would, and it makes him beam. 

You try to see it from his perspective. Sun, sand, beautiful views. The two of you get to spend the day together on the gorgeous beaches of Ibiza. If you put aside your worries, everything sounds wonderful.

So why do you have this nagging feeling this isn't going to go as smoothly as Lando says it will? 

-------

It seems like you’ve just blinked and suddenly it’s the next morning and you’re heading into the hangar of a private airstrip.

The sun has barely begun to peek over the horizon, and honestly, you’re still half asleep. Most of your weight is leaned against Lando’s shoulder, who’s got a strong arm slung around your waist even as he chats away with his boys on the way in. 

You haven’t packed much at all, just a bag with a nicer outfit you can change into before going to the club. Lando insisted on carrying it for you, so it sits looped over his other shoulder. 

You aren’t sure what you were expecting when he’d brought up flying to Ibiza just for the day, but for some reason, the private jet your gaze lands on as soon as you enter the hangar has you a bit stunned for words. The unfamiliarity of your surroundings wakes you up even more as you ascend the stairs onto the jet. 

A long sofa stretches across the wall opposite you, sleek white leather to match the cushy armchair you’ve settled into. Elegant polished dark wood tables separate the banks of chairs, and there’s a fully stocked bar at the back. Even the lighting of the cabin screams money, not those awful dim blue lights on commercial airlines. 

This is the kind of thing you’ve only seen in movies, and now here you are about to enjoy a few hours on one with your very new, very rich boyfriend. It feels unreal, and honestly a little daunting.

Then in the back of your mind, you remember that this is probably just how his life is. Private jets and day trips to beautiful places, anything he wants anytime he wants it. 

It’s one of two thoughts echoing through your head through the whole flight, the second one being that you don’t belong here. You don’t ride along in chartered jets, or go on impromptu day trips to beautiful islands. This is all completely uncharted territory for you and it makes your stomach twist, but you’re able to just pass it off as being a nervous flier. 

Lando holds your hand, makes sure you’re comfortable the whole time, and that’s that. There’s no need to worry him about what’s running rampant through your mind. 

Thankfully, you fall asleep not too long into the flight, and you don’t wake up until you’re on the ground in Ibiza. From there, it feels like a whirlwind has taken hold of you. You’re put into a car, driving, driving, driving god knows where. 

Lando won’t tell you a thing, just kisses your cheek and tells you not to worry. And just when you think you’re at your destination, you’re squeezed into a golf cart that eventually drops you off at a seemingly private marina. 

A large yacht sits before you, pristine white and polished to perfection. Lando beams, holding his arms out to the side like a game show host. “Ta-da! Look what we got for the day!” 

You’re at a loss for words. When he’d agreed to a joint beach day, you thought you’d actually be going to…well, a beach. 

“How the fuck did you manage to charter a yacht on such short notice?” Maren asks, clearly disbelieving. 

Lando aims a look at her over his sunglasses, arching a brow. “What, like it’s hard?” 

“Don’t do Elle Woods. You can’t pull it off,” Samira chimes in, to which Max nods his agreement. 

“Everyone’s a critic nowadays,” Lando mutters under his breath, flipping both of them off. “Just get on the boat, dream killers!” 

Your friends seem to be taking it in a much better stride than you are, because they go exploring the moment they climb right on alongside the rest of the boys, chattering excitedly. You, on the other hand, have to take a moment after Lando helps you on. 

“So? What do you think?” He asks earnestly, rocking on the balls of his feet. 

“It’s gorgeous,” You admit, chuckling nervously. “I didn’t know you were planning on getting a yacht.” 

“Yeah, I got it so we could have the day to ourselves. Dock somewhere remote, swim and have fun without anyone else around. I know how important privacy is to you, and I wanted you to be able to relax today.”

It hits you like a heavyweight right then. Lando did this for you. 

Went through all these last minute hoops that probably cost a fortune just so you’d feel comfortable. It has to be the sweetest, albeit most outrageous, thing anyone’s ever done for you. 

You close the distance between you in two steps, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. The force of it makes him stumble back a little bit, but he’s quick to recover, nuzzling deep into the crook of your neck with a smile you can feel pressed against your skin. 

“That was one hell of a thank you,” He breathes. You shrug innocently and he laughs, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Ready to have some fun?” 

Turns out fun means putting an anchor down just off the shore of some small island not too far away. The day is starting to heat up a bit, perfect for you and the girls to stretch out on the cushioned benches and soak up the sun whilst the boys mess around in the water off the back of the boat. 

You’re not sure how long you lay there, but you’re about ready to drift off when you feel something on your face. A drop of water hits you square in the forehead, another hits your cheek, and it makes you peek one eye open. 

Lando stands right above you, beaming down at you as he drips water everywhere.

“Hi. Water’s nice,” He says, shaking his hair out not unlike a dog would shake out its fur. Droplets spray all over you with the action, making you squeeze your eyes shut momentarily. 

You wipe the water off your face with an amused chuckle. “Yeah, I think I can tell. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“You should come in.” 

“Maybe later. My sunscreen might not be dry yet.” 

“I think it’s plenty dry.” 

You arch a brow at his insistence, suspicious of the mischievous smile curving his lips, the glint in his eyes. He’s got something in that mind of his, and you’re starting to grasp what it might be. You sit up, inching away from him as he creeps closer. “Stop it. Lando, no. Don’t even think about it!”

He flops on top of you gently, enough to make you roll your eyes but not enough to smother you. “Lovely place to have a lay, innit?” He says innocently, squinting down at you. 

“It was,” You groan dramatically, wrinkling your nose at the puddle of water beginning to pool around you. “Now I’m being crushed.” 

“Are you calling me fat?” 

“No, no, the words you're looking for are big and strong and handsome. Did I mention the word strong?” 

“Twice, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.” 

“Careful, or I might start to think you have a praise kink,” You joke. Though judging by the immediate blush that blooms across his cheeks and ears, you might’ve just discovered something about your boyfriend. “Oh! You—I didn’t mean it like—”

His lips press against yours before you can finish your sentence as if to deter you from finishing your sentence, and you forget what you were saying in the first place. You’ve found that this is usually the case any time Lando kisses you, any and all previous thoughts disappearing without a trace only to be taken up by one singular thing—him. 

“Get a room, you two!” Samira grumbles, bringing you back to reality. “Happy for you and all, but I’m trying to sleep over here.” 

Right. 

You’d forgotten you were laying right next to her. Evidently Lando has too, because he whines something unintelligible, face hot against your bare skin as he buries his face into the crook of your neck in embarrassment. 

“Sorry,” You mumble, giving Lando a pat on the back to make him get off you. He does so, but not without a pout. The quick kiss you press to his shoulder when you pull yourself into an upright position is enough to settle him. 

He tilts his head invitingly, eyes bright now. “Come swim?” 

“Is the water nice?” 

“It’d be nicer if you were in it.” 

“I’m serious, Lando! Is it cold?”

“Guess you’ll just have to jump in and see.” He shrugs, winks at you playfully before ambling away.

You can’t help but admire Lando as he walks away from you, broad shoulders on full display, muscles shifting as he stretches his arms high over his head. Moles dot the expanse of his back, and it makes you want to trace your fingers along his tanned skin like you’re playing connect the dots. 

You’re expecting him to head for the back of the boat, but he goes towards the ladder heading up to the roof of the boat. 

“Now what exactly do you think you’re doing?” You call after him, raising your hand to block the sun shining in your eyes. 

“Jumping off the roof!” 

“Are you serious?” 

“It’s totally safe! I’ve done it before,” Lando reasons, waiting until he reaches the top of the ladder to offer you a smile. Somehow that doesn’t make you feel any better about him taking a flying leap from that high. “Wanna give it a go?” 

The words fuck and no teeter at the very tip of your tongue, but he’s grinning so big, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t at least a little bit intrigued.

Jumping off the roof of a yacht into crystal clear waters isn’t something you’ve ever thought you’d do, but then again, you’ve been doing a lot of things you never thought you’d do on this trip. 

“If I die, I’m haunting your ass forever,” You warn. Once you’re up the ladder on your own, you accept his outstretched hand onto the roof as he leads you carefully to the edge, fingers firmly tangled with yours. 

“There’s no one I’d rather be haunted by.” 

He leaps, taking you with him before you can even think of a response, and for a few moments, you feel weightless, falling through the air with nothing but Lando’s hand to ground you. It feels less terrifying and more freeing than you’d thought. 

You squeeze your eyes shut just before you hit the water, keeping them closed as you sink deeper and deeper. Lando’s hand leaves yours, but you don’t panic. You let yourself float, reveling in the quiet of being underwater until you start to feel it in your chest, and only then do you push towards the surface in a flume of bubbles.

The breath of air you inhale once you get above water is refreshing, and you tip your chin towards the sky, taking in the warm sunlight with a sigh. You wipe away the water cascading down your face before paddling back towards the boat, where Lando is sitting with his legs hanging off the back of it, waving at you. 

“What’d you think?” He asks earnestly once he’s pulled you out of the water to sit next to him. 

“That was…exhilarating.” 

“See, I told you it was fun! Stick with me, baby, I’ll show you the world.” 

Somehow, you don’t doubt that. If you’re an example of playing it safe, Lando is the definition of full sending it, impulse and chaos behind a handsome face. 

-------

The day flies by, and before you know it, it’s time to head back to shore. Thankfully, the yacht is well equipped with a shower in the bathroom, so you’re able to freshen up nicely when the time comes.

Lando lets out a low whistle when you emerge back out onto the deck, eyes dragging down your whole body, drinking in the sight of you with his lower lip tugged between his teeth. The intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down your spine, makes your cheeks flame hot. 

“Damn, you’re hot, girl!” He grins, winking at you. 

“Stop it,” You huff, adjusting the strap of your heel. 

“What? It’s true! Can’t I pay my hot girlfriend a compliment?” He argues, looking absolutely giddy. “C’mon, give me a spin.” You roll your eyes but oblige, and he whistles again. “My god, I’m a lucky guy.” 

“You’re so ridiculous,” You chuckle, letting yourself be tucked under his arm as you make your way to join the rest of your friends.  

“If ridiculous means obsessed with you, then yes, I am ridiculous.” 

The place is only a stone’s throw away from the public beach near the marina and already bouncing when you get there. You’re expecting to fold into the crowd of people, but Lando skirts around it, heading for the very front of the giant area, towards the DJ box. 

Maren’s hand clamps around your arm, squeezing tightly. “That’s Martin fucking Garrix!” She hisses, jutting her chin towards the stage aggressively. “You didn’t tell us Lando’s friend Martin was Martin fucking Garrix!” 

“He didn’t even tell me, how was I supposed to know?!” is all you can utter back in response. 

You’re just as taken by surprise as she is. You’d have never expected Lando’s friend Martin to be Martin Garrix. It’s not a connection you would’ve made at all, but you keep forgetting Lando is actually famous. Of course he has famous friends. 

Martin gestures for one of the other people there to take over the set, swapping out to come say hello as soon as he spots Lando. Both boys sport identical massive smiles. 

“Mate, it is good to see you again,” He says earnestly, bringing Lando into a tight hug. “I’ve been meaning to make it out to a race! You look great out there, though.” 

Lando shrugs, enthusiasm flickering a little at the mention of work, but only for a split second. “Could be doing better, but yeah, cheers!” 

Martin’s eyes flick over to you and he must get the sense that you’re a little nervous, because his smile turns more polite. “See you’ve made some new friends. Nice to meet you all, I’m Martin.” Then he notices how Lando’s moved closer to be next to you and you’re sure he’s already got things figured out. “Enjoy the set! I’m sure Lando will take good care of you.” 

A few drinks in your system helps relax the knot of nerves sitting on your chest a significant amount, enough so to where you’ve actually started to enjoy yourself. 

Lando’s hands slide around your waist from behind to sit at your hips, chest pressed up against your back as his chin drops down to nestle in the crook of your neck. He moves with the beat and you find yourself following, guided by his firm grip.

It’s so easy to get lost in him. You want to let yourself get lost in him, let yourself sink back into him and let your inhibitions free. But you can’t. 

Anyone can see you right now, seeing as you’re not exactly in a private place. You’re tucked off to the side, partially obscured by Martin’s booth and entourage, but it wouldn’t be hard for someone to take a good look and recognize Lando, even with the smoke and flashing lights. 

It’s risky to stay like this, and you want to tell him that, but then his lips press against the skin of your shoulder tenderly and your brain nearly short circuits. Heat blooms where he kisses you, traveling up to your cheeks and down to your toes like you've just been standing too close to a flickering fire. 

It isn’t until his nose nudges in right behind your ear, and his warm breath fans across your heated skin, that you suddenly feel like you can’t breathe. The loud music dulls down into background noise to the pounding of your heart in your ears.

Taking a shuddering inhale, you wriggle free of Lando’s grip, mumbling something to him about needing air as best you can and taking off before he can figure out what’s happening. 

You squeeze through the crowd rather forcefully, just needing to get somewhere without people, somewhere quiet where you can catch your breath and calm yourself down. 

Somehow you find yourself back at the beach, throwing yourself down onto a bench and burying your face into your hands with a frustrated, strangled groan. 

You don’t even know what’s wrong. Everything is good—you’re with your best friends, with Lando, and you’re supposed to be having fun. So why do you feel like you’re not supposed to be here? 

The answer is a mystery even to you. 

Watching the gentle waves lap over the shore proves rather soothing, a repetitive back and forth that helps ease your mind just the slightest bit. Only a few people mill around at this time of night, and they pay you no notice. You’re free to drown in your own thoughts without any of them being any the wiser. 

Footsteps approach some time later. How long, you’re not exactly sure—wallowing in your own self pity feels timeless. The tips of a familiar pair of trainers step into your field of vision, and you make yourself let your gaze follow up to see the extremely concerned face of their owner. 

Lando doesn’t say anything when you meet his eyes, just holds out his hand for you to take. When all you do is blink at him, then he speaks. “C’mon, let’s take a walk.” He tilts his head over his shoulder, towards the beach behind him. 

“I can’t walk on sand in these heels,” You sniff, scowling a little bit. It’s a shit excuse, you know that, but you don’t feel like being very cooperative right now. 

“I’ll hold them,” He replies, toeing off his own shoes first. You give in almost too easily, slipping off yours to give to him and accepting his other hand up. His fingers immediately intertwine with yours, tugging you closer to him as you step into the sand.

You walk along the shore for a while before either of you feel like saying anything, and it’s him who speaks first. 

“Are you alright, love?” He asks gently. Rather than saying anything, you press your lips together. “C’mon, will you talk to me? Please?” His voice is so soft, so full of genuine concern for you it makes you start to feel bad. “I think it’ll make you feel better, instead of holding everything in.” 

“All of this—the jet, the yacht, everything—it’s a lot to take in,” You admit quietly, staring hard at the sand in front of you. “And I know you did it for me, so I’d feel comfortable, and I love how thoughtful you are when it comes to these things. But I…this is all completely new for me. Like, I can’t help but feel like such an outsider.”

Lando’s expression crumples. “Oh. I didn’t mean to—that wasn’t my intention. To make you feel like you don’t belong.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. It’s not you, it’s me.”

“This sounds like the start of a romcom breakup scene,” He says, then he freezes, brows furrowing. “Wait, is this—” 

“No! No, I’m not breaking up with you. I’m just…saying things.” 

“Okay.” He nods, looking thoughtful. “How can I fix this, how can I help with what you’re feeling?” 

You smile at him, grateful that he’s asking even though there isn’t anything for him to do about how you’re feeling. Putting it out there is already starting to help, actually. You were scared about your thoughts and feelings being cast aside, but Lando hasn’t done that. He’s nothing but kind and caring about it. About you. 

“I’m fine, Lando. Thank you though, you’re sweet,” You assure him, kissing his cheek. “Mind if we walk a little longer before going back to Martin’s set?” 

“We don’t have to go back,” He suggests. “We can stay here, go somewhere else, anything you want.” 

“I want to go back. It’ll be fun,” You say, nodding firmly. The action is meant to reassure yourself more so than Lando, but he’s the one who looks wary. 

His head cocks to the side, brows furrowing in gentle caution. “Are you sure?” 

“Positive. I’ll be fine, I promise.” 

-------

The jet is quiet on the way back to Greece after Martin’s gig lets out, with good reason. It’s late at night, bordering on very early morning, and everyone’s asleep except you and Max, who’s on the phone with his girlfriend.

Judging by the way Lando immediately found his way into your space as soon as you all settled in for the flight and promptly conked out not five minutes later, he's exhausted. 

You glance down at the boy currently snoozing away curled up with his head in your lap, one of your hands clutched between both of his. His chest rises and falls rhythmically in his sleep, long lashes fluttering against the tops of his cheekbones. 

Honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever been as content with someone as you are now with Lando. Even though things between you are still new, you feel like you really can be yourself without judgement around him too. And that talk you’d had at the beach has definitely lifted the weight off your shoulders a good amount.

Still, there’s something else you have to get off your chest. You turn your gaze on the only other person you can talk to right now, the one person you do want to talk to. 

Max ends his call shortly after with a quiet love you, see you soon, catching your eye with a sheepish smile as he sets the phone down on the table. “Pietra says hi. She’s looking forward to meeting you guys when she flies in.” 

“We’re excited to meet her too, she sounds amazing.” 

“Yeah, she is,” Max sighs. Then he squints at you, like he knows something is amiss. “Is everything alright? You look like you’ve got something on your mind.” 

You nod carefully, absentmindedly winding one of Lando’s springy curls around your finger. He exhales a little harder in his sleep when you let it bounce back into place but doesn’t wake up, just snuggles deeper into you. “It’s kind of a weird thing to bring up, but I feel like I have to ask.” 

“Anything, go ahead. We’re friends, aren’t we?” It’s actually reassuring to know that Max’s opinion on you hasn’t changed since you’d gotten together with his best friend. You’re still friends just the same. That thought helps you muster up the courage to say what’s been weighing on you. 

“Are you okay with us? Lando and I, I mean.” 

You aren’t seeking his approval or anything, you just want him to be okay with the two of you. Or maybe you are, you’re not really sure. Max is Lando’s best friend, his brother. Other than Lando’s family, who you can't even think about meeting one day without your stomach churning, he's the person who's known Lando best since they were kids. 

All these people, they’re everything to him, and it's important for you to know where they stand. 

Max smiles warmly, says your name in that same soft, gentle way Lando always does when you get unsure. “You’re exactly the kind of person Lando needs in his life. Someone away from everything he’s got going on, someone who genuinely cares for him the way you do. You’re perfect for each other, and I hope you know that.”

You swallow the lump rising in your throat, smiling at Max through eyes glossy with welled up tears. His blessing brings you comfort, even if you weren't looking for it. “Thank you.” 

“No, I feel like I should be the one thanking you.” 

Your brows furrow, head tilting curiously to the side as to what he means. “Me? What did I do?” 

“I know Lando’s filled you in about what’s been going on, so you know that he’s had a bit of a rough time lately.” Max says softly, clearing his throat to rid himself of the emotional thickness in his tone. You can tell how much Max really loves and cares for Lando. “He’s not been himself for a while, so this summer break, this trip, it was something that might help him leave it all behind. Just relax and find himself again, ���cause it wasn’t good for him, bottling it all up like he was.” 

Your heart aches for Lando. You can’t help but want to protect him. It was true when you’d been just friends and only grown truer since. 

“I wasn’t sure if it was doing him any good, but then we met you, and I swear to god I haven’t seen him smile this much in ages. He’s been so happy, so in love, it’s been—shit, I don’t even know what else I can say other than thank you. You’ve made my best mate himself again, and…I think I owe you everything for that.” 

You know there are other parts of his sentence that you should be paying attention to—being the reason Lando feels like himself again, making him happy—but only one thing echoes at the very forefront of your brain. “He’s in love with me?” 

Max’s eyes widen almost comically at the realization of what he’s just done. The juxtaposition of the heartfelt conversation you’ve had up until this point with the sudden exaggerated panic in his eyes would’ve cracked you up had you not been stunned by what he’d just let loose. “I really need to learn how to keep my fucking mouth shut.” 

“Lando told you he was in love with me?” You press. You’d kick him under the table, but then you’d risk waking up the subject of your conversation. Max just blinks at you, probably trying to figure out a way out of this. “Max.” 

“Fuck, fine! Yeah, he told me.” You raise an expectant brow for him to elaborate. “Jesus, did you want a timestamp? He said, I think I’m falling in love with her.” 

“He thinks?” 

“Well, I don’t know! I’m not a mind reader, am I?” He huffs. Upon seeing your brows furrow, he sighs. “But if I could read his mind, I’d say yes. I’ve known Lando…shit, I dunno, ten years now? And I’ve never seen him like this with anyone else before. You’re special to him.” 

“He’s special to me too,” You say softly, stroking a thumb over Lando’s knuckles gently. It should feel strange how much you feel for this boy and how strong those feelings are, but for some reason, it doesn’t. It feels exactly right. 

“I feel obligated to give you the usual ‘hurt my best friend and I’ll hurt you’ bit, but I know you won’t. You’ve been a great friend these last couple weeks, and I trust you with him. I trust that you’ll love him as much as he loves you. You do, don’t you?” 

You sigh, chuckling softly. “Figured out that one easily too, haven’t you?” 

“Please, I’ve known since the day you lot came round ours for the barbeque. And both of you are shit at hiding things, by the way. You’d be terrible spies.” 

“Thanks, Max. Seriously.” 

“For calling you a crappy liar? You’re welcome, I guess?” He’s only joking, but you know he knows what you mean. Max is a really good guy, a really good friend, both to you and to Lando. “And if he ever hurts you, loop me in. I’ll give him a proper beating for hurting my friend.” 

“Oh, I will. Avoid the face though, I kinda like it.” 

Max snorts, shaking his head playfully. “Yeah, he’s got a nice mug, that one. Real moneymaker.”

The moneymaker is drooling a little bit with his cheek smushed up against your leg, but you pay it no mind. He still looks good. 

He’s actually starting to look like your whole world, all wrapped up into one perfectly flawed human being. 

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[endearng]

Out of reach

Pairing: earlyseasons!Spencer Reid x hotchner!fem!reader Summary: You pull away from Spencer because of your jealousy. You go back to him after a few drinks in. WC: 9k A/N: fluff! pining! idiots/friends to lovers! alcohol consumption; spencer is a bit mean; reader doesn't communicate; hotch is a little older to have a daughter around spencer's age (do not come at me this is fiction). If I missed anything, please let me know! I had so much fun writing this one and it's now one of my favorites <3 masterlist

The jet was quiet as you and the BAU team made your way back from Los Angeles after successfully finding Lila Archer's stalker. The case had been a bit draining, after all, you've only been working with the FBI for a couple of months, and seeing dead bodies and all those other displays of violence was something you were still trying to get used to. Despite your sensitive nature, being Aaron Hotchner's daughter meant that you had mastered the art of a poker face through the years, not that it meant that your inner feelings were any less important. This is how you found yourself sitting all alone in a corner of the jet as everyone minded their own business. On any other day, you'd be sitting next to Dr. Spencer Reid, talking about whatever it was that could get your mind off the case you had just wrapped up. Spencer and you were friends, some would even say the best of friends, but you didn't mind about naming things — what mattered the most is that you got to be yourself around him and you didn't bother hiding behind the Hotchner glare, as he once put it.

Despite being unknown territory for you, after all, feelings and all that were protected by a deeply analytic and practical mind, you knew what you were feeling. Well, you were analyzing your reactions to check what had actually happened — and the thing is, you couldn't admit, not even to yourself, what that sinking feeling in your chest when you watched Spencer saying goodbye to Lila was. Amid your analysis, Spencer quietly approached you, silently motioning to the seat next to you. You nodded, shutting every single thought of him. Or at least, trying.

"Hi."

Hotch glare. "Hi, Reid."

Spencer felt nervous. He had never been on the receiving end of your… wrath before, so it was unknown territory and he didn't know how to act. His racing heart and clammy palms weren't helping him, either. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Listen, um, you... can... can we talk?" The stammering. Way to go, Spencer.

Glancing at him, ignoring the skip in your heartbeat, you nodded. "Yeah. Is everything alright?" A firm, secure tone. You mentally patted yourself on the back.

"You're a little distant... and—and I got a bit worried. Did... Did something happen?" He wanted to kick himself. What kind of person can't hold a serious conversation without stuttering like an idiot? Get a grip, Reid.

"No, Reid. Everything is alright. I'm just... thinking." You said.

Bullshit. You both knew that. Spencer, on the other hand, didn't know why it was bullshit. But he knew it was.

"Are you sure?" He asked, leaning towards you, almost invading your personal space and he shut his eyes before delivering the next question, "Is... I haven't done anything to upset you? Right?"

You took a second to answer him, willing your voice to stay still and the knot in your throat to go away. "No. It's nothing you've done. It's just... it's on me." You gave him a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes — that's when he knew something was definitely wrong.

He nodded, but he was still worried by your sudden change of behavior, especially towards him. It was like he was anyone else, again. And, God, he didn't want that. "What is it, then? You can talk to me, you know. We're best friends."

Best friends.

The words felt bitter on his tongue. The sound of them broke your heart all over again.

Best friends. "Right. Yeah. I know." You said, quietly, and it felt a little lifeless to him. He clenched his hand, fighting the urge to touch you, to ask you what was truly bothering you. "Thanks for offering."

Spencer felt conflicted. If he didn't say anything and didn't push you to speak, you would probably bury whatever it was that you were feeling and it would lead him into being even more worried about you. If he did, you would probably snap at him because of his undesired, bothersome insistence. "It's nothing." He said, defeatedly. "Can you just... Do you promise it's not me?"

Your heart ached and you smiled at him, a tiny, faint, barely there smile. He was so adorable, sometimes. "I'm just upset over something else. Don’t worry. You didn't do anything wrong." You finished, trying to convince yourself that he had not, indeed, done something wrong.

And he didn't. He didn't. You and Spencer, despite your proximity and sometimes incredibly ambiguous relationship, hadn't said anything about deeper feelings towards one another. You let yourself admire him, lovingly, from afar, and were happy with the snippets of attention you had from him when you two had some free time. You two were regulars in the coffee shop near his apartment and, by now, the local librarian, Mrs. Jones, could probably fake your signature from how often you two went there to borrow books. She would watch you two behind the bookshelves, whispering excitedly and curiously to each other about whatever suggestions you were getting from each other. As you missed Spencer's longing glances to read a summary, Mrs. Jones smiled to herself, both at how adorable you two were and how oblivious you were. In museums, you would sit down after some time walking around to his explanations of art and historical movements that impacted the expression of a certain age — you pretended to not know a few things, just so he could speak his heart away and not be interrupted by your own contributions.

You kept silent to make him happy.

Which was exactly what was happening now.

Spencer knew, for sure, that you were hiding something from him. But he also knew that he had no right to force it out. He fidgeted awkwardly, not knowing what to do with his hands, his heart still clenching. “But, but... you’d come to me if you needed help, right?”

You nodded, unable to speak. You knew you were wrong, omitting things from him. Just as the guilt was starting to weigh in your heart, Derek passed by you two with a magazine in his hands, throwing it at Spencer, exclaiming, "My man!"

You looked down, already knowing what it was. Spencer was a mess beside you: blushing, stuttering, avoiding your and Derek's gaze and throwing the magazine as far as he could, like it had burned him. Your reaction was a subtle twitch of your lips, not in amusement, but in need to disguise the pang in your heart. You both spent the rest of the flight sitting in silence, simply being in each other's orbit. You, guiltily. Spencer, worriedly.

Your reaction — or lack of — was staggering to Spencer. He thought you two were getting somewhere, despite your closed off nature and demeanor, he thought he was finally cracking you up. Everyday was torture, seeing you walk through the bullpen's glass doors with your professional clothes and your composed figure. It was torture to see you walk around so prettily and serious, holding his bare heart in your hands, and not even realizing it. By now, he lived and thrived on those rare opportunities you had to spend time together as he became more and more covered in you.

As the jet landed and Spencer walked out to talk to Derek, you pettily made sure to step on Lila Archer's face when leaving the jet in sheer frustration.

Back to the bullpen, you had gone to the restroom to splash some water on your face in order to calm your nerves and to tell yourself that it was only a matter of time until things got back to normal — until you got back to normal. Glancing at your reflection in the mirror, you wondered if Spencer could tell that there was something wrong with you, if you had let any of your feelings slip during your short conversation. The version of you that stared back was as impassible as you ever were. As you made your way to your desk in the dimly lit sea of desks, you caught Spencer and Derek talking, both having their backs to you.

Sighing, you just left the headquarters, not wanting to know what they were discussing, or rather, knowing what they were discussing, but unwilling to stay, even if it would quench your curiosity as to what Spencer had been thinking.

Maybe you didn't want to know the answer.

—

The days went by, cases coming left and right, flights making you almost dizzy — not that you would admit, but you were terrified of heights. Between those and your training, you barely had time to think about Spencer and the entire Lila occasion. You spent your days busy with work, studies and physical training in order to keep your mind away from that, but as you lay awake at night, the memories would come back to haunt you relentlessly to the point you had recurring dreams of them. Together, as you watched from the sidelines. You kept to yourself, slipping further and further away from Spencer.

Reid, on the other hand, felt your absence more than anyone. You took a rain check on all the invitations he made, even when he invited you to movie night, when he would definitely choose a Russian movie because you mentioned once how you liked how the language sounds. There wasn't any more donuts on his desk as he arrived in the morning (he would always joke that you and your father secretly lived in the headquarters and that someday he would see Haley bringing your groceries to the secret house), and there was no one for him to throw his paper airplanes, small flashcards with the Russian phonological alphabet, at. The change in your behavior was absurdly clear to everyone: you barely called or texted him anymore, you didn't look his way when someone told a joke to check if he thought it was funny... He was sulking, to say the least. Upon questioning you, you blamed your lack of free time and as he was going to question you further, you said in a teasing tone that not everyone was like him and that the FBI was actually making you go through all the training phases.

Finally, during the end of a particularly frustrating workday, he finally snapped, grabbing your arm before you could enter the elevator. It was only you and him in the otherwise empty hallway. "Ok. What's been going on? And don't," he said, closing his eyes, "don't dance around the subject. Don't say it's the Academy. Don't say you have to work. Don't. Please, be honest with me."

The exasperation in his eyes and in his tone almost broke the wall that hid your true feelings, but as you glanced at him, you figured you couldn't do it. Be honest? What for? To hear that you're nothing more than his best friend? Losing said friend was not an option, not to you, at least. But you also knew that you weren't treating him right, that keeping him out was not at all fair to him, that leaving him in the dark was as hurtful as it would be to lose him.

Breathing deeply, you answered with the same stoic expression you wore every single damn day. "I told you, Reid. People go through different, busier times in their lives." The lie tasted like acid.

Spencer clenched his teeth, frustration and confusion beginning to override some of his social anxieties. “That! That!” He asked through clenched teeth, his gaze intense.

"That what?" You asked, puzzled.

"You... you stopped calling me 'Spence'—not that you did it often, you did it more when we were all alone, and it... it sucks! It sucks because I don't know what happened or what I did that was so wrong to make you stop liking me!"

Come on, just say something! Get angry, get sad, get something!, his mind screamed.

"I never stopped liking you," you said, looking away from him. His words hit a particular spot that you were totally willing to discover later, but the mere thought that he knew that you liked him more than as a friend made you shiver.

"That's not the point! Or—or rather, it is! Because if you didn't stop liking me, why would you act like you did?" He asked, his tone rising a bit.

"Calm down."

"Calm down? I will not calm down!" He almost yelled. His eyes widened slightly, disbelief clear in his features and tone, not to mention the frustration. "Just. Please.” He said, closing his eyes, willing himself to tone it down, not that it worked... “Tell me what you're thinking, what happened to you! For once! Any normal person would react and stop acting like an emotionless robot!"

You gaped like a fish out of water, taking a small step back, his words digging a hole in your heart. Upon hearing his own words and noticing you distancing yourself from him, all the anger vanished from his body. The widened eyes were a sign of realization of what he had said to you. During the early months of friendship, you had confided in him that you struggled with portraying emotion like others normally did. Maybe it had something to do with growing up with a father who did it so perfectly when he was out of the house. When he wasn't actively playing the ‘dad’ part, Aaron Hotchner would wear an unreadable mask like it was his armor, his defense from the outer world, but as soon as he got home, he was back to his main role. You would watch him with his coworkers and mimic him perfectly to make him laugh. At some point, making fun of and imitating his demeanor had become some serious form of self-defense for you. Spencer, then, joked that you were making your way to the perfect job, but then he had gotten serious and told you that it wasn't a flaw. That it wasn't a problem that you kept deeply to yourself sometimes — that it was okay to be yourself around him. You had felt safe by his side since then.

But now, what did those words mean? Were they lies?

He breathed out your name, softly, "I... I... I'm sorry."

"Just drop it," you replied, pushing the elevator button. Your dismissive tone and your action of leaving made Spencer feel utterly desolate, like he had done the wrongest thing in the world and perhaps he had, but he just wanted you to let him in. For once, he wanted to have the answers from your lips, not spend any more time analyzing your every single action and words...

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"You know, Spencer…" he looked up at you when he heard his name, as you held out an arm to hold the elevator doors open. As if thinking better than to say anything, you sighed and turned to enter the elevator, shaking your head with the most disappointed look he had ever seen on your face.

Spencer tried looking at you one last time before the elevator doors closed, and despite your face being as unreadable as it often was, he saw a flicker of sadness that stung his heart more than he liked to admit. If he hadn't done anything wrong before, now he had utterly fucked everything up.

—

The drive home, for Spencer, was a torture. He knew that he had to pay attention to the road ahead of him, to the other vehicles and drivers, but his mind kept drifting to the last glimpse of you back in the headquarters. Your empty eyes appeared behind his eyelids every time he pressed his eyes closed. He willed himself not to cry, to not blur his vision, taking his frustration out on the steering wheel, where his grip was so tight that his knuckles turned white. As he parked his car and looked up to one of his windows, he remembered you. Because of course he would remember you.

The sight was almost comical, to be honest. You, clad in one of the suits that fitted you so well, sitting on his windowsill, a cup of green tea in hands as you stared out the window, trying to analyze every single drop of rain before it reached somewhere outside your vision range. The funny thing was that you had no shoes on, instead, Spencer lent you a mismatched pair, not being one used to having people over, he didn't have a pair of spare slippers. Then, you sat there with a dinosaur-pattern sock on one foot and a striped-pattern sock on the other.

Spencer, sitting on his sofa and holding his own cup (he had let you choose your mug and stayed quiet when you pointed quietly at his favorite), smiled to himself. It was weirdly calming seeing you out of your character, doing something so... human.

"I can feel you staring, you know," you said. And your tone was almost... teasing?

"Right. Sorry." He said, looking down at his steaming tea.

"I'm not scolding you," you said, turning to look at his direction with a grin.

"Right, no—heh..." he replied, bashfully, cheeks reddening at the sight of your smile.

If only you knew... how many hours he would lay awake at night, as thoughts swirled in his head, how everything seemed to shut down at the thought of you. How he would fall asleep to the wish of being on the receiving end of one of your rare smiles, how he appreciated that you were always the first one he talked to upon his arrival at the headquarters. How... how he would do anything for you to look at him under a different light.

Seemingly out of nowhere, you giggled. Everything stopped.

Spencer.exe has stopped working.

"Heheh—I guess... It's not everyday you get to see a Hotchner so out of its—heheh—habitat." You quipped, looking at him with a smile on your face.

Suddenly, Spencer lost his voice. The connection between his brain and his tongue, which felt heavy, disappeared. Completely speechless, eyes slightly wide at the sound of your laughter. It made you laugh a bit more, but when his stare and open mouth got too much to handle, you looked down at your feet, wiggling your toes to distract yourself from the intensity of his gaze full of awe. Then, Spencer got back to his senses, smiling at you as you missed it to look away in embarrassment.

Spencer blinked away the tears and left his car, entering his apartment. As he took off his shoes, he let the tears fall at the sight of your windowsill.

—

Meanwhile, you were getting wasted at some bar. Not just any bar, but the one you usually went with Spencer when you were feeling daring and wanted a change from the places where you both used to go to. You were a bit of a lightweight, so a couple of drinks were enough for you to start playing trivia with Spencer and let your gaze linger for longer, basking in the sight of him so carefree, having fun with you.

Upon your arrival, the bartender that usually took care of your orders, MJ, greeted you with a smile. When she saw no one was joining you, she frowned. "Good evening, Hotch. Where's loverboy?"

You sent her a look, but since you were letting your guard down, after all, there were no acquaintances or friends around, you didn't know if the look came out as a glare or if you looked like a kicked puppy. She snorted. "Gee... That bad, huh?" She asked, and you didn't answer again, though you muttered a soft thanks, MJ when she gave you your go-to drink.

And it turned into two drinks. Three. Four...

(MJ was now giving you alcohol-free drinks, too worried for your well-being. You and Spencer started to grow on her as you two kept coming back.)

You rested your chin on your left hand while you traced patterns with your right index finger on the counter. MJ was eyeing you suspiciously, drying a few glasses with a washcloth. "He kissed another girl." You admitted, quietly.

"No way." She gasped.

"Way."

"But... I thought you two were a thing." MJ was baffled, placing down the objects she was holding in sheer shock. "I always thought you two were like... together for years."

"We were a thing.... I think, at least... I don't know, MJ." You sighed, tucking a stray of hair behind your ear. Looking up at her, hazy eyes taking in her focused expression, you sniffled, "we were on this case and then he met a girl and then the next moment the two of them were making out in a pool. In a freaking pool."

She tsked, anger flashing in her eyes, "I swear, those nerdy guys are the worst."

"Yeah..." You muttered, fiddling with your straw. "Can I have another one?"

She pursed her lips, but she relented. Then, as she handed you the liquid, a guy sat next to you. Did he look like Spencer or were you already hallucinating?

"Hi. I'm Dave. Can I buy you a drink...?" He asked with a small smile, wanting to know your name.

No, not Spencer. It’s cool.

"Hi, I..."

MJ cut you off. "Hey, Dave, I think she had too much to drink already."

They exchanged looks and it took you a minute to feel offended by her interruption and knowing you were perfectly capable of speaking for yourself, but realizing you would probably have to entertain a stranger, you felt grateful for it.

Dave left with a sour smile. "Thanks." You muttered, again, looking at MJ.

"Do you need me to get you a cab, honey?"

"That would be great." You said, placing money bills to pay for your drinks and the tip.

MJ looked around to spot someone to keep an eye on the bar as she led you out of the place, hand never leaving your shoulder. As she called a cab, she made you stand on only one leg to make sure you weren't gonna need her to go with you. You scoffed, but obeyed her all the same, with a low snicker. As you two waited for the cab driver, a woman who MJ trusted with her life (and her favorite regulars), you tried to make conversation to make up for embarrassing yourself by talking about Spencer with someone. How pathetic.

"So, what does MJ stand for?"

She chuckled, shaking her head at you and at your dazed eyes. "That's classified information."

"I'm familiar with that."

The cab driver, Paula, arrived. She greeted the both of you with a smile and a cheerful good evening! As you entered the vehicle, you rolled the windows down and pressed the subject further, "Seriously, is it Mary Jane or were your parents more creative?"

She rolled your eyes at you, shaking her head. "It's Mary Jane. MJ because who would take me seriously?"

You smiled. "I like the shoes!"

Paula started driving slowly, just to let other drivers drop their own passengers, as you were lost in your own little world, serious expression taking over your face again, not wavering, as you delved deeper into the whirlwind of thoughts plaguing your head. Paula, looking at you through the rear-view mirror, asked, "Is everything okay, honey?"

You buckled your seatbelt. "Yes, yes. Just... keep driving slowly, please."

"Where to?"

Only then you realized you never gave her an address. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you gave her Spencer's, telling her you were going home.

—

An unknown number had sent Spencer a couple of messages.

[8:32 p.m.] Lovergirl is here, drinking all by herself.

[8:32 p.m.] Water, but still. I'm not having her passed out without you here.

[8:40 p.m.] Sent her home, people were starting to approach.

Throughout the time he had spent with you at the bar, the two of you exchanged numbers with MJ in case she needed your help — you know, being FBI agents and whatnot. But Spencer didn't need to see her name to know it was her and she was talking about you; 'lovergirl' and 'passed out without you here' gave him clue enough. His stomach tied in knots when he read that people were starting to approach her, the nagging feeling that the image conjured in his mind was making him feel almost sick, then, it hit him like a truck: Lila Archer.

Their… case? was as fleeting as a careless glance. To be honest, Spencer accepted her advances to spite you for having such power over him, even if unknowingly so. The young agent felt like you were so out of his league, so out of reach — you were all that pile of confidence and stoicism and pure lusciousness and everything to him. And he was a young guy who truly had barely been kissed so far. How could he approach you, charm his way into your heart, especially when you barely bared it? With Lila, it was... nice. Easy, even. It was nice being wanted, to be able to read her intentions and desires like a children's book. With you, it was a tantalizing challenge, one he was, for the first time, struggling with. It was not like having a high-school crush, not like pining over the untouchable girls that would catch his interest as he grew older. No. This was something new. You had hit him deeper than ever or anyone before.

Plus, as much as he hated to admit it, he gave room to the anxious thoughts regarding your father as well. Would it affect his relationship with his superior? Would it affect your relationship with your father? Spencer felt dizzy just by the mere thought of ruining something uniquely yours. No, he couldn't impose himself on your life like that. It was mean, it was wrong, it was immoral.

To want, to desire, is to be selfish.

It was a bold assumption. To think you were jealous of him. Nevertheless, the signs were all there, had been all along. He was just dumb and scared enough of making assumptions.

A barely there, faint sound of a knock on his door made Spencer fly out of his bed, dropping his phone on the bedroom floor, but he didn't pick it up. He had a suspicion as to who could be knocking on his door, but he was too scared of assuming anything. Again. Opening the door, he saw you, breathing a bit heavily. The stairs, he supposed. You always complained about them. Once you exchanged looks, Spencer’s surprised one and your earnest one, you asked, "Do you really think I'm a robot?"

Shit. He could feel his heart breaking in a million little pieces. The insecure edge of your voice and words made him squeeze his eyes shut; in his mind, he was kicking himself simultaneously as he sank down to his knees, on your feet, begging you to forgive and forget his dumb, stupid, frustrated, unrealistic words.

"No," he breathed out, wincing, almost as if he was in physical pain. "I—I didn't mean to talk about you like that. I was..."

"Frustrated?"

He nodded, silently, eyes never leaving your face. Your speech, albeit way out of the ordinary that he was used to, was flawless. If not by the dilated pupils and the faint smell of alcohol, not to mention MJ's texts, he would dare to say you were perfectly sober. "I was, too." You admitted, looking down.

Spencer made way for you to enter his apartment. He watched as you kicked your shoes off. The sight, that had become as common as the act of breathing, made his way flutter. You intended on staying. Or so he hoped. You walked further into the place, noticing everything as it ever was, as if you hadn't been to his apartment for some time now. "You must be thinking why I'm here," you said, moving to sit on the couch and mentioning him to sit on the small coffee table in front of you, as if you owned the place, and not him.

Perhaps it was true.

He closed the door once you were inside, hesitating for a moment before joining you. He kept noticing things about you; the way you were walking, the way you could barely look him in the eye, the way you looked… “How much did you have to drink?” He asked, quietly.

"Not much. You know I don't usually drink because I can’t hold my drinks. And I'm sure MJ was giving me plain water at some point." You said, looking up at him. Well, at least, your speech flawlessly delivered, even though you were moving a bit more… disoriented than usual. She's totally a Hotchner.

"I... I am," he started, sitting in front of you carefully. "I... I'm sorry. It's just... You've never been so distant. I guess that I was mean to you to elicit some reaction."

Your analytical gaze softened upon his confession. You needed to give him some break, be a little easy on him. Well, easier than you were being as of lately. Nodding lightly, you added, "I'm here to apologize, too. I know... I know that I pushed you away and I made you think that... that that was your fault. It's not."

He froze. No, he wouldn't have you taking the blame for how his actions caused you to react. He looked up at you, reaching out a hand to touch your intertwined ones, "It is."

"Hear me out. Please." You said, lowly, not breaking eye contact. This was so hard, and you had never felt so afraid before. How ironic — to be afraid of being brave. "I... I guess that by now you know why I pulled away."

"I do," he admitted, nervously. "It took me some time, but I... I think I figured you out."

You looked down, embarrassed. It was overwhelming for him to see you portray such different and so many emotions all at once. To you, it was as agonizing as it was freeing. "Well, yes. So... It, um, it wasn't fair. We... we are not something. We are not a thing."

His heart, doing all the thinking and feeling, nearly stopped. As if it wasn't enough, you kept on going, "I'm sorry, I truly am, for how I behaved and how I made you feel by being absent. It's... it's not my place. You have your own life, Reid. I can't be upset with you for making decisions. You're a grown man..." you sighed, glancing at every direction but at him. "I know that I'm wrong, okay? And I know that I shouldn't have pushed you away, nor should I have kept my feelings from you."

Spencer drew in a long breath. He didn't know what to say, but you couldn't be more wrong. All at once, he wanted to scream, but he didn't know what ro say; he wanted to run, but he didn't want to leave you alone — not for a second. He didn't ever want you out of his sight; he didn't want to be the one you were apologizing to, hell, he wanted everything to be okay between them, but it was nice that she was talking to him, finally.

"I..."

Every time he thought he could say something, words failed him. Then, you took it as another opportunity to word-vomit everything you've been feeling. "I was... I was jealous. I didn't like to see that. I didn't like that it happened. But I also know that I have no right to be upset with you because you're single and she's attractive and you're both consenting and willing to do whatever you please, so..." You shrugged as if speaking those words aloud didn't stab new holes in your heart.

Spencer looked at you, totally speechless. It made you snicker. And speak further. Shut up, you idiot. Please, please, please! "And, ah—hahahah—I guess I am, indeed, a bit of a robot because it took me a bit of alcohol to pluck up the courage to come here and totally—hic—destroy our friendship by telling you I love you so much; that I'd hate to see you with anyone other than me. It happened and I hated it. It still stings."

Spencer's heart threatened to fail once again. Your giggles, your words, your confession... His mind completely short-circuited. She loved him. She loved him? She loved him?!?!???!!! That’s what she’d just said, apparently. Okay, calm down. And she’d been jealous. She didn’t like him kissing another woman, because she fucking loved him. Say something, you dumb idiot, his brain shrieked. Say something!

You parted your lips to say something else, but apparently decided against it. Another beat of silence of Spencer staring dumbly at you. "I'm going," you blurted out, standing up.

Spencer, at breakneck speed, stood up as well to stop you from walking away, placing his hands tentatively on your shoulders. Your bodies were now apart by mere inches. "No." His voice was so small and pained that you sat back down.

Despite your apparent willingness, your next words told him about your turmoil. "Why would I stay, Spencer? I've been pouring my heart out to you and you haven't said a thing."

Looking at you, so bare and so vulnerable, Spencer suddenly had flashbacks from when he had lashed out on you earlier and simultaneously fought the feelings that were bubbling inside of him upon your confession. Couldn't you see the sheer shock on his face? Couldn't you see that he was battling against every single bit of self restraint not to pull you into his embrace and make you believe him when he would tell you that you were the only woman for him?

Sure, he had dreamed of you saying those words to him countless times as time went by and you two got closer. Shit, he literally dreamed of it. Of you. Speaking sweet nothings to him... He broke out of his daze, realizing that he was deadly silent, "Don't go..."

"Then say something. I'm here. Not as Hotch's daughter, not as your coworker, not as a part of the team you work with. I'm here as the woman in whose heart you've grown over the last few months. I'm terrified of your answer and you keep depriving me of it." There was a hint of annoyance and hurry on your voice, and he could understand you, he truly could. He just didn't... he lost his voice when he looked at you.

Saying your name softly, he beginned, “I said stupid, untrue things, and I’m sorry. I’m a jerk, and I know that I’m a jerk and—" You quirked your eyebrow and he took a deep breath, trying to cut his rant. "Just... don't sit there and think that I have nothing to say."

"Have you said it?" You pressed it, quirking an eyebrow.

"No." He admitted, widening his eyes a bit as he realized his mistake.

At the same time, you shot, "Not saying something is also an answer for me—"

"—but not for the reasons you're thinking! Do you know how hard it is for me right now?" Spencer was starting to sound very desperate and pathetic, not to mention the fact that he wasn't answering your questions.

Deep breaths (from both ends).

"Look, Reid..." He glared at you upon hearing his last name. "I think I should go home. You and I clearly need some space—"

"What we need to do is talk."

You sighed. "Then why won't you give me an answer?"

Silence.

"You won't even remember this in the morning."

At that, you deemed yourself utterly defeated. This was useless. "I'm sorry I came over. I'm... I'll just go, okay? Please, don't be upset about tonight. I apologize in advance."

The sight of her, once more shying away from him and turning to escape from him, was making Spencer frustrated, with himself, to no end. His heart clenched at your apology, to which he shook his head vehemently. The thing is, he wanted to get ready to answer you, properly, just like he always had some trick up his sleeve or some funny or curious fact to blurt during the most random moments. Spencer was good at speaking, but only when the speech was already ingrained into his mind, something he had read or rehearsed before. Plus, he was sure your state of drunkenness would stop you from remembering that moment.

Spencer dashed to his door, barely stopping you. No, no, no, no, no... She can't leave. This might be my only chance. "You're not going anywhere."

"Excuse me?"

"Stay with me. I don't want you to go." He said, softly, slowly, looking straight into your eyes. It made you dizzy. Either that or the alcohol.

"No?"

"Y-you're drunk and I... I don't think it's safe for you to go by yourself and it's late and... and..." he trailed off, nervously, desperate to get you to stay.

"I'm not drunk."

"You're not fooling me. You might be as concise as ever but you're not sober. Stay."

"Promise... promise you won't be upset with me?"

His heart dropped, heavy with guilt. And with love for you. "I promise."

Spencer silently led you back to the couch, gingerly holding your hand. He felt dazzled, speechless, desperate, frustrated, all at once. But your touch was starting to ground him back to reality, where you were real, having confessed your feelings for him, and he was a mess, not even being able to say anything back. Without much thinking, he said, "You should stay over tonight."

"Okay... I'll take the couch."

"As if I'd let you sleep on the couch."

"It's okay."

"Stop... stop acting like I sent you away."

You kept silent. You felt like he did. Through his touch, he hoped to get you to understand that his feelings were a mess, but they existed, and they were real, and they were yours. "That'd be alright with me, you know. Taking your couch. I think I would sleep better on your floor than I would ever in my bed. To... to say that anything is better if you're somehow involved."

His stomach made a flip-flop. Brain short-circuited again. You yawned, as if you had just made an annoying comment on the weather.

"Are you tired?" He managed to mutter.

"I am."

"Come on. Let's get you to bed."

"No."

"What do you mean 'no'? I'm not letting you on the couch. Come on."

"I can't go to your bed with outside clothes." You booped his nose.

He chuckled lowly, confused a little by your words. "Are you seriously worried about clothes?"

"You don't like germs. That's why I removed my shoes."

Okay, he thought, if I manage to put her to sleep without having a heart attack, I definitely don't need a cardiologist's appointment because it would mean I'm that strong.

"Y-you... remembered?" Damn it, Reid. Stop stuttering.

You sighed, tiredly, and rested your head on his shoulder, looking down at his hand holding yours. "I remember everything about you."

"You do?"

"Yes. Fortunately or unfortunately."

Spencer was too stunned to speak. Too stunned, too dumb, too afraid. Damn it. Damn it. He couldn't stop cursing internally. He forced himself to pull you towards his bedroom and even though he still sensed some uncertainty, he kept going. Reaching for a pair of sweatpants and a big t-shirt, he gave those to you. "You can change into these," as he left the room to make you more comfortable.

"Wait!" You almost shrieked.

"What happened?" He prompted, worriedly, reaching a hand out to touch your arm.

"I don't want you to go."

He bit back a sigh. "I'll be just outside."

"Just... stay here?"

"I can't—" he interrupted himself, just turning around so his back was to you instead. At that, he looked up at his ceiling and prayed to any deity to let him survive that night.

He could hear the sounds of your movements. The zipper being undone, the soft ruffling of the fabric as you tugged your shirt up your head... He was imagining your exposed skin, every perfect inch, how would you look without all those clothes that suited you so nicely, how would it be to touch you, to run his fingertips all over your heated skin, how would it be to kiss every freckle on your body, to—"Done."

Turning around, the sight was adorable, which made him somewhat guilty of his early impure thoughts. "I feel like Alice when she shrunk into a tiny human."

He couldn't fight the smile at your words. He led you to his bed, where you laid on your back on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling. Spencer left you briefly to get you a glass of water and some painkillers to leave by the bedside table. You thanked him with a silent glance. As he turned to leave, once again, you said in a small voice, almost phrasing it like a question, too afraid of the answer. "Stay."

"I'll take the couch."

"You asked me to stay, thrice, I guess… And I did. I asked you once and you did. I still have a few requests left. I'm keeping tabs."

He relented, laying next to you and placing a pillow between you two. You breathed out a chuckle and he shook his head, clearly knowing where your mind had gone to. He placed his hand on top of the pillow, offering his comfort, and then you tentatively placed yours on top of his. He grinned to himself.

It was hard for him to wrap his head around what had happened that night. He knew his words — or lack of — could be read the wrong way and you possibly did, but he also hoped that his actions were speaking louder. Just as he was getting lost in thought again, he heard your voice once more.

"Spence?"

That damned nickname.

"Thanks for, um, being so respectful. Not that I don't think you'd be. But, um, as you've said, I'm drunk. And I told you I love you. And you're simply holding my hand." He gulped. He was keeping count, too, of how many times you said you loved him. Twice, so far, but he wanted so much more, endlessly. He wanted to lose track. "I guess... that makes me love you even more," you finished, crushing his heart between your palms, voice thick with sleep.

When he finally turned his head to look at you, your eyes were closed and you looked peaceful, drifting off to sleep. Then, when he was sure you were actually asleep, he stood up from his bed, grabbing a pillow and a spare blanket to lay on the floor.

"I'll gladly sleep on my floor if it means I get to have you around, too..."

—

Spencer didn't get any sleep.

He tossed and turned on the floor all night long, both because his carpet was not the most comfortable spot to sleep on, but also and mostly because there was no way in hell his mind stopped working. All through the night, Spencer fought the urge to shake you awake to ask if this was real, if you really loved him, if the words that slipped through your lips were in fact your feelings towards him. Despite his curiosity and eagerness, he let you sleep, figuring that he had already put you through too much already. As you slept, a movie played on his mind: your moments together, your confession of love, and overthinking the words we are not something. We are not a thing. He feared that you would wake up and realize how badly he had screwed up and decide not to want him anymore. Yes, he was that anxious.

You, on the other hand, even though confused by his lack of answer to your heart’s words, felt lighter than ever by speaking out your truth (the booze did help you a lot, though). Being as analytical as you were had its perks. One of them is that you never let yourself suffer too much for too long, too attached to reality to care much about the rest. So what if he rejected you? Life goes on — and that’s what you thought with every other loser that you caught yourself thinking too much of. Spencer, though… Who were you kidding? Spencer was Spencer. And that meant the world… It wasn’t so bad, if he actually rejected you… you’d only have to face him every day, until the rest of your lives, doomed to work together, cursed to think and rethink all over again small, fleeting moments such as an exchange of longing glances.

(You felt strangely calm due to your touch with reality. Maybe, just maybe, you were hoping for the best based on his care with and for you. But boy, were you ready to give him a piece of your mind.)

As your eyes fluttered open, you stretched your limbs on an unfamiliar bed with too much space. Upon your confusion, the memories came back with full force. You jolted, sitting down, searching for him — and, to be honest, not wanting to find him. The house was deadly silent, so you tried to trick yourself that you were sure he wasn't there. You dashed to the bathroom, taking a quick shower to get rid of the shame and the faint reek of alcohol. As you moved around his stuff, you couldn't help but think that you were so familiar with his things that it was almost like you belonged there. Sigh. It turns out that hiding emotions is easier than feeling them, especially their extremes.

As soon as you finished putting on your own clothes, you stopped dead in your tracks as you heard footsteps outside the bedroom. You froze, not knowing what to say. Or do.

Spencer entered the room, holding a tray meticulously organized with some food on it. “Morning. I, um, made you breakfast.” Because of course he would make you fucking breakfast. 

“Morning,” you replied awkwardly and hoarsely. Maybe you cried a little bit, who knows… “Thanks, you didn't have to.”

“I did.”

You take your time to get a good look at him. He had bags under his eyes that appeared to be tired. The sight made your heart drop. “I'm sorry…”

“Don't be.”

“But I was wrong.”

“So was I.”

“But—”

“Last night you said some things. Do you, uh, do you remember what you told me?” You nodded, unable to speak. “Do you remember what you told me?” He repeated, trying to get a verbal answer from you.

“Yes, Spencer. I remember.”

“Can you listen to what I have to say now?”

You nodded, weakly.

“I didn't say anything because… because everything had gone in the most opposite direction they could've gone.” He said, approaching you calmly. “I was up the entire night, hoping to find the right words to tell you that would make you believe me after I… was stupid. I… First, I'm sorry I made you feel that way. I know you said that we're nothing, that we weren't something, that we didn't have anything… but… but you're everything to me.” At that, your eyes finally met his. The intensity of your gaze made him shudder, but he kept going. “All the time we've spent together was nothing compared to what I want to have with you… and… and… God! Do you have any idea of the torture I was put through with you? Constantly thinking of what we could be, what we should be, too scared of your reaction or that—that—that Hotch decided to chop off my neck because he found out that I was crushing on his only daughter!”

At the mention of your dad, you burst out laughing. Seriously? That was such a cliché! “Hey! I'm serious!”

“I'm sorry…” You bit your bottom lip, fighting the urge to laugh at him some more. He was adorable.

“As I was saying,” he continued, trying to sound annoyed, but a hint of a smile threatened to break on his lips, and he didn't pull away when you approached him nor he did when you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his chest, looking up at him, adoringly. He looked down, meeting your gaze,  “I… I love you. I love you too. God, it just feels so good to say that!”

You giggled, again. God, he could never get used to that sound.

“And I’m sorry for being so mean to you when I was frustrated. I should have been more patient and my unthoughtful words hurt you.” You kept silent, remembering his words. “I—I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing if you’ll have me.” He added, intimidated by your gaze.

Silence. “Well, I accept your apologies. I was unfair to you as well. And you know where I stand when it comes to you. My feelings, I mean.”

“I do… But…”

“But?”

“I'd like to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“That you love me?”

“I don't know. Do I, really?” You joked.

He blushed furiously, ready to stutter himself out of that situation. “No, I mean… you—you said that—that you remembered what you said last night and… so… putting two and two…”

Another giggle interrupted him. You traced his jawline, leaning up to kiss his right cheek. “I really, really love you.” A kiss to his left cheek. He chuckled. “I love you.” A kiss on the tip of his nose, to which he snorted, totally lovestruck. “So much.” A lingering, tender kiss to his forehead. He closed his eyes, already anticipating the next spot you would press your soft lips to.

As you made your way to finally kiss his lips, you decided to tease him and let him wait for a bit longer. Spencer groaned in protest and you chuckled a bit, finally deciding that it was enough. Pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth, making him sigh, you were thrilling on making him more and more eager. His grip on you tightened just slightly as he let out a shaky breath. You wanted to laugh, but instead, you poked fun at him. “Now you know what it's like to be teased.”

“I love you. Oh, Jesus… You're driving me insane. You're here… And you, you're you…”

You grinned, looking up at him, finally, finally pressing your lips to his. As you let out a small sigh, his breath hitched, both of you utterly drowning in relief and satisfaction. You pulled back a bit, grinning, going back to kissing him. Spencer's hands found your jawline, sliding back to tangle in your hair as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth. Parting your lips slightly, you granted him full access to kiss you properly, and he moaned at the taste of you, gripping your hair rougher than before. You groaned softly, and he proudly heard and swallowed all your small sounds.

The ring of a phone broke the urgent atmosphere that was building between you two. Spencer ignored it, letting it ring until you pulled away, gasping for air. As you did, the noise stopped and you met his lost eyes, totally dumbstruck, and you laughed because you probably looked the same way. He gave you a charming, lopsided grin, too stupid, too hypnotized to say anything.

The phone began ringing again. “Son of a…!” he cursed, picking up the phone. “Hi, this is Dr. Spencer Reid and unless this is an absolute emergency, I'm kinda busy—”

“Reid.” Aaron Hotchner's firm voice hit Spencer like a bucket of cold water. Widening his eyes, he gulped.

“Yes… sir?” You smiled at that. Of course you knew who he was talking to.

���We have a new case.” Hotch announced.

“Oh… okay… I, um, I—I'll be there in 20.”

Silence.

“Is everything okay, Reid?” Hotchner could read anyone, Spencer was now sure of that. Even through the goddamned phone.

“Wh—yeah, yeah… Everything's… totally f—fine.” He cursed under his breath as you gripped his vest, trying not to laugh.

“Do you know where she is?” Hotch inquired after another moment of quietness. 

“Who?” He squeaked. You chuckled silently.

“My daughter.” Of course it was his daughter.

Playing dumb is not a good look on you, you mouthed.

“N—no… I haven't… heard from her.”

“Sure.” Hotch said, skeptically. Spencer could feel the sweat on his forehead. After a moment, your father finished the call with an unreadable “We need to talk.”

Once the phone call ended, you burst out laughing at Spencer's reaction. “Not funny.” He protested, a frown on his face and a soft smile betraying his faux frustration.

“Come on, it is funny.”

He glared at you. “What do you think he wants to talk about?”

“I don't know. Men talk. I wouldn't want to get involved.” You said, grinning, pulling him by his vest.

He squeezed his eyes shut, relishing in the feeling of having you so close. “Do you think he knows?”

“Of course he knows.”

“How are you so collected?”

“Because I'm not the one he's going to scare to death, apparently.”

“He said ‘we’ need to talk. Emphasizing ‘we’. If he knows you’re here, then it probably—” you cut him off with a kiss.

“Well, then… Are you ready to face your biggest fear? The frightening Aaron Hotchner?”

Glancing at you adoringly, he chuckled. “I’d face him and whoever, whatever, a thousand times, if it meant that I could get you in the end.”

—

A couple days after the case, you and Spencer meet again, in your apartment. Sitting down on the couch, you ask him, amusedly, “Do you think he noticed?” 

“Totally. I could barely look him in the eye for the first moments,” He said with a fond smile, hiding from you the fact that he had awkwardly and bravely spoken to your dad about your relationship. You laughed, placing your legs on the top of his legs. “I guess we should thank Lila, after all.” He joked, and you laughed out loud. 

Leaning him closer to him, grabbing his chin and looking deep into his eyes, you muttered, “Don’t ever say her name again, Spence.”

Your wish was always his command. It would always be.

[norasalina]

I’ve had a similar problem, but in 2023 I got lucky and was able to come across two of our mama cats right after birth, like, kittens still slimy right after, and they were too tired to run while I carefully set them up in a large dog crate I put in the laundry room (they each got their own).

But then another random cat showed up and had hers, so I got another cage, a smaller one, put her kittens in it, tied a string to the door, blocked the sides so she could only see then from the door, and hid around the corner. Took about 20 minutes, but the crying kittens got her in, I pulled the door shut, ran up to lock it, and was luckily able to find a shelter (all ours are luckily no-kill) that had room for them.

Once the two mamas had gotten their kittens weaned, I got them both fixed in one go, and after letting he recover released them. Found a few of the kittens homes (there were 8, 4 per litter) then got the rest acclimated to the outside, and then later that year got the females fixed just before they hit sexual maturity. Since they were raised indoor, all of them are perfectly friendly.

So that left one female cat. The only cat without a name because I can only think of rude things to call her. Every year she would have a litter, 3-4, and then start bringing them around for food. I’d catch the kittens, try the bait thing, fail because as soon as she saw me with them she’d be like “they’re gone now, so sad” and abandon them. So then I’d raise the kittens, fix any females, and she would come back later that year with a new litter.

Last year though, in the summer, I was finally able to catch the kittens at an age where she still wanted to rescue them. And after a few weeks, I was finally able to use a combination of food and the kittens as bait and use the sting-on-the-door trick.

Then, since it was good weather, I just put an old chick cage (No bottom, so they had grass) end to end with a big dog crate, which gave the kittens enough room to run around and grow properly and was big enough to keep mama cat from going stir crazy. I put a tarp over half of it, along with one of those storage bin cat houses so they had plenty of shelter, and just kept them there a few weeks until I could get the mama fixed and the un-adopted kittens into a shelter, since by then it was clear they’re been born too late in the year to make it through winter if it got as cold as it usually did.

So, not sure if any of that has any helpful ideas for you, but I’m kinda glad to know I’m not the only one being out-smarted by a cat! And finally catching her after a year was soooo satisfying!

We’ve had a cat fiasco

[wtfaniii]

Can you pleaseeee do a Namgyu x reader story where he’s your mean ex boyfriend that secretly still wants you 🙏

Of course! That man has something and you know it girl

From love to hate

Nam-Gyu (player 124) x reader // you

Fem reader!

Summary: You were so miserable that out of 456 people in this game you met again with the man who made your love life miserable a year ago.

Warning: Some emotional abuse, unstable relationship on both sides.

Note: I understand you girl, that boy has something that makes him attractive, I hope this is to your liking and meets your expectations!

The second game was over, the girl just wanted to calm her nerves sitting silently on her bed but she was startled a little when Thanos appeared next to one leap.

—Get lost —she said, rolling her eyes and continuing to play with his fingers.

—How pretty —he said sarcastically.

—You were nicer before —Gyu said, coming to her left side.

She sighed and got out of bed ready to move out of there, she wanted to have zero contact with him after having found in bed with her best friend.

—Fuck you

—¿You kiss with that vocabulary? —Nam-gyu hurried to stop her from escaping and stood in front of her.

—¡Move! ¡I don't want anything to do with you!

Yes, the guy was an idiot, he acted like an idiot throughout their entire relationship and he would always be an idiot.

She thought could tolerate him, she loved him enough to do it but there was a limit she wasn't going to cross, infidelity was something she was never going to get over.

Nam-gyu wasn't going to give up now that he had her so close, she was the only one who loved him just the way he was and even though he had made a mistake by getting between the legs of her slut friend he still couldn't stop thinking about her.

He took her arm with a little more force than he should have, it was inevitable, he wanted to tell her to please stay but instead he said something more hurtful.

—Stop being such a bitch and listen to me.

In his mind he wanted to regret it but the laughter deep inside Thanos made his ego as a man grow.

That was one of his many problems, the influence that third parties managed to have on him.

However, he couldn't think of anything else when he felt the girl's hand crash into his cheek, both becoming the center of attention of the other players.

—If you call me a bitch again, I'll kick you where it hurts the most —she warned him, pointing a finger at him in a threatening manner, to which Nam-gyu raised his hands in a sign of peace while backing away.

—She's a real sweetheart —Thanos said for the second time, amused and sarcastic.

—You have no idea....

[...]

It was time for the third game, the girl managed to overcome each and every one until it was time to pair up and take a cubicle before the rest.

She was alone, she thought that this time it would be the end for her.

Meanwhile Nam-gyu and Thanos had already managed to get an empty cubicle but just before closing the door 124 stopped at the entrance and looked in all directions.

—¡¿What the hell are you doing?! ¡Come in already!

But he ignored it completely, the drug in his system raised his adrenaline and clouded his judgment but the only thing he was quite clear about was that he had to make sure his damn ex-girlfriend was still alive after this.

Seeing her disoriented in the crowd, he didn't think twice and ran towards her, hearing Thanos shouting at him but he kept his eyes on the girl.

As soon as he got close to her, he took her by the shoulders and led her to a cubicle where, after having beaten the players out, he managed to close the door with her.

She was just about to thank him when Nam-gyu waved his hand at her to shut up.

—Not a word —he said, taking deep breaths.

—I was going to tell you that you are an idiot.

He gave her an annoyed look, but she was actually grateful even though she wasn't going to say it out loud.

Despite hearing the screams and gunshots through the door, the tension between them was also palpable.

They had so many things to say to each other but it was neither the time nor the place, Nam-gyu only needed to be so close to death to know that among so much shit in his life she was the only one he needed.

Their relationship had been so close and strong that all it took to end it was a one-night stand with another woman, and now he regretted it.

—I was drugged when I slept with her —he said without turning to look at her and watching through the small crack in the door as the pink soldiers collected the corpses of the eliminated players.

—That doesn't make it better —she replied without much enthusiasm.

Just by hearing her voice he knew that she had not let go of the past either, he knew her well enough to realize that the feeling of wanting to return was mutual.

But neither of them took the step that was required.

Once the doors opened, they both silently left there, Nam-gyu was the first to go towards Thanos who looked at him with his eyes half closed.

[...]

During the voting, the players looked at each other with hatred and other mixed emotions, Nam-gyu's gaze remained on the girl who was on the side of those who had chosen the tag, it was curious how now he too was questioning whether he should choose the circle again or this time make the decision to end the games.

—¡Press the circle! —Thanos shouted euphorically, bringing him out of his thoughts.

Min-su was slightly startled by the sudden shout, "Pathetic" Nam-gyu thought but he also felt somewhat pressured to make a decision.

After Thanos went to vote, he approached the poor trembling boy and spoke into his ear.

—If you don't press the circle you will be left alone without anyone to defend you.

It seems that this was enough to keep the 125 votes in his favor, with that they would win and continue participating, but when it was his turn his hand deviated towards the huge check mark.

He clearly heard Thanos' frustrated groan.

He took the red badge that the guard gave him and stood next to those his companion so hated.

—I honestly thought you would vote to keep playing —the girl murmured, standing next to him —¿What made you change your mind?

—Shut the fuck up —he mumbled angrily.

She still smiled softly at him and took his hand, a simple but meaningful sign that she was still by him side. Just as she had promised him since they met

The votes ended in a tie and now Nam-gyu had to continue playing and tolerating the irritable Thanos, he did not consider him his friend but his partner, he only hoped that this decision making would not influence their bond of trust too much.

Unfortunately, that was not the case and the tension between both sides of players increased with every second in the men's room.

—I'm not mad at you —230 said, approaching him while splashing some cold water on his face —I would also bend over backwards for a hottie like her.

He wanted to avoid fights but 333 butted into his conversation.

—Stop bothering others, you must understand that not all of us want to die in here.

Thanos laughed amused. —Oh look! The two lovebirds want to get out of here just because their girlfriends asked them to!

—I think we've collected enough money —Nam-gyu interrupted with a stern expression and a defensive posture. —Friend, we can still get out of here.

Maybe if 230 hadn't been under the influence of drugs he would have listened to him and they would have had a formal conversation where everyone would have come out a winner.

But that wasn't the case, instead he blurted out the following words.

—¿Why don't I just let you two die in the next game? You two can relax, I'll take care of your girlfriends so they won't be alone, if you know what i mean...

He barely finished the sentence with an arrogant smile when 333 threw a punch that Thanos managed to dodge.

He was going to make fun of it if it hadn't been for Nam-gyu punching him in the face, leaving him stunned and unleashing a fight between the Circle team and the X team.

Nam-gyu may have been a jerk to her, but she was still his girl and even if he had to kill other contestants, he would make sure they both came out alive and with a good amount of money.

Yeah... he did love her.

[fushiguho]

✰ finally domming toji & he’s a brat about it… at first!

cw fem! reader, dom! reader, light bondage, premature orgasm, a little cum feeding :/

“you’re a mean little thing.” toji grouses between little pants of incredulity as you push him in his chest, forcing his bare back against the silken sheets. “c’monnn, this isn’t you. what happened to my sweet girl?”

“jesus, do you ever stop talking?” you bite, throwing a leg over his burly hips, straddling him. “should’ve gagged you.”

he sucks his teeth, scoffing. “doll, i don’t think that’s necessary.”

you huff an agitated breath. “then shut up. you promised to let me have this.”

tonight, your boyfriend has finally, finally given you the chance to call the shots… or try to, rather. however, he’s having a hard time letting go, relinquishing his inborn desire to assume power. it’s rare to see him like this, beneath you. still, he’s grasping at straws, hanging on to any fleeting shred of power that he can muster as you begin to tie his wrists.

nervously, you fumble with the thick piece of rope that you hold in your hands. a sleazy little grin kisses his beautifully scarred lips. toji almost can’t help but to laugh as you attempt to bind his wrists to the wooden headboard. something between a wince of pain and a groan of pleasure leaves him as you pull through the final loop, finishing your double column tie.

he groans. “a little tighter, yeah?” it’s hardly a joke, but he pulls at his restraints roughly, wrists aching.

you pout, dropping your head to the right in feigned concern and you can hear the breath that catches in his throat. toji, far too stubborn to admit, loves you like this, bad. it took a lot to get here—days of begging, bribery, orgasms. he’d only be kidding himself if he said this isn’t turning him into such a… whore. after all, how could he say no to his pretty girl?

something warm and dangerous twitches against your inner thigh. the sweet tune you hum as you trail an idle finger down, down, down his heaving chest makes his hips rut beneath you, a fruitless attempt at finding release. a guttural sound is parting his lips when you take one of his hardening nipples between your thumb and index.

“you know, i could get out if i wanted.” it’s breathless, a wicked grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “you did a good job…” he pauses, gaze flickering up to observe his bounded wrists before tugging at his restraints, “but this won’t hold me, pretty girl.”

you scoot down a bit, revealing the pretty, achy bulge that rests so angrily between his strapping thighs. briefly, his eyes meet yours, the subtle furrow in his brows making your core tighten with need. a slow, teasing finger skims the stubble beneath his waistband. his stomach caves, sinking in his ever growing arousal.

“you know, maybe i should gag you.” you finally reply after some thought. the notion lingers on your conscious as you drop your head, kissing him through his underwear. “you’re insufferable when you’re not in charge.”

toji can’t help the near feral buck of his hips, an ensuing growl dragging from his mouth. he can feel himself losing his fucking mind as you drag a warm palm over his clothed cock. a violent shudder rattles his body, an unintentional gasp pulling his jaw slack.

“baby, it h-hurts… c’mon now, you’re being mean.”

“take your cock out then.” you challenge, backing away slightly to watch as he struggles. “show me you what it is you want.”

scoffing, he rolls his eyes, looking like the grumpiest of bears as he ruts his hips helplessly, desperately attempting to wriggle out of his underwear with his hands tied above his head. you smile, a pretty little giggle leaving your lips. watching toji struggle to find relief makes a warm, electrifying heat pool between your thighs. how the fuck could he ever deny you of this?

“fuuuck! i can’t!” it’s merely a high-pitched whine as he huffs frustrated little breaths through his flaring nostrils. “help me! you tied me t-too tight, i can’t do it.” he’s whimpering now, chest heaving in time with the mindless jerk of his hips. “baby, i need you to take it out for me. p-please okay?”

never. you have never seen him like this and you’re not sure how there was a time that existed before. a raw moan of relief is belting from his lungs when you finally slip a hand down his tightening briefs. your fingers brush over the twitching length of his erection, collecting the syrupy precum that adorns the head of his weeping cock.

with your other hand, you’re tugging his underwear down and his head is deliriously nodding back to rest against his pillow. your fist wraps around the base of his cock, squeeeezing. the messy tip drools, rivulets of pretty, pearlescent arousal drip, drip, dripping down his throbbing shaft.

“god, j-just put it in your mouth. don’t be like that… why are you being liked this, huh?” instinctively he tugs at his bindings, attempting to reach out for you but finds that he can’t.

he is so fucking desperate for it, yet he can hardly stomach the thought that it’s him begging like a slut to feel your tongue on the head of his cock. god and he’s just pitifully unaware of how he’s fully whining—the usual bass of his tone lost in the pathetic quaver of his crackling voice, reaching an octave so high that it shocks even you.

still, you shake your head, a bewitching smile gracing your lips. instead, you’re shifting lower, lolling out your tongue as you peer at him through batting lashes. toji’s breath hitches as you drool down the length of his cock. a longggg string of saliva tethers your bottom lip to his cock head as you start to stroke him from the base.

toji’s mouth gapes, yet nothing of coherence is uttered. he babbles mindlessly, those dark, drunken eyes stupidly following the hand that works at his cock, utterly enthralled by the subtle twist of your wrist as you near the weeping head. he curses to himself, needy hips still attempting to buck underneath your weight.

with your legs on either side of his body, you keep him grounded as you pump up and down his angry shaft. your warm, wet lips are trailing along his tightening abdomen. the poor boy writhes beneath your touch, his body reacting in a way you didn’t know was possible—his spine bows, hips bucking almost carnally as his stomach caves, arousal swirling deeep in his core.

“please.” it’s merely a breath as you nip the soft skin behind the shell his ear, soothingly dragging your tongue along the forming bruise. “will you kiss me at least?”

you peck the corner of his gaped mouth once, pulling away before he can even register your fleeting lips. toji turns his head, chasing your teasing lips and you smile, swiping your thumb over the head of his cock which pulls the filthiest little groan from him.

he pouts, thick brows furrowing slightly. “you’re being mean.”

“oh, you poor babyyy.” his cock jerks against the palm of your hand at your sweet, condescending tone. “maybe i should keep you like this forever, hm? actually think prefer this.”

“mmh—why? you like torturin’ me?”

you nod, bringing a hand up to his pretty, contorting face. he can hardly help the subconscious part of his mouth as you tap your fingers against his bottom lip. like an obedient boy, he’s swallowing around the digits with a satisfactory gurgle of unwitting pleasure. curiously, your fingers creep farther down his throat, the tips brushing the very back of his wet tongue.

saliva drips from the corners of his mouth and he gags once, his sable, lust-ridden eyes welling with thick tears. the smile that mars your face is sick, but it’s pulling a loud moan from the depths of his chest. another helpless sound leaves him when your hand tightens around his weeping cock.

“god, i’m so close.” toji gasps around the digits in his mouth, peering down at his furious cock and your jerking hand. his jaw is falling slack, head dizzily slumping to one side. “f… fuck, it feels so good—your hand feels s’gooood. g-gonna cum, can’t h-help myself. you are just sooo pretty like this, baby.”

“yeah? you gonna cum for me already?” the coy tilt of your head makes his stomach sink. a victorious smile cracks along your face. “hardly touched you.”

toji nods dumbly, breath hitching. his hips stutter pathetically, rocking against the agonizing jerk of your fist. the most beautiful sound leaves him, something like a whimpering gasp, his heaving breaths shuddered and choked. it’s loud and shameless and like nothing you’ve ever heard. several, long ropes of pearly white cum follows, coating the expanse of his chest and abdomen like it was meant to.

it’s perfect. everything about this image is perfect. toji looks so pretty drenched and heaving in his own arousal. you watch as his warm, sticky seed trickles down his perspiring skin. you almost can’t help the curious fingers that are dragging along his pectorals, collecting the mess.

“don’t.” is all he mutters as you creep the cum-soaked digits toward his lips.

you smile sweetly. “open.”

and with a dramatic roll of his eyes, he does. he takes your fingers into his warm mouth with a deep, guttural groan, sucking on them until nothing remains. a triumphant smile graces your lips as you push them further, forcing a proper gag from the depths of his throat.

“okay! okay, you’re doing too much, doll… untie me now.” he grouses, drool pooling against his tongue.

you hum in contemplation, tracing mindless shapes against his skin. “and if i don’t?”

“if you don’t and i get out on my own,” he pauses, lifting his head slightly to take in this beautiful image of you before smiling something sinister. “you’re gonna fucking regret it.”

it’s a threat and you know it is, so why does it make your core tighten with a need you’ve never known? why does it make your mind race at the possibility of punishment? discipline? it’s merely a warning, yet your cunt aches at the thought of him escaping, it makes your body burn with a fire the begs to be doused and it’s toji who must do it, so you challenge him.

“then why don’t you get out and make me regret it.”

[emacrow]

The villains had been 'mildly' concerned about their fellow villain, scarecrow by emacrow/creator

He haven't been to the annual monthly meeting in 6 months after his quiet muttering that how he beat The Mistress of Fear plotting by destroying her psychology.

Only for him to stumbled a bit in the door with a heavy limp, a marriage ring that was a gem bejeweled carved in the shape of pumpkin head on his ring finger, his scarecrow pants inside out, his jacket was missing, revealing several black and orange lipsticks marks and hickies on his shoulder, his sack mask has a new decoration of a childish scribble doodles of a ghost and a stitches of a carved pumpkin with glowing emerald eyes that was the Mistress of Fear symbols on the backside with his curly hair longer then it usually was, sneaky a bit out under the sack.

He look like someone who got their soul devoured in one go during a one night stand,

He ignored the obvious stares and snickering of each and every one of the guys watching him sit in his personal seat.

"So did you found what Mistress of Fear plotted against you, Scarecrow?" Harley was the speak first, a chuckle on how Scarecrow glared sent her way, fixing his mask.

"Oh, I think he found it alright." Penguin snickered.

"Fuck, now I owe Cat lady 1000 bucks."

"S-shut up! Scarecrow growled back if he wasn't struggling with his legs so much being weak in the knees.

"I still don't believe that The Mistress of Fear married this guy when she as tall as Killer croc and he like-." Riddler emphasize the height between Mistress and Scarecrow.

"He survived the other dozen times he fought her. Hell, Joker is still in the isolated cell for extend time after what she done to him the first fight, but seeing this. I can see she pretty much destroyed the poor guy to the point of bedrest." Bane spoke quietly, which cause the roar of laughter to begin in the meeting table.

"Bet she had many treats and tricks for our poor scarecrow to be walking like baby deer like that."

....

....

....

Jonathan wanted to blow up the entire meeting with his newly tested extreme fear toxic bomb so badly, but he held his anger and embarrassed down tight, considering half the thing they were gossiping were the truth.

They didn't have a clue what he went through personally.

He could barely hold a shiver trying to rise up his back after what was his honeymoon, along with learning some deep dark secrets Lilith had in her closet after he tried to snoop into.

Her endless, glowing green otherworldly filled of the damned souls that the soulshredder hoard closet that sucked him in for what felt like eternity when it was only 5 minutes in there before he passed out from terror.

No wonder she wasn't afraid inhaling the damn fear toxic when she had a goddamn portal to hell in her bedroom.

What he got forced into marrying her was to destroy her, but he was now playing against the unknown element that Lilith was a mistress of.

He doesn't want to remember the Training schedule she set upon him, but the lessons..

Oh the lessons of learning about fear essence in souls, Jonathan was drooling like he was starving for every single word that Lilith was speaking during that entire session, not cause his heart was skipping a beat with how she grin about a certain topic in fear or how his palms drench in sweat and face burning hotter then lava watching her show him a tiny water drop size of Fear essence in her hands.

He never was sexually attracted to anyone women or man, much less desire to touch or have affection for, but at that moment seeing that sparkle of flaming interest and desire in lilith's eyes showing him that made all the blood in his head went south for the first time in ever was the most embarrassing thing in his entire life.

He was fucked.. even literally in the sense.

Previous pt 1 link<- pt 3 link here<-

[estranhossonhos]

It's obviously not a requirement I look for, whenever I meet someone (friends, bf/gf, doesn't matter - I mean people I want to keep around and nourish a relationship with); but I would love to have a significant other with this kind of mindset. That cooks with joy, plans every mealtime with ease, and feeds on other people's reactions to their food. In fact, whenever I get invited to eat at someone's house, and they complain that the food didn't turn up how they envisioned, or state that «it's nothing fancy» - oh, you have no idea how moments like this warm my body, heart and soul. And I wish I was writing all of this out of nostalgia, with that magical, slow-motion like remembrance about everyone gathered around a table, enjoying themselves, talking, laughing, ... but for me, it goes beyond that.

tw: mental health + unhealthy eating patterns

I try not to feel ashamed by confessing this, but I can't help but notice how people look at me weird. It's such an automated/basic thing everyone does, and I can't do it? «What do you mean? You need food to live, yet you can't cook nor do the groceries? ». Not quite, but I do need a whole day to do it, and a few days in advance to get myself ready for this mundane task. You see, my brain shuts off whenever I look at what's inside my fridge or pantry - if there's even anything in there to begin. I simply cannot put combine ingredients like you do (and it's not due to lack of knowledge). And whenever I can, it will most likely become my go-to meal for the next few weeks. It's a logistical nightmare to even consider going out to the supermarket. Yes, I could order online - but that's another task on itself. 80% of the times this gets me so overstimulated that, I've ended up (discreetly, I hope) crying in public, on a few occasions.

Don't worry, it's not an everyday occurrence. And for better or for worse, I am too self-conscious and pragmatic for this bad habit to take over. But whenever my neurodivergent brain is going through the slumps (you know: those occasional rough patches that resurface every once in a while, sprinkled with anxiety and depression), I prefer to stay in bed, disassociate and lose track of time, with an empty stomach. Even though I merely switched that moment with another filled with more guilt and shame towards myself. And yes, that also includes going out to eat. That's why I (while trying to play it cool) usually choose what somebody else ordered, or what the waiter recommended. This way nobody suspects anything is wrong with me, right?

Now, if this all seems childish and overly dramatic, congratulations: you are a typical functioning human-being. Believe me when I say this: I feel the same way you do, whenever I hear myself complaining about this «first world problem». But unfortunately, this drains the little energy we have to navigate our daily lives as neurodivergent individuals in a neurotypical world. Especially for those with a very tight monthly budget, who live alone or share a place with people they are not close with. Just like you, I used to find unnecessary and environmentally unfriendly all of those pre-packed, peeled and/or frozen meals, veggies and fruits. Nowadays I am thankful whenever I find them, since they quite literally have saved my life multiple times. Chemicals? Not healthy? Never heard of them. I need fuel to get out of bed and to not rot away. And if that fuel is a frozen lasagne with a weird ingredient list, so be it. I promise I'll compensate in a near future, when I am mentally and physically out of the slump, and I feel capable of asking for help (if needed) or to mask myself again as a typical functioning human-being 💪 So, next time you catch yourself complaining about those ��unhealthy and ready to eat meals» or any other «unnacessary invention» that promises to make someone's life easier: take a deep breath, question everything but always try to do it out of pure curiosity. This way you're always reach the correct answer, be apart of less judgemental world, with more acessibility, compassion and solidarity towards one another.

Cooking for you is my love language.

[bread-crum206]

A Game of Hearts

Chapter thirteen: Behind Closed Doors

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12 Pt 13 Pt 14

The air in your quarters felt heavy, like it was thick with all the things left unsaid between you and In-ho. You had made it back, both of you, after the third game—Hide and Seek—which had shaken you to your core. It wasn’t just the brutality of the dogs, or the way the VIPs had reacted, that was eating away at you. It was the way In-ho had stood next to you, so calm and yet so distant, as if he was carrying all of it on his own.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, the weight of everything that had happened in the VIP room seemed to settle in. You could still hear the echoes of the last screams from the arena, muffled now, but it didn’t make it any easier. You swallowed hard, trying to shake off the feeling of dread that had lodged itself in your chest.

In-ho stood just inside the doorway, his figure outlined by the dim light. Even though he had his mask on, you could feel the tension radiating off him. The usual wall of indifference was still there, but it wasn’t as strong tonight. You saw cracks. Tiny cracks, but enough to make you wonder what he was really feeling under that controlled surface.

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. The silence between you was suffocating, thick with the unspoken words you both avoided.

Finally, he broke the silence.

“You okay?” His voice was steady, like he was trying to keep his composure. But there was an edge to it, a hint of something deeper.

You turned to face him, your gaze lingering on the mask, the one thing that still stood between you and him. You wanted to tell him how you felt—the anxiety, the fear, the frustration—but you didn’t know how to put it into words. The weight of the situation, the fear of what was coming next—it was too much.

“No,” you answered quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not okay.��

In-ho didn’t move. He just stood there, watching you. His body was stiff, his arms crossed over his chest as if he were trying to protect something—something you weren’t sure he was ready to show. You could feel the tension in him, like he was holding back, like he didn’t want to let you in too far.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time, you know,” you said, taking a step closer. “It’s okay to not be okay.”

He flinched, just slightly, but you saw it. His gaze flickered away, like he was fighting with himself.

“I don’t have a choice, Y/N,” he said, his voice low, controlled. “If I show weakness, if I let them see it… they’ll use it. You’ll be at risk. And I won’t let that happen.”

You wanted to argue with him, to tell him that you weren’t some fragile thing that needed protecting. But you knew he wouldn’t hear you. The way he saw it, his responsibility was to keep you safe, no matter what it cost him. And it hurt you more than you wanted to admit.

“You’re at risk too, In-ho,” you said softly. “This isn’t just about me. It’s about you, too. And I can see how hard this is for you. I see the weight you’re carrying. I’m not blind to it.”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he moved toward the window, his back to you, his posture tense. You knew he wasn’t trying to push you away—at least, not completely. But his walls were up. High. Impossibly high. And he wasn’t ready to let you in.

“I’m doing this for you,” he said quietly, his voice almost lost in the distance. “I can’t afford to show them that I’m… struggling. That I can’t handle this. I can’t afford to lose you, Y/N.”

You watched him, your heart aching at the weight of his words. He was trying so hard to keep it together, but you could see how much it was costing him. The stress. The pressure. And the part that was tearing you apart—the way he kept trying to carry it all on his own.

“You don’t have to protect me from this, In-ho,” you said, your voice gentle but firm. “I know what we’re in. I see it. But you don’t have to go through it alone. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

There was a long silence, and you could feel the walls he had built around himself pushing you away. He was still standing with his back to you, and the mask was on, keeping everything hidden.

“I’m not the one who needs protecting,” he said quietly, almost as if to himself. “You don’t understand. If I show them any weakness, it’ll end everything. This game. This place. You. I won’t let that happen.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. He wasn’t ready to let you in. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But you didn’t know how to walk away from him now.

“I don’t need you to be perfect,” you said, your voice low, but full of conviction. “I just need you to be here. With me. You don’t have to keep pretending you’re okay when you’re not. It’s okay not to have it all figured out.”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, In-ho turned around. But his eyes were still hidden behind the mask. His gaze was steady, but there was something in his posture that told you he was exhausted. Not physically—he was always in control, always sharp. But emotionally? He was barely holding it together. You could feel it, like a pressure in the air.

“I’m not going to let them hurt you,” he said, his voice raw, but still controlled. He stepped closer to you, his hand reaching up to rest lightly on your shoulder. “I can’t promise everything will be okay, but I’ll keep you safe. Always.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the words settle inside you. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to trust that everything would be okay. But the truth was, you didn’t know. No one did.

“You don’t have to do it alone,” you whispered, taking his hand in yours. “We’ll get through this together. Whatever happens with the next game… we’ll face it. Together.”

In-ho didn’t say anything. But the way his hand tightened around yours, even just a little, told you more than words ever could.

He wasn’t ready to let his walls fall. Not completely.

The fourth game was coming. But maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t face it alone. Not anymore.

———————

Chapter thirteen!! Yay! Sorry about the late post, I got swamped with EMT work lol

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[so-i-did-this-thing]

im sorry this might not be the place to ask for advice/help but im doomscrolling about the news and the soon to be president and im seeing so much to be scared shitless about, invasions, removal of vaccines, cost of living increases, revoking of trans rights and how it might make it all the more impossible to get the surgeries i wanted... its just too fucking scary to breathe right now what do i do with myself

Hey, Anon. I'm here. A lot of us are here right with you.

It's scary, to be sure. And I'm not going to sugarcoat the possibilities of things going south very quickly. So, let's jump into some survival tactics.

This post on burnout is a great place to start. There is a lot of overlap with burnout and the anxiety you're feeling.

Allow yourself to slow down and unplug. You are allowed to step away from the news cycle -- events out of your control will unfold regardless.

Don't feel guilty by letting yourself relax. I find it especially helpful to do activities that don't involve the internet -- I've been decorating my house, mending broken crockery, and sketching some embroidery ideas. I try to take the time to get dressed and groomed every day, to remind myself that I matter. I spend more time outdoors.

As you find the ability to relax, you'll be able to focus better on the things you can do to be resilient. Things I have been doing to improve myself and make me a better helper:

Staying on top of my medical appointments and any preventive care I can do

Working to be physically healthier overall to mitigate future medical issues

Getting all my paperwork in order, including passports

Tweaking my financial budget

Researching what estate & family documentation needs to be done to protect my relationship in case my marriage gets dissolved

Brushing up on job skills, getting new certifications to stay competitively employable

Stocking up on my medical and general emergency supplies, especially for bad weather events

Getting in the habit of mindful purchases, curbing my habit of impulse shopping

Selling things I don't want or need anymore to have a little extra money and be able to move house easier, if need be

Building a habit of fixing/maintaining my possessions instead of trashing broken things

Canceling online subscriptions and quitting social networks that make me feel in danger

Getting my personal and any queer-related files out of the cloud and onto redundant solid state drives

Downloading / printing out queer resources and buying queer art that may be banned or monitored in the future

Enjoying physical media again and hunting for old favorites

Keeping in touch with queer friends and allies and making plans in case people (even myself) need to flee

Being visible when I can and knowing when it's best to lay low

Allowing myself the luxury to dig into things Old Me would have saved for "special" events -- aka, wearing the nice clothes and eating off the fine china as an everyday thing

Shutting the fuck up, especially online, when I think my words could be used against me

In a way, I am trying to simply become a better version of myself, one who is calm & self-sufficient, mindful about his actions, and available to help those in need. It sucks that the driving factor is fear, but I intend to use that fear as a catalyst to be stronger and survive.

There is a lot to be done, but there was always going to be work, new regime or not. But please, start with that burnout article so you can jump into your own plans with new hope and energy. ❤️

[artaxlivs]

Sometimes you see art that is so READY for a story that you just can't help yourself....

“Come on, come on. So slow,” Eddie laments under his breath as Gareth and Freak drag out the already slow process of unloading Gareth’s drum set from the van.

“Ed, man, what’s your hurry?” Gareth asks him, leaning far enough into the back of the van to grab his fallen drumsticks that he has to prop his knee against the bumper. He's just barely managed to scoot back when Eddie reaches across him and slams the doors shut. “Whoa!” He stumbles back an extra step to give Eddie more room, “You got a hot date?” 

Whirling away from the back of the van and letting his feet carry him swiftly to the driver’s side, Eddie shouts over his shoulder, “Shut the fuck up, you know I don’t.”

But he does.

He does.

Starting up the van, Eddie has to bite down on his lower lip to contain his stupid happy grin because he’s meeting Steve Harrington at the park. And yes, they saved the world together and they’ve been friends for months but that had graduated into hanging out, movie nights, sharing secrets and hand holding, then getting shakes at the A&W and now they kiss. They kiss a lot. And today they’re letting the Party in on the secret. 

Does this mean they’re boyfriends now? 

Eddie honestly doesn’t know. This feels like boyfriends, right? Steve is the first thing he thinks about when he wakes up and the last thing he thinks about before he falls asleep. He wants to, like, live inside his skin. Is that weird? Like, he is so full of unbridled joy every time he sees Steve or thinks about Steve. So much that Eddie just wants to tackle him to the ground and kiss his pretty, perfect fucking face off.

“You can, you know,” Steve had said last night when Eddie had told him that, “you can tackle me and kiss me and I’ll just be like, hi!” Famous last words in Eddie’s book. Sounded like Steve was just begging to be arrested for public indecency because Eddie has no self control on a normal day but a day with Steve? Pssh. Be prepared Harrington.

Pulling up to the park, Eddie flounces out of the van. The boys and Max and El are all playing on the basketball court. Well, actually just Mike, Lucas and Max are on the court with a ball. Dustin is reading a book while El and Will are laying in the shade giggling with their heads pressed closed together.

Eddie’s eyes swing to the left and right, finally catching sight of Robin sitting on the tabletop of a picnic table nearby, throwing something at Steve who’s sitting on the grass a few feet away from her. Steve leans to one side, catching whatever she’s thrown with his mouth and then grinning wildly at her. 

He’s just so…so. Sigh. 

Even from where he’s standing, like 40 yards away, Eddie can appreciate how the white cotton of Steve’s polo shirt is pulling tightly across his broad shoulders and muscled forearms. That the white of his dumb, freshly cleaned sneakers is almost blinding and his khakis - who wears khakis? - are probably too tight across that glorious ass of his. And his face? That beautiful face? Well, Eddie understands why an entire war broke out over Helen of Troy. He’d do a lot of things just for the right to kiss that face.

He grins like a madman when he remembers that not only does he have the right to kiss that face, he’s been given permission to kiss that face whenever and wherever. Leaving his van behind, Eddie strides purposefully across the park, focusing on his goal and nowhere else. Even when the kids shout hello, he doesn’t look away from his target.

By the time Steve notices him, there’s no escape. Steve tries anyway though, laughing nervously as he scoots away on his ass - probably gonna have grass stains, Harrington. Oh Stevie, you knew what you were getting yourself into, Eddie thinks to himself just before he tackles Steve, gently pushing him flat on his back and bracketing Steve’s hips between his knees in the cool grass. Cupping Steve's head, he tilts it up so Eddie can get his mouth on him.

With a whine that bleeds into a sigh, Steve’s hands come up to Eddie’s hips to hold on as the kiss deepens and Eddie sucks Steve’s bottom lip into his mouth. Pulling back eventually, Eddie smiles down at Steve; a soft, fond smile spreads across Steve’s lips before they part and he whispers, “Hi.”

Leaning back down, Eddie lets the curtain of his curls shield them from the M&M’s that Robin is still throwing at Steve even though he’s in no position to catch them anymore. With a happy, satisfied sigh, Eddie smiles against Steve’s lips and breathes, “Hi back.”

a little speedpaint

[fangirl-problems101]

“I Don’t Lose”

“Bakugo and l/n–you’re sparring partners today.”

Our favorite hothead finds himself being challenged by the most annoyingly sunshiny girl (literally) he’s ever laid eyes on

katsuki bakugo x fem!reader wc: ≈1.3k

✨🧨✨❤️✨🧨✨❤️‍🔥✨🧨✨❤️✨🧨✨❤️‍🔥✨🧨✨

The sun filtered in gently through the windows, the air so still you could see the dust peacefully wafting by--until Bakugo.

"OI, MOVE IT, DUNCE FACE!"

You sighed. 'For a moment, it was quiet.' You didn't bother opening your eyes as you heard the chair behind you scrap across the floor, opting to simply face the window next to you and bask in the glorious sunshine.

It wasn't that you disliked Bakugo, but sometimes the yelling was a bit excessive. You looked down at your fingers, twirling some of the light around them.

'Sure he's easy on the eyes, but how does someone get through life this long by just being cranky all the time??'

"Whatcha thinkin' about, Y/N?" Pink hair and a big grin pulled you from your thoughts.

You laughed, spinning some of the sunshine into a thin rubberband and braiding a small fringe of Mina's hair, "Just about how I'd go crazy without your positivity, Mina."

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

Something Y/N didn't realize was that she was constantly being watched by two ruby red eyes.

"Dude, you're lowkey stalking at this point." Denki whispered.

Bakugo snapped his gaze to the living battery, "Why don't ya shut your face instead of spewin' crap?"

Kirishima popped his head over Kaminari's shoulder, "Bakubro, he DOES have a point. Maybe you should just do the manly thing and ask her out!"

"Tch. Get yer eyes fixed, both of you."

They opened their mouths to argue when Aizawa slunk into the room and they hurried back to their seats.

"For this period, you'll be split into pairs of my choosing for sparring. Please keep damage to a minimum today." Bakugo's eyes couldn't help but flit back to you as the listings got rattled off.

'I wonder what the chances would be. She'd be too easy to beat, just throwing sparkles or someth--'

“Bakugo and l/n–you’re sparring partners today.”

Both you and Katsuki's eyes widened.

'Well crap.'

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

Standing in front of him, you couldn't help the competitive urge starting to thrum inside your chest. 'I WANT to beat him, I want to show him I can stand my ground.'

"Don't go gettin' any big ideas, idiot."

"And why's that?" You pouted, but Bakugo saw that glint of mischief and determination in your eyes. He knew that look well, but what he didn't know was how his heart would start beating faster seeing it on you.

He scoffed, looking away with a slight pink tinge on his ears, "Because I'm only holding back enough to not cause major damage. Don't need ya crying all the way to that old lady and wasting her time."

"...so what I'm hearing is that the all-powerful and illustrious Murder God Explosion Lord-"

"That was an absolute freaking butchering of my-"

"-is scared, and holding back."

His eyes narrowed. It didn't matter how cute you were, NOW you've got his blood starting to simmer.

"Yer gonna eat those words, Twinkle Toes." He growled.

A wicked grin stretched your lips, "Oh, sweet thing, I think you don't even realize what you're up against. Because I don't lose."

And just like that, the dance began.

The room was filled with bursts of light and smoke, of yells and cries and growls. You were practically twirling around his attacks. You hadn't even begun to use your quirk, merely dodging and evading his own attacks and gleefully watching him get more and more riled up.

"STOP MOVING FOR ONE FREAKING SECOND!!"

The entire time, you never stopped smiling, and then you activated your quirk. Your abilities were practically the opposite of Tokoyami's. While he had 'revelery in the dark,' you had a friend in anything that emitted light--including Bakugo's explosions (and even Denki's electricity and Aoyama's sparkles).

You flicked your finger.

His palms quickly fizzled with smoke, the explosions instead drawing into your own hands. The flames were unpredictable, but still a light source, so it was fairly easy to manipulate. You opted for more of a fluid approach, the fire looking like a smooth stream of water circling your arms. He gritted his teeth and kept trying to land a hit, kick, spark, anything on you, but each time, it just flowed right to your growing flood of fire and light.

You fluttered your eyelashes, "Still think I'm gonna run off crying, Katsuki?~"

He stuttered to a stop, a deep red growing on his cheeks. An opening.

All the fire you had kept snatching from him now rushed at him, physically tangible and blindingly bright. It swept him up by the back of his collar, bound up his wrists, and had him pinned to the wall in a matter of seconds.

"And that," his wide-eyed stare snapped to you, "is checkmate, sweetheart." Your lips curled into the sweetest smile, blowing him a kiss and a wink.

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

Needless to say, the poor boy was humiliated, yet very much impressed and even more in love and in awe. He grumbled about how you hadn't sparred fair and that he had taken it easy on you, opting to walk away kicking the ground instead of arguing things further.

'How on earth does someone look so gorgeous while completely destroying me?'

He dragged his hand over his face, replaying how bright your smile was and the gleam that never left your eye, how you genuinely were having fun while he was tripping over his own feet and looking like a complete idiot in front of you and everyone else.

Yeah he intended on taking it easy on you, but you definitely started to get under his skin when he quickly realized how difficult it'd be to land any sort of hit on you. Not that he wanted to hit you, he just had a reputation to uphold. That was hardly sparring! No counters, no blocks, just avoidance and twirling and your wonderful laugh...

He shook his head. 'Knock it off. That's exactly why you were caught so off-guard.' This wouldn't do. He'd need to spar more often with you so he could figure out how to get the upper hand and not be distracted anymore.

A soft knock sounded from his door.

Bakugo grumbled under his breath and trudged over, "I already told you, hair-for-brains, just-"

But it wasn't Kirishima at the door. Instead, he was peering down at a bashful, fidgeting you.

Your hands were fiddling with the hem of your shirt, eyes peaking up at him with a nervous smile. "H-hey..."

"What, come to gloat? It was dumb luck, you overgrown nightlight." He grunted, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorway. His voice had no real sting to it though, more of a soft poke.

"I actually came to apologize... I was kinda maybe a bit of a brat-"

He raised a brow, "Maybe?"

You glared up at him, "Lemme finish before I change my mind and start a lightshow in your room whenever you try going to bed at 8-freaking-pm, old man."

"M'kay."

"As I was saying," you cleared your throat. "I'm sorry. Even though it was fun, and honestly kinda cute, seeing you so lost."

"So is this your way of confessing?" His smirk slowly grew into a grin.

A chill crept up your spine as your jaw dropped and a furious blush bloomed on your cheeks, "WAIT NO THAT'S NOT-"

"Because I accept. You're welcome."

Heat exploded in your chest, "W-wait, hang on-"

He leaned down and cupped your cheek, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead (also trying to hide his own red face), "You're mine now, 'sweetheart.' If I were you, I'd get used to it."

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

this is my first time writing anything on here! i haven't written in a while, so I'm pretty rusty🥲

sorry if he's a bit ooc😖 wanted a fic of Bakugo learning what it feels like to be awestruck and get beaten by someone he's head over heels for

[prettygirl-gabi]

Chapter 2: Caught on Camera

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none

Fandom: Women's basketball

Paring: Paige Bueckers x ! Photographer fem reader

Summary: is this thing still on?... I hope not....

Welcome to chapter 2 of Through The Lens. I hope you all enjoy and there is more to come...stay tuned my loveies!! 🏀💕📸... if you wanna be added to the tag list let me know!

Avoidance was becoming a bad habit of mine. After the incident with Paige and my shattered camera turned into an internet meme, I couldn’t bring myself to face her—or the team, for that matter. Every social media platform I opened featured the clip: Paige’s epic block, the ball ricocheting, and the destruction of my beloved camera. People had even started adding exaggerated sound effects and captions like, "When life hits you hard…literally."

To make matters worse, Paige addressed the incident during a post-game interview, her sheepish smile making me squirm every time I replayed it in my mind.

“It was an accident,” she had said, laughing softly. “I feel really bad about it. Y/N’s an amazing photographer, and I hope I haven’t scared her off for good.”

Her words made my chest ache, but I still avoided the team practices. I stuck to photographing games with my new camera, keeping my distance from the players—especially Paige.

That’s where KK came in.

“Y/N, you can’t avoid us forever,” KK said, sliding into the seat beside me in class one afternoon. Her tone was light, but there was a hint of mischief in her eyes that I didn’t trust.

“I’m not avoiding anyone,” I replied defensively, keeping my gaze on my notes.

“Right,” KK said with a smirk. “That’s why you haven’t shown up to practice all week.”

I sighed, slumping in my chair. “It’s just… easier this way.”

KK rolled her eyes. “You know Paige feels terrible, right? She keeps asking about you.”

My stomach flipped, but I quickly pushed the thought aside. “I’m fine. She doesn’t have to worry about me.”

KK didn’t say anything for a moment, and I thought I’d won the argument—until she spoke again, her voice casual.

“Hey, can you stop by the gym tonight? Coach wants to see some of the practice shots you’ve taken for the project.”

I frowned, suspicious. “Coach? Why would he need to see them now?”

KK shrugged, her expression unreadable. “I don’t make the rules. Just swing by, okay?”

That’s how I found myself at the gym later that evening, camera in hand. The space was eerily quiet, the faint hum of the overhead lights the only sound as I stepped inside.

“Coach?” I called out, my voice echoing.

Instead of Coach, Paige emerged from the shadows, her expression a mix of surprise and apprehension.

“Y/N,” she said, her voice soft.

I froze, my grip tightening on my camera. “Paige? What are you doing here?”

Before she could answer, the gym doors slammed shut behind me, and I turned to see KK waving through the glass window with a wide grin.

“You two need to talk,” KK shouted, her voice muffled by the door. “I’ll let you out in the morning!”

“KK!” I yelled, rushing to the door, but it was locked tight.

Paige let out a small laugh, drawing my attention back to her. “Well, I guess we’re stuck together.”

After a few minutes of awkward silence, I excused myself to the bathroom, needing a moment to collect my thoughts. When I returned, Paige was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the court, my camera in her hands.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

Paige glanced up at me, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I figured I’d record something for you. An apology, I guess.”

Before I could respond, she pressed a button, and the red recording light blinked off—at least, I thought it did.

“Can we talk?” Paige asked, setting the camera aside.

I hesitated before nodding, taking a seat across from her.

“I’m sorry,” she began, her voice sincere. “About your camera, about everything. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“I know,” I said quietly, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. “It’s just… hard. That camera meant a lot to me, and now everyone’s laughing about it like it’s some big joke.”

Paige’s expression softened, and she scooted closer, her knee brushing against mine. “I get it. I’d hate being the center of a meme, too. But you’re more than that clip, Y/N. Your work is incredible, and I’ve seen the way you capture the game—like you see things the rest of us miss.”

Her words made my chest tighten, and I looked away, feeling vulnerable under her gaze.

“Thanks,” I murmured, my voice barely audible.

Paige reached out, her hand resting lightly on mine. “I mean it. You’re amazing.”

I glanced up, meeting her eyes, and for a moment, the world seemed

to fade away. Her gaze was steady and warm, filled with an honesty that made my heart stutter.

“Paige…” I started, but my voice faltered.

She gave me a small, lopsided smile, her fingers brushing over mine. “I know I messed up, but I want to make it right. Not just with the camera—but with you. Can we… start over?”

I hesitated, the weight of everything between us making it hard to breathe. But then I saw the earnestness in her expression, the vulnerability she rarely let show.

“Okay,” I said softly, nodding. “We can start over.”

A small laugh escaped her, almost a sigh of relief. “Good. Because I really don’t want you avoiding me anymore.”

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” I lied, though we both knew the truth.

She smirked, leaning back slightly. “Right. You just conveniently disappeared every time I was around?”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. “Fine, maybe I was avoiding you. But only because I didn’t know how to face you after everything.”

“Well,” Paige said, tilting her head, “now you’re stuck with me until KK decides to let us out. So, no more avoiding.”

I chuckled, the tension between us easing slightly. “Guess I don’t have a choice.”

We spent the next few hours talking—about basketball, photography, school, and everything in between. Paige was easy to talk to, her laugh infectious and her stories captivating. For the first time in weeks, I felt at ease.

At some point, exhaustion caught up to us, and we ended up lying on the court, our heads close together as we stared up at the ceiling.

“Do you ever think about what’s next?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Paige turned her head to look at me, her expression thoughtful. “All the time. The WNBA feels so close, but at the same time, I’m scared of what it means to leave everything here behind.”

I nodded, understanding her fear. “Change is scary. But you’ll do amazing—you always do.”

Her gaze lingered on me, a soft smile playing on her lips. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” I replied, my words steady.

We fell into a comfortable silence, and before I knew it, I drifted off, the warmth of Paige’s presence lulling me to sleep.

The next morning, I woke to the sound of muffled laughter. Blinking against the light, I realized Paige and I were still lying on the court, her arm draped over me in a way that felt impossibly natural.

“What do we have here?” KK’s voice rang out, teasing and triumphant.

I sat up quickly, my face burning as I saw KK and Azzi standing near the gym doors, their grins wide and mischievous.

“Did you two have a good night?” Azzi asked, raising an eyebrow.

Paige groaned, rubbing her eyes as she sat up. “Seriously, KK? Was this really necessary?”

KK shrugged, clearly unbothered. “Hey, you two needed to work things out. Mission accomplished, right?”

I glanced at Paige, my embarrassment fading slightly as she gave me a small, knowing smile.

“Yeah,” she said, her tone light but sincere. “Mission accomplished.”

As we stood to leave, I grabbed my camera from where it had been resting on the sidelines. A sinking feeling hit me when I noticed the recording light still blinking.

“Oh my God,” I muttered, quickly stopping the recording.

Paige looked over, her eyes widening as realization dawned. “Wait… was that on the whole time?”

I nodded, mortified.

KK burst out laughing. “Guess we’re gonna have some very interesting footage to review!”

Paige and I exchanged a look, equal parts embarrassed and amused. Maybe this wasn’t the worst way to start over after all.

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-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

Tag list: @sayurireidotcom , @astroeliza .... (more to be added)

[awakenedevildays]

「bf!Stiles headcanons」 pt2

bf!Stiles that sits behind you in class, so that he can play with your hair when he is bored

bf!Stiles that learns how to cook from your mom: Claudia passed away when Stiles was only a kid and, like many other kids, he was not really interested on learning how to cook (something he still regrets to this day) so she never had the chance to teach him... after finding out about his mom, yours decided to teach him dishes you like the most and Stiles will be always grateful to her for that. Once, while they were baking, he bursted into tears cause the smell of the chocolate cake in the oven reminded him that Claudia used to bake it for him when he was younger, your mom didn't say anything, she simply hugged him and from that moment on, Stiles saw her as an adoptive mom.

bf!Stiles that has a hate relationship with your male cat, it always takes his spot on your bed and hits him with its paws while you two sleep! the worse thing is that you don't believe him when Stiles says your cat is evil because it always makes these things when you're not watching and with you behaves like the most perfect angel, he swears the cat smirks at him when you hug it to sleep instead of him

bf!Stiles that shuts your bedroom's door in front of your cat's face after you fall asleep

bf!Stiles that softly tries to hush you back to sleep when you wake up because of the mewls outside of your room

bf!Stiles that fails and is hit with a pillow by you

bf!Stiles that has to watch your cat snuggle into you with satisfied purrs (he KNOWS it's purring to spite him.)

bf!Stiles that tries to intimidate the cat by asking Scott to use his 'alpha aura', the motherfucker isn't impressed by the alpha at all

bf!Stiles that hates when you say 'love you' instead of 'I love you'... it feels incomplete and hurried

bf!Stiles that frames every doodle you make on his notebooks and places them all around the Stilinski's house, Noah is actually really confused to see a very bad batman sketch hanging in the hallway of his house (he thought it was a pouty cat), but Stiles forbade him from removing it and now there is at least one doodle in every room of the house, in Noah's bedroom too (he's attached to them just as much as Stiles now)