#so i want to do it in person so that everything i want to say comes across the way i mean it

[graceface1712]

Spoiling her

SoftRafexSweetPougePrincess

Summary: Sweet Pouge princess is too poor to afford stuff like a phone. So Rafe takes her out and buys her one. And maybe some other stuff

Warnings: None! Just fluff

Hope you enjoy! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊ *ੈ

“Ready to go?” Rafe asks Y/N.

“Yup!”

They both climb into his truck. He starts driving them over to the non-touristy section of OBX. There is a mall, stores, and a couple restaurants.

Rafe pulls into the mall parking lot. Y/N looks over at him confused.

“What are we doing here?” She asks him.

“We need to get a few things.” He says before getting out of his truck and quickly walking over to open her door. He stretches out his hand to her and she grabs it. They walk hand in hand into the mall.

Y/N has only ever been here a few times. And it was mainly because Kiara had money and wanted to buy some stuff and invited Y/N. But she didn't buy anything, just tagged along.

Rafe leads her through the mall before she finally sees where he must be heading. The Apple Store. Becoming more confused, she turns her head to Rafe’s. They walk in together.

“What are we doing here?” She asks him again.

“We’re buying you a phone.” Rafe says it's no big deal. Y/N’s mouth drops open.

“What! Rafe you can’t do this. We barely even know each other! This is our first date.” She tries to argue but Rafe is having nothing of it.

“Look I’m going to need a way to contact you that isn’t driving to your house all the time. This is the only option I could think of.” He says.

“But Rafe. These phones are so expensive! Why do you think I have never had one? And I can’t afford a phone bill every month!” Y/N keeps pressing as they walk around the store. Rafe doesn’t seem to be listening to her, just looking at the different colors and options.

“I will pay for it all. It won’t even make a scratch in my bank account sweetheart. Now please stop worrying. Look at this one, it’s your favorite color.” He points to a phone on display. It’s a baby pink. Absolutely gorgeous.

Y/N can feel herself cave when she sees the look in his eyes. He will not hear her say no. And this color is so beautiful.

“Alright, well that’s settled.” He calls over a sales person.

“Hello sir, how can I help you?” The associate asks.

“Hi. I’ll take this iPhone, at its best value. I’ll also take an iPad Air, in pink please. And to go with that, an Apple Pencil.” Rafe says. The associate nods along and disappears to grab the items.

“Why did you ask for a pink iPad?” Y/N asks.

“Because once you get your phone, watching streaming services and playing games are so much more fun on a bigger screen.” He says like it’s obvious.

Y/N gasps. “Rafe. Are you kidding me? The phone is already way more than needed.” She scolds him.

“I do not care. You are my girl. I’m going to spoil you. And a phone is necessary so you can call or text me whenever. The iPad is just for fun.” He shoots me a wink and the sales associate comes back with all the things in a bag.

We walk over to the counter and Rafe takes out his black Amex card to pay. I can’t even look at how much he’s spending right now, or else it will make me throw up.

Rafe thanks the associate and then grabs the bag along with my hand. Hut by the look on his face he isn’t done yet.

“Rafe please. This is more than enough for today. Thank you so much. But I don’t need you spending any more money on me.”

“Okay.” He says with a small pout on his lips.

We go home and helps me set everything up. Let’s just say I’m addicted to temple run now.

[wannabescemo]

i'm answering these without people asking bc i'm bored

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents?

kind of

02: Who did you last say “I love you” to?

my father

03: Do you regret anything?

yes

04: Are you insecure?

yes

05: What is your relationship status?

i'm dating my beautiful girlfriend :]

06: How do you want to die?

i don't want to but since i have to i'd like to die peacefully in my sleep i don't wanna feel pain in my last moments

07: What did you last eat?

a minute ago i had a granola bar

08: Played any sports?

i did play volleyball for a bit in elementary

09: Do you bite your nails?

yes i hate it but i'm horrible at stopping bad habits

10: When was your last physical fight?

idk

11: Do you like someone?

yes my girlfriend!!

12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours?

no

13: Do you hate anyone at the moment?

no

14: Do you miss someone?

yeah

15: Have any pets?

yeah 4

16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment?

bored

17: Ever made out in the bathroom?

uh no

18: Are you scared of spiders?

yes very much

19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance?

yeah i need a tardis

20: Where was the last place you snogged someone?

wtf does snogged mean?

21: What are your plans for this weekend?

go to my aunts house again hopefully

22: Do you want to have kids? How many?

yes maybe 1 or 2

23: Do you have piercings? How many?

no :(

24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)?

english

25: Do you miss anyone from your past?

yes

26: What are you craving right now?

pasta

27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart?

no

28: Have you ever been cheated on?

no

29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry?

no

30: What’s irritating you right now?

my family

31: Does somebody love you?

yeah :D

32: What is your favourite color?

lavender

33: Do you have trust issues?

idk

34: Who/what was your last dream about?

some rando being decapitated with a sword

35: Who was the last person you cried in front of?

my parents

36: Do you give out second chances too easily?

no

37: Is it easier to forgive or forget?

forget

38: Is this year the best year of your life?

no

39: How old were you when you had your first kiss?

i haven't had one

40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked?

no? isn't there like a law for that

51: Favourite food?

spaghetti with meat sauce

52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason?

yes

53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night?

said goodnight to my girlfriend

54: Is cheating ever okay?

no wtf

55: Are you mean?

i don't think so but i worry sometimes i come off as mean

56: How many people have you fist fought?

none

57: Do you believe in true love?

i'm not sure

58: Favourite weather?

rainy and stormy with dark skies

59: Do you like the snow?

yes!

60: Do you wanna get married?

mhm :]

61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby?

i like when my girlfriend does she makes me so happy!!

62: What makes you happy?

maddi!!!! <3

63: Would you change your name?

yes

64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed?

i've never kissed anyone

65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?

politely tell them no bc i'm dating someone already

66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around?

idk?

67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to?

my father

68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?

my aunt

69: Do you believe in soulmates?

yes

70: Is there anyone you would die for?

my girlfriend

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

[gpcwsl]

Alexia and r have a 10 year age gap and alexia’s always acting really sweet and boyfriend to r in private but refuses to acknowledge there’s something between them and being cold in public then being apologetic but happy ending please!

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Invisible in the light - adored in the dark

WC: 969

MasterList

Warnings: age gap, ignored? Kiss?

Song: you were good to me - Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler

The first time it happened, you brushed it off.

Maybe Alexia didn’t hear you when you called her name. Maybe the restaurant was too loud, or maybe she was too focused on whatever conversation she was having with her teammates.

But then it happened again.

And again.

And again.

In private, Alexia was everything you could ever want in a girlfriend. She held you so close at night that it felt like she was afraid you would slip through her fingers.

She pressed lazy kisses to your forehead in the mornings, whispered sweet nothings in Spanish that you couldn’t yet understand but still loved the sound of.

She traced shapes onto your bare skin, her fingers moving over your back like an artist painting on a canvas.

But in public?

It was as if you didn’t exist.

Alexia wouldn’t look at you. Wouldn’t talk to you. Wouldn’t even acknowledge your presence. She was ice-cold, a stark contrast to the warmth she showed you behind closed doors.

You thought you could handle it. You thought it wouldn’t bother you.

You were wrong.

You’re at a team dinner when it happens again.

Alexia sits at the other end of the table, deep in conversation with Mapi and Patri, laughing at some inside joke you aren’t privy to. You, on the other hand, are stuck in an awkward silence between two of the younger players, stirring the ice in your drink with your straw, pretending that it doesn’t hurt.

But it does.

It’s not just that she’s ignoring you. It’s the way she goes out of her way to do it. The way her gaze dances around you, how she shifts her body away when you try to move closer, how she only speaks in clipped, professional tones if she absolutely has to respond.

Like you’re nothing more than a stranger.

Like you’re not the same person she held in her arms just last night, whispering soft te quieros into your hair.

The thought makes your stomach twist.

You try to hold it in, to swallow it down. But when the team finally gets up to leave, Alexia walking right past you like you’re invisible, something inside you snaps.

The apartment door barely clicks shut before you say it.

“Why do you do that?”

Alexia turns to you, mid-way through pulling off her jacket. “¿Qué?”

“You know what.” Your voice wavers, but you keep going. “Why do you act like I don’t exist in public?”

Alexia freezes. Her brows knit together, confusion flickering in her hazel eyes. “Y/n, I don’t—”

“You do,” you cut her off, stepping forward. “You do, Alexia. You ignore me. You won’t even look at me.” Your voice cracks on the last part, frustration mixing with something more vulnerable.

Alexia exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?”

There’s a long pause. She looks at you, really looks at you for the first time all night, and her expression softens.

“I—” She hesitates. “I’m scared.”

Your brows furrow. “Scared of what?”

She glances away, lips pressing together. “Scared of what people will think. Scared of how they’ll see me.”

It clicks then. The age gap. The inevitable judgment.

But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“So what?” Your voice is quieter now, but no less firm. “You’d rather pretend I don’t exist than risk people knowing we’re together?”

Alexia’s eyes snap back to yours, and there’s something raw in them. Guilt. Regret.

“Y/n…” She steps closer, reaching for you, but you don’t move.

“You can’t have it both ways,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t treat me like I’m the most important person in the world when we’re alone and then act like I’m nothing as soon as other people are around.”

The silence stretches between you, thick and heavy.

Then Alexia sighs, shoulders dropping. “You’re right.”

You blink. “I am?”

“Yes.” She takes another step forward, closing the space between you. This time, you let her. Her hands find yours, fingers curling around your wrists. “I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you.”

You swallow. “You were.”

She nods, gaze full of remorse. “Lo siento, mi amor.”

You sigh. “In English, Alexia.”

A small smile tugs at her lips despite the tension in the air. “I’m sorry, my love.”

You hold her gaze for a long moment, searching for any trace of insincerity. You find none.

Then she’s pulling you into her arms, wrapping herself around you like she’s trying to shield you from the world. “I’ll do better,” she murmurs into your hair. “I promise.”

You exhale against her shoulder, the weight on your chest easing just a little. “Okay.”

She pulls back just enough to cup your face, her thumb tracing gentle circles against your cheek. “I love you, Y/n.”

Your heart stumbles over itself. She’s said it before, but never like this—never so openly, so unguarded.

“I love you too,” you breathe.

And then she kisses you.

It’s slow, tender, full of unspoken apologies and silent vows. She kisses you like she’s making up for every second she’s ignored you, like she’s trying to prove with her lips what she failed to show in public.

And you let her.

When she finally pulls away, she rests her forehead against yours. “Cuddle with me?” she murmurs.

You can’t help but smile. “Only if you actually acknowledge me tomorrow.”

Alexia chuckles softly. “Deal.”

You curl up together on the couch, her arms around you, her heartbeat steady beneath your ear. And for the first time in a long time, you feel seen.

Because in the end, love isn’t about the whispers in the dark.

It’s about the way someone chooses to hold your hand in the light.

[sincerelybubbles]

spencer x reader || alarms

late night working on a case, the hotel fire alarms on your floor won’t stop going off. what choice do you have other than to crawl to a pining spencer reid’s room to try and get some rest?

warnings: one slightly ? suggestive comment if you squint, mutual pining, not proof read. build up/background of a bubbly!reader i’ve been meaning to write about <3 v short n sweet fluffy!!!

————

“hey,” you whisper when spencer opens the door, pillow crammed under your arm. your sweats are rumpled, long shirt almost hitting your knees under an equally oversized academy shirt, hair mussed and eyes sleepy.

the sight makes his chest burn and his knuckles grip tight against the doorframe.

“hi?” spencer manages to respond, voice confused but still stepping to the side to let you inside automatically.

you shuffle by, pink fuzzy socks peeking over the tops of your dress shoes. it’s ridiculous, the sight of the fluff spilling over the edges of your mary jane’s (unbuckled), made even moreso by how cute he finds it.

“sorry, i know it’s early. the fire alarm on my building won’t turn off, it’s been almost 45 minutes.” you turn once you hit the small kitchenette in his hotel room and awkwardly clutch your pillow to your chest.

after a moment of squinting, eyes unaccustomed to the dim of the room and contactless, spencer realizes that you’re not holding a hotel pillow. rather, it’s covered in little pink daisies and looks far more comfortable than the rocks on his bed.

“i was wondering if i could take the chair in your room?” you ask, continuing despite how spencer’s mind is now racing with thoughts of your pink daisy sheets that he was aware of before tonight (this morning?) but wasn’t expecting to be reminded of when his mind is still hazy enough to crave the warmth of your body next to his.

“you—yeah.” spencer shakes his head in one, fast motion, rapidly switching to nodding when he realizes that could be misread as a no to your question. it makes him dizzy but wakes him up just enough to dig himself out of dreams. when he opened the door, there was a moment where his heart thudded in his chest, sure you were coming here to climb in his bed for other reasons.

not that you ever had before or that he thought you were the type to, of course not that—never that. it was just that his mind was stuck in a molasses of sleep that so frequently rewarded him of dreams where scenarios like that happen. or, even better, dreams where you two simply sit next to each other, your stocking-ed leg pressed against his pants, knocking together, hands intertwined, a warm glow emanating from somewhere for you to read to him by.

those dreams were the worst, just real enough that he could feel the love emanating from your breath, know that you want him close too, only to be yanked away with the spasms of beeps from his phone serving as his alarm.

“yes, of course you can stay here,” spencer finally says after his tragedy of a nod, moving past you and into the bed area of the room to yank the pillow he was using from the bed, “but you take the bed, i can take the chair.”

“no, spence, it’s like 3 in the morning and you’ll get a headache. i intruded on you, i’ll take the chair.”

spencer is shaking his head no before you finish, turning to stare at you. subconsciously, you mimic how he holds his pillow under his left arm and spencer makes a note to research if it’s actually true that attraction causes people to mimic each other.

and, fuck, this is why he had to put distance between you two because his brain can’t just be normal about things. you’re an affectionate person, spilling over with hugs and hands on arms and kisses on cheeks and he can’t help but analyze everything for a sign that it might be more.

“no, really, i’ll take the chair.”

you laugh at him, shaking your head and making your way closer. “let’s just share,” you suggest, tossing your pillow onto the side of the bed not made messy by spencer and rubbing your eyes with two closed fists, digging in deep. “i’m exhausted and we have to get back to it tomorrow. i’m not winning this fight and i can’t have my best brainiac impeded by a headache tomorrow.”

“no, it’s really—“

“spencer.” your eyes are earnest when you look at him, wide and tired and so so hypnotic. he can’t say no, not when you’re blinking up at him, only lit by the obnoxious street lights filtering in through the cheap hotel curtains, in your pajamas, taking in a tired, tiny voice.

“yeah, okay,” he says, forfeiting the back and forth and allowing himself to give in, just for tonight.

you yawn in response, hand coming up to cover your triumphant smile. you look exhausted, climbing into bed and shoving your feet under the sheets with much more aggression than necessary.

spencer climbs in after you, stretching his legs out and flexing his arm so his shoulder pops with a loud click. it’s a testament to how close you are to sleep that you don’t wince and tell him he shouldn’t do that—you always get onto him for it.

“hey,” spencer says after a moment, mind slowing but still moving fast enough to keep him on the cusp of sleep.

you makes a small sound, high pitched, as you roll over and press your forehead to his bicep. “what?” you say, voice half asleep, half complaint.

“is that my academy sweater? i’ve been looking for it everywhere.”

“mm,” you hum, head moving up and down against his arm. “you left it at my place. i like wearing it—miss you less when i do.” your voice is trailing off, spencer’s heart is pounding, and he nearly misses the soft sigh you let out before tacking on, “makes m’feel like yours.”

it could mean a million different things, spencer tells himself as he listens to your breath deepen and slow, but he lets himself imagine it means exactly what he wants it to as his eyes settle closed.

[trashsuit]

Fuck y'all, I'm answering all of these right here, right now (if you want me to elaborate, put it in my asks)

1. River (I go by my middle name online)

2. 17, turning 18 in a few months

3. June 9 2007

4. Gemini

5. Light purple

6. 3 and 82

7. Yes, 3 cats. A calico (I think) named Millie, a light brown tortie named Marley, and a dark brown tortie named Mischief

8. Pennsylvania

9. 5'4

10. 9

11. Idk, 5-10 if I had to guess

12. I can't remember any of my dreams

13. Uh, I have talents in most of the arts, I think. I act, I sing, I play piano and guitar, and I draw and paint

14. I don't think so

15. Changes every week. Right now? Maybe Hug All Ur Friends by Cavetown

16. I don't really watch many movies, but probably Wicked

17. I'm aroace, but I'd love to live with a good friend who doesn't mind stuff like hugs and cuddles

18. Absolutely not

19. Even if I wasn't aroace, no

20. No

21. I got brain surgery when I was a few months old, but nothing since then

22. Not yet :3

23. Uh, does the actor who played The Wizard when I saw Wicked on Broadway count?

24. I prefer showers for actually cleaning myself, but I love a nice, relaxing bath

25. All of the above

26. No

27. Probably not, but I'd like to be the kind of celebrity who's only known by theatre kids and just about no one else

28. I listen to a lot of musical theatre and indie pop

29. No

30. 2, not counting stuffed animals

31. Yearner or free faller with one leg over my long stuffed animal

32. Medium, I think

33. Pillsbury strawberry cream cheese mini bagels that my school serves

34. No

35. No, but I want to

36. Skedaddle

37. Ass is one of my favorite insults

38. No clue, I usually take a lot of naps

39. Yes, across the top of my head

40. Yes I think, but his friend just tried to wingman for him, like, twice, then I was left alone

41. It depends on the lie and who I'm lying to

42. Fuck no, I don't realize people are hurting me until I'm bleeding out.

43. Yeah, I've learned through my acting class

44. I don't think so, but I've also never really left the area I grew up in enough to notice

45. I like doing a southern drawl

46. Idk what the personality types are and I don't feel like checking rn

47. By far my prom dress from last year. Most of my clothes are thrifted or from Walmart

48. Yes

49. What?

50. Right

51. Yes

52. My mom makes really good potato pancakes

53. Idk what it was called, but I had it in Japan. It was some meatballs with veggies and a really good sauce. Here's a picture (it's the stuff by the eggs)

54. Definitely messy

55. You freak/y'all freaks

56. Either fuck or freak, tbh

57. 10-15 minutes most days (if that)

58. I don't think so

59. Suck

60. Yes

61. Yes

62. I'm alright, but I'm improving with the help of a teacher

63. Probably my best friend leaving me. She's the reason I've stuck around this long, idk what I would do without her

64. Yeah

65. I genuinely can't think of one

66. I like my hair nice and short

67. *sings the 50 states song*

68. Art or history (my favorite class I take is actually theatre, but I don't think it counts)

69. It feels like it depends on the day and who I'm around

70. No

71. Almost everything, if I'm being honest (except for acting, alone or in front of a crowd)

72. Not really

73. Not really, I don't even correct people on my pronouns (I probably should tho)

74. I don't think I am

75. I don't think so, usually if I say something, I genuinely believe it, so if I did, it wasn't intentional

76. No and I don't wanna be

77. Like one sip of wine and I thought it was disgusting

78. No

79. I'm aroace, so no one

80. I have both of my earlobes pierced once and nothing else

81. Yeah

82. Not very, I'm faster on my phone than on an actual keyboard tho

83. In short bursts, like 7 mph, but I can't run a mile, I have to walk

84. Naturally, dark brown, but right now it's blue with streaks of purple

85. Hazel

86. Bactrim and possibly the sticky stuff in bandaids (I think it's latex)

87. I've tried and failed multiple times

88. My dad's a truck driver

89. It's alright, I mostly like it for theatre stuff

90. Id have to think. I'm easily annoyed or frustrated, but it takes a lot to piss me off

91. Yeah, though I kinda regret choosing such a common name. I know, like, 6 other people with my name

92. No

93. Idk, probably just a happy, healthy kid if I ever had one. I don't really care about its sex

94. Seeing the good in people

95. How trusting I am and how I try to see the good in people (that's how I keep getting hurt)

96. I kept going through baby name sites and for some reason, I really liked this one

97. No

98. Yeah, from ear to ear on top of my head

99. All of the above

100. The walls are a very light purple, but you'll find every color in there

Get To Know Me Uncomfortably Well

PLEASE DON’T LET THIS FLOP AHHHH

1. What is you middle name? 2. How old are you? 3. When is your birthday? 4. What is your zodiac sign? 5. What is your favorite color? 6. What’s your lucky number? 7. Do you have any pets? 8. Where are you from? 9. How tall are you? 10. What shoe size are you? 11. How many pairs of shoes do you own? 12. What was your last dream about? 13. What talents do you have? 14. Are you psychic in any way? 15. Favorite song? 16. Favorite movie? 17. Who would be your ideal partner? 18. Do you want children? 19. Do you want a church wedding? 20. Are you religious? 21. Have you ever been to the hospital? 22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law? 23. Have you ever met any celebrities? 24. Baths or showers? 25. What color socks are you wearing? 26. Have you ever been famous? 27. Would you like to be a big celebrity? 28. What type of music do you like? 29. Have you ever been skinny dipping? 30. How many pillows do you sleep with? 31. What position do you usually sleep in? 32. How big is your house? 33. What do you typically have for breakfast? 34. Have you ever fired a gun? 35. Have you ever tried archery? 36. Favorite clean word? 37. Favorite swear word? 38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep? 39. Do you have any scars? 40. Have you ever had a secret admirer? 41. Are you a good liar? 42. Are you a good judge of character? 43. Can you do any other accents other than your own? 44. Do you have a strong accent? 45. What is your favorite accent? 46. What is your personality type? 47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing? 48. Can you curl your tongue? 49. Are you an innie or an outie? 50. Left or right handed? 51. Are you scared of spiders? 52. Favorite food? 53. Favorite foreign food? 54. Are you a clean or messy person? 55. Most used phrased? 56. Most used word? 57. How long does it take for you to get ready? 58. Do you have much of an ego? 59. Do you suck or bite lollipops? 60. Do you talk to yourself? 61. Do you sing to yourself? 62. Are you a good singer? 63. Biggest Fear? 64. Are you a gossip? 65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen? 66. Do you like long or short hair? 67. Can you name all 50 states of America? 68. Favorite school subject? 69. Extrovert or Introvert? 70. Have you ever been scuba diving? 71. What makes you nervous? 72. Are you scared of the dark? 73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes? 74. Are you ticklish? 75. Have you ever started a rumor? 76. Have you ever been in a position of authority? 77. Have you ever drank underage? 78. Have you ever done drugs? 79. Who was your first real crush? 80. How many piercings do you have? 81. Can you roll your Rs?“ 82. How fast can you type? 83. How fast can you run? 84. What color is your hair? 85. What color is your eyes? 86. What are you allergic to? 87. Do you keep a journal? 88. What do your parents do? 89. Do you like your age? 90. What makes you angry? 91. Do you like your own name? 92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they? 93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child? 94. What are you strengths? 95. What are your weaknesses? 96. How did you get your name? 97. Were your ancestors royalty? 98. Do you have any scars? 99. Color of your bedspread? 100. Color of your room?

[loafysainz]

FIGHTING TOGETHER | CL 16

charles leclerc x fem!reader

warn: angst, bit fluff, grief & loss

summary: When Y/N’s cancer worsens despite treatment, the doctor says there’s no cure—only time. She begins to lose hope, but Charles refuses to let her give up, promising they’ll fight together, no matter what.

The world around Y/N blurred, the sterile white walls of the hospital room closing in as the doctor’s words settled into her bones like ice.

“The treatments aren’t working as we hoped. Instead of slowing it down, the cancer is progressing faster than expected.”

She couldn’t breathe. Her hands trembled on her lap, fingers curling into the fabric of her sweater as she forced herself to listen. To understand. But the words felt foreign, like they belonged to someone else’s story, not hers.

“At this stage, aggressive treatments will only prolong your life. There is no definitive cure.”

No cure.

Y/N’s heart clenched so tightly it physically hurt. She wanted to scream, to ask how this was even possible. They had caught it early. They had started treatment immediately. Everything should have been fine.

She turned her head, eyes searching for the one person she needed most.

Charles sat beside her, unnervingly still. His lips were slightly parted, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. His green eyes—usually filled with warmth and love—were wide, blank with shock.

She had never seen him like this before. Charles was always the strong one, the one who could make her feel safe even in the worst situations. But now, he looked just as lost as she felt.

“I’ll give you both some time.” The doctor’s voice was distant, muffled, before footsteps faded away.

Silence filled the room.

Y/N exhaled shakily, her throat burning. “Charles…” Her voice cracked, and the sound of it made something snap inside him.

Charles reached for her hands instantly, gripping them so tightly it almost hurt. His warmth, his presence—it was the only thing tethering her to reality.

“Baby,” he finally spoke, his voice low, hoarse, barely above a whisper. “We’ll fight this. Together.”

Her heart ached. “Charles, you heard what the doctor said. There’s no—”

“No.” His voice was firm this time, and he shook his head sharply. “Don’t say that. Don’t say it like it’s over.”

Y/N looked at him, really looked at him. His jaw was clenched, his eyes glassy, and his entire body was tense as if he was holding himself together by sheer force of will.

“Charles,” she whispered, her voice breaking, “I don’t want to die.”

A sharp inhale.

Charles closed his eyes for a brief second before shifting forward, pulling her into his arms. “You won’t,” he murmured into her hair, his voice trembling. “You won’t, because I won’t let you. We’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll be here every step of the way, Y/N. I swear it.”

His arms were wrapped around her so tightly, as if he could hold her together when everything else was falling apart.

A sob tore from her throat. She didn’t even realize she was crying until Charles pulled back slightly, cupping her cheeks with the gentlest touch, wiping her tears away with his thumbs.

“You’re not alone,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’ll carry this with you, no matter how heavy it gets. We’ll fight this. Every single day, we’ll fight.”

Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat, her fingers gripping onto the fabric of his shirt as if letting go would mean losing everything.

And in that moment, even with fear consuming her whole, she believed him. Because Charles had never broken a promise to her before.

And she prayed he never would.

—

One day, the first time Y/N noticed her hair falling out, it was just a few strands on her pillow. Nothing alarming. Nothing too serious. But then it started happening more often—on her sheets, in the shower, tangled between Charles’ fingers when he stroked her head absentmindedly.

She tried not to care. She tried to tell herself it was just hair, that it would grow back. But when she looked in the mirror and saw how thin it had become, how the once-full locks that Charles used to run his hands through now barely framed her face, she couldn’t help it—she broke down.

That night, she sat on the edge of the bed, clutching the strands that had fallen onto her lap, eyes burning as she stared at the evidence of her body deteriorating. She heard Charles come in, but she didn’t move.

“Mon amour?” His voice was soft, hesitant.

She didn’t respond.

Instead, she whispered, “I look awful.”

Charles knelt before her, hands resting gently on her knees. “No, you don’t.”

“Charles, please,” she choked out, her grip tightening around the hair in her hands. “Look at me. My hair is falling out. Soon, I’ll be—” She stopped, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I’ll be bald. I’ll look sick. I’ll look—”

“Beautiful,” he interrupted, his voice trembling. “You’ll look beautiful.”

She let out a broken laugh, shaking her head. “You’re just saying that.”

Charles reached out, brushing his thumb over her cheek. “I have never lied to you about this. Since the moment I met you, you have been the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. And nothing—nothing—will ever change that.”

Her eyes flickered with uncertainty, but Charles wasn’t done. He cupped her face, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You think your hair makes you beautiful? It’s not just your hair, mon amour. It’s you. It’s the way you smile. It’s the way you talk. It’s the way you exist.” His voice cracked, but he didn’t stop. “And even if—no, when—you lose all of it, I will still look at you like I did the first time I saw you. Because you are you. And you are mine.”

She broke. A sob tore through her chest, and Charles pulled her into his arms, holding her as she cried into his shoulder. He pressed his lips against her temple, whispering, “You are beautiful. You are beautiful. You will always be beautiful.”

But no matter how much he reassured her, no matter how many times he told her she was still the most breathtaking person he had ever seen, it didn’t change the truth of her condition. It didn’t stop the way her body was failing her.

And Charles saw it.

Every single day.

Every single moment.

Every time she winced in pain but tried to smile for him. Every time she grew too tired to even sit up properly. Every time she held his hand during treatment, her grip weak and trembling.

He cried often.

Silently.

When she was asleep, when she wasn’t looking, when he excused himself to the bathroom just to let out a sob. He wasn’t strong enough to watch the love of his life suffer like this.

And then—then came the news that shattered what little hope he had left.

The doctor sat across from him in the dimly lit office, the air thick with unspoken grief. “Charles,” the doctor began carefully, “we’ve done everything we can.”

Charles’ hands clenched into fists. “No.”

“The treatments—”

“Try something else.” His voice was tight, desperate.

The doctor sighed. “At this point, they’re only prolonging her life. They’re not helping anymore.”

Charles felt like he had been punched in the chest. “So, what? You’re telling me to just sit back and watch her die?”

The doctor remained quiet.

Charles shot up from his chair, slamming his hands against the desk. “I am paying you to save her!” His voice shook with barely contained rage. “You’re supposed to help her! Do your job!”

“Charles,” the doctor said firmly, “I understand this is difficult, but we have reached a point where—”

"NO!" He was breathing heavily now, his entire body trembling. “I refuse to accept that. I will do anything—I don’t care how much it costs, I don’t care what I have to do—fix her!” His voice cracked on the last two words.

The doctor’s expression softened, but his next words were like a dagger to Charles’ heart.

“All we can do now is make her comfortable.”

Charles felt his knees buckle. His hands slid off the desk, his breath coming out in short, painful gasps. “No,” he whispered. “Please. Please, no.”

“She doesn’t know,” the doctor continued gently. “I wanted to tell you first.”

Charles squeezed his eyes shut, his chest aching with the weight of it all. He wanted to scream, to cry, to fight against the reality of the situation. But all he could do was stand there, shattered and broken.

Because no matter how much he loved her—no matter how much he was willing to give up, to sacrifice, to suffer for her—love alone wasn’t enough to save her.

—

The words left Charles’ lips in a trembling whisper, his forehead pressed against Y/N’s. His fingers gently cradled the back of her head, careful, as if she were made of the most fragile glass. He kissed her forehead, lingering, as if he could seal his love into her skin—so deep that it would anchor her here, in this world, with him.

She had been quiet for a long time. Too long.

The hospital room was bathed in a soft glow from the evening sun filtering through the half-closed blinds, but it did nothing to warm the cold fear seeping into Charles’ bones. Y/N had always been his light, but now, she was dimming right in front of him, slipping away like sand through his fingers.

Then, in a voice so quiet, so fragile that it shattered him, she spoke.

“If I go early, it’s okay… We’ll meet again there, I’ll still be the same. I’m sorry for the imperfect journey”

Charles' breath caught in his throat.

His heart slammed against his ribs.

"No," he whispered, his voice breaking instantly. "No, don’t say that. You will survive. You will stay here with me. You’re not going anywhere, do you hear me? You’re not going anywhere without my permission."

His hands tightened around hers, desperate, as if holding her tightly enough would keep her grounded to this world. His eyes burned, but he couldn't stop the tears that spilled freely, tracking down his face as he pressed kiss after kiss to her forehead, her cheeks, her nose—wherever he could reach.

"You’re not leaving me," he repeated, his voice unsteady. "Not now, not ever. I won’t allow it."

Y/N only smiled softly, tired, weak, but filled with the kind of love that made it hurt even more. She raised a shaky hand, brushing her fingertips against his damp cheek, wiping away his tears even though she was the one who needed comforting. That was always who she was—selfless, too good, too kind.

And it only made it harder to watch her suffer.

The pain was unbearable.

Y/N clenched the sheets beneath her, her knuckles white, her entire body trembling. Every inch of her ached, burned, screamed. It felt like she was being torn apart from the inside out, and she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Charles,” she whimpered, her breath hitching.

He was by her side in an instant.

“I’m here, my love. I’m right here,” he murmured, his fingers immediately finding hers, threading them together, grounding her.

Tears gathered in Y/N’s eyes as she gasped for breath, her body convulsing under the agony that never seemed to stop. She had been strong for so long, had fought for so long—but right now, she just wanted it to end. She wanted the pain to go away.

“Charles…” she croaked, her voice barely above a whisper. “It hurts. It hurts so much. I— I can’t—”

Charles swallowed thickly, his own pain reflected in the way his lips quivered. His chest tightened as he watched her struggle, completely helpless to take away her suffering. It was the most agonizing thing he had ever experienced.

“Please,” she begged, her voice breaking. “I want to stop. I can’t do this anymore. Please, let me stop.”

Charles felt like his entire world was crumbling.

His breath came in sharp, uneven gasps as he fought against the sob threatening to choke him. He cupped her face, his thumbs brushing over her damp cheeks, his own tears falling freely.

His strong, beautiful girl. His Y/N.

He wanted to give her the world, but all he could do now was hold her through the pain.

“Shh, it’s okay, Mon Amour,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s okay. The pain will go away soon, I promise. Just hold on a little longer, alright?”

Y/N whimpered, her fingers tightening around his as another wave of pain wracked through her body.

Charles felt utterly powerless.

“You can do this,” he murmured, pressing a shaky kiss to her forehead. “You’re strong. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known.”

Another broken sob escaped his lips as he kissed her again, over and over, desperate and full of love.

“You’re not alone,” he whispered. “I’m here. I’ll always be here. We’ll get through this together, I promise.”

But the truth was—he didn’t know how much longer they had left.

And it was killing him.

—

“I want to see Lord Perceval become World Champion this year.”

Charles paused, his hand tightening around the spoon he was holding. He had been feeding Y/N carefully, making sure she ate properly despite how weak she had become. But her words made his heart sink. He didn’t answer immediately, staring at her as if hoping he had misheard.

“When are you leaving for the circuit?” she asked softly, looking up at him with tired but expectant eyes.

Charles swallowed hard, his jaw clenching. He set the spoon down gently on the tray and reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear—what was left of it, at least. His fingers lingered against her cheek, tracing the curve of her face as if memorizing her. His voice was quiet but firm when he finally spoke.

“I'm not going this year.” His eyes find hers, his expression unwavering. “I'm staying here with you.”

Y/N blinked in surprise. “Charles—”

“I already made up my mind.” His voice was laced with finality. “I don’t care about racing right now. Nothing matters more than you.”

A lump formed in her throat as she saw the raw emotion in his eyes. She had always known how much she meant to him, but this—this was different. This was Charles giving up everything he had worked for, his lifelong dream, just to stay by her side.

She hated it.

She loved him for it, but she hated it too.

“Charles…” Her voice wavered as she reached for his hand, holding it between her frail fingers. “You can't do that. You can't just give up everything for me.”

“It's not giving up,” he countered, squeezing her hand gently. “It's choosing you.”

Her breath hitched, and for a second, she felt like crying. But she couldn't let him do this. She wouldn't.

“Please,” she whispered, her fingers tightening around his. “I never ask you for anything, do I?”

Charles inhaled sharply.

“I always do what you want,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “I always support you, I always cheer for you. But just this once… please grant me this wish.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and Charles felt his resolve cracking.

“I want to see you win,” she said, her lips trembling. “I want to see Lord Perceval become World Champion this year.”

His heart shattered.

Her eyes—God, her eyes were still shining, still full of so much hope. Despite everything, despite the pain, the exhaustion, the way sickness had drained the color from her face… she still had that fire in her. And it was burning for him.

Charles exhaled shakily, running a hand down his face. “Y/N…”

“Please.”

It was that word that broke him completely.

He could never say no to her, not when she looked at him like that. Not when she was still trying to give him hope, even when she was the one suffering.

With a heavy heart, he nodded.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I'll do it. I'll race for you.”

A small, weak smile appeared on her lips, and Charles immediately leaned in, cupping her face gently. His forehead pressed against hers as he closed his eyes, breathing her in.

“You have to promise me you'll watch every race,” he murmured.

She giggled softly. “Of course, I will.”

He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze again, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “And you have to wait for me. I'll win for you, but you have to be here when I do.”

Y/N swallowed hard, nodding. “I'll be here.”

Charles didn't hesitate. He leaned in, pressing his lips against hers with so much love it made her breath hitch. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a promise, a desperate plea for her to hold on just a little longer.

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips. “More than anything.”

She smiled against his mouth. “I love you more, Lord Perceval.”

And in that moment, he knew—no matter what happened, he would give her the championship she dreamed of. For her. For them.

—

Charles had always made time for Y/N. No matter how hectic his schedule was, no matter how exhausted he felt after a race, he would call her. Even when she was too weak to talk, even when her responses were nothing more than soft hums or whispered words, he still called. He would tell her about his day, about the track, about the weather—anything, just to keep her company. And when she couldn’t talk anymore, he would simply admire her.

"You’re so beautiful, mon amour," he would say, voice thick with emotion. Even when her body had grown frail, even when her hair was gone, even when her skin had lost its color, to him, she was still the most breathtaking woman in the world.

The night before the final race of the season, he called her again. She was barely awake, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Are you tired, mon amour?" he asked softly.

"A little,"she admitted.

"Then sleep, my love. Dream of something nice. I’ll call you after the race, okay?"

There was silence for a moment before she murmured, "I love you, Charles."

His chest tightened. It wasn’t often that she had the energy to say it lately. He closed his eyes, swallowing the lump in his throat before whispering back, "Je t’aime, mon amour. Always."

That was the last time he ever heard her voice.

—

Race day arrived, and Charles felt… calm. Confident. As if something greater than himself was pushing him forward. He had promised Y/N he would win this for her, and he wasn’t going to let her down.

Before the race, as always, he called her. But this time, she didn’t pick up.

Charles frowned, but quickly reassured himself. She must be sleeping. She needs rest. I’ll talk to her later.

And so, he raced.

And he won.

He did it. Charles Leclerc was the World Champion.

He climbed out of his car, heart pounding, overwhelmed with emotions. He had dreamed of this moment for years, and yet, the only thing he wanted was to share it with her.

As soon as he had the chance, he grabbed his phone. He called her. Ring. Ring. Ring.

No answer.

"Come on, Y/N, pick up," he murmured under his breath, bouncing his knee anxiously.

Then, he saw his brother approaching him. Lorenzo’s face was pale, his eyes red. Behind him, Arthur looked like he was struggling to hold himself together.

"Charles…" Lorenzo’s voice was hoarse. "It’s Y/N."

Charles felt his entire body go cold.

"No." His voice barely came out. "Don’t say it. Don’t—"

"She’s gone, Charles."

Something inside him shattered.

A strangled sob ripped from his throat as he dropped his phone. His legs gave out, and suddenly he was on his knees, hands gripping his face as a raw, broken wail tore through him.

The cameras were still rolling, the interviewers waiting for him, the entire world watching—but he didn’t care.

"No, no, no, please—" He gasped between sobs, rocking back and forth, his chest heaving as if the weight of the entire world was crushing him.

When they finally pulled him up for his WDC interview, he looked like a ghost. His eyes were hollow, filled with endless grief, and yet, tears wouldn’t stop falling.

"Charles, congratulations on winning your first World Championship."

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. His lips trembled, his hands clenched into fists. When he finally spoke, his voice cracked.

"This… this was for her." He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to steady his breathing. "The love of my life."

He tried to say more, but his throat closed up. His face crumpled as more tears fell, and suddenly, Carlos was beside him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Then the other drivers, his friends placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

The world had just watched him win everything, only to lose the one person he wanted to share it with.

—

When Charles returned to Monaco, he went straight to see her.

She looked so peaceful. Almost as if she was just sleeping.

Charles knelt beside her, his fingers brushing against her cold hand.

"Mon amour… I won." His voice trembled. "You kept your promise. You watched me become champion, didn’t you?"

Silence.

A choked sob escaped his lips as he leaned down, pressing soft kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, her hands.

"It’s okay now, my love. No more pain. No more suffering." He cupped her face gently, his thumbs tracing the curve of her lips. “You’re so beautiful today. Just like always.”

Tears dripped onto her skin as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

“Wait for me, mon amour. We’ll meet again. I promise.”

He stayed with her for as long as they would let him, whispering sweet words, kissing her gently, holding onto her as if he could keep her there a little longer.

Even as they finally took her away, even as he watched her disappear into the ground, he couldn’t let go.

Because how do you say goodbye to the love of your life?

END

[thatsmistertoyou]

maybe a hot take idk

look I know many people are upset about the pricing/fee situation of the TIT livestream (me included, I was pissed as hell that I got a large surprise fee), and I hope everything gets sorted out. I’m proud of the phandom for being loud and demanding fairness from the platform. you will not get shit past us.

I understand that. however, I completely disagree with some opinions I’ve seen (mainly on twitter but whatever) that charging for the stream at all is greedy, especially for people who have already paid to see the show. this is a weird take imo because this stream is supposed to be an opportunity for people who didn’t get to go to see it with an audience as a communal experience. but if you already spent money and don’t want to spend more, don’t!

and I don’t know anything about anything but based on the very little information dnp have provided about the cost of touring, I really don’t think they have the option to just do the stream for free. this is just my opinion, but based on how dan said he lost money touring WAD, i would not be surprised if the livestream paid for the rights he needed to release it for free on YouTube (and the extremely important rights to play All Star in the credits). just because he wrote and performed it doesn’t mean he owned it. it would not surprise me at all if the profits from the stream don’t go to dnp only.

and also, Things Cost Money, including livestreams. I think the platform has really showed their ass, but if we remove them from the equation for a second - everyone who put on TIT, including Dan and Phil, deserve to be compensated for their work. I don’t expect them to bleed money into this project forever just because it made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I’m sure they’re doing just fine financially, but they are not and never have asked anyone to take food off their table to support them.

I actually find it really disheartening to see just how many people were like, legitimately, personally angry with dnp before they had even had a chance to respond to our concerns. I’ve been around long enough to remember when they announced TABINOF, there was an uproar about how they were sellouts because they were writing a book just like every other youtuber, making a shitty cashgrab when they had nothing to say. in the 2 days before we knew what the book would even be about, the Discourse had never been more annoying or mean spirited.

and it made me wonder, what are yall doing here if you assume the worst like that? have you just been waiting for the masks to slip? are you appalled that they participate in the heinous capitalistic act of selling their labor like everyone else? have your years of support not earned a little bit of grace when there’s a miscommunication?

I’m not saying approach everything like ‘they’ve never done anything wrong once in their whole lives and never will’, but the vitriol that seems to come out at minor fuck ups is alarming. some of yall do not like them and it shows. (I am looking directly at twitter dot com now)

I find that attitude really sad. after the TABINOF drama, I promised myself I’d never lose sleep over phandom nonsense again, so I’m going to bed, just had to get some thoughts out there. 💙

[backofthebookshelf]

It's not a controversial take necessarily -- it's just that the particular environment of AO3, where you can see how many times your fic was loaded in a browser window and where the little heart button has a different meaning than it does on every other social media site, is uniquely bad for the human brain.

For the VAST majority of history, both the history of making art generally and the history of writing fanfiction in particular, you did not get to know how many people gave your work a cursory once-over, or how many people checked your book out from the library and never read it, or how many people overheard a line of poetry and thought "huh, neat" and never did anything else. These interactions were, as they should be, completely anonymous and uncountable. Even in the pre-AO3 days of fanfiction, there was an understanding that page hit counters were kind of crap (for one thing, they would count you every time you loaded the page, and you had to load the page to check the counter, so that was incentive not to look at it that much).

Even in other artistic contexts where you do now have page hit counters on everything, they're contextualized through marketing research, not consumed as a raw value. Marketing talks about conversion rate, which is the % of people who saw something who then went on to do the thing you wanted them to do - for a business that's probably buy the thing, for a nonprofit it might be donate or sign up for a volunteer session, for a fanfiction writer it's leave a comment. At work I work with multiple major companies you have definitely heard of who spend half a million dollars and 1-3 full time employees every year on something that increases their conversion rate by 1-2%. They do this because the conversion rate on our emails is 5%, which is INSANELY high.

And yes, leaving a comment doesn't cost money, but it does cost time and energy. Writers overestimate how easy it is for people to write comments--my coworkers are out here using chatgpt to write boilerplate work emails, I can't imagine ANY of them ever leaving a comment on a work of art they enjoyed. Verbally, yes--and "in a friend discord is much closer to verbally than in a comment form--but in writing? Absolutely not.

As for kudos, I can't help but think that the "likes don't do anything, you have to reblog" culture of social media like twitter and tumblr affects that too (and yes, by the latter days of twitter I was seeing people saying that on there, because the algorithm was so broken). Kudos is essentially a like button, and like the like button on twitter that used to be a favorite button before they changed it and some people never stopped treating it like one, it has meanings for people you'll never understand. "It's just a click!" It is a symbol with vague connotations but no specific universally agreed upon meaning; it tells you how many people clicked on that button, and that's all.

So yes, actually, I guess I am saying that as a writer, you are supposed to assume that many more people liked your fic than you will ever hear from or even know about. And that's a good thing! You have the chance to touch someone's life even though they have no idea who you are and don't think of you as a person so much as a semi-mythical figure called "the author". And that's part of the magic, to me, of creating things. You pour yourself into a thing and then you set it loose into the world and you hope it means to someone else as much as it meant to you. Sometimes, very rarely, someone will tell you so, and that's amazing, I'm not going to pretend it's not, but you have to have enough faith in yourself to believe it happens whether you hear about it or not.

I really don't understand how "without getting kudos or comments a fanfiction author is going to assume that people who clicked their fic didn't like it" became a controversial take.

I don't know why some people think an author should imagine, or guess that people who click their fic enjoyed it it when nobody is telling them that.

If you're re-reading a fic constantly, or leaving it up in your tab so that it re-loads every day for a hundred days the author is not going to know that unless you tell them. They'd love to hear it. It would make their day.

And if you don't tell them you liked their fic, there's no reason for them to assume you did.

[totallyxtaurus]

Depollute me, gentle angel pt.2

Summary: Sylus is away on a business trip while you sink deeper into your depressive episode. Pairing: Sylus x gn reader Genre: Angst, some fluff (maybe, hopefully!) Trigger Warnings: depression, mental health struggles, anxiety, self-neglect, and hints of suicide. A/N: I hope this doesn't feel too rushed! I'm still trying to figure out a good pacing of how I should break these up without them being too long or too short. Posted too quickly or not quick enough, so any advice would be very welcomed and appreciated! I hope I did Sylus justice with his responses, I just took what I would want to hear essentially. But, Hozier's Wasteland, Baby! album is so Sylus coded. I got so many ideas for other fics, so stay tuned! And again, please please please take sweet care of yourselves! 💗

Prev

The chime echoes through the apartment, and for a moment there’s nothing. No footsteps, no shuffle of movement inside. Sylus exhales, fingers softly tapping on the doorframe while he waits. He already knows. He had known the moment communication stopped, when his calls went to voicemail, when even the short, tired texts faded into silence. At first, he assumed you were just busy, needing space. But the longer he waited, the clearer it became—if it were up to you, you wouldn’t come back at all. He began doing his own investigation, looking up the traits you portrayed usually compared to these moments of time and he found his answer. So, he started paying attention. Comparing your usual habits to these stretches of absence. Watching for the patterns. Having Mephisto follow you to your therapist’s office had only confirmed what he already suspected.

As advised, he gave you time—three days, exactly. Then the calls began, gentle and steady, each one a quiet pull back to him. Each time, he waited for you to let him in, to say something. But instead, he got excuses. Busy with work. Out with friends. His personal favorite: just sleeping. It’s almost amusing, how you seem to forget he has your location. He always knows where you are. 

Sylus toys with the key in his hand, should he, or shouldn’t he? Would this cross a line? You had given this to him for an emergency, wouldn’t this be considered one? It has been a full week without hearing from you. He never lets it go this long but work held him up so he couldn’t do his usual routine. He continued to ponder the ethics of his decision until he heard it, movement. A sign of life behind the door that still won’t open up for him. That’s it, he decides and inserts the key. 

As the door swings open, a gust of stale air hits him, thick with stillness. His eyes immediately scan the space, searching for the life he just heard. But as he steps inside, it’s clear- the main rooms haven’t been touched in days, especially the kitchen. He moves toward the bedroom when the bathroom door suddenly swings open. 

Both of you freeze, staring at one another in shock. 

For a moment, he just looks at you. Taking in the hollowed eyes, the tangled hair, the way your clothes sit wrong on you—looser in some places, clinging in others— like they were meant to fit differently but now just hang, like an afterthought. His chest tightens—not in disgust, never that— but in a quiet, constrained ache. He swallows it down, he knows letting you see that pain won’t help. Instead, he inhales, careful, and controlled. Just as he opens his mouth to speak, he hears it. 

Get out 

The words reach him, but his mind trips over them, grasping for meaning. 

For a second, all Sylus processes is the sound of your voice—hoarse, unsteady, faint, as if it took all your energy to speak at all. His mind is still trying to catch up, to piece everything together. But that’s when he really sees you. The way you stand there stiffly, eyes shining with unshed tears, flickering to anything that isn't him. As if meeting his gaze would break your resolve. The tension in your jaw, arms crossed tightly over your chest, shoulders hunched forward, as if you’re shielding yourself from him. And then he sees it—fear. Shame. They were there all along, laced with the exhaustion and neglect. Deeply settled, lingering long before he walked in the door. He had been so focused on finding you, making sure you were safe, that he hadn’t realized—you didn’t want to be found. Not like this. 

The tightness in his chest twisting further, a quiet reminder of his mistake. Instead, he exhales in that same rehearsed way.

"Sweetie," he tries again. His voice was low, full of gentleness. Less of a greeting, more of a reassurance. He’s not going anywhere. 

You just shake your head, a silent refusal, as if willing for him to disappear. Your stance is firm, guarded. But Sylus isn't someone who retreats at the first sign of a challenge. Especially not when it's you. 

"I know kitten, I know you don't want me to see you like this. And I know you think that pushing me away will make everything easier for you, for me. But it won't, it hasn't. You don't have to do this alone." 

He sees the tears start to fall, a quiet surrender that he takes as a response. Without hesitation, he continues, his voice softer but unwavering.

Taking a small step forward, slow yet deliberate as he speaks, "Just focus on me for a second, okay? Forget about everything else, it's just us. Can you breathe with me, my love?" As he demonstrates with measured, even breaths. Never forcing, just offering, hoping it will bring your attention back to the present instead of whatever thoughts you're trapped in.

He notices the way your hunched shoulders drop, relaxing slightly, and how your clenched arms finally loosen their grip on your body. He continues to encourage you, taking slow, careful steps closer. 

"You don’t have to do anything big. I’m not here with any expectations. Why don’t we just sit down? We don’t have to talk, I’ll just sit with you, if that’s okay." His voice is soft, low, coaxing. 

Sylus notices the immediate shift in your demeanor as you register his close proximity-the shield coming back as your body goes rigid once again. You close back in on yourself and take a step back. 

You should go. I stink and I'm sure I look horrific; you mutter as your hand comes up to your face to shield it. His heart pangs, but he doesn't let his expression falter. He can't afford to let you see how much it hurts him that you're hiding from him like this. He takes another small step closer, never pushing, just allowing the space between the both of you to remain as it is. He doesn't want to make you feel trapped, but he wants to show you, prove to you, that he's not leaving.

"Kitten," his voice steady and carrying a weight of reassurance deeper than words can convey. "I'm not leaving. If I wanted to, I would. You know I don't do things I don't want to. But I'm here, for however long you want me around. I'm yours." 

You scoff, shaking your head, still refusing to meet his gaze. "Why?" you ask, voice cracking. "Look at me, smell me, Sylus. Jesus Christ I'm disgusting. Why would you want to stay? Are you nuts?" 

"It's been suggested," he cuts in, his tone remaining gentle yet firm. Finally, you look up at him, and the anger in your gaze takes him by surprise but he holds his ground. 

"You just don't get it," you emphasize, your words sharp and full of frustration. "What's there to get?" he wonders but doesn't dare to speak it. "Sweetie," he says tenderly, "if this is you at your worst, then I've suffered far worse than this. You think I haven't smelled, or hit rock bottom before? When I did-or if I do sometime in the future, would you leave me? Would you push me away" 

"Don't be ridiculous," you say, your voice tinged with exasperation. His lips quirk into a soft smirk, his eyes never leaving yours.  

"Can I hold your hand?" he whispers, watching you closely, waiting for your response. You hesitate, then barely nod, just enough for him to catch it. He takes your hand in his, lifting it gently to his lips and pressing a soft kiss on the back of it.  

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches the way your face scrunches up, a grimace of discomfort, but the smile on his lips remains warm and unwavering. 

"How about this," he continues, his voice calm and coaxing, "I'll make you something small to eat. You don't have to finish it. Just one bite. No pressure."  

You pause, your mind working through his offer. Until, after a moment, your shoulders sag in defeat, and with a sigh, you agree. Your hand still secured in his, he leads you to the kitchen, placing another kiss on the top of your head before turning to the fridge to pull out what little food there is. 

"After we eat, can you shower with me?" The words barely escape your lips, so faint that for a moment he's unsure he heard them. He looks at you, hoping his love for you radiates in his gaze.

"Of course," he replies, his voice steady and sure. "Whatever you want, my dove." He watches as the faintest of smiles flicker across your face, the kind of smile he's willing to wait for, no matter how long it takes. 

Tag list: @withering-dream @madam8 @t4naiis @sunhooniez

[angelfic]

yandere!DAMIAN WAYNE x reader

warnings — yandere themes, jealousy, mentions of violence and murder. unedited! a/n; idek what to say. i felt crazy things writing this

Damian Wayne doesn’t consider himself a jealous person.

Protective? Yes. Possessive…? Fine. But not jealous. He considers jealousy as something only lesser men succumb to — men who allow emotions to cloud their judgement and who lack control. Damian has spent his entire life mastering control and discipline over his mind and body, so no. He doesn’t get jealous.

And yet, here he is, mentally cataloguing every single flaw of the guy working at the concession stand at the movie theatre who was clearly trying to flirt with you. While you were very clearly here with Damian. He’s holding your handbag with the sparkly charms on it, for crying out loud. And he paid for everything (naturally) in front of the guy, so why did this idiot think he had a chance with you?

It wasn’t right. It was bordering offensive. Practically a crime, punishable by….

Well. Damian could get creative.

He doesn’t like what he’s feeling. It’s sharp and hot, like a knife being slowly dragged along the inside of his ribs every time you laugh like this guy is the next great comedic mind of your generation.

And where the hell are the rest of the customers, he’s thinking with a scowl on his face. There’s no line behind the two of you right now, probably why the theatre worker is taking such liberties. Damian makes a mental note to research peak movie theatre times to avoid this in the future.

The movie is what he’s discussing with you — a franchise that you’re a fan of and that Damian has no interest seeing, but he rarely says no to you. He’s such a good friend, a fact you constantly remind him of.

When the guy hands you the popcorn, his fingers brush against yours for a split second.

Damian’s eye twitches.

You don’t react or seem to notice the action, but Damian finds it hard not to stare at his hand, resting on the counter, now inches away from yours. It would take minimal effort to break a few fingers, he thinks. Just as little physical exertion to snap his wrist. Damian could even make it look like an accident — some unfortunate mishap with the popcorn machine.

He takes a deep breath to quell the molten, irrational feeling burning under his skin. He has rules and moral codes to live by, but they're being threatened by something animalistic clawing at the edges of his carefully maintained composure.

“Hey, you okay?”

Your voice pulls him out of his little spiral. He internally reprimands himself for not being less obvious when he notes that you’re looking at him, head tilted, concern evident in your eyes.

He schools his face into a perfectly neutral expression. “Fine. Should we go?”

Understanding dawns on your face and you give him a sheepish smile, mistaking the glassy, faraway look in his eyes for boredom. Better that, he thinks, than you suspecting the mental blueprint he had been drafting on how to stage a minor but effective felony on this moron.

Speaking of, you turn and thank the worker for your drinks and snacks before gesturing for Damian to leave for the movie. You don’t give him a second glance (despite the disappointed look in his eyes) and Damian finds himself relaxing slightly. Fine. It’s fine, just a friendly conversation.

What was he so worked up about again?

“We need to work on your resting face, because I’m pretty sure that guy thought you wanted to kill him,” you say, laughing happily at the thought.

Somewhere beneath the fluttering in his stomach at the way you’re gleefully talking about murder (even if you’re only kidding), he registers a hint of panic. Maybe he was being obvious.

No matter. He’ll be more careful in the future.

Or maybe he won’t. He considers the way you loop your arm through his as you walk and wonders if you sometimes do this on purpose, allowing people to flirt and talk so openly with you.

Were you doing this on purpose? He can’t tell if you’re the most blissfully oblivious or sadistic person he’s ever met.

“He was undeserving of your attention.” The words slip out before Damian realises what he’s saying and when you glance over at him, brows raised, his pulse starts racing, considering his next moves.

He could deflect. He could lie. He could manipulate, he’s definitely good enough at it.

And then you laugh.

“You’re so protective, Damian,” you giggle, nudging his shoulder. “It’s cute. And relax, you’re the only one currently holding the position as my best friend.”

He smiles blandly.

You don’t notice how he clenches his jaw, his breathing coming out a little shallower at the mention of such an offensive word. Friend. You don’t know just how wrong you are about that, but he allows you to continue thinking it for now.

Completely unaware, you sip your drink before offering him the straw and his brain stutters. You’re not even looking at him, too busy balancing the popcorn in your hand, but Damian is staring hard at the mark of your lip gloss painting the straw.

Indirect kiss.

The words slam into his skull like a battering ram. No, it’s fine. He can be normal about this.

Damian swallows. Forces himself to actually move and slowly, deliberately, he reaches for your cup.

His fingers brush yours and a spark shoots through his veins and he berates himself. He can’t freak you out, what if you’re never this casual about these things again? He adores that quality about you.

He lifts the drink, bringing the straw to his lips and finally taking a sip, looking at you as he does it.

The drink is… fine. He barely even tastes it, choosing to look at you as his lips are wrapped around the straw that you were just drinking out of and—

Calm down, he wills his beating heart to not go into cardiac arrest when you finally glance over, your eyes settling on his as he looks up through his lashes before darting to his mouth.

Damian feels his breath leave him immediately.

Your gaze lingers, fingers tightening around the popcorn bag for a moment. It’s barely any time at all, but Damian is observant — more so when it comes to you, of course.

So the way your breath hitches slightly and how you’re refusing to meet his gaze causes his earlier irritation to melt into something completely different.

Interesting. The realisation settles in his chest, slow and warm.

After a long, agonising pause, he pulls the drink away, licking a stray drop of soda from his lip.

Your eyes follow the motion.

Ohhh, this is fun.

He’s practically giddy when he speaks next. “Ready to go in?”

“Hm,” you say, blinking out of your distracted state and taking the drink back to sip at it again.

Damian follows you into the theatre, fingers twitching at his sides. Heat crawls up his spine, spreading to his ears, his neck — everywhere, all at once.

He was barely going to be able to concentrate on the movie before, but it would be an impossible feat with you next to him now.

He simply has too much to think about.

[apatheticsunday]

Dead Tired Stalker AU

AKA "Tim Drake is a little obsessive, possessive, and really, really likes his new boyfriend (Danny)" prompt idea!! No non-con, violence, or dead doves. Brief reference to human experimentation.

Inspired by this one post where Tim kept a methodical journal of Danny's resting pulse, body temperature, weaknesses, tracked him literally all the time, and Danny was like *heart-eyes* (I can't find the post now but please, I need it-)

I like the idea of Tim's idea of love being completely a bit skewed. He was neglected as a kid and craved attention, affection, being wanted; so, understandably, he assumes that's what other people want, too. He'd only had one boyfriend before. Kon was sarcastic, funny, and sweet, but even he couldn't handle Tim's... staring. The unblinking intensity in those eyes, the hundreds of pictures of himself on Tim's phone, somehow Tim knowing about Kon's conversations and experiences without having been there.

Needless to say, Tim and Kon's relationship ended with a harsh reiteration that most people need boundaries.

So, when Tim meets this very cute messy-haired boy at Gotham-U, he shoves down the instinctive urge to know everything. Mentally captures moments, memorizes them, instead of taking pictures. Shoves earbuds in to avoid listening in on Danny's conversations (oh, his name's Danny, which he overheard when the boy was speaking with the TA).

It's so hard not to obsess, though. Danny is... well, he's haunting. His crystalline eyes make Tim's heart stutter in his chest, chills rising along his arms; he swears there's this aura around Danny that's just utterly compelling. (Stop it, Tim, you'll scare him off.) But Tim can actually be a person sometimes, so he just asks, "Do you want to go out for coffee with me sometime?" And he's psyched when Danny says yes!! (He tries really, really hard not to memorize the fact that Danny likes hot oatmilk chai lattes, uses his left hand to hold his drink, and prefers not to use a coffee sleeve. Does Danny always hold his cups by the lid? Does he prefer- Tim stops himself.)

And Tim is a great boyfriend!! They go on dates (he doesn't avidly stare at the way Danny's eyes sparkle while at Gotham-U's planetarium). Tim learns Danny's favorite music the normal way (he doesn't hack into Danny's Spotify... although he's suddenly found himself listening to an artist named Ember). And Tim has a totally normal album of pictures of his boyfriend on his phone (his burner phone is a different matter entirely, but not even Batman himself could get it unlocked. Tim's got that phone sealed up tighter than the Fortress of Solitude).

Except Tim notices Danny becoming more withdrawn. More tired, dark bags under his eyes and stealing Tim's double espresso (he never does that, it's too bitter for him, why isn't he drinking his oatmilk latte?). Leaning his head on Tim's shoulder during lectures to take naps. And Tim's becoming more frantic the more lethargic Danny becomes.

Maybe he's more like Bruce "Contingency Plan" Wayne than he's willing to admit. Tim sets a hard boundary for himself: I'm just going to Google his symptoms. That's it.

He spends the next 42 hours obsessively researching Danny: hacks into his phone, downloads all his previous location history, texts, calls, background checks everybody Danny's been in contact with. Re-traces his steps down to the minute, finds all his Google searches, activates Danny's laptop webcam. He's determined to find out what's wrong with his boyfriend.

And because Tim is Red Robin, who literally became part of the Batfam because of his stalking tendencies and is one of the greatest detectives since Batman, he finds out. He finds out that Danny Fenton is one Phantom, a vigilante from Amity; finds obscure clips of newspapers mentioning a young boy's tragic death, discovers the GIW, uncovers classified information containing metahuman experimentation (let's say he doesn't quite know about Ghosts, but Metas are close enough).

Somehow, he makes a connection between ectoplasm and the Lazarus Pit (maybe not necessarily the right connection, but something-adjacent). After all, Jason was resurrected via "Evil Baja Blast" and Ra's al Ghul used it to make himself immortal. It would make sense that the GIW could sample Lazarus Pit water and use it to experiment on metahumans. So... Does Danny just need more Lazarus Pit water?

Cue Tim making use of the Drake and Wayne family wealth to literally overnight mason jars full of Lazarus water. Ra's al Ghul has no idea how it happened. He tests the reaction of Danny's DNA and the Lazarus water only to realize he was right. (Lazarus Pit waters are just excessively concentrated ambient ectoplasm, I guess?)

Tim does what any good boyfriend would do and spikes Danny's oatmilk lattes with Lazarus Pit water. And it helps. Danny is suddenly so much more energetic, there's that glittering shine to his eyes, and he looks so much healthier. Happier. Tim can't stop staring at him. If anything, he stares more, tries to memorize every angle of his boyfriend's face; he collects more candid pictures than before, always catching the gentle curl of Danny's lips when he's distracted; doesn't disengage the tracking apps or phone mirroring software.

He's just happy that his boyfriend is feeling better, more like himself. It's just a perk that Danny doesn't know about Tim's minor stalking tendencies.

(Danny absolutely knows.)

[artisticdemon]

1 I Love Rock N Roll by Joan Jett

2 Lucifer

3 Both. I like reading and getting inspired. And because I can't draw I write every story that I want

4 Being loved or seeing

5 Listening to music and laying in my bed helps a lot but sometimes I like doing something creating

6 I prefer not scented ones. Watching the little flame calms me down and shuts down my brain

7 I feel like myself everywhere. I'm very open as a person and putting on a filter is a waste of my time.

8 None

9 Getting my first Monster High doll and PlayStation 2

10 Few weeks when I got out with my friends from University

11 My razor blade necklace and my snake earring

12 Music

13 Shower

14 Seeing Alice Cooper live in July! I still can't believe that!

15 Pasta or an omelet with feta cheese. Or anything with cheese really

16 The outfit for the Alice Cooper concert

17 When people actually listen to me when I talk

18 I'm 23 so all these years. I've always been myself and I never cared what people think about me. Nor will.

19 No but I would love to

20 How I discovered rock music. My dad was listening to KISS and Beegees one day and the sound of the guitar made me fall in love with the music genre. And my dad doesn't listen to rock XD

21 Hot cocoa forever

22 I don't have a playlist

23 Yep. By a customer. It was very uncomfortable not gonna lie because he is way older than me. It was his way of thanking me for helping him but it was still uncomfortable

24 I have two. A boy from school and a girl from university. With the boy we became friends over our love for Avatar the last airbender and anime and with the girl when I was talking very passionately about a ballerina being capable of being a ninja. She told me recently that she loved my energy and that's why she approached me

25 Black. Because black goes with everything. And I don't care what psychology says about colors

26 I would love to live with all my friends in the same apartment building or in the same street in a little town

27 Nope. I like getting my hands dirty but not that kind of dirty

28 Being a good person actually. And having people around me that love me and I love them. Oh and that I have a black belt in Tae Kwon Do

29 Yeah. I'm the kindest person you will ever meet even though I don't look like it the first time you see me. But don't give me a reason to not be because then I turn to the most heartless person you will ever meet

30 Most of them are artistic and some of them are random. I like creating outfits in photoshop, 3d modelling, writing, trying to learn how to sew and then it goes to collecting cd and dvd, roller skating

Well that was fun

✨soft asks✨

What song makes you feel better?

What is your go to comfort show?

Reading or writing? Why?

Whats your favorite feeling?

How do you like to take care of yourself?

What’s your favorite candle scent?

Who do you feel most like yourself around?

Whats a fabric/texture that’s nostalgic for you?

Best childhood moment?

When was the last time you laughed so hard you cried? (or just felt really good afterwards)

Do you have a comfort item? Tell us about it!

What calms you down?

Bath or shower to relax?

Whats something upcoming that you’re excited for?

Comfort food?

What’s something you want to create soon?

How do you feel best loved?

What age in life do you think you’ll feel most yourself at?

Have you ever written or received a love letter?

Tell us about a memory you hold close to your heart.

Tea, Coffee, or hot cocoa?

Name of your favorite playlist?

Have you ever received flowers?

Who is your bestfriend?

If your soul was a color, what would it be?

If you could live anywhere with anyone you want, where would it be and who would you bring?

Do you like to garden? Have you ever grown something?

What are you proudest of?

Are you a kind person?

What do your hobbies look like?

[cherie-doll]

hello again!! i just wanted to askk, could i possibly request how the cod men would be with a self-conscious reader? :3 thank you for the curly-haired!reader hcs btw those were so cutesy!!

I hope u have a nice day/night <3 - 🦇

lol im back and yea ofc! (omg i finally wrote and posted something, EVERYONE CLAP)

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: Being Self-Conscious Around Them

౨ৎ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price

He notices that anytime you're out, you glance at your reflection in every mirror or window you appear in, you always regret doing it, and he notices it when you fix your hair to cover your face a little more, or bringing your hoodie over your head

He switches the shopping bags he was using both hands to carry to only one hand, with his now free hand he brings an arm over you and pulls you into him, tucking you into his side

And when you look up at him, a soft breath condensing in the cold air as it escapes your lips, he just smiles warmly and reassuringly at you

His voice, low but thickly as he says your name, wanting your utmost attention, and your eyes find his, in the quietude of the street on that evening you did not turn to glance at your reflection again

It is easy to worry endlessly, to get lost in your thoughts of how people see you, of being aware of every flaw someone could see in you, but you're once again reminded why for one person in the world who's always by your side sees past them

Ghost

Sometimes it is very subtle things you don't like about yourself, not always easy to perceive or notice, but he notices how you feel, the way you carry yourself is different, maybe your shoulders a little more hunched as you try to hide

He doesn't say anything, but he knows something like holding your hand extra tight will have your spinning mind grounded again when you're in public

A chaste but rare peck on your forehead when you get home as he detangles from your fingers and walks off, leaving you surprised but feeling warm inside for it

He knows he's not the best at providing comfort, the man himself uses a balaclava every time he goes out, the real reason for wearing it still unknown but you could say he's just gotten used to not showing his face, so he can't exactly tell you to not hide or turn away if he himself does it

Still, he wanted to give you something to lean on, anything to give you a little bit of reassurance

Soap

He doesn't see why you would be so self-conscious, he loves everything about you, why wouldn't you too?

To be honest, he's never cared that much about his appearance, and he may not exactly be the best when it comes to words, but he's trying

He wants to show you that you shouldn't shy away from him, that he will continue to show you love even if you're hesitant and overly aware of yourself, to not let it get to you or affect how you treat one another

He hates hearing you say negative things about yourself, even if you're just pointing them out, because he truly doesn't see the flaws you think are there, he looks up at you endearingly as he kneels down, his hands on your hips as he tells you about how he first fell for you

And God, you can't get him to shut up once he starts, you'll be laughing and telling him he can stop now, that you get the point he's trying to make, but he refuses to stop talking, you will listen to hear him go on for at least another 30 minutes

Gaz

Those days where your self confidence isn't the best suck :(, especially if you feel like nothing else is really going right and on top of that you just don't feel your best

Kyle would just sense that something is off when you walk through the door, he looks up from where he's sitting and just the sight of him makes you rush into his arms the moment he opens them for you

He'd hold you as he gently strokes your hair, which has a most calming effect on you, making your brain go quiet, feeling how soft his fingertips are against your scalp as they gently caress between strands of hair, it is during this that he asks if there's anything bothering you, since it's been a while since you've had a deep conversation

Feeling like nothing can hold you back, the streams of words just flows, and he's there to only nod and listen as he wishes he could clutch you tighter to his chest and heal everything inside of you, it hurts him to see you like this

But after you've poured everything out to him, he hums quietly and parts from you a little, you raise your head to meet his eyes in confusion

"You really think that?" and he gives the most loving and adoring look you've ever seen him give you it just melts you from the inside

Roach

Honestly, he'd sulk noticing how much it affects you, because he loves the confident you, how charming you are when you hold your head high not letting the thoughts swarming in the murky waters of your mind get to you

He knows he might not be able to change how you perceive yourself, but he can try his best to offer his comfort, maybe you're lying in bed, trying to make peace with the thoughts inside your head, and here comes your boyfriend/husband to climb into bed with you

Slowing making his way towards you like a cat seeking attention, resting his head on your lap as he stares up at you with dreamy eyes admiring you, and you can't ignore him, you take his face in your hands and feel the urge to aggressively love him

His soft smile reminding you of how much he loves you, it momentarily makes you forget about everything, you've been too engrossed in your thoughts you forgot about the person who could erase your doubts even if it was for a moment

The tenderness in his eyes when he murmurs "I love you"

Alejandro

Alejandro is the best at excessive flattery, he does not pass up a moment to tell you how good you look, the problem is that's what he thinks, you're more worried about what your mind has to say and what others might think too

No matter how far down you try to push your thoughts, they just keep finding a way to resurface and make you feel awful, why do you even care so much? It feels like you should, everyone else feels so natural, you want to feel normal for once

Seeing how distressing it can be for you to the point you avoid certain things, Alejandro decides to take matters into his own hands

Telling you, "Who cares what anyone else thinks? It's what you and I think, and no matter what, I still feel the same way", you already know he'd go through extreme measures just to have you feeling like the luckiest person alive, everyone should be envying you for having what you have and you should look and feel it too

Rudy

You're always asking him, "How do I look?" and he will always answer with a smile and "You're beautiful cariño" except you don't believe it, especially when you asked for his jacket, you're not even cold but suddenly you don't like how you feel in your outfit, maybe the people passing by are snickering or laughing or noticing that there is something wrong with you

You just want to turn around and go back home where you can be at peace without the fear of judgement, but Rudy stops for a moment, sensing right away how you feel and asking if you really want to, he could take you back home and instead choose to do something else for the night

You nod yes and he doesn't hesitate in rearranging his plans, he centers his life around you anyways, and he'd rather take a raincheck for any other night than make you feel uncomfortable, he just cares endlessly about you

But he wishes he could find a way to make you see you like he does

Phillip Graves

Waiiitt I've literally entertained the idea of this with him before ;)

You staring into the mirror, unsatisfied with yourself until you're approached by Phillip from behind, him wrapping an arm around your waist, resting his head onto your shoulder and nuzzling his nose into your neck, making you laugh softly

But he notices that sad look behind your eyes, your furrowed brows

No matter how much you try to bring it up to him, he will not let you get more than a sentence in before shaking his head, he doesn't want you to express anymore of those negative feelings, knowing that if you started you'd just go on until you started crying

He'd have you meet his gaze through the mirror, making you stare deep into his beautiful blue eyes asking if you truly trust him, if you nod yes, he'll tell you how he truthfully finds every part of you attractive, how alluring you've been from the first moment he laid eyes on you and how you should discard other people's thoughts

"You truly are the most stunning thing I've ever seen"

Makarov

He did find it strange how you'd gradually become quiet the longer you were around people, and then when you came back home you'd immediately go to the mirror and smile and practice different facial expressions in front of it

When he asks you what you're doing, you simply wave him away, you're only trying to see what you looked like when you were talking to people, did you really look like that? And suddenly you notice other things

Until you're convinced you shouldn't really smile so wide or talk so much, but all it takes is Makarov and his rare tenderness to make you forget about it and feeling good again

He sees no blemishes on you, and you allow yourself to tell you whatever he wants as he drags you away from the mirror and pulling you into bed with him, spooning you, whispering into your ear how you're better than all those insufferable leeches anyways

And for the next time you're getting ready, you receive a questionable amount of compliments from the help Makarov keeps around the house, did he tell them to do that?

Keegan

Keegan wouldn't have known you were being self-conscious around him if it weren't for the fact that you started changing when you were alone, you no longer let him stare at you too long, afraid he'd see something he wouldn't like

You were always trying to turn away or cover yourself if he came into a room when you weren't dressed, yelling at him to get out, except he doesn't care and ignores you anyways as he settles into bed or he holds your hands so you can't cover your face when he leans in closer to get a look at your face

"Hey, don't hide from me" as he turns you to face him, his eyes impossible to part from as he stares deeply into yours, trying to find that fear so deeply rooted in you and pull it out, no one should reach this low, and he'd be a damn fool to let it get to you

He wouldn't want to lose you to this disquietude

König

He very much understands and notices when you're feeling self-conscious, he often feels it too, awkward and unsure of himself when around others, with you though, he forgets about that feeling entirely

Obviously, he's going to do something when you're starting to feel like that, first thing is searching for a place where there is less people, the air gets heavy rather quickly when there are too many people which only makes things worse especially if there's a crowd of people

Doesn't really say much as you both settle into a bench, he's not even sure you noticed that he did it intentionally, he kind of fiddles with his hands nervously but he sits there for a moment, watching the scenery with you, until you lean into him

He's surprised but welcomes it, bringing an arm around your shoulder, "König?" and he responds with a hum, "Do you think... other people think I'm weird?"

Seriously? That's what you were worried about? As if his entire being hasn't always been clumsy and sheepish when around others, yet he still somehow managed to bag you, he snorts, if you're weird he can't imagine what word would be used to describe him

Horangi

He might not fully understand the anxiety that comes with feeling like everyone is constantly watching and judging everything you do or how you look, if anything he quite enjoys the feeling of having eyes on him, especially yours

But he notices how whenever he stares at you a little too long to the point you notice, your reaction gradually shifts from giving a timid and bashful smile to full on embarrassed, he doesn't understand, you're deserving of attention, so why don't you enjoy it?

You do end up explaining how much it bothers you, but there's a long list of things you're always taking notice of, isn't it weird how you walk? Don't you tend to look around too much at people? Is it only you who has an awkward interaction with someone every single time you go out? It's only you, right?

Again, he had never taken notice of these things, seeing as he's learned to take pride in how he carries himself and how he does things, he tells you people don't actually care, no one pays attention long enough to notice

Which is unfortunate really, why doesn't anyone else ever notice that spark in your eye, or that distinctive mark on you? Such a pity no one will ever get to look at you like how he does, maybe he's lucky because he has you all to himself

Nikto

He doesn't even notice what you're constantly worrying about, you've overlooked every scar of his, so why would you ever feel the need to worry about how others perceive you? Especially when it comes to him? It's not unusual of him anyways, you have to point things out for this guy to even take notice of

He sees you staring into the mirror and thinks nothing of it, sees you pull your shirt down every time you sit and again dismisses it, sees you looking uncomfortable when pictures are being taken, fine with him he hates them too

Until you're up at night thinking and he's in bed next to you ready to rest until your voice comes out shaky, frail as if on the verge of tears asking if he really even likes you

Needless to say, he's confused, tired and only grunts in response as he pulls you, snaking an arm around your waist and trapping you in his arms, when you try to move he just shushes you and tells you to sleep

You go to sleep not knowing he's still awake, staring gently at you as he caresses your hair

[sunrisecaminus]

HIII, I LOVE YOUR WRITING SM, ITS SRSLY SO SCRUMPTIOUS? <333

I wanted to request bumblebee/ratchet/knockout/ megatron headcanons of them finding reader working on a lot of figurines and their vehicle models. I want to see how the bots would react? (Esp ratchet, I love that grumpy old man sm)

Message - DUDE JBVPAVHUBSVO! I wish I could write more, but this is all I could think of. Also awe thanks! Don't make me blush :3

Bumblebee/Knockout/Ratchet/Megatron x Reader Headcanons

Summary - Human makes their Cybertronians friend a figurine of their alt mode. All their reactions to you making them the cutest thing ever.

Warning - Cute

Bumblebee

When he finds your little workshop, watching you making a polished figurine of his car, he was fully supportive of it. He loved everything that you did and every time he saw you making your projects, Bee stays around and observes how you make the details. There is a cute joke you guys do by telling him to "freeze!!!" when he is in his alt mode. You take pictures of what he looks like to help yourself have references. Bumblebee would try so hard not to make any sound while you work, but if you ask him if he likes it…you would get loud excited beeping about how beautiful you made him. The fact he would keep every single one of them will show you how much he appreciates them. If someone told you that the figurines suck, Bumblebee would go wild and make sure that person never comes close to you again. It's funny how mad he gets to protect you, but honestly its very sweet.

Knockout

Now, Knockout would be the most obnoxious person about finding out about your skill. This man would kiss and snuggle you every day for the rest of your life after he knows. Need references? Just ask him and he would stay in his alt mode for long periods of time so you can have one you could actually look at in person. Do you understand how much this guy would adore you? Do you understand how much he adores HIMSELF?! Do you remember how in the show, Starscream would brag to everyone how he was the one to kill cliffjumper? YEAH THAT'S KNOCKOUT! "Did you know I am a hired model? My body is so beautiful, a master of sculpting is using it for their art projects~" He will say it every where. Starscream being annoying? Knockout brags about being a model. Arachnid being a threatening meanie? Knockout will say you were useful for showing off his sexy body in sculptures. Megatron mad at him for having an unsuccessful mission? "Well big M, at least today I am going to outshine everyone on this ship by getting a sculpture version of me." He is weirdly supportive of it…in his own way. Knockout would cherish everything you do and even help buy you better supplies to help you improve. Everyday he would see you working on one and you would just feel a little kiss on your head to feel his loving energy.

Ratchet

"What in the Allspark are you doing? I am not someone for you to just make a replica of!" Yeah Ratchet is very much flustered about the whole thing. You making a figurine of his alt mode was adorable though, seeing a miniature him was so embarrassing. What you secretly don't know is that he put the figures up on the desk he has so he can appreciate your crafts while working. Does he wish you would just stop? Yes. Is he going to tell you? No! He would never tell you to stop doing things you like, just please stop making sculptures of him. He would try to nit pick the figurine to make you think you didn't do good and that would make you not sculpt him anymore, but when he saw how upset you got, thinking you made him look ugly…yeah he broke. Now he just blushes and says it looks good whenever you show him your finished product. Not a warm and fuzzy kind of guy, but he would secretly buy you more materials online so you could continue your dreams and passions. He understands the feeling of being good at your job, and doesn't want to ruin that for you. If he heard someone talk crap about your projects, Ratchet might get suspended for medical malpractice later.

Megatron

OF COURSE THIS EGOTISTICAL WARLORD LIKES IT! He would put the damn thing next to his throne to look at it from time to time. "Make me another or I will use you for target practice!" Anyone who says you are bad at making figurines will DIE. Don't question the decapitated body in the corner, please don't even mention it. He would title you are an architect on his ship and give you a respectable salary if you keep making him stuff. It doesn't even have to be sculptures of him. Make him a model of the ship and he would use it as a 3d blueprint whenever he wants to upgrade something on the ship. "And you see here, this is where I want the new engines to be placed." Starscream thinks this shit is stupid. Will he ever tell Megatron? FRAG NO! You are now the lord's favorite and nothing will change that. He would sit you on the arm of his throne and pet you on the top of your head. You will never leave, you will never switch sides, and you will never be killed. Oh and his threats are fake, that man secretly loves you and would never lay a finger on you. He would send a figure to Optimus as a "look at what my soldiers do for me" type shit. Bro, you could tell him that someone ruined your project and he would literally walk around the ship with you on his shoulder, asking you to point out who. Even if it was Airachnid, nah, bye Airachnid! He would not care who it was, do not ruin his pet's MASTERPIECE!

[kxtsukixoxo]

i hate how everyone always says bakugou is a morning person, getting up at 5 am to go on a run or to the gym

but i really believe he would be someone that HATES getting up early, he still gets everything done but especially when he is in bed with his gf he does NOT want to get up

˚.🎀༘⋆ sleeping in. ft ; katsuki bakugou

he’s so grumps (ㅅ´ ˘ `) he looks like he HATES early mornings and sleeps early if he has something important the next day

i’d like to think katsuki gets up at a relatively ‘in-between’ time not too early, but not too late, although if he’s with his girlfriend you CANNOT wake this man up, he’ll refuse to wake up even if he has a busy day. morning time with his girlfriend is morning time with his girlfriend, he’d spend the entire day in bed with you, end of discussion

“suki’ you need to wake up now-“ you huffed out, katsuki’s arms were splayed messily behind your neck as he nuzzled himself into the dip of your neck, multi-tasking as he pulled you closer, making it hard for you to leave the bed. “five more minutes” he murmured, his eyes still shut as he kissed your neck softly, you didn’t object. katsuki spent every possible minute of his day with you, like a clingy siamese cat, you didn’t even have the mornings to yourself, it was such a hassle waking him up. you’d always complain and huff out ‘it’s like waking up a kid for school!’ but deep down, you really didn’t mind, you loved that he chose to spend time with you over anything else. katsuki’s favourite mornings would be when he was awake before you, he loved watching your messy hair fall on your face, your lips slightly parted and chapped from the dryness of the morning air, your eyes peacefully shut, lashes ever so gently fluttering as he brushed your hair out of your face, falling into your embrace, he’d enjoy the next few minutes of quiet cuddling you before you woke up, and nagged him to get up, and like clockwork, it would take thirty minutes until you physically dragged him out of bed, unless it was the weekend, you’d have no objections, sleeping in til the afternoon, and somehow….he was still tired? 

eventually getting up to shower at 18:00

you enjoyed soft mornings in bed with katsuki, despite all the yelling and forcing him to get up for the first thirty minutes, his explosive nature went through the window whenever he was in your embrace behind closed doors 

©️ 2025 kxtsukixoxo  all rights reserved. do not modify, repost or claim my work as yours if you wish to use my png please credit. me.

[threefandomsinatrenchcoat]

I think we should worry less about labels, in general. I get that they can be very helpful and comforting to some people and for very quickly communicating the gist of things, they're quite good.

When I want someone to just understand that I like multiple genders with a tendency to prefer one over another, "I'm bisexual" gets the job done a lot quicker than describing the whole situation, everyone I've ever found attractive and who out of these people I'd actually sleep with.

But I feel like we've gotten really caught up in this way of thinking that dictates that every unique human experience needs a name and it's really confusing and limiting.

If a straight person finds someone of the same gender/sex attractive just once, they're suddenly confused and rattled, because they don't know what this means for their identity. Are they still straight?

A lot of terms are from a time when sexuality was better understood than gender and thus, the definitions of terms were still based on a gender binary. Now that this isn't the case anymore, we're struggling to say who can and can't be [label].

Can trans men be lesbians? Where do intersex people fall in this? Are nonbinary people trans, because being trans is just being not cis, or can they not be trans, because being trans has to do with transitioning? But not all mtf and ftm trans people transition either, and they're still valid, so-

Do you see what I mean? The definitions are so imprecise and we keep arguing about them, which is fucking pointless. It's not getting us anywhere. We shouldn't be infighting at all, but especially not at a time like this, when many of us are in peril and we're all in this together.

Who cares about these fucking definitions, man? Does it matter if I'm aro or just have commitment issues so big I can't imagine having a relationship? The result is the same. I'm not interested in a romantic relationship. Why am I worrying about whether a label fits me rather than thinking about how this part of my identity affects my life? Does it matter if chopping my tits off makes me trans? The result is the same, I look and feel different.

I get wanting to find out more about yourself and wanting to put everything in neat little boxes and having tools and words to find people just like you to share your experiences, support and advice with, I truly do, but I feel like we're really pulling the noose tighter around our own necks by focusing more on labels than on the fact that we're all human, we all have things in common as well as differences, and we're all too complex to describe with a single word per aspect of our identity.

You shouldn’t have to be trans to get any sex characteristic-related surgery. It’s not a limited resource. Plenty of cis men get implants and cis women get breast reductions. From Colby Gordon today and Leslie Feinberg in Transgender Warriors (1996).