#thank you for the explanation i love it!!

[mariasont]

EEEEK your post prison fic for spencer is fREAking me out!!! could you maybe do one where spencer is now teasing the reader a bit? maybe he's giving her extra praise and she freaks (what would i do if he called me a good girl? 😩) (this is very indulgent to my praise kink i'm so so sorry 🧎🏻‍♀️‍➡️) tytyty!! i adore love and cherish you and your work 💕

I Aim To Please - S.R

a/n: shewwwwww to be complimented by post prison spencer fucking reid. im drooling!!!! but anyway babes i adore & love YOU!!!! so thank u so so sooo much for requesting 💖💖

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x shy!media-liaison!reader

warnings: spencer being hot, reader being shy girl, spencer being a little shit who loves to tease

wc: 1.5k

There were a few basic rules you had established from working at BAU. First, avoid Rossi at all costs until he’s had at least two cups of coffee. Second, never attempt to outwit Emily; she’ll see right through you and crush your argument every single time. And third—perhaps the most crucial—do everything in your power to maintain your freaking composure around Dr. Reid.

That last one, however, was proving to be a monumental challenge. It wasn’t just the way he spoke, his brain firing off at a speed only he could keep up with. It wasn’t even the way he seemed oblivious to how endearing those very quirks were. No, it was the fact that the simple act of him breathing in your direction had you scrambling to hold yourself together. And honestly you were failing miserably.

Which is why you spent most of your time holed up in your office. It wasn’t much—just a desk, a slightly uncomfortable chair, and a perpetually growing stack of case files that seemed determined to bury you. But it offered privacy, and that was enough. Here you could breathe, decompress, and occasionally allow yourself to daydream about a certain genius profiler without the risk of public humiliation.

The bullpen was proving to be too chaotic, too close to him. Your office gave you distance, a buffer. But, as you had come to learn, hiding only worked when he didn’t decide to seek you out. And Spencer Reid had a knack for finding you when you least expected it.

"Hey."

You jumped slightly, nearly fumbling the stack of press notes you’d been carefully organizing.

Turning toward the door, you found Spencer leaning casually against the frame, a file tucked under one arm and a distracted sort of smile on his face. His tie was slightly loosened, his sleeves rolled up just enough to expose his forearms, and—just like that—your brain completely short-circuited.

"Hi," you said, trying not to sound too startled. "Do you, um, need something?"

"Yeah." He further into the room, lifting the file in explanation. "I was looking at the local coverage of our case, and I noticed a couple discrepancies in the timeline published."

"Oh,” you said softly, quickly shuffling the press notes into a messy pile and pushing them to the side. "Well, um, sometimes reporters try to fill gaps when they don't the facts. It's... frustrating, but it happens."

You glanced up at him briefly, but that look of his made your cheeks warm. Your fingers twisted together in your lap as you tried to focus on anything other than how ridiculously self-conscious you suddenly felt.

"That makes sense. I figured you'd know."

Instead of lingering in the doorway or leaving like you assumed he would, Spencer, casually grabbed the chair across from your desk. He spun it around in one fluid motion and sat it backwards, draping his arms on the backrest with an ease that felt strangely familiar���like you had been friends or colleagues for years instead of just a few months.

"I'll reach out to them about fixing the timeline," you said, your hand instinctively moving a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You clasped your hands together to still them, offering a small, nervous smile. "It shouldn't be too hard to correct."

"Thanks," he said. "That'll probably save from giving another long-winded lecture on factual reporting."

You gave a quiet laugh, grateful for the distraction from your tasks, though you weren’t entirely sure how you felt about the company. Not that you didn’t enjoy his company—there was plenty to enjoy, more than you cared to admit. If you could manage to function like a normal human being around him, you might even look forward to moments like this.

But then he tilted his head slightly, his eyes studying you as if he were unraveling some kind of puzzle and for one terrifying second, you were convinced he could hear every single thought racing through your mind.

"So," he began, "how are you liking it here so far? The job, I mean. Is it what you expected?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. "Oh, um... yeah. It's been great so far. Busy, but... I like it."

"That's good," he said, nodding. "I know it’s not exactly the most predictable job. Some people don't expect it to be so... chaotic."

"Well," you said, fidgeting slightly with your pen. "I knew what I was signing up for. Or, at least I thought I did. It's a lot, but it's rewarding."

"That's a good attitude to have," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Honestly, you're doing a great job. I don't know how you manage to keep everything straight."

Your heart leaped, thudding in your chest as warmth flooded your face. You weren’t used to hearing compliments, especially from someone like him. You wanted to savor the moment, to bottle up the way his words made you feel, but your nerves refused to let you fully enjoy it.

"I'm just, um, organized I guess,” you stammered, your hand flying up to rub at the back of your neck.

"More than just organized," he replied easily, completely unaware of how his words were affecting you. "You've got half the team wrapped around your finger already. Even Rossi listen when you talk. That's impressive."

Your face burned. "I think that's more about respect for the job than me."

Spencer shrugged lightly, as he was watching you, like he didn't quite believe you. "Maybe. Or maybe you're just better at this than you give yourself credit for."

You let out a nervous chuckle, fingers twitching as you fiddled with the corner of the paper in front of you.

"I don't... I don't know about that."

He tilted his head, again, his brow quirking. "Do you know how to take a compliment?"

"Of course I do." You were sure your voice lacked the conviction needed.

He smirked, leaning forward over the chair. "Doesn't seem like it."

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words stuck in your throat, tangled in the frantic web that was your thoughts around this infuriating man.

"Well, uh, you’ve only done it twice, so I don’t think that’s enough for you to judge."

His grin widened. "Oh? So you’re saying I should try again? For research purposes?"

Your eyes widened, and you blinked rapidly as if to process his words, your hands shooting up as if to physically block the implication. "I—uh—no, that's not what I meant.”

"No, no," he said, sitting up straighter and waiving off your flustered attempt to deflect. "I aim to please. If more compliments are what you’re after, I’ve got plenty.”

"Please, no."

"You're incredibly efficient. Seriously, I think you've managed to anticipate what the team needs before we even know we need it. And your ability to keep your cool under pressure? That's impressive. I mean, do you even get stressed? Because if you do, you hide it really well."

"Dr. Reid—," you squeaked, covering your face with your hands as if that could somehow shield you from the onslaught of praise.

"And," he continued, clearly now enjoying himself. "You're probably the most patient person, I've ever met. Which is something, considering you work with people who constantly interrupt and derail your perfectly planned press briefings."

Your stomach flipped, and you felt a flush of heat that had nothing to do with embarrassment pooling in your chest. As much as you wanted to sink to the floor, the way he looked at you sent every nerve in your body spiraling. Each word felt like it was tailored to you, peeling back the very thin veneer of control you’d desperately tried to maintain over the massive crush you found yourself drowning in.

Your head dropped to the desk with a soft thunk, muffling your groan. "Okay, okay, I get it."

He leaned forward just slightly, resting his chin on his arms atop the chair. "Now what do you say?"

"Thank you."

He smirked widened. "See? That wasn't so hard was it?"

Your cheeks burned even hotter, and you averted your eyes, trying to hide the nervous smile tugging at your lips. "You didn't have to go on and on..."

"Oh, but I did." He was still grinning. "You deserved it."

You risked a glance back at him, losing your cool by the second. That only made your face heat up more. "You're impossible."

"And yet, you haven't kicked me out of your office."

"That's only because I didn’t think it would work."

"Well," he said, turning towards the door. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you didn't mind the compliments."

You opened your mouth to protest but no words came out. Instead, you watched helplessly as he shot you one last smile before disappearing into the hallway.

When the door finally clicked shut behind him, you let out a shaky breath and drop your head back onto the desk.

taglist: @readergf @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @r-3dlips @m-indkiller @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @reiderrambles @averyhotchner @hbwrelic @sky2nd @messylxve @alexxavicry @doigettokeepyou @pleasantwitchgarden @kodzukenmaaa @hiireadstuff @spenciesslut @phoenix-le-danseur-de-pole @c-losur3 @theylovemelody @alahnizamolo @oliver-1270 @ssahotchbabe @savagemickey03 @justanotherbimboslxt @imoonkiss @spiderladyleah @estragos @khxna @spencerssoup @de-duchess @raysmayhem-72 @piinksdoll @kcch-ns @cool-light32 @reidfile @i-live-in-spite

join my taglist here!

[p1astr81]

baby piastri (pt. 2)

an: I’m still thinking about girldad!oscar so here’s another little blurb part 1

in which: mom!reader gets to a point of dangerous exhaustion, worrying Oscar.

pairing: dad!oscar piastri x mom!reader

warnings: pet names (baby, honey), if there’s any others lmk!

You stumbled into the kitchen, and Oscar noticed almost instantly that you weren’t okay. He called your name softly but received no answer.

He noted the curve of your arm, as if your daughter, isla, was resting in your arms. But she was rolling around on her play pad right next to Oscar. Worry overtook every one of Oscar’s thoughts.

He watched with concerned eyes as you opened the fridge and pulled out a nearly empty baby bottle. He calculated his next moves carefully, not wanting to make you upset. You tilted the bottle as if to feed the invisible baby.

Oscar called your name again and received a tired him in response. “Baby I think you need to rest.” He suggested.

You shook your head, moving to sit on the couch near him. “Isla needs me.” You mumbled the explanation. It was hardly even coherent.

He glanced at Isla to make sure she was distracted enough before leaving her side. He sat next to you, taking the bottle from your hands. You whined, “No, Isla-“ “Isla’s on the floor.” He pointed out with a sigh. You frowned, and suddenly the baby in your arms was no longer there.

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed.” Oscar stood, taking your hand with him but you refused to budge. “But she needs me.” Your gaze was on your daughter who was currently chewing on a silicon ring used for teething.

“It’s alright. I’ll look after her.” He tugged on your hand again, but you remained where you sat.

Oscar sighed, and despite your protests, he hoisted you into his arms. “Hey, put me down!” Your demands fell onto deaf ears. You tried to squirm but he only held you tighter.

He kicked your bedroom door open and laid you carefully on the bed. When you tried to get up, he pushed you right back down. “If I have to hold you down until you go to sleep, I will.” He was stern with it, pointing a threatening finger at you.

You finally huffed, settling into the sheets. “Fine. Just wake me up in an hour.” You grumble.

Safe to say, Oscar did not wake up up in an hour. He treaded around the house on his tip toes, wincing when a floorboard would creek.

You were approaching hour two when isla started to cry. She’d just ate, so Oscar assumed it was a teething issue. He offered her the teething toys but she rejected all of them after just a couple of bites. So he sacrificed his finger for isla to chew on, and thankfully she didn’t reject that one. He cautiously peeked his head into your bedroom, and silently cheered when he saw that you were still fast asleep.

It wasn’t until sixteen hours later that you woke up.

The room was dark, the blackout curtains drawn closed. The smell of bacon and pancakes wafted through the air in your room. “Breakfast for dinner?” You asked to the empty space before turning to the clock. What should’ve been 17:30 was actually 8:51.

“Oscar!” You yelled, storming out of the room to confront him. You stood at the kitchen island next to isla in her high chair, glaring holes into the back of Oscar’s head.

He turned and smiled at you sweetly. He carried a plate of fluffy pancakes and bacon over to you, placing it right in front of you. He chose to ignore your sharp gaze. “Morning, honey.” He greeted, placing a kiss on your temple.

“Don’t ‘morning honey’ me! Why didn’t you wake me up?” You demanded of him while isla babbled beside you and tossed a piece of bacon at you. “Thanks, love.” You replied sarcastically, placing the strip back on her plate.

Oscar just smiled, unfazed by your reaction. “You needed the sleep.”

“I didn’t-“

“You slept for sixteen hours. You didn’t even wake up when isla was crying. You were too exhausted to even admit it, and you were hallucinating.” He stated, gentle and cautious. The worry in his voice, and the concern on his face made you frown. “I love you, and I love how independent you want to be, but you’re not alone in this. You’re taking on more responsibilities than you need to and you’re not looking after yourself.” Oscar’s hands found your waist. He held onto you with a light grip. “And it’s killing me with worry.” He confessed.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered, not meeting his eyes.

His hands moved from your waist to cup your cheeks. He lifted your head, forcing you to look him in the eyes. He closed the gap between you, leaving a soft peck on your lips. “It’s okay. Just promise me you’ll give yourself a break when you need it.”

You bit the inside of your cheek before nodding. He smiled and kissed you again, breaking apart to laugh when Isla started screeching happily.

[mmso-notlikethat]

Bucktommy Ι WC: 3400 Ι Christmas fic Ι cw: unintentional self-harm

I might have some kind of fixation with writing them drunk but well... I love seeing them messy and pathetic sue me 😞

"Bar fights on Christmas Eve. Why is this a thing?" Hen muttered.

Eddie adjusted his gloves, surveying the scene. "Maybe Santa didn’t bring what they wanted."

Chimney chuckled. "Or someone sang ‘Last Christmas’ one too many times."

Buck stayed quiet, his mind already churning with a mix of irritation and exhaustion. As they approached, a police officer waved them over.

"This one’s yours... I think," the officer said, jerking his thumb toward someone sitting on the curb. Buck’s stomach sank as soon as he recognized the messy mop of dark hair.

"Tommy?" Buck’s voice came out in disbelief.

Hen tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. "Oh no.”

Tommy looked up, his face marked with a bruise along his cheekbone and a faint cut near his eyebrow. His hair was disheveled, his shirt wrinkled and slightly damp as if someone had spilled a drink on him. Despite all of this, he grinned widely. "Heyyyyy! Look who’s here! Evan! No Buck!! My favorite ex!"

Chimney blinked, caught between disbelief and amusement. "Okay, Christmas just got interesting."

Buck groaned, already dreading whatever explanation was coming. "What happened?"

Tommy tried moving, the cuffs clinking as he gestured grandly. "Do you know how great you are, Evan? You’re like—like Santa, but with better arms!"

"Okay, he’s drunk," Eddie said, trying—and failing—to hide his amusement.

Hen smirked. "No kidding, detective."

The officer sighed. "Bar fight broke out. He didn’t throw any punches, but he got hit, refused medical attention, and wouldn’t leave when we asked. Kept insisting he was fine."

"I am fine," Tommy slurred, his voice betraying just how much he wasn’t. "They didn’t mean it. They were just… passionate about pool tables."

Eddie raised an eyebrow. "They punched you in the face."

"And the ribs," Tommy added cheerfully. "But I didn’t hit back! Isn’t that the Christmas spirit?"

Chimney snorted, already enjoying this far more than he should. "You got sucker-punched, and your takeaway is holiday cheer?"

"Forgiveness is key, Howie," Tommy declared dramatically. He leaned back slightly, his cuffs clinking. "I’m basically a saint."

Hen crouched in front of him, tilting her head. "How much did you drink?"

Tommy squinted, holding up his fingers. "Two? Maybe four? Could be six. Math’s hard."

The officer crossed his arms, visibly irritated. "He was trying to mediate, but when things got heated, one of the guys turned on him. Said something about him 'looking smug'—whatever that means."

Tommy perked up. "I do look smug! It’s my default face."

"Congratulations," Buck muttered. "You got punched for your great personality."

Hen smirked. "To be fair, it’s a punchable face."

"Thanks, Hen. Love you too," Tommy shot back, swaying slightly. "But seriously, I didn’t even fight back. I just told them to calm down, and, bam, fist to the face. It was… educational."

Eddie crossed his arms. "You learned nothing."

"I learned not to stand too close to drunk strangers holding beer bottles," Tommy said wisely.

The officer announced. "Look, if you can take him off our hands, I’m willing to let him go. Just… keep him out of trouble."

Tommy perked up. "See? I’m very cooperative. Just ask—what’s your name again? Officer Friendly?"

Buck said shocked and unbelieving “Let him go? You said he didn’t even hit back! Why is he even cuffed?? Why didn’t you just let him leave?”

The officer shrugged. "He was being stubborn. Kept saying he was fine, didn’t need help, and that he was 'the spirit of Christmas.' You try reasoning with that."

Tommy nodded proudly. "I am the spirit of Christmas. Forgiveness, love, and mild head injuries."

Chimney shook his head, grinning. "Oh, this is gold. Someone should write this down."

Eddie crouched beside Tommy, examining his bruised face. "Doesn’t look like it’s broken, but you’ll need an ice pack.”

The officer muttered something under his breath while uncuffing him, and Eddie stood up to help Tommy stand.

"You’re lucky they didn’t haul you in," Eddie said, steadying him. "But seriously, you okay?"

Tommy waved a hand, swaying slightly. "Never better. Just a little… dented."

"Dented," Buck repeated, his jaw tightening as he noticed the way Tommy flinched when Eddie accidentally brushed his side. "We’re checking those ribs now.”

Tommy looked at him with an exaggerated pout. "Evan, you’re still bossy. I missed that."

Buck rolled his eyes, biting back the mix of worry and frustration bubbling inside him. "Let’s go."

Tommy suddenly leaned toward Buck, sniffing dramatically. "You smell good. Like cookies. Did you bake? You totally baked."

"Sit down, Tommy," Buck said, guiding him toward the ambulance. "And stop sniffing me."

"Can we keep him like this?" Hen asked. "He’s much more entertaining."

"Yeah, it’s like finding a unicorn," Eddie added. "Drunk, unfiltered Tommy. Never thought I’d see the day."

Once Tommy was helped into the ambulance, Buck followed close behind, his jaw tight with concern. Tommy sat on the gurney, looking dazed but still trying to joke.

"See? I’m fine. You’re overreacting. Classic Evan."

"Take your shirt off," Buck said, already pulling gloves on. "We need to check for bruising."

Tommy leaned back against the gurney, his grin widening lazily. "Oooh you are a medic now? If you wanted to see me shirtless, you could’ve just asked. No need for the whole Christmas emergency."

"Tommy, stop," Buck said, exasperated, his voice sharp with worry. "Just let me check."

Tommy shook his head, folding his arms defiantly. "Nope. Not letting you play doctor."

Hen stepped in, putting a hand on Buck’s shoulder. "Let the professionals handle this, Buck."

"I can handle it," Buck argued, his eyes fixed on Tommy. "He’s hurt."

Chimney appeared on Buck’s other side, smirking. "He’s always been stubborn. You’re not gonna win this one. Let us do our job."

Buck hesitated, his hands falling to his sides as Hen gently nudged him out of the way. She crouched in front of Tommy, her voice calm but commanding. "Alright, Tommy. You don’t get a choice. Shirt off, now."

Tommy sighed dramatically, wincing slightly as he pulled off his jacket and shirt. Underneath, dark bruises were spreading across his ribs and a faint red mark lingered along his shoulder.

Hen frowned. "That looks nasty. You’re definitely going to the hospital."

"It’s just a bruise," Tommy said with a wave of his hand. "Tough guy stuff, you know."

Chimney raised an eyebrow. "Tough guys don’t take punches like that without flinching. Which you did, by the way."

"That’s because I’m cool under pressure," Tommy said with exaggerated flair.

Buck, standing nearby, crossed his arms tightly, his jaw set. "Cool under pressure doesn’t mean you don’t need help. You’re going to the hospital, Tommy."

Tommy tilted his head toward Buck, his smile turning genuine.

Buck didn’t wait for him to speak, his eyes flicking to the bruises before meeting Tommy’s gaze. "Let’s just get you taken care of."

Hen cleared her throat. "Alright, playtime’s over. Chim, get the monitor. We’re not taking chances with those ribs."

Tommy slumped back against the gurney, his grin faint but still there. "You guys really are like family. Dysfunctional, but family. Awesome."

As Hen and Chimney worked, Buck hovered nearby, his concern palpable. Tommy—even drunk—noticed, his voice softening. "Hey, Evan. I’m okay."

"You don’t look okay," Buck said, his voice clipped.

"But I will be," Tommy murmured. "Thanks… to you and all of you."

The ambulance hummed quietly as it crossed the dark streets, the faint sound of sirens cutting through the stillness. Buck sat on the bench across from Tommy, his eyes fixed on him as Hen drove and Chimney worked on notes up front. Tommy leaned back against the gurney, arms folded across his chest, his bruised face turned toward the ceiling.

"You going to tell me what happened?" Buck asked, breaking the silence.

Tommy tilted his head, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "What? Didn’t the officer give you the play-by-play? It’s pretty simple, guy punches me, I forgive him, everyone moves on."

Buck’s jaw tightened. "That’s not what I meant."

"Well, you gotta be more specific, Evan," Tommy said, the grin widening. "I’ve had a lot of adventures tonight. Bar fights, karaoke, getting arrested… It’s been a full Christmas Eve."

Buck leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "I mean why you were even there. Why were you drinking alone? Why did you let someone hit you and just—wave it off?"

Tommy shrugged, his expression still light. "Maybe I was spreading Christmas cheer. You know, turn the other cheek and all that."

"Tommy," Buck said, his voice sharper now, "this isn’t funny."

"Neither are you, but we all have our flaws," Tommy quipped, winking. "Come on, lighten up. It’s Christmas."

Buck’s patience frayed. "You’re covered in bruises and sitting in an ambulance, and you’re joking. Why can’t you just be serious now for five minutes?"

The grin on Tommy’s face faltered, and he turned his head away, looking at the far wall of the ambulance. His voice, when it came, was quieter. "Because serious didn’t help."

The tension in the small space grew, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. Buck exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face, trying to rein in his frustration. His eyes drifted to Tommy again, and that’s when he noticed it—his eyes, red and puffy, like he’d been crying before the fight.

"Tommy…" Buck started, his voice softer. "Have you been—"

"Don’t," Tommy interrupted, his tone flat. "Just… don’t."

Buck fell silent, studying him closer. The faint hollows beneath Tommy’s cheekbones were more pronounced than he remembered, and the way his jacket hung slightly looser over his frame caught his attention. He wasn’t skinny, but he was leaner—more muscular, yes, but not in a healthy way. It looked like someone who’d been skipping meals and pushing too hard.

"You’re not eating enough," Buck said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Tommy glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "Didn’t realize you were also a nutritionist now."

Buck’s concern only deepened. "You’re overworking yourself. You’ve always done that, but this—this is different."

Tommy’s jaw tightened, and he looked away again, his voice barely audible. "I’m fine, Evan."

"No, you’re not," Buck shot back, but Tommy didn’t respond. He stayed quiet, his gaze fixed on the window as the city lights blurred by.

After a long stretch of silence, Tommy murmured so quietly that Buck almost missed it. "I HATE Christmas. Stupid captain—‘You are taking Christmas off, Kinard.’ Stupid, stupid."

Buck glanced at him, startled by the soft admission. Tommy’s head lolled slightly to the side, and his eyes were heavy-lidded, but the slurred bitterness in his tone cut through the haze of drunkenness.

“Stupid Christmas. Stupid captain made me take it off. What else was I supposed to do?”

"Tommy…" Buck started, but Tommy didn’t look at him. Instead, he muttered something unintelligible and leaned back against the gurney, his expression shutting down entirely.

The ambulance fell silent again, save for the faint hum of the engine. Buck leaned back against the bench, his hands gripping his knees as he tried to process what Tommy had said—or what he didn’t say. He wanted to push, to get answers, but the look on Tommy’s face—the shut-down, closed-off expression—stopped him. For now, at least.

…

The fluorescent lights in the hospital room buzzed as the doctor stood at the foot of Tommy’s bed, flipping through his chart. Tommy sat up slightly, one hand rubbing his forehead as he squinted at the doctor. He was more coherent now, though his eyes still held a hint of fatigue.

“Here’s what we’re looking at,” the doctor began. “Bruised cheek bone, two stitches on the cut above your eyebrow, bruised ribs, and—” he paused, giving Tommy a pointed look, “—a mild concussion. Turns out you did hit your head during the fight. But with how drunk you were, it wasn’t immediately obvious if it was the alcohol or a concussion causing your symptoms.”

Tommy groaned, leaning back against the pillows. “Great. So I’m a walking disaster. Is that what you’re saying?”

The doctor didn’t smile. “I’m saying we’re keeping you overnight for observation. It’s standard with head injuries, and given your condition—”

“I’m fine,” Tommy interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. “Look, thanks for the concern, but I don’t need to stay here. I just need some water, maybe a snack, and I’ll be out of your hair.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “You have a concussion and bruised ribs. This isn’t up for debate.”

“Debate? Come on,” Tommy said, his voice edging on pleading. “I’ve had worse. I’m a firefighter, I know what I’m saying. Just let me go home, and I’ll sleep it off.”

“You’re staying,” Buck’s voice cut through the room before the doctor could respond.

Tommy turned his head sharply, his tired eyes narrowing. “Why are you even here?” he snapped. “Just go. You got me checked in, that’s enough. Thank you very much!”

Buck didn’t flinch, didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he took a step closer, the tension in his face eased, despite the frustration still lingering in his voice. “I’m not going anywhere. And you’re staying the night. End of discussion.”

Tommy scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest before wincing as the motion aggravated his bruised ribs. “Unbelievable. You think you can just waltz in here and—”

“Tommy,” Buck interrupted again. “You need to rest. Stop arguing.”

For a moment, Tommy just stared at him, his jaw clenched tightly, but he didn’t have the energy to keep up the fight. He let out a frustrated sigh, looking away. “Fine. Whatever.”

Buck nodded once, then turned toward the door. “I’m going to tell everyone your state and that you’re staying the night.”

That stopped Tommy cold. “Everyone?” His voice was sharper now, his head snapping back toward Buck.

Buck paused, glancing over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “Everyone who needs to know.”

…

When Buck came back Tommy was lying back against the pillows, his face slightly turned to one side. His breathing was slow but uneven, like he was trying to stay awake despite the pull of exhaustion. Buck sat in the chair beside the bed, scrolling through his phone, his leg bouncing slightly in nervous habit.

Minutes passed, the quiet of the hospital only broken by the occasional beep from the monitor. Tommy stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open. For a moment, he just lay there, staring at Buck, who hadn’t noticed he was awake. Tommy’s gaze lingered on him, taking in the familiar slope of his shoulders, the furrow of his brow as he focused on his screen. Finally, Tommy sighed, his voice soft and scratchy.

“Another Christmas at the hospital. Old habits die hard, huh?”

Buck’s head snapped up, startled. “Uh, you woke up.”

Tommy smiled faintly, shifting slightly on the bed. “Yeah, happens sometimes.”

Buck leaned forward, tucking his phone away. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything? Should I call the doctor?”

Tommy shook his head and immediately regretted it, wincing as pain shot through his temple. “Ow. Nope. Definitely no head shaking.”

Buck stood quickly, his concern sharpening. “You okay? Want me to get someone?”

“I’m fine,” Tommy said, his voice sharp. He looked at Buck and gave a small, sheepish smile. “Thanks for staying, though. Uh… sorry about your shift.”

Buck moved to stand beside the bed, waving it off casually. “Bobby gave me the rest off. I’ll cover another shift later. It’s fine.”

Tommy winced again as he shifted to sit up a little straighter. “Yeah, sorry… you know you didn’t have to.”

Buck’s expression relaxed, but there was a weight to his gaze as he looked down at Tommy. For a moment, neither of them said anything. Then, without warning, Buck reached out, his hand brushing gently against Tommy’s bruised cheek.

Tommy froze, startled by the touch. His instinct was to lean back, but instead, he found himself leaning into Buck’s palm, almost without thinking. “Uh, what…”

“Tommy... you’re hurt,” Buck said, his voice quiet and firm.

Tommy blinked at him, then let out a soft, breathy laugh. “Duh.”

Buck didn’t move his hand, his thumb grazing just below the cut near Tommy’s eyebrow. “No, Tommy,” he said, his voice heavier now. “You’re hurt.”

The words landed with a weight that seemed to knock the air out of the room. Tommy stared up at him, his expression unreadable, until his eyes began to glisten. He blinked rapidly, turning his face slightly to avoid Buck’s gaze. “I’m fine,” he murmured.

“You’re not,” Buck said, lowering his hand but not stepping away. “And you don’t have to pretend with me.”

Tommy swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he tried to push the emotion back down. “It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he said finally.

Buck pulled the chair closer and sat down his eyes drifted to the bruises shadowing Tommy’s cheek and the faint red line where the stitches had been placed, “You don’t always have to handle it alone, you know. You can… let someone in. Let me in.”

For a long moment, Tommy didn’t respond. Then he exhaled slowly, leaning his head back against the pillow.

“I think I forgot how.” his voice quiet, almost fragile. It was the kind of admission that wasn’t meant to be heard aloud.

Buck’s chest tightened at the words. He gave a faint, sad smile. “Then we’ll figure it out.”

Tommy’s gaze flicked toward him, a flicker of something in his eyes—doubt, maybe hope, but definitely vulnerability. It wasn’t a side of Tommy Buck had seen often, and it wasn’t one Tommy would have willingly shown under normal circumstances. But here, under the dim hospital lights, stripped of his usual defenses, he couldn’t hide.

Tommy shifted slightly, his fingers absentmindedly brushing the edge of the hospital blanket, where Buck's hand rested. “You’re stubborn, you know that?” he muttered, his tone lighter now, though the exhaustion still lingered.

Buck let out a small laugh. “Takes one to know one.”

Tommy smirked faintly at that, but the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I don’t know why you’re still here.”

Buck leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Because you need someone to be.”

Tommy swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know if I deserve that.”

Buck’s response was immediate, no hesitation in it. “You do.”

For a moment, Tommy said nothing, his eyes drifting toward the window, where the faint glow of the city lights filtered through the blinds. “I’m not good at this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Buck straightened slightly, his gaze steady and unwavering. “You don’t have to be. I told you we’ll figure it out together.”

Tommy looked at him again, his lips pressing into a thin line as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. Instead, he nodded—just a small, almost imperceptible movement—and leaned his head back against the pillow once more.

Buck hesitated, then said quietly, “Uh… Merry Christmas…?”

The words seemed to break something loose in Tommy. He suddenly sat up, his movements sharp and panicked, a decision he regretted immediately. His face contorted in pain as he squeezed his eyes shut, a wince escaping his lips. “Shit,” he hissed, his hand instinctively clutching his side. “Shit, Evan, it’s Christmas!”

Buck blinked, caught off guard by the outburst. “Tommy—”

“You should be with your family, not in a hospital!” Tommy’s voice cracked slightly, and his hands trembled as he rubbed at his face. His breathing hitched, and for a moment, it looked like he was on the verge of tears. “I didn’t mean to— You shouldn’t be— God, this is all—”

“Tommy,” Buck interrupted softly, standing and taking a step closer to the bed.

Tommy shook his head, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You should be with your family. Or—hell, with the 118—they’re your family anyway.”

Buck sighed, ducking his head for a moment as he tried to steady himself. Then, with quiet determination, he moved closer, cupping Tommy’s face with both hands and gently forcing him to meet his gaze.

“Tommy,” he said firmly, his voice steady and filled with certainty. “Don’t you get it? I am exactly where I want to be.”

[capseycartwright]

see the lights, and hang the stockings

Eddie finds out that Buck has never ever had a Christmas stocking of his own. He's very determined to change that and share a few Diaz family traditions.

ao3 link

for week three of @winterofbuddie - holiday history.

Eddie knew he was inclined to go a little overboard at Christmastime. It was his favourite holiday, and he’d inadvertently (and very happily, might he add) made it Christopher’s favourite holiday too, their house always filled to the brim with decorations, Christmas music playing on a loop as soon as Thanksgiving was over, and he and Christopher agreed it was socially acceptable to dive right into the Christmas of it all.

Eddie loved Christmas, was the point, and even now, when Christopher was a relatively grumpy teenager, so did his son, Christopher happy to spend one of his precious Saturday evenings decorating the tree with Eddie, and Buck, instead of hanging out with his friends. 

Well, to a point. 

They’d gotten the tree decorated before Christopher had sneaked off to his bedroom, the chatter of his teenager calling his friends comforting background noise as he and Buck carried on the decorating duties. There had been a time where Eddie had worried he’d never have a house filled with the noise of Christopher simply living his life again, and so he was grateful for it - even when he’d hear Christopher up chatting far too late, his bedtime long past. 

Eddie only got to have his kid be a kid for so long, and he’d lived through a dark few months where he hadn’t gotten to have his son around at all - so, he could be forgiven for being a little lenient with him sometimes. 

“Mulled wine,” Buck hummed by way of explanation, pressing a mug into Eddie’s waiting hands. Eddie liked getting to do this, decorate, with Buck. Buck was his best friend in the whole world, and Eddie had done enough work unpicking a lifetime of repression to know that his feelings for Buck went a bit further than solely platonic, but even putting the whole, being in love with him, thing aside, Eddie just loved to spend time with the other man. 

“Thank you,” Eddie hummed, inhaling the comforting smell of spices, the aroma of mulled wine sinking into every inch of Eddie’s house. Christmas baking would join the party soon, he knew, because Buck was determined to make all of their nearest and dearest cookie boxes this year, like he’d seen on TikTok, and Eddie knew that his kitchen would be the stage of choice when Buck committed to executing his twelve-point plan for perfecting cookie gifts. 

“I think it needs more cardamon,” Buck admitted, a tiny frown furrowing the space between his eyebrows. Eddie sort of always wanted to kiss it. 

“It’s perfect,” Eddie disagreed, taking another sip of his drink. “You make the best mulled wine.”

An adorable flush appeared on Buck’s cheeks. Just another thing Eddie wanted to kiss. “You’re an unreliable reviewer,” he shook his head. “You like everything I make. I can never tell what’s really good, and what’s just okay, because you tell me everything is good.”

Eddie grinned, setting his mug on the fireplace. “That’s because I think everything is good,” he shrugged. It wasn’t a lie. Buck was a fantastic cook, and a great baker, and Eddie’s house was ground zero for many delicious experiments - the cheesy, twisty garlic bread Buck had made for their Italian themed family dinner had been a recent highlight. Buck’s sourdough starter even lived in Eddie’s fridge, not his own, for crying out loud. 

Pressing play on his carefully curated Christmas playlist, the sound of Wham! and Last Christmas filling the living room, Eddie passed Buck a snowglobe, his best friend indulging and setting it down on the coffee table, where it always lived. It was a cheap, silly thing that Eddie had bought the first Christmas he’d been out of the army, from the Dollar General, but it held so much sentimental memory now, Eddie didn’t have the heart to throw it out. Buck had bought them a beautiful snowglobe a few years previously, from a small business based on the Northern Californian coast, and that was pride of place on the fireplace, but the cheap one still had a home - different eras of Eddie’s life all coming together here, in LA, in the first place he’d really chosen for himself. 

“I love your decorations,” Buck hummed, careful fingers tracing the lettering on one of the tree decorations - it was an imprint of Christopher’s tiny baby hand, the black writing announcing to the world that it had been his very first Christmas. “They all have so much meaning.”

Eddie hummed. “You know me,” he joked. “I’m a sentimental old fool.” 

“No - it’s good. Great, even,” Buck paused, for a minute. “My parents' Christmas tree had a colour scheme, growing up. There were no sentimental ornaments - only these picture perfect gold and red baubles. I broke one - I think I was seven, or eight - and my mom yelled at me for so long that it made me cry. She said they didn’t make the ornaments anymore, so she’d have to change them all now, because of me. I didn’t think she had meant it, but the next year, she’d thrown out all the red and gold, and we had green and silver.”

Eddie knew that Buck had grown up with emotionally neglectful parents, but sometimes, in moments like this, when Buck made an admission about the reality of his childhood, it really struck him how bad it must have been for Buck, growing up - how lonely, and sad, he must have been. It was amazing, really, how Buck turned out to be so kind, and wonderful, given the house he grew up in. How Buck was still Buck, despite everything he’d been through. “Buck, I…”

“I’m sorry,” Buck shrugged it off, like he always did. Buck never wanted to burden other people, and sometimes it made Eddie want to yell, and scream -  it made him want to beg Buck to burden him with every thought and feeling he had. Eddie wanted to be there for him - he wanted to know what Buck had for breakfast every morning, and what he thought came in the afterlife, and everything in between. “I don’t know why I said that. Tonight’s meant to be happy, and here I am, making it all about me.”

read the rest on ao3

[mlyscha]

hello! I wanted to request a riki fic inspired by the song from the start by laufey! like in a high school au. I'm so sorry if my explanation is off I'm not good at that stuff 😞 I LOVE YOUR WRITING!!

𝒰𝗇𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖾𝖽!

( ENHYPEN ── 𝒻𝗼𝗿. 𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐎 ) ౨ৎ ℐ𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 . . . you loved riki from the start, suffering the consequences of it. 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾 : angst. 𝓌𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌! unrequited love, reader and riki's family is vaguely implied to be wealthy, heeseung is reader's older brother & interpretative ending. ( 𝗐𝖼. 38OO ) 𝓮𝘅𝘁𝗿𝗮' … 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽, 𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋-𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾 ༘ . 𝒻! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋.

( 愛 ) 𝒻𝗿𝗼𝗺. @starizzm ⸝⸝

𝒶-𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲. OMG I LOVED WRITING THIS REQUEST!! as i was listening to from the start by laufey, lots of ideas just began to pop in my head lolz i hope you enjoy reading this and thank you for your compliment >< you're always so sweet! <3

𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍! ♡ 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾&𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀&𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍.

TODAY FELT LIKE ANOTHER TRIVIAL day at school. you haven't done much besides thinking about your crush: nishimura riki. he is your brother's classmate and you have known him since you were a little girl.

so little that, even though you two have never talked for more than a half an hour alone, you fell in love. you remember sneaking into your neighbour's garden and stealing fresh flowers to gift him or how often you asked you mother to make sugar biscuits; so you could give it to him and hopefully make your brother's best friend fall in love with you. and you remember how often you dreamed of confessing as if you two were ditto.

you were written something down on your notebook when you heard someone entering the classroom, quickly occupying the seat in front of you. everything happened so suddenly that you couldn't even process how close that person was from you.

and then, that deep voice of your crush echoed, fitting itself in the room like a glove. "what are you doing, flower?" the way that pet name came out of his mouth made your heart pound. you looked up and replied: "i am just doodling and writing... i am kind of bored..." you say, but then at the same second you frown.

"what happened to you? are you sick?" you watched riki frowning this time. "what do you mean, silly?" he chuckled, holding your hand. "i am just talking to you," you hum in understatement, gulping down tightly as you felt his thumb rub the back of your hand.

"what are you doing?" you asked, making him chuckle again. "i am sensing you are not a fan of affection..." riki says, and as soon as you realised he was about to leave your hand, you grabbed his and held it. "oh...? so you do like affection, flower..." you look down, embarrassed by his teasings.

thinking all of that situation was weird, you question him: "what do you want? i am not writing your essay again, neither do your history homework! you're a grade above me anyway..." you disengaged and he scoffed. "it's a pity how little you think of me, beautiful..."

"why are you calling me that...?" "you are curious little one aren't you?" he smirks, looking down at you and cupping your cheeks after standing up from the chair, standing in front of you. "y/n, you want to know a little secret?" riki asks you in a alluring voice, making you nod as you focus on him. he smiles before leaning his head closer to your face. "you have to keep this secret, okay?" you nodded again, hypnotised. "good," he pauses. "i am in love with yo..."

THE SOUND OF YOUR ALARM has you falling from bed, whining as you hit your face on the ground. "ouch!" you groan. "you fell from your bed again, y/n?!" your brother's voice reached your room from the bathroom. "what do you think?!" you yell back, standing on your feet with a grumpy face. "by your face i would assume: yes." he says, walking in your room.

"go shower and get yourself ready, you stink," when he was just about to walk out of your room, he adds: "and, i almost forgot that riki is picking us up, make sure to get ready in a blink of an eye!" finally, he leaves the room and lets you have some space to process what he has said.

hearing that name you recapped the dream you have just waken up from. you were used to dreaming about him confessing to you. however, you weren't sure why your dreams always finished before he could say: "you"── odd, but nothing to be worried about.

after a big stretch you began your day by taking a quick shower and dress up; following the next step which is make up. after finishing all steps, you sprayed some perfume and went downstairs to have breakfast with your family.

"hello, sweetheart! how was your sleep?" you mum asks you, placing a small peck on your cheek. "uh, great, and yours?" "could've be great if your father and i didn't have to plan our next business trip," you mother sigh. "i wish i could spend more time with you and your brother..." "stop being dramatic!" your father jokingly says, making your mum gasp but laugh.

"oh, i made your favourite biscuits, y/n!" "really?!" your eyes widened a bit, excited about giving them to riki. "of course! make sure to share with your friends, okay?" you hummed making your mum smile.

A SHORT TIME AFTER BREAKFAST riki arrived at your house just in time── his private driver driving the three of you. you were sat on the right while heeseung sat between you and riki. you were holding the small tupperware your mum put the biscuits with a tight grip, holding yourself to hand it to riki 'till lunch time.

the drive was calm, yet, awkward── like usual ──since you kept yourself quiet while your brother and his friend kept talking.

the exact moment three of you entered school, a group of girls stopped to greet riki and your brother── since both of them are pretty popular among the girls. and you? you stood there awkwardly existing, admiring how communicative your crush were; even though he has this nonchalant personality.

your chest hurt: realising he has never smiled to you as pretty as he just smiled to a girl walking beside him. her name is yoonchae, and she is the prettiest girl you have ever seen in your life. you looked away once riki turned to glance at the sight burning his skin through his white uniform shirt.

once you reached your classroom, like the usual, your brother stopped in front of the door, watching you wave at him── secretly hoping riki would do the same like the old times when kids: but he has never done since he turn into a grown up.

heeseung sensing your disappointment, he nudged the japanese boy with his elbow, discreetly nodding his head at your seated figure. you quickly turned your head away from the sight of them, embarrassed.

however, you heard the familiar deep voice call your name: "hey, y/n," you looked over at him. "have a great class today!" he said, giving you a closed smile, lacking enthusiasm. you shyly smiled and nodded your head, thanking him while trying to hold in the pain of being shoot with a cupid's arrow.

your brother glanced at you and smiled and that smile of his always makes you feel that he knew how much you liked his best friend (deep inside). and even though it is indeed something easy to see, you thought you kept things discreet and simple── until you turned seven and realised how obvious you were mostly of the time.

"hi, pookie!" your best friend poked you. "what ya' thinking about?" she asked, sitting on her desk by your side. "nothing much, mei..." you reply, pursing your lips. she hums.

"is it riki again? who got you upset? what did he do?!" mei squinted her eyes, ready to fight the black haired boy. "he has done nothing," you let out a nasal chuckle. "like usual..." you roll your eyes, sighing.

your friend pouted, worried about you once she realised how down you looked. "y/n, if you keep liking him i will-" "what if i tattoo his name on my forehead?" you glance over mei, who leans her head back and turns back to you in shock.

"what?! are you serious? i mean, you can tattoo his name, but not on your forehead!" "mhm... what if i boil write his name on a paper and boil it in water?" you suggest excitedly. "oh my god, y/n, think on something else!" "something else? like... hypnosis?" "no!" she kisses her teeth. " what if you just confessed to him?!"

your shoulders tensed up and your face dropped. you sighed, pondering. "i think i am not rea-" "don't tell me you're not ready── liking him for more than a decade! you can't be serious right now!" mei argues.

"i know, mei, i am just..." you look down to your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. "scared," "but-" "can we talk about this later?" you look at your friend with pleading eyes and she purses her lips, feeling empathy. "sure, i just don't want to see you hurt, okay?" she smiles, covering your hands with hers.

YOU AND MEI WERE JUST about to walk out of the class to grab lunch, when your brother walked in with riki and yoonchae── that girl from earlier. "let's have lunch together?" "ye-yeah, i was just about to look for you guys," you reply. "you didn't even have to come up here anyway." heeseung chuckles. "just making sure you eat, alright? let's go."

you noticed how close riki and that girl looked, smiling at each other like sneaky lovers just hiding secrets.

your brother's arm was placed across your shoulders, snuggling you closer to his chest, somehow trying to turn your face away from the sight of them. meanwhile, mei kept walking by your side, chatting with you and your brother enthusiastically. however, the only thing you could think about and notice yoonchae and your crush walking side by side a few steps behind.

"can i eat those biscuits too?" your brother's voice echoed. you glanced down to the small biscuits tupperware you were holding. "what do you think?" you sarcastically ask him. humming, he replies: "i think because i am your brother i can have all of them," heeseung steals it from you, holding it high from your reach.

you scoff, mocking his childish action, completely ignoring his teases. "give it back," you display your palm, waiting for him to hand it back to you── in which he did, frowning as mei and him traded confused eye sights, thinking that your behaviour was curious.

WHILE SITTING ON THE CAFETERIA'S bench, heeseung and your friend couldn't stop looking at each other while watching your quiet behaviour, since you were always more comfortable to be yourself/talkative when your best friend was there.

heeseung gestures to your friend, signalising he wanted to talk to her. "guys, i'll buy something sweet, alright? i'll be right back," heeseung said── the three of you nodding. standing up from the bench, he glances at your friend.

"oh, really? i'll go with you then, i am craving something sweet!" mei felt you holding her hand, asking her to not leave. "it's going to be fast," "i am going with you," "no, finish your lunch, otherwise you'll fell sick." and then she follows your brother to a corner, doing her best to ignore your pleading eyes.

"gosh, this conversation better be quick── otherwise i think i might die," mei says, looking at you sitting there while hugging yourself. "okay, do you know anything? i mean, did y/n tell you something?"

"ugh, i hate this because-" she glances at heeseung with a scrunched nose, pondering if she should tell him. "heeseung, you have to promise me you won't tell y/n i told you this, but..." mei sighs before revealing: "y/n likes- no, i mean, she loves riki. a lot." she explains. "and i think this has something to do with him being close to yoonchae,"

"i knew it!" he whispers-yells and mei's eyes widens. "i were almost sure you knew, but i didn't know you were that enthusiastic about it," she says. "anyway, what should we do to help her then?" "you got my number right?" he asks and she cocks a brow, nodding. "good, we can discuss about it later-"

"discuss what?" "AHHHH!" "OH MY GOD, Y/N!" "you scared us!" "were you guys talking about me?" "WHAT?!" heeseung and mei looked at each other like accomplices, nervously pondering what do say. "look, y/n-"

"don't tell me..." you gasped. "you two were making out?!" both of them became silent, processing. "i kne-!" "you knew nothing because there is nothing going on! let's go back, y/n!" mei began to walk you back to the table, looking angrily back at heeseung while he discreetly laughed.

THE BELL RANG, MAKING EVERYONE feel relieved and happy that another busy day at school finished. you sighed as you began to pack your belongings.

"are you good to go?" your best friend asked, patiently waiting for you to leave class with her. you nodded, standing up from your chair and hanging your backpack on your shoulder. "ugh, i can't wait to go home!" mei groans, grasping onto your arm as both of you walk out of class. "do you want a ri-"

"y/n!" your brother's voice echoed through the halls and you couldn't help but roll your eyes with annoyance, looking back where the voice came from. "where are you going not waiting for me?"

"what do you mean? we are going to the same house, i don't need to wait for you like a little girl." you glance over at the japanese boy standing beside heeseung, focus on his phone── texting someone.

heeseung, meanwhile, just chuckled at your attitude. "stop acting like this, bubs," he messes up with your hair. "let's go, shall we?" he nudges riki with his shoulder and you frown your brows a little bit.

THE RIDE BACK HOME WAS quiet, just like earlier. riki and heeseung kept talking and like the usual you kept quiet, holding onto your biscuit's tupperware── untouched.

once the car parked in front of your house, you and heeseung exited the car, thanking riki. the japanese boy smiled, saying it was nothing and wishing a good night.

walking in your house, the smell of fresh savoury food reached you from the entrance. "honey! the kids arrived!" your mum's sweet voice came from the kitchen, calling your father. "hello, my babies," your mother greeted both of you, picking up the thrown backpacks and putting it away in a basket. "alright, both of you go shower so we can have dinner, okay?"

GOING DOWNSTAIRS FOLLOWING THE DELICIOUS smell trail, you encountered your whole family united at the dinning room, organising the dinner table. "oh, hello, sweetie," your mum's sight laid on you. "take a seat!" she says with a big smile.

"how was class today?" your dad ask both of you. "good," "normal," "how boring! here, i made steak today to help on your guys 'teenager mood'," she jokes and the old man laughs. "teenager mood is a great one!" he says and your mum chuckles. "i know," she pauses as she sits on the table. "help yourselves!"

even though you were considerably hungry, the sight of riki that touchy with another girl bothered you. it's not like you two have something even that special that could make you worry that much, but you── unfortunately ──had big expectations since a kid against your relationship with him. it hurts. it really does.

you weren't expecting to ever have to experience an awkward silence with him as much as you began experiencing. you weren't expecting to be looked at like you were nothing but a burden when it's just the two of you and no one else in the room. you weren't expecting to be nothing either.

"how about you, y/n?" your mother's voice echoed, waking you up from your trance. "oh? yeah, it is..." "you haven't touched your food yet," heeseung wheezed, leading to a dirty look from you. "just the thought of you is delicious!" you explain yourself, making your mum chuckle. "it's okay, honey, just eat."

"oh, i noticed you haven't eaten the biscuits i have baked this morning, sweetie... did it taste bad?" your mum asked apprehensive. you sigh, smiling. "no, mum, i just had a upset stomach..." "oh... okay..."

"is there any interesting girl in your school, son?" your father questions your brother. "that i am liking? no, not at the moment," heeseung shrugs. "has your friend found anyone?"

you choke on your water, coughing uncontrollably. your mother pats your back and asks if you were okay. "excuse me," you say, standing up from your seat and sprinting to the bathroom.

once you locked yourself in the bathroom, you soaked your face with water, trying to process the question you weren't ready to hear the answer── thinking about the possibly right answer leaving your brother's mouth scared you.

you stood there in front of the mirror for a good three minutes, leaving the room with a deep breath, recomposing yourself and finishing dining with empty thoughts.

YOU WERE UPSTAIRS IN YOUR room finishing the book you have read a few times before. feeling a sense of boredom, you made your way to your brother's room, knocking on his door.

"so that's what i tol- oh wait a second, bro, y/n is here," heeseung opened the door while holding his phone up at his ear. "what is it, missy?" putting his phone down, he gently pulls you in to enter, shutting the door as you did so.

"i am kind of bored── just wanted to make a little visit," heeseung frowns. "okay? lay down, i am doing a school project." "i won't bother," you surrender yourself, plopping on his bed.

while laying on heeseung's bed, you started to feel sleepy. something about the soothing voice he was talking to behind the phone and the noise his keyboard was making── everything so relaxing. with that, you took advantage of the environment and decided to take a nap before returning to your room later.

however, you began to hear a suspicious conversation brewing, growing your earbuds as soon as you heard: "you know, yoonchae has texted me earlier saying that," riki paused, the noise of sheets echoing from the phone── like he were moving himself around. "- she wanted to make it official soon," he sighs. "and now, i am not sure what to do..."

"what do you mean? you told me you were in love with her like... yesterday and for the past three months...?" "i know but-" he takes another deep sigh. "i know she is pretty, we have the greatest connection, she is smart as fuck── like: straight up, perfect, but now i don't know how i should make it official, you know? what if i don't reach her expectations?"

"riki, if she likes you, she won't accept anything less than your best, that's all i have to say." you heard your crush whining. "i'll see what i can do then."

"are you planning to ask her when?" "i think," riki paused, humming as he though. "this weekend── i'll probably ask her out on a date and confess; give her a ring and all."

"okay, i got to go now, it's getting late and y/n is sleeping on my bed," you heard riki chuckling. "alright, see you tomorrow." "see you, bro, good luck."

once you heard heeseung standing up from his chair you closed your eyes shut── feeling a few tears streaming down, wetting a already soaked spot on your brother's bed; from all the tears that have streamed down your face the moment you began to hear their conversation.

"y/n? wake up, go back to your-" "i am awake," you opened your eyes, slowly sitting on the edge of his bed. "oh...? were you?" you watched your brother's voice shaky and his throat swallowing dry.

do you recognise the sound of glass shattering? and how about the pain after it hits you? it hurts right? it hurts even more when the glass shattering is your heart and a stupid sharp piece of it stabbing your chest a billion times, leaving you numb── paralysed. not even your tears being felt at this point.

"since-?" "since everything." you stood up from his bed, standing on your toes while sobbing. "you knew, didn't you?" you scoffed in disbelief. "you always knew how much i liked him..." "y/n, you know all i do is to protect yo-"

"SHUT UP!" you snap. "YOU ALWAYS TREAT ME LIKE A FUCKING KID!" you take a few steps back from where you brother stood, disgusted. "that's why riki never perceived me as a woman... IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!" suddenly, you felt big arms hugging you. "it's all your fault..." you sob as you grow weak.

"you don't mean it..." "i mean it," you whisper. "I FUCKING MEAN IT!" you try to push him away from you, but he doesn't let you do that, holding you tighter. "i am sorry, i am so sorry."

the last thing you remember is being held by your brother while crying your eyes off.

YOU WERE SITTING ON THE bench of a nearby park, appreciating the sunset view while trying to forget what has happened. you woke up today feeling blue and with swollen eyes, deciding to call it a day and refusing to go to school.

suddenly you feel a presence by your side: riki. "are you okay? heeseung told me you were going to be here and that i should've pick you up." he asks and you look away. "aren't you going to talk to me?" you kept quiet. "is that so? mhm... look at me then," you feel his thumb brush against the skin of your neck, gently pulling it to look at you.

"did i do something that bothered── bothers you?" you glance at him with teary eyes. "why are you crying?" he runs his thumb against the blush of your cheeks.

"you lied to me..." you say with a weak voice, muffled like. "you lied to me saying that you would like me someday..." you watch him frown. "what do you mean, y/n?" "you told me you would like me the day i confessed to you." "oh? that? you were six and i was eight, what did you expect? i thought you were joking," he chuckles.

"but i wasn't kidding── at all," you sniffled. "yesterday you and heeseung broke my heart..." you confess. "i should've known better," you chuckle, feeling pathetic. "the way you look at me stabs me like the sharpest knife." "what do you...?" "like a reminder you don't feel the same."

a few seconds into an awkward silence you confess: "i loved you from the start, riki," "y/n, i-" "since day one; my whole life, riki! i can't stop thinking about you since we were kids!"

YOU SLOWLY WOKE UP FROM your dream yelling something you couldn't recover. you look around your room but immediately lay your head down on your pillow, staring to the blue while thinking about the dream you just had── different from many others where riki always tried to tell you a secret.

therefore, this time, since this time he hasn't mentioned anything about this secret, you thought for a little bit and realised you might have already found out── that he likes yoonchae. so that 'yo' was never supposed to sound close to 'you'... wow, how depressing.

© 𝓪𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝓮, 𝗺𝗹𝘆𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗮 𝗌𝓽𝓾𝖽𝗂𝗈𝓼. ⋆ 24.

[yandereforme]

Part 5: Damian pt 1

TW:Mentions of violence,

Damian definitely comes into a very different family dynamic. Bruce has been strong armed into being better at communicating, all of the kids care about each other, and the big one? They all have a mom they are protective of.

However, Talia does pay attention enough to know what’s going on (let me know if you want me to make a minific about Talia meeting Batmom). So when she sends Damian in, she warns him to view Batmom as an ally, an important ally who is essential to being Batman, despite not being involved in the night life.

I will post a poll later if Batmom should know or not, but no matter what, the batfamily doesn’t think she knows, which means Damian’s quest for Robin is kept from prying eyes.

However, Damian still has distaste for the woman he views as taking his mother’s place, right up until your first meeting.

You are invited over for dinner, and when you walk in to see a boy threatening Tim and the boys not doing anything? Especially Bruce? You lose it.

Damian is more impressed by how you glare his father into submission, and then take him aside to ask his view. I don’t think he will mention Robin, but he definitely says something about taking Tim’s place, which is something you won’t let fly.

However, you work with kids and you’ve seen enough children like him to know what to do. So instead of trying to convince him that he will be cared for without replacing Tim, you instead tell him that replacing Tim would not do him any good, as each member of the family has to carve out their own place.

You don’t go the emotional attachment route, instead making it seem like a test. He has to prove he can fit as both a public member of the Wayne clan and as a private member of the family. You also make sure to bring up the fact that Bruce is very protective of his people, so attacking one of his people will only mess with his place in the family.

That is not to say that Damian’s arrival doesn’t add a level of tension to the family. Whether you realize it or not, you and Bruce are starting to have feelings for each other. Damian’s arrival means that you have to confront the fact of Bruce’s history. Adding the fact that Damian is ten, which means he would’ve been conceived only a year before Jason was adopted, AKA after you entered the picture? That adds a lot of feelings

(I know Damian was basically a test tube baby, but the Batfamily would not think to tell you that, so angst.)

It doesn’t help that you have only just started realizing how much you like Bruce. In your defense, you always knew you had a crush on him, but you didn’t realize it was actual love until after Damian entered the picture. And on Bruce’s side, he already knows he’s in love with you, but he has not communicated it at all.

So emotions are very messy, which make team make Batmom our official mom, a.k.a. all of the kids, have a harder job than usual. Dick ends up recruiting Damian early on, and while he’s less than thrilled in the beginning, he slowly starts getting more into it. (it has nothing to do with your kindness and hugs and calm explanations that are never even slightly condescending. He just finds you useful in his endeavors.)

However, a small complication comes into play, your ex.

You and your ex broke up a few months before Dick was enrolled in your school. The main reason behind your breakup was him needing to move for his job, and you not wanting to move, which culminated into a major fight where he did something unforgivable: He slapped you.

You immediately left him and blocked him, having mutual friends drop his stuff off at his hotel so you could get away with not seeing him. You refused to talk to him, even when he tried to get into your house. It made you thankful he left.

However, him coming back to Gotham made an already tense situation worse. You refused to go to Bruce when things were already awkward, so you just suffered in silence, avoiding your ex as much as you could.

That was until your ex showed up at your school. Luckily, security escorted him off campus after he started yelling. Unluckily, this led to Damian learning about your ex and with the combined pressure between him and Alfred, you moved into the mansion and had to tell everyone else in the family about things.(The only reason they didn’t kill your ex is because he went missing(and you would’ve noticed him dying.))

However, the reason your ex went missing? He was stupid and angry enough to mention you and your job to some exfriends who now worked for the Joker.

Now, the Joker had never quite liked you after your stunt, but you added an excitement to life in Gotham.

However, a man offering your location and usual haunts was offering you on a silver platter…. That was something he wasn’t going to ignore.

Yan! Batfam x Teacher! Batmom

All platonic besides Bruce

First off, you were Dick’s teacher at Gotham Academy, and the most sympathetic to him. You knew how hard the transition was, especially since he had learned on his feet most of his life, so you decided to have most of your classes on their feet at some point, and offered him help with homework

Dick absolutely adored you. He was suspicious at first, but after a little while he grew way more comfortable. The change from the circus way of life to living in a city permanently and having to go to school was astronomical. You were the only teacher who seemed to realize that and try to help him. You threw a ball around for the class to answer things, played games to help people learn, and comforted/defended him when people looked down on him for his background.

People learned very quickly not to complain about you or your class, otherwise they would have to deal with ‘pranks’ like being doxxed, having their things ending up in trees, and their parents deals falling through.

On the first parent teacher night, Dick dragged Bruce over to you. Bruce had already heard of you from Dick and done his own surface level research on you.

The minute this man met you, he understood why Dick loved you so much. You just gave this aura of light and comfort that no one else could ever measure. You were kind and understanding and sweet.

(Note, Bruce isn’t completely yandere yet. He is starting to be, but I like slow burn. Dick is 100% yandere though.)

Dick threw a major tantrum when he learned he would have to leave your class. He was aggressive and started purposefully failing your class. It got to the point where you called a meeting between you and Bruce and Dick where you talked about everything.

You met with them at the manor, and after a few minutes, you managed to get it out of Dick why he was upset. You quietly told Dick that while you would miss him too, you would be very upset if he stayed back for him.

However, Bruce and Alfred managed a solution. With a few bribes to the school, they started a theatre club that you would run(they did research and knew you liked theatre) and that Dick would be your assistant, and he would still have the option after he graduated.

Everything was back to normal for you, besides the fact that all of your dates never lasted anymore. You couldn’t figure out why?

Then, Jason Todd was enrolled in your class

I hope you guys like this! This is my series for Romantic Yan! Bruce x Reader.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 (i guess)

okay. let's be honest. i have a huge problem with imposter syndrome, for years. no matter what i do and what the results are - my inner critic has her hands full. but this little beast @gothcsz tagged me in something i've been following for a while now and i finally came out from under the blanket.

i started writing as a kid. it allowed me to escape from reality. sometimes i wrote more, and sometimes i had a few years off (yes, i'm old!). now i'm back here.

am i proud of myself? sometimes. i've gotten used to the fact that what i like doesn't always please my readers. but i try to develop, learn new things and i love it when we meet somewhere halfway. i wish i could be more open to you, but it's fucking hard.

however i appreciate every second you spent reading what i write, thank you for every comment, every remark, every feedback. it's like a sign from the universe that there is life on the other side and i'm not crazy. ♥️

my favourite fanfics/oneshots from this year:

✤ General Marcus Acacius

nymph (series) if i am happy with something it is this. Marcus Acacius and Nymph. i like writing these two characters. they remind me of greek and roman myths that i read as a child. but despite everything there are times when it is hard for me to write it.

the favourite of gods (oneshot) I have no explanation for this. I was carried away by the moment when I wrote it. Am I the only one who is into the mythological, fairy-tale, mystical part of antiquity? Yes, I am bad at it. But I wrote it. And I like it.

✤ Joel Miller

the anniversary (oneshot) I never thought that something I experienced (I mean forgetting our anniversary, not sex with Joel) would be read with interest. I think I like it, although I sometimes get sad when I see a new reaction to this story in my notifications

broken trust [part 1][part 2][part 3][part 4][part 5] [epilogue] (series) this is something long that i didn't think i'd finish writing. i'm proud of it. i really like when female characters are independent and strong. that's how i wanted her to be seen. i know it's not perfect, but there are a few moments in there that i really like and i've been working on them for a long time.

short stories from life. (short stories) here I wanted to try something new, something between a series and oneshots. because sometimes there's an idea in your head, but you don't want to create a whole long story for it. did I succeed? it's an experiment. I'm testing it on myself. you're safe.

✤ Javi Gutierrez

inhale, exhale (oneshot) I know that many people who read this identified with it. Me too. I wrote with the thought - I wish there was someone next to me in moments like these, who would help me get through this. do I have tears in my eyes right now? yes, and I'm not ashamed of it. situations like this suck. (tw: panic attacks)

✤Javier Peña

you in my eyes [1][2] I started this recently, but I have great pleasure writing it. why did I put it here? because I like it. i can write this story for myself, that's okay too. It's something new for me, something that allows me to think differently.

and...

💔 a few ways to break your heart 💔 [masterlist]

❤️‍ broken hearts seek redemption ❤️‍ [ masterlist]

this really got to me. really. there are characters for whom angst is easy to write, and there are those for whom your heart breaks when you have to write something bad. I approach what I write quite personally, I know I shouldn't. breaking a heart was relatively easy, mending it - no. I survived it, and so did they.

I read these writers

People I follow, love, adore, and wish I could support every day because they're amazing, beautiful, talented, authentic, empathetic, open-minded, creative, and so much more. ♥️

@gothcsz @sanarsi @stylesispunk @mothandpidgeon @morallyinept @punkshort @toomanystoriessolittletime @604to647 @oonajaeadira @iamasaddie @auteurdelabre @milla-frenchy @alwayslurkinginthebackground @javierpena-inatacvest @notjustjavierpena @theetherealbloom @baronessvonglitter @insomniamamma @hiddenzev @joelmillerisapunk

If any of you would like to praise yourself, please do so.

PS. did I do it right?

[creatingblackcharacters]

Hello! Sending it here again:

I play an mmo game which recently had a big character model update, it's still not perfect but we're getting there! They're sharing behind the scenes work on curly hairstyles, for example, which just... weren't there for the longest time. Oh the beauty of scandinavian white-centering... (sarcasm)

anyway, I'm from eastern-central Europe, I play on eastern Europe servers. Seeing someone with a character that's not white is... pretty rare, honestly. So rare that when I do see someone using a character that's clearly meant to be a POC, they're very often roleplaying. Recently I saw a player whom I know for a fact is white, as I know them irl (we're not friends, don't even talk much but I know what they look like) and their character used to be white too before the big update.

So my question is, does that count as digital blackface, and what even is the consensus on digital blackface as a whole? I used to be in a facebook group about unlearning racism (used to because it got deleted after some admin drama, I think? If anyone knows a similar group, let me know please) and there, most Black members agreed that if someone is white, they shouldn't be using Black emojis for example (the topic of mmos never came up, I think). I don't remember the exact reasoning but I think it was the same explanation as actual blackface. But then there were some Black people saying it's going too far and we should be focusing on "actual issues" instead. I know that's to be expected, I'm trans and I know all too well that a community is not a monolith. But seeing the player reminded me that I don't actually know that much about it, and I've seen you educate people before. I hope it's okay that I'm asking you, I'd love to do some further research as well though (I love learning things, I just also don't yet trust myself to find actually good sources).

I hope this ask makes sense, english is not my first language and all. So if I wrote something wrong, please assume I meant well, as I still don't know how to word things properly in english sometimes.

Thank you for doing what you do, btw. I really appreciate having someone compile everything like you do here, it's one of my favorite creative blogs on here.

Okay so I sat on this one for a minute to make sure my answer wouldn't change.

1) there is no one consensus. White people don't agree on everything, neither do we 😅. This would just be my opinion.

2) I definitely don't think you should be using Black emojis if you're a white person, no. That's overt Blackfacing. DEFINITELY don't pretend to be Black if you aren't!!

3) for me, I think designing your characters as Black for online play can be okay in theory, as long as you're coming at it respectfully. Like, I'd have to trust that you actually wanted to learn how to play as someone that didn't look like you, that you actually cared about Black character features and presence in games as a whole. Especially on a game where you get to design the character, versus when you're forced to play as a Black person. It's hard to trust the intentions of white people online, especially when far more often than not the good intent is just... Not there 😅. So for me, if someone asks you why you designed your character, be ready to answer, answer truthfully and answer well! If you're playing as a Black character design because "big tough guy" or "big dommy mommy" yeah you're just digital Blackfacing amongst other racist issues. But if you actually have good intent, and are willing to learn, then you'll be able to stand on that when confronted.

And again- that's just my opinion! I would listen to other voices on it as well.

[cactuskat]

I came here for Scalene and Euclid headcanons but reading your last suggestion I feel like I could add for some brainstorming

If you really wanted cute childhood puppy-love billford:

It might seem a little convoluted, but the more I thought out about it the more I started to love it. Euclydia can be destroyed, be it by Bill's Parents or Bill himself. The Universe's destruction leaves the remaining "space" unstable, creating dimensional tears, time rifts, and the kinds of space-time holes we don't even have names in the universe's husk. Bill isn't destroyed, he is ejected from the dimension (maybe due to his mutation or the pure force it would take to destroy a universe (This also suggests other Euclydean things get ejected but this ain't about them))

Billy could be flung into the multiverse through one these, but going through that kind of unstable opening would leave you a bit "unstable" as well. This could act as an explanation for powers if you want to give him powers akin to canon Bill Cipher, and also lead to the important part of making this work: rifts sort of just appearing around Bill, and he doesn't have much control over it

Bill spends his life in the multiverse, an involuntary nomad, flickering about space an time the little scamp, causing mayhem (He is still Bill, and being dragged around time and space with no parental figures or rules is going to mess you up a little bit). He's on the run from both the Time Police, Inter-Dimensional fostercare , and various other intergalactic/dimensional government entities, your choice on how aware of this he is

Because of the rifts he's been flung through, ping-ponged through time, while it's been trillions of years since the destruction of Euclydia to it's basically only been maybe a decade or so, placing him mentally and physically at 12/13, or whatever the Euclydean's equivalent is

Here's one of my favorite parts: Thanks to Gravity Fall's magnetism to the weird, Billy is naturally pulled towards it, so he more than any other location, Bill just appears in Gravity Falls. This leads to him being sort of cryptid and local legend. Weird little legged-tringle just walking in the woods, disapearing in the blink of an eye, you can't tell me that doesn't sound like a cryptid

With ALLLLL that set up, we can finally get some Billford. Ford is utterly fascinated getting meet/be friends with a real life cryptid (a pleasant break from the usual monsters and chaos that follow the pines twins), meanwhile Bill is thrilled to have someone taking an interest to show show off to

Some Concepts

Seeing Billy occasionally in the background, watching these weird kids

Billy appearing in time travel episodes

Billy joining in on adventures infrequently, but disappearing at the most inconvenient times

Ford's slowly growing crush on Billy, much to Stan's confusion, side-eyeing, and teasing ("I thought you didn't like bad boys" "I- I don't! He's just a fascinating entity" "HEY SIXER WANT SOME HUMAN TEETH CAN I FOUND SOME HUMAN TEETH AND THINK YOU'D LIKE THEM" "Sure! Thanks" "*Stan squiting at Ford* "When am I going to get a chance to examine human teeth" "WHY WOULD YOU NEED TO EXAMINE HUMAN TEETH FORD")

Dipper being distrustful of Bill because of how similar he looks/is to Euclid and Scalene, that could be a whole mini-arch

Bill and his parents being unaware of each other (somehow)

Billy's most consistent appearances being during Weirdmageddon. Seeing his parents are alive, are villains, and are trying to kill his friends. Finally getting control of his rift abilities. Reuniting/having a heart to heart with his parents that seems to get through to them but doesn't, though it acted as a long enough diversion to allow the whole memory erasing plot to get properly prepared

Bill visiting his parents at the Theraprism once he gets over the attempted murder

now that the billford divorce has been revealed

WHAT THE HELL ARE YA'LL GONNA DO WITH THE RELATIVITY FALLS AU??

HUH???

BILLDIP CAN'T BE YOUR SOLUTION!

AND OBVIOUSLY NO BILLFORD

WILL THERE BE NOTHING??

WHAT ARE THE IMPLICATIONS NOW????????????

[ellenchain]

Forgive me if you've already answered this somewhere else but is Jayce's leg still super fucked up in his new remade body? I know you mentioned that his wrist is scared from where the runestone was ripped out, but is his leg and back also scared over or are they still arcane-y from the contamination/infection of the future world?

Anyway love love love all your jayvik work, and i think your finalized explanation of post-canon viktor retaining the machine herald look while still being able to look human is so far my favorite of the genre :D

Ohh no no, I didn't answer that anywhere (and even if I did, I'd be happy to answer it again)!

In my head (and thus in my comic), Jayce will get a normal back scar, since it was a chainsaw that injured him before his journey, and an arcane scar on his leg.

The back injury was certainly still open when he landed in the other universe, yet I don't think the anomaly had much effect on that wound - we see his lip burst open and other minor injuries that didn't end up being contaminated. That's why I don't think his back has been infected (but of course it's possible)

The leg is another thing. It broke and healed while he was in the other dimension. It healed badly, which is why he will probably have problems walking or even running for the rest of his life (modern medicine as we know it to perform bone correction seems unlikely). So it makes sense that he continues to wear a brace.

After s2 now hard to say...

The rune had an effect and I strongly suspect that both were cured of their hexcorisation. The magic has presumably not only healed Viktor, but also Jayce. The question is how much they were healed.

Because there's still a knot in my head: Viktor was terminally ill, the hexcore healed him, but also modified his body. The Arcane could have replaced the hexcore and therefore changed his body. We can see from Viktor's legendary skin that he has a normal body with arcane markings. Mage Viktor also has normal hands again, from what we've seen; guess he has mastered to handle the Arcane to transform his body back - maybe the rest looks similar to his legendary skin with arcane scars.

So it stands to reason that our Viktor now also has a human body again, possibly with the scars of the Arcane running through it.

Long story short, but if the arcane could heal Viktor completely (body and illness), it would also heal his leg injury. Same with Jayce's.

But to be honest, that would be an erasure of the things that make them who they are. That's why I've decided for myself that Jayce and Viktor will keep their injuries (voluntary or involuntary; I haven't decided yet). As a sign of their journey together, their connection and of course to continue to give weight to Jayce's words that beauty lies in imperfections.

That's why they still wear braces. When naked, the scars are probably clearly distinguishable from the other leg. As a sign that the arcane was there.

At the end of the day, it's just my theories and I'm not that familiar with the original lore, so it may well be that Viktor ends up keeping his machine body and Jayce is spit back out of the rune unchanged as a human 🙃

BUT thank you so much for your lovely words, I'm really happy to hear that you like my work 🥺❤️

[noisynaia]

𝑨 𝑯𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝑹𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒖𝒆

pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader 

word count: 3.0k 

note: Fluff. Drinking. Colleagues to lovers. Mutual pining. Written for the lovely @pedrostories Secret Santa event ♥︎ My gift is for @always-andromeda, I hope you like it! It was so lovely to get to write for this blog again, and so exciting to share my first fic in a year and my first ever Marcus story! Thank you so much for the prompts, I tried to mix them both together, but it ended up dividing a bit from that first plan and turn into something else ♥︎

(This is the first fic i've written in a year and english isn't my native langue, so apoligies for any possible mistakes ♥︎)

The air hangs thick with the scent of pine needles and something suspiciously like cheap eggnog. The office is decked out in holiday cheer. Tinsel glints off the overly-enthusiastic Christmas decorations strung across the office, a jarring contrast to the usually austere environment. Twinkling lights are adorning the walls, and a massive tree stands proudly in the corner, its ornaments shimmering softly under the warm glow. Laughter fills the air as colleagues mingle, while festive music is playing in the background. It is the annual holiday party at the precinct, and the atmosphere is filled with a sense of camaraderie and celebration. 

You are standing near the refreshment table, a glass of spiced wine in your hand, watching the cheerful chaos unfold before you. Your gaze drifts across the room, landing on Marcus, who is in the midst of animatedly chatting with a group of detectives, his smile infectious, and his laughter like music to your ears. You have harbored a crush on him since the day he started at the precinct, and tonight, with him looking so dashing under the twinkling lights, that crush feels more potent than ever. 

Just as you’re lost in your daydream of Marcus’s charming smile, the sound of a familiar voice cuts through the festive din. It’s Harold, the department’s oldest and most verbose agent, and he’s making a beeline for you. “Ah, there you are! I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the new policies coming in next year,” he begins, his voice booming over the festive music. His passion for regulations is palpable, and his eyes light up as he launches into a detailed explanation of compliance protocols, the words spilling out like a torrent as you nod politely.

You try to interject, to steer the conversation towards lighter topics, but Harold is in full flow, oblivious to your subtle attempts at diversion. He recounts every last detail, his hands animatedly gesturing, as you mentally calculate the number of holiday cookies you could have consumed instead of standing here. You definitely need another drink to endure this conversation. 

As Harold continues his monologue, you glance over at Marcus again, still engrossed in his chat with the detectives, the laughter radiating from their group like a beacon. A small pang of envy hits you; how easy it seems for him to connect with others, while you’re trapped in this policy discussion. But just then his head turns and your eyes lock across the room.   

Time seems to slow as you feel the warmth of his gaze wash over you, momentarily breaking through the haze of Harold’s relentless chatter. Marcus’s smile broadens, a genuine connection sparking between you like the twinkling lights around the room. He raises his glass in a playful toast, and for a heartbeat, it feels as if the chaotic buzz of the party fades away, leaving only the two of you in that shared moment. 

You lift your own glass in response, the spiced wine glinting in the soft light as you return his toast. The world around you blurs as you focus solely on Marcus, your heart racing with excitement and a hint of nervousness. His gaze is warm and inviting, making you feel as though you’re the only one in the room. 

You smile back at him, but not as broad as his. He seems to notice, raising a brow in a silent question. Just then, Harold’s voice breaks through the enchantment, his monologue picking up speed as he transitions to the next policy. You catch snippets about “streamlining processes” and “regulatory compliance,” but your thoughts are elsewhere. You can’t help but steal another glance at Marcus, who is still looking your way, seemingly unbothered by the raucous laughter surrounding him. 

You let out a little sigh, which Harold doesn’t seem to even register, as you try to focus enough on the conversation to hum along at the right times and ad and “oh, really,” at the appropriate time. But you can’t help but look over in the direction of Marcus again. You heal how your heart softly flutters in your chest as you watch him make his way through the crowd in your direction. 

“Hey there!” Marcus calls out, his voice cutting through the festive noise with a warmth that sends a thrill through you. He stops just in front of you, his gaze shifting from you to Harold and then back to you. a gentle smile lingering on his face.

“Hey,” you say back, your voice a mix of surprise and excitement, momentarily forgetting all about Harold’s policy monologue. You’re suddenly aware of how the spiced wine feels warm in your hand, and how the alcohol is warming you up from the inside. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Marcus asks, his tone light and polite as he glances at Harold, who immediately seems to deflate under the charming weight of Marcus’s presence.

“Oh, not at all!” Harold replies. “Just discussing the new compliance protocols for next year. Absolutely riveting stuff, I assure you.” 

“Oh, I can imagine. You must tell me about them after the holidays,” Marcus says, his smile is easy, and the way he leans casually against the table makes your heart skip a beat as he turns to you again. “I’ve been meaning to talk with you all night. I need to ask you about something for the report on the Sollery case.”

You can’t help but smile. There is no Sollery case, but you’re not about to correct him. Instead you play along, immensely grateful for Marcus’ graceful way of saving you from Harold’s relentless monologue. “Of course,” you reply, your heart racing as you revel in the attention. The warmth of the spiced wine seems to spread throughout your body, mingling with the butterflies flitting around in your stomach.

You say a polite goodbye to Harold before he can dive back into another detailed explanation of compliance, the relief washing over you as you follow Marcus to a quieter corner in the other end of the room. The festive music swells around you, but it feels like a distant hum compared to the electricity crackling between you and Marcus.

“So, what do you need to know about the ‘Sollery case’?” you ask, a teasing lilt to your voice, eager to maintain the playful banter. 

He chuckles softly, his brown eyes shining as he looks at you, a slight flush is dusting his cheeks, from the alcohol you assume. He looks adorable. 

“You looked like you needed a rescue,” he replies, his voice low and conspiratorial, “and I just couldn’t let you endure another second of Harold’s riveting lecture on compliance protocols. I mean, I love the guy, but sometimes it feels like listening to paint dry.”

You let out a genuine laugh, the sound buoyed by the atmosphere around you. “You have no idea how grateful I am. I was convinced I’d have to start counting the decorations on the tree just to stay awake.”

Marcus grins, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “Well, I’m glad I could save you. I can’t let our brightest officer fall asleep at the Christmas party. That would be a tragedy.” 

He nudges you playfully with his elbow, and you feel your heart race at the light touch.

“And uhm, speaking of saving,” he continues, his expression turning slightly more serious but still warm, the flush on his cheeks  darkening just the slightest. “I was wondering if you’d like to come over to my place after this? I have a bottle of whiskey that I think we could both use after the year we’ve had.”

Your breath catches for a moment, the invitation hanging in the air between you like the lighted ornaments strung above your heads. “Whiskey?” you ask, feigning nonchalance while your heart races with excitement. “What kind?”

“Only the best,” he replies, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “I promise it’s not eggnog.”

You laugh, feeling the tension ease slightly. There’s something about the way he looks at you, something that makes you feel seen in a way that you haven’t before. “Well, I do like whiskey,” you say, your voice teasing. 

“Great,” he says, his smile broadening, and you can’t help but feel a swell of happiness at his invitation. This is more than just a drink; it feels like a chance to finally connect with him outside of work, away from the watchful eyes of colleagues.

You take a sip of your spiced wine, trying to calm the excitement bubbling within you. You stay at the party for a bit, chatting and laughing with your colleagues together with Marcus, the warmth of his presence enveloping you like a cozy blanket. After about an hour Marcus leans in a little. “Ready to get out of here?” 

You nod eagerly, a smile spreading across your face at the thought of leaving the crowded FBI office behind. “Absolutely,” you reply, your voice light with anticipation. The idea of spending time alone with Marcus makes your heart flutter, and you feel a rush of excitement as you both make your way towards the exit.

The cold december air hits you as you step outside, a stark contrast to the warmth of the office, but it’s refreshing. Marcus walks beside you, his presence comforting as you both navigate the snow-dusted sidewalk. The streetlights shimmer against the night sky. You make light conversation as you walk towards the metro station. 

The city is alive with holiday lights, casting a warm glow over the streets. You can’t help but steal glances at Marcus as you walk next to him, the way he moves with a casual confidence, his laughter still echoing in your ears. The anticipation of what the night holds has your heart racing, a mix of nerves and excitement simmering just beneath the surface.

As you approach the metro station, the atmosphere shifts slightly. The previous bustle of the office party has now faded  completely into the background of your mind, and the intimate setting with just you and Marcus now feels charged with a new energy. You both descend the steps to the platform, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the concrete walls.

“So,” Marcus begins, his tone light, “how are you spending your holiday season this year?”

You chuckle, leaning against the cool metal railing. “Alone,” you admit with a playful shrug, trying to keep the mood light. “Just me, some takeout, and a few too many holiday movies. The usual.”

Marcus raises an eyebrow, a hint of disbelief mixed with amusement playing on his lips. “Alone? What about family or friends?”

“I mean, I have family, but they’re several states away, and I’d rather not deal with the holiday chaos,” you reply, a hint of defensiveness slipping into your tone. “Plus, my couch and a good movie sound pretty appealing right now.”

“Fair enough,” he says, his expression softening. “I’m spending Christmas alone too this year—just me and a stack of books I’ve been meaning to tackle.” He chuckles, a genuine warmth in his eyes. “I guess we’re both in the same boat, huh?”

“You’re not going back to Texas over the break?”

“Nah, I decided to stay here this year. I love my family, and it would be nice to see them, but a lot happened back home before I transferred. Kind of left there heartbroken and I’m not sure I’m ready to go back just yet, even though I’m mostly over it,” he replies, glancing at you with a slightly embarrassed smile.

You nod in understanding, the weight of his words resonating with you. You open your mouth, you want to say something, even though you’re not even sure about what to say, but then the train arrives with a rush of wind and a clatter of metal on metal. You both step back, momentarily distracted by its arrival. As it slows to a halt, the doors slide open.

Marcus gestures for you to enter first, and you can’t help but notice the way he stands just a little closer than necessary, the warmth of his body radiating towards you. You step into the metro car and find a place to settle in, the metallic seats cool against your skin. Marcus sits beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours, sending a thrill of excitement through you.

As the train starts moving, the rhythmic clattering of the tracks fills the silence, and you glance sideways at Marcus. He’s looking out the window, the lights reflecting in his eyes, and for a moment, you just take him in. There’s something undeniably comforting about being with him, an ease that feels almost electric.

“Is it your first time spending Christmas alone?” you ask, breaking the comfortable silence, your voice soft. “It’s my first time, my first time spending the whole holiday alone…  I’m starting to worry it might be a bit lonely.”

He turns his gaze back to you, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, it is my first time, but it’s just a few days, right? I think it might be good though, to have some time to regroup. Plus,” he adds with a smirk, “I can’t wait to binge-watch whatever I want, I haven’t had time to watch a show in ages.”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up easily. “True! That’s a definite perk.”

“And, you know, if I’m lucky, I might even get to finish that book series I’ve been meaning to read,” he says, an excited, almost boyish, glint in his eyes.

“What series?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“It’s a fantasy series,” he replies, his enthusiasm infectious. “It’s about dragons and magic and all that good stuff. I know it sounds really nerdy, but it’s amazing!”

You can’t help but let out a little chuckle, hiding your mouth behind your glove covered hand. He really doesn’t have any idea about how adorable he is, and it warms your heart. “Of course, you’re a fantasy nerd,” you giggle, shaking your head gently.  

 Marcus feigns offense, his eyes widening in mock indignation. “I’ll have you know that fantasy is a very legitimate genre! It’s all about world-building, character development, and epic battles. Plus, who wouldn’t want to ride a dragon?” He leans in closer, a playful glint in his eyes, and you can’t help but lean in too, drawn by his enthusiasm.

“Okay, okay, you make a compelling argument,” you concede, laughter still dancing in your voice.

“Seriously, you should give it a try. I think you will like it actually.”

“I might just take you up on that,” you say, your heart racing with the idea of sharing something with him. “Maybe I’ll start it over the holidays,” you reply, smiling at him. “I could use some good escapism.”

He smiLes at you, but you don’t get to talk more about it. The train begins to slow as it approaches your stop, and Marcus shifts slightly, his arm brushing against yours again. You feel a warmth spreading through you, a sense of closeness that makes your heart flutter.

As the doors slide open, you both step out into the crisp night air. The walk to his place is short but filled with light-hearted banter and laughter.

Finally, you reach his townhouse. Unlocking the door, Marcus leads you inside, turning on the light of the hallway as he closes the door behind you. He takes your coat hanging it on the coat hanger while you take off your boots before showing you to the living room. The cozy setting, filled with soft light and comfy looking furniture, feels welcoming and familiar.

Marcus moves to the kitchen, and you take a moment to look around. The walls are lined with shelves filled with books, and a few framed pictures catch your eye—some of him with friends, others of family, and one of him as a kid with a goofy grin on his face.

“Make yourself at home,” he calls out from the other room, you can hear the clink of glasses.

You settle onto the plush couch, feeling a wave of contentment wash over you as you sink into the cushions. The warmth of the room envelops you, and you can’t help but smile softly as you take it all in. 

Moments later, he reappears with two glasses in hand, a bottle of whiskey perched under his arm. “I hope you like it neat,” he says, pouring a generous amount into each glass and handing one to you. “Cheers to a surprisingly delightful holiday evening.”

You clink your glass against his, the sound ringing with a sense of promise. “Cheers,” you echo, taking a sip. The rich, smooth flavor warms you from the inside out, and you savor the moment. “Thank you for having me, and thank you for saving me from Harold earlier.” 

Marcus chuckles, the sound warm and genuine. “Anytime. I’d take a night with you over compliance protocols any day,” he replies, leaning back against the couch, his glass resting comfortably in his hand.

“Ditto,” you smile in response. You watch him, the way his eyes light up when he talks, how he seems to genuinely enjoy your company. The atmosphere is relaxed, filled with the soft hum of distant holiday music coming from his speakers. The tension you felt earlier at the party has melted away, replaced by a sense of ease that envelops you both.

“You know…” Marcus’ expression changes as he leans forward to put his glass down on the coffee table. “I was thinking… Since you are spending the holiday alone, and I’m spending it alone, and you said you were scared that it might get lonely…” He takes a deep breath before continuing and you feel your heart fluttering in your chest as you realize where this is going. “Maybe... we could make it a little less lonely together?” His voice is soft yet hopeful, and you can see the sincerity in his brown eyes.

Your heart skips a beat at the suggestion. “That sounds nice.”

“It does?” 

“Yeah, it really does,” you respond, your voice steady despite the fluttering excitement beneath the surface. “I’d love to spend the holiday with you. It sounds… perfect, actually.”

A smile spreads across Marcus’s face, a mix of relief and joy that makes your heart swell. “Yeah, really perfect...”

Unbeknownst to the two of you, this would be the first of many, many holidays spent together.

[madly-enthusiastic]

So... since yall won't be able to ask me shit until January, I robbed @voxtechsmells idea of making headcanons for Lucifer! (With their consent, obviously, duh.) SOOO, here it goes!

Let's begin this shit!

#1. Lucifer often talks with his ducks even though they technically can't answer him BUT, BUT, BUT, BUUUUT- Lucifer can use a bit of his magic to manifest his own thoughts on the ducks so they'd have the same thoughts and ideas like him, for example, he could give a duck his sense of justice, which would make the duck judge anything Lucifer says or does, it'd help him understand social clues!

#2, If someone scares Lucifer, it's possible that he can lose his physical form (yes, his physical form is a receptacle to his angelic form) for a short period before he goes back but it'd be needed to be the scare of his life, if anyone saw his true form, they'd have their eyes burn by the lights and would try to take their eyes off 💖 (It only happened two times that people saw his true form)

#3. He loves Alastor. This one doesn’t need an explanation. Radioapple. (Quick reminder, @voxtechsmells is the principal person I have role-plays with and their Alastor is ASSEXUAL. Understood, pal? If you make any bad comments about it, I'll kick your ass along with my bestie.)

#4. He has an entire set of ducks in which every single one of them has names, stories and relatives. The city they all live in is New Duckiyor (or Charlie's old bedroom in the palace), the trama fuctions around the twins: Officer Dexter Quackingtong and the ringmaster Dennis Quackingtong. Their principal trama is the fact that they were separated when they were 3 years old after a divorce between their parents and now, they're trying to talk more with each other but it's difficult due to the different ways they have been raised. (YES I MADE A FUCKING LORE FOR THIS AND NO, YOU DON'T HAVE THE RIGHT TO TELL ME THIS IS WRONG.)

#5. Lucifer is panssexual. Just that. He's the sin of Pride and he'd take pride in the fact he understands that no matter what form people take, they'll still be beautiful in their own ways.

I guess that's it? Again, thank you @voxtechsmells for allowing me to rob your idea and make my head canons as well! (Luv u, bestie 💖)

[ririicherry]

i thought she was nice, then I was randomly logged out of my acc the second she sent me the ask, I didn't know why, then I realized. I was hacked, I left it till tmrw, and yen.. Boom a post! @cwrcent hope ur ok<3 I was hacked that time and I was sleeping, thank you for this , marie!! I thought she would be the nicest, but its not the case now. Also are we moots i forgot!! If we are, YAYY!!

VERY LONG ANNOUNCEMENT PART 1

Guys if has come to my attention that @sxgarhan-deactivated20241218 deactivated for "death threats" and I'm here to finally tell the truth on behalf of @wonysmiu @cwrcent and @y-unrei PLEASE READ EVERYTHING so u know what happened

So it started when dodo was being mean and ignoring chei ( @cwrcent ) so I asked her what's wrong

↑ ( asked her this cuz she was still ignoring chei)

Then she started being mean to chei

( I didn't put everything cuz it was just mean)

I asked her to tell the truth cuz she told me ( in pic 1-3) but I wanted her to tell them herself so she can learn her lesson but she didn't wanna. Chei ( @cwrcent ) even had a bad mental breakdown and cried over it ( cuz chei is sensitive and likes to apologize even tho it's not her fault. I even told her to stop apologising to dodo cuz I knew the truth ( I just wanted dodo to tell them herself and apologize) but she ignored me, she even UNFOLLOWED chei. So chei was obv freaking out so I had enough

READ PLEASE

[yourfaveisqueerandreligious]

cordelia from falsettos is jewish (headcanon) and a lesbian (canon)

submitted by @catboymoses

[egophiliac]

Hi it's just to let you know that the official romanization of Revaan's name is Raverne ! Also they have romanized Baul's name to Baur !

Twst coming back at us again with the least expected romanization! thank you everybody (oh god my inbox) (no it's great, I literally asked for this and the reactions have been INCREDIBLE, thank you all!)

I do like Raverne though, I think it's got a nice fancy sound to it! (I had kinda suspected it was going to be an R instead of an L, so the fact that it's SO close to Laverne except for that is hilarious to me personally.) and Dragoneye Duke is honestly probably the best translation for his title, I wasn't envying the localizers that one. :') Baur instead of Baul I was NOT expecting, but in retrospect I think his name's supposed to be a reference to the Bauru crocodile, so that actually makes way more sense!

someone else also said Meleanor has become Maleanor, which is the REALLY weird one to me, because I was so surprised it was written as Mel instead of Mal in the first place?! oh god no I can't decide which one I like better. 😭 (I wonder if they might change it to Mal...they have made romanization changes before) (like I remember House of Distraction being corrected to House of Destruction in Playful Land) (I did check and she's still Mel for now, but I dunno, they might Mal her up and some point and save me from having to make a decision about which one to use) (HECK I CAN'T DECIDE)

uhhhh thank you for letting me ramble about anime names, let's just say MONOGRAMMED SWEATERS FOR EVERYONE

[lavendarneverlands]

put 5 songs you listen to, post it, then send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers <333

Thank you so much lovely🫶🫶🫶

Oh goodness this is a hard question because I like way too many songs😂 though I am a huge Swiftie & since I’ve on my TOG binge have been listening to a lot of fan playlists so let’s let my history decide🤣 these have been in a heavy rotation:

“Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?” by Taylor Swift

“Red Wine Supernova” by Chappell Roan

“Please Please Please” by Sabrina Carpenter

“Blonde” by Maisie Peters

“Can’t Catch Me Now” by Olivia Rodrigo

@impossibelle @iwantavaldezinator @idfendyr @shadowhunters77 @archerons-elain @cheap-spirits @maevecrom @endlessdaydream @somethingsomewhereanywhere @korepio

p.s. as always, no pressure tags :-) 💕

(Heads up for some tags: this is my main account, the side-blog ur probably used to seeing (as I’m more active) is @acourtofquestions I have a terrible habit of mixing up pages/conversations; so if ur going “who tagged me?” it’s just me lol)