#i think it is more telling than you realise
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can we possibly get the one where Gideon doesn’t like bombshell reader and poor Spencer is watching like☹️
Spencer feels a little like a child of divorce. Like, he absolutely is a child of divorce, but he didn’t think he’d feel this way at work. Lately, all Hotch and Gideon do is argue.
It’s especially odd in that Hotch doesn’t usually go against Gideon’s judgement, even when he doesn’t agree, but you seem to be something Hotch is willing to fight for, and Spencer has no idea why.
“We don’t need her,” Gideon says. Spencer knows it isn’t Gideon being cruel, just stern. “We have a fine team without her.”
“But with her, we’re better. And we have an opening. I know you like Greenaway for it, and I do too–”
“Everyone likes Greenaway for the position, she’s more palatable than L/N, and she works harder.”
Spencer tries not to whip his face back and forth like he’s following a ping pong ball, but it’s hard to keep up. He has no idea what his mentor’s talking about in all honesty, you’d seemed more than palatable when you met him last week. You were nice. And barely anybody is nice to Spencer.
You sounded like you actually wanted to hear him talk, something Gideon has often been alone in. And palatable is a subjective word.
“That’s not necessarily true,” Hotch says, knowing he’s losing.
“We’re not gonna rush into picking someone,” Gideon says, less stern, more neutral.
“No. I have invited her to the Georgia consultation this afternoon.”
Gideon sighs through his nose. The afternoon rolls around quickly. Spencer doesn’t want to think about it but he’s excited to see you, and he feels conflicted in that; Gideon is the first person in a long time who actually seems to care about him, so Spencer is guilty of always aiming to please, but he can’t understand why Gideon dislikes you so much. Am I being easily led? he wonders.
He’ll admit to finding you attractive. In his head, that is. You’d spoken so particularly, you’d looked stunning, and you didn’t make a fuss when he wouldn’t shake your hand. You called him beautiful.
It’s the nicest, kindest attention he’s had since he started. Morgan calls him pretty boy. Spencer knows it’s not the same thing.
They gather in the conference room, Morgan, Hotch, Gideon and Spencer, just a few minutes before 2PM. A minute later, you’re knocking on the door.
“Hello…” You smile when you realise they’re here. “Am I late?”
“No, L/N. Come and take a seat,” Hotch says.
There’s a plastering of documents on the table and an empty seat by both Morgan and Spencer. You choose the one beside Spencer despite a stack of manilla folders, tucking your chair in neatly. “Oh, the grizzly stuff. This will upset my feminine energy.”
Morgan laughs. Gideon glares at the table.
Spencer likes it when you’re around. One more person and suddenly the consultation is a conversation and not a debate. You can keep up with everyone. You laugh at Spencer occasionally and he doesn’t know why, but he can tell it isn’t cruel laughter; he’s had a long time to work out the difference.
Gideon excuses himself for a coffee half an hour in.
Hotch immediately leans across the table. “I’m trying to help you,” he says.
You grimace. “What am I doing wrong now?”
“The laughing.”
“You laugh.”
“I know.” Hotch smiles at you. “You’re getting good at this, you have good insight on the dark triad. You read the book I sent?”
“How’s Haley?” you ask.
He shakes his head, but his smile stays. “Don’t joke about that.”
You’re not flirting. Or, Spencer doesn’t think so. It’s more likely you’re joking as Hotch says, everything about your body language pointing to amicable friendliness besides your flirting tones. “I read the book,” you say. Your gaze turns to Spencer. “Bet you’ve read it too, huh? Morgan said you’ve read every book ever written.”
“That’s an exaggeration,” Spencer says.
“But close?” you ask. “I’d love some recommendations. You know. For profiling.”
“Don’t let her fool you, Reid, she’s well read,” Morgan says.
“Wait, Gideon doesn’t like you because you laugh?” Spencer asks.
It’s a socially inept thing to say, he realises after. You lean back in your chair all sweet and soft with your legs crossed, your dark stockings thin at the knees. He’s so, so worried you’re going to be offended and that’s exactly what he needs, a possible friend isolated again by his inability to read the room, but you don’t chew him out. You nudge his leg gently with the toe of your heel.
“Now who said he doesn’t like me, handsome?” you ask teasingly.
Spencer regrets the heat that floods his face and neck.
“It’s complicated,” you add, your smile more than friendly, Spencer can’t work it out. “But don’t worry, I’ll turn him around eventually. It’s one of my many talents.”
Oh, he thinks. That’s what it is. Spencer’s finally in on the joke.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction
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I've never really talked on here about how I figured out my gender, and since this whole egg discourse is going on, I feel like I should.
I'm not one of the trans women who figured out their genders at age 4 and became fully confident of it. Up until around 16 I didn't even begin to consider that I may not be a cis guy and it took me up until almost 19 to fully realise I was a trans woman. Before this, at 18, after feeling particularly shitty for weeks (from what I later learned was definitely dysphoria), I attempted suicide.
I only really started to understand myself once I started hanging out with other trans people on discord servers. My perception of transness was the more mainstream-accepted version (at that time) of "I always confidently knew I was a woman basically from birth and I exhibited x, y and z feminine behaviours at all times etc." which I didn't fit in with, so I always thought "well I can't be a trans woman because that's not me". Being around other trans people, and especially having other trans women point out behaviours I had, and tell me "that's also how I thought before I realised I was trans" helped me immensely.
I didn't get any of the rigid online definitions and examples, nor did I get the perfectly sanitised videos from the handful of trans people who made it on youtube. None of that felt like me at the time. I didn't have any point of reference. I only really understood myself once I related to someone who used to be in the same position. If some trans girl didn't call me an egg, I might still be a completely miserable "cis" guy to this day still, or even dead.
I understand that others have had worse experiences when it comes to this, but we must recognise that the problem in these situations is outing or harassment. The porblem is abuse, and as with all things interpersonal, you can always turn it into abuse. As with all things interpersonal, you have to have some amount of tact and caution.
I don't think we should harass anyone into getting their egg cracked (and this happens vastly less often than people here seem to think but it does happen), but also we shouldn't be constantly agnostic about if someone is trans or not, because in the end not everyone is capable of coming to that conclusion by themselves, and by the time you've "let them figure it out" they might've spent several more years being miserable and not knowing why or they might be dead.
It is also very important to point out that this discourse is only really happening because there is a particular bias against trans women. This isn't a discussion of how to approach the subject, or a handful of people talking about their experiences with it, it's a discourse where one side is trying to problematize another aspect of the transfem community. Notice that people are arguing this when it comes to transfems and not cis gay people or even transmascs. Notice that this website always cycles back to attacking some aspect of the transfem community every couple of weeks.
Do you really think these arguments are being made in good faith? Do you really think it's worth adding to the sea of transmisogyny that is this website and most of the world?
As always, this post is meant for people who are genuinely well-meaning. The dipshits who keep jumping on any excuse they can to harass trans women can go fuck themselves.
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john, pacing around the motel room (wondering if sam is gay, and what this means for his Hunting Career): Do you and sam ever talk about girls?
15 y old dean (thinks john is homophobic) (thinks sam is gay): um. sometimes
john: i mean, you do think he Likes Girls, right?
dean: (red alert) (this is bad) (dad thinks sam is gay) (sam is gay) (this is bad) Of course... why would you even say that... he talks about girls all the time..... just because he does theatre?
john (did not know sam has signed up for theatre) (now thoroughly distracted): SAM DOES THEATRE?
dean (thinks dad is being homophobic): you know, there's really nothing that gay about theatre-
john (just wants sam to focus on hunting and prioritise their family for ONCE in his life, goddamnit) (has totally forgotten he was worrying about his gay son): he didn't tell me he'd started doing- theatre- what is he doing? doesn't he realise there are more important things at stake here? *starts muttering to self about RESPONSIBILITIES and REVENGE and other, non starting with R words*
dean (now thinks he's saved the day by diverting dad onto a different, more trodden path of anger-at-sam): yeah... youd have to ask sammy..... at least he's shut up about missing soccer practices for a bit, right?
john (now suddenly back on the gay sam? path) (genuinely just posing questions and has no ill will) : is it just me or do you think soccer's kind of a girly sport?
dean, sweating (dad is going to hate crime my gay little brother): Not Really
btw this whole time sam is like 11 years old and cares more about like. pokemon cards. than anything else
#im back on my 'everyone thinks sam is gay' bullshit#im gonna write a fic. just wait.#spn#supernatural#oliver talks#sam winchester#sam & john#dean & john#dean winchester#john winchester
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hurricane heartbreak katsuki bakugou ── ᡣ𐭩 ˙ ̟🩰 !!
⋆˙ᝰ about ! you’ve always thought that katsuki would follow you to the ends of the earth, until suddenly, he stops. especially when he realises that he’s better off without you. ( 2.6K )
warnings ! minors blank and ageless blogs do not interact. sfw, angst, no happy ending. characters aged up to 20s, unrequited love, friendship breakups, regular breakups, confessions, gaslighting, reader is morally flawed and a bad friend, katsuki is a hopeless romantic :(, fem!reader, pro hero!bakugou - not beta read!
as usual, katsuki moves to open the door before his mind can catch up.
he knows that he shouldn’t. if he kept the doors locked he could keep his heart safe from the ache that comes with the person on the other side. but, the bigger and weaker half of him succumbs to the longing laced in the blood that soars through the beating muscle keeping him alive. the same muscle every form of media since the dawn of time has associated with the human desire to be loved and adored.
it’s a human code that he can’t go against, like asking a neanderthal to fight it’s basic instincts. katsuki opens the door not because he wants to, but because he has to, even if his entire body twitches against the will of his one track mind and his hand lands on the cool metal doorknob in advance of his logical train of thought. besides, it’s raining tonight, and it would be cruel to leave you outside.
as usual, when you step past the threshold of the number two hero’s lush, bachelor pad-like home — he expects things to be different. for you to waltz in with your arms wide spread and a spark of joy in your eyes because you love seeing the blonde and because you missed him.
“it was so horrible,” you wail to him instead, just as you had done so on the phone — except this time, the cadence to your usually bright voice is as dull and as dreary as the weather outside. “he blew up at me, said that we were done ‘n that i was too clingy. just like that,” pouting, you shrug off your rain-slicked jacket and allow your best friend to hang it up for you. before you can start quivering like a pathetic stray dog, the begrudgingly kind pro hero places a set of clothes, warm and fresh from the dryer, into your hands and ushers you deeper into the space he calls home.
“fuck that guy,” he tells you, while you rant to him on the walk down the hall.
katsuki lets you you dry off and disappear into his room for spare clothes (as if you own the place), giving himself time to think and reflect. the you that katsuki knows and has bitterly come to love is hollowed and desperate — vying for any attention or affection she can get from people who just don’t care. he’s never understood it, the reasons why you go vying for the validation of others who don’t deserve a millisecond of your time, let alone your precious smile.
you know, the one that brings out the crows feet at the corners of your doe-like eyes and lifts the edges of your glossed lips ever so slightly. you illuminate a room and fill it with warmth when you’re happy and feel loved but when you’re like this… thrown out into the rain whilst being hungry for more — much like that of a stray…
…it’s bakugou’s hand that reaches out to feed you tender love and care from the pieces of his own broken soul. he does everything im his power to make you smile again, otherwise he’d shake the heavens from the sky and bring their shattered pieces back down to earth with his destructive quirk…for you.
everything is always for you.
katsuki is the one who deserves to see your radiant grin and be the one that’s always on your mind. so perhaps, he is no better than you, starved with a craving for the attention of someone whose thoughts are simply elsewhere. with someone else.
you resurface from his room wearing a discontinued all-might shirt with an iron-on design that’s cracked on the front and a pair of fluffy dynamight themed socks kept spare in katsuki’s wash for whenever you come over. by this time he’s already popped on the kettle for some herbal tea, though his back remains facing you — fingers clenched against his smooth marble countertop. “why would he say that?”
you shrug. “i don’t know… i probably deserve it. this always happens.”
to his right, the kettle’s whistle reaches it’s crescendo but katsuki doesn’t bother to add hot water to your tea.
the assessment you make as you pad back over to katsuki is only partly correct. he turns abruptly, prepped and ready to loosely wrap his arms around you in a familiar hug, another step in this bi-monthly routine the two of you have going. your nose presses into the middle of his molten chest, sending a pang through his heart like an arrow from Cupid whilst simultaneously riling up the butterflies in his tummy. you’re so cute, so sweet and it makes the blonde feel special to be able to witness the more vulnerable parts of you — the parts of you pieced back together by inexpensive glue after you’ve been shattered by heartbreak once more.
you, you’re too sweet to deserve this pain. the same pain that weighs down on the pro hero’s shoulders because he can’t stop chasing after you. this always happens, but you don’t deserve it. even if it’s like some sort of cathartic karma for leading bakugou on all of these years.
nonetheless, he’s never been the best at comforting people but a selfish warmth that burns brighter than his quirk spans throughout katsuki’s body whenever you seek comfort in him. even if all it does is chip away at his soul, knowing that you’re all torn up about someone else and someone that isn’t him yet again.
katsuki abandons the tea completely.
however, his cherry lips continue to open and close in search of words and phrases that may sedate your storm of emotions before they rain down on him — just like the world outside. they’re hard to come by, meaningful ones at least, so katsuki settles with a simple… “you deserve better.”
“yeah? well it doesn’t seem like it. every guy i’ve ever met has hurt me some way, somehow.” you quip blandly, obliviously. “who does better even look like?
me. is what bakugou wants to say. he looks like me. but now isn’t the time or place to tell you that, it’s never been. deep down, he knows that you might never see him that way, as a someone who could treat you right, as someone deserving of your darkest desires and sweet nothings, as someone who could be the very person you deserve to grow old with. you don’t look at him the same way, to you, katsuki will always be your best friend and source of comfort.
he’ll never be a lover or a special one or a boyfriend.
not to you.
never to you.
and sadly, he almost feels content to stay this way — if it means he’ll be able to have you near. with the two of you tucked away in one another’s arms, swaying to the melody of harmonious wind and rain, the abrasive, corroding nature of katsuki bakugou is tamed and the world comes to a standstill that feels sort of homely. its familiar, a routine he’s so easily settled into time and time again. confessing to you would be like disrupting the natural course of your relationship and bakugou has seen what you do to guys who cross your limits or suddenly no longer entertain you. sometimes they genuinely do hurt you, other times you’re like a little girl who no longer has a desire to play with her favourite toy — easily casting them aside. the blonde would hate to be one of them, to be thrown out by the person he loves most.
“you’ll find someone,” he says gruffly, after some time.
pulling away slightly and with a hand centre stage on katsuki’s ooey-gooey lovesick chest, you smile ever so gently. and it’s enough for him, even though it burns, it’s enough to make it worth it. all this suffering in silence, loving you from afar…that is, until he hears what you have to to say next.
“i wish i could find someone like you, kats.”
the rain outside has hit its peak, bordering on the edge of torrential as it drowns the concrete jungle outside and the grey clouds it pours from shroud the city in a similar darkness to the veil falling over katsuki’s mind. now that, it really pisses his off. someone like him? why not him? he doesn’t understand why you actively put yourself through the ringer when what you want is right before your very eyes.
like a sudden clap of thunder or a strike of bright lightning, katsuki has a realisation. he isn’t so sure how much more of this he can stomach or take. a few weeks ago his best friend, kirishima, had scolded him long and hard for allowing you to walk all over the explosive pro hero. maybe the redhead had been right, your words seem almost purposeful and calculated — designed to hit him right where it hurts. whether or not you’re aware of the fact.
“y’can’t keep doing this.” comes the blonde’s whisper, coasting just under his breath, so low that you almost miss it underneath the howling notes of the wind.
“what?”
“please stop doing this.” bakugou says again, but firmer, shrugging your hands from his well-built torso like they’ve given him an electric shock. a flash of hurt lines itself across your beautifully crafted features like a film of dust clinging to a marble carved sculpture belonging to an art museum. he hates it, how he can still admire you and treasure you even when you torture him with a punishment of unrequited love. “you can’t keep comin’ here every time you get your heart broken, knowing how i feel about you. it’s fucked up, you’re fucking me up.”
people have only ever dreamed of being able to bring the great dynamight down to his knees. a man of such power and force could never be shaken, especially with everything that he’s been through to get where he is today.
the colour in your voice pales, the glint to your eyes dulls and you nervously reach out for your best friend only to be rejected which hurts more than any shitty break up you’ve ever had. “k-katsuki…kats, what are you talking about?”
“you know exactly what i mean. don’t try to gaslight me or some shit.” katsuki puts it simply, fighting the lump in his throat that nearly stops him from being truthful. it’s always been a difficult task to push you away, “we play pretend, you come to me expectin’ me to lick your wounds ‘n shit. fuck, i’ve been doing it for the last ten years. since todoroki first rejected you in high school, then that guy from class 1B and then shindou from that other school once we went pro.”
he rambles relentlessly and you take every word while memories of each heartbreak flash brightly before your very eyes. it’s clear to you now, standing in front of him, that bakugou has been holding this, whatever this is, inside for far too long. concealing his emotions until his fuse was at its end and it all exploded to the surface. “katsuki stop it.” you say weakly, throat dry.
“fuck no! why should i?” the brash blonde spits venomously, his upper lip curling into an ugly sneer. one you’ve only ever seen when he’s talking to villains, or better yet, talking about your exes. “because it never stopped for me. you never stopped using me.” he blabs, but he’s hardly shouting — the mere fact that he isn’t freaks you out even more. “it’s so fucked up, i’ve been waiting for a chance with you for years. i never said yes to someone fuckin’ loving me for who i am. for all the shit that i come with because i was waitin’ for you.” for nearly a decade you’ve been offering katsuki all the riches in the world, only to pry them from his warmth fingers and leave him for cold and death.
you could apologise right then and there, make things right, tell katsuki that it was him all along and those other guys meant nothing to you. it’s what he wants so badly, it’s the only thing that could make him forget all of this drama and take you back into his arms. instead, you retreat like a hermit crab back into its shell, stepping back and away from your best friend while selfishly curling in on yourself.
“i didn’t… i didn’t ask you to wait.”
those words are like a lightening strike to the chest. the white flashbang outside illuminates your face for katsuki to see, guilt outlines the natural slopes and continue of your face and some kind of regret floods the black ink on your eyes. bakugou’s suspicions have been proven true. you’ve never wanted him, not in the way that he’s wanted you. it must be that. must be that you kept him around knowing he’d chase shooting stars and run to the end of a rainbow if it meant the prize was you.
“you didn’t have to,” katsuki’s breathing turns ragged, mimicking the uncontrollable winds of a brewing storm, and his anxiety peaks, spilling over the edge of a glass he’d tried to keep half full for so long. he knew this, all along, he knew that you’d reject him plain and simple but why does it feel like his world is ending. “would have done it anyways ‘cause i am…was… in love with you. you didn’t need to ask me because you knew i'd always be there.”
it hurts, the truth, it burns like acid rain dissolving through a manmade structure. you hate the taste of it in the air, as katsuki’s words ring through it — undermining the heavy rain pelting down against his roof. you don’t know what to say or tell him, but instead of the contentedness of being close to the blonde you now feel a sudden sense of impending doom. an epiphany. a realisation that you’re going to lose your best friend because you took advantage of a bleeding heart.
you’ve never been the only one whose organs were ripped out and ever-loving corpse was left for dead. each time pieces of you died at every soul-crushing rejecting you’ve ever faced — katsuki has been right behind you, falling to pieces, decomposing, breaking apart… watching you mourn a relationship with someone else.
someone that wasn’t him.
words and apologies tangle in your throat and form a knot that blocks their passage. what do you even say to someone who has inadvertently confessed their love for you — something in which you’re not sure you even believe in anymore? “i-i’m… i’m sorry,” slowly, you take a step forward, blindly reaching out for katsuki in his living room shrouded by darkness and only temporarily lit up my lightening crashes. but he steps back, he retreats into a person he used to be — one that was nasty and cruel despite how much he cared.
bearing his fangs, katsuki defends himself from the only person who could truly ever hurt him. you. his walls build up and he snarls again. “i don’t care.” though, his voice wobbles and his eyes are glossy under the harsh white light of the lightening by strikes outside — he remains defensive.
“i’m sorry,” you sullenly repeat. for what? not loving him? for using him? you’re not sure. “katsuki…i’m sorry—“
you sound so genuine, your voice so sweet and sorrowful — it’s almost enough to make the man melt, for his walls to fall away and his heart to open back up just for you. but bakugou knows better, if gives in and steps closer and holds you once more — the cycle will repeat. you’ll know that you can come to him whenever you want, and take advantage of his pathetic yearning and devotion to you. over and over again, for as long as you want. because if you call he’ll answer, always.
not this time though.
katsuki bakugou steels himself as though he’s facing his greatest foe, his jaw hardens, his ruby red eyes flutter shut and his head shakes and he tries so hard to resist you. when he finally looks at you again, after what feels like an eternity, you’re hopeful in thinking that maybe this can be fixed and you can keep your best friend. however, you’ve seen katsuki’s expression on a dozen other faces before.
that look people give you when they tell you it’s over, when they grow tired of you, when they leave you.
you know it all too well, the face of someone breaking up with you.
except this time you’re not losing a half baked love, this time you’re losing someone who adored every part of you even if it was severely flawed.
you’re losing your best friend. your katsuki.
and all it took was the clouds parting and the heavens crying for you to realise that.
꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.
#bakugou x reader#bakugou x you#bakugou angst#bakugo x reader#bakugo angst#bakugou imagines#bakugou drabbles#bakugo imagine#bakugo drabble#bnha x reader#bnha angst#bnha x you#bakugo x you#mha x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugou x you#bakugou katsuki x reader#tteokdoroki#✧ ₊˚੭ — writing
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I truly want Eddie and Buck to fight.
Mainly because I have wanted Buck to blow up at someone from the 118 for years. I get that apparently there were off-screen apologies but the way every single member treated Buck when he got a lawyer, the way everyone has dismissed Buck's trauma before that, the way Buck was literally punshed by Chim, the way Buck's has (nearly) died multiple times and the trauma of that is never really acknowledged, the way Buck was sexually assaulted and everyone joked about it, the way Buck has had so much shit just put on him unknowingly sometimes by them, yes, I want Buck to snap.
I want Buck to finally stand up to someone and tell them that it's not okay, that what he went through wasn't okay and that he needed his family with him when they weren't.
I need Buck to finally see "I deserved better" and have someone show him he deserves better (aka Tommy.)
I need someone to finally be in Buck's corner, to tell him that what he went through wasn't okay and that he doesn't need to get over it because you just don't get over some traumas.
I need Buck to finally have a moment where he is allowed to be angry, where he is allowed to feel his emotions, where he is allowed to hurt and someone is immediately there to catch him, to be beside him.
I need Buck to finally be allowed to be proud of his work, to finally understand how much he has done as a firefighter when he didn't even have to, to understand that he can be more, that he is allowed to want more.
I need Buck to finally be allowed to go on a pathway up the FD ladder because he deserves it, he has earned himself the opportunity to get a chance to prove himself.
I need this season to finally lay the groundwork to Buck's full potential as a character, as a love interest, as firefighter. I need this to be the start of his true growth where he is finally allowed to want things and to get the things, the happy ending, that he always wanted for himself.
I need this to be a turning point for Buck where we finally see him settle into himself and I truly believe that for that to start he needs to let go of some unspoken things, he needs to be allowed to feel and to be angry at his family without knowing if he will have support.
And I need Buck to be the one to finally make Eddie realise how incredibly toxic and dangerous his behaviour is because no one else will probably get through to him. I also need Buck to understand that healing Eddie, that helping Eddie, can only go so far and that this is something that he can't fix because it's not his to fix.
I need Buck, the one person who always wants to help, who does everything to help, who will do anything to try to fix something, I need that Buck to be held and to be told that not everyone can accept his help. I need that Buck to be loved while someone tells him that Buck matters too, that Buck can not destroy himself for someone who might not even be ready to heal. I need Evan, the kid who always felt like something was wrong and that he had to make up for it, to be looked at and to be promised that he is enough, that just being him is enough and that he doesn't need to be more than that.
And yeah, if I think that Tommy can do that, then yeah, I need Tommy to be there while Buck is slowly realising that he matters too, that he deserves to be happy too.
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lovers ノ aventurine . boothill . sunday
ৎ୭ ₊ ˙ ⊹ . 1.3k ノ fem reader — weirdly poetic thirsts with hcs imbued in prose ノ it’s more suggestive rather than explicit . i was just vibing with their personalities idk ノ briefly mentioned rough treatment ノ secret affair . implied situationship ノ petnames — little doll . baby
aventurine ノ
if you know him by his alias “aventurine”, he’s most likely not showing his true self to you. no, not by chance — he knows well this isn’t something you would overlook. he is hesitant to be sincere around you, as if only your presence alone could compel him to abandon his deceit and masks altogether…
maybe, just maybe, there’s a possibility that he will reveal his secrets between heated kisses and desperate squeezes your sides, almost melting into his desire, and his purple gaze is filled with an insatiable fire. but when everything’s all done, you wonder if he can still remember the thing you two share behind the door.
with laughs and playful rolls of his eyes, he tells you that it’s a non-committal relationship, satiating your pouts with expensive gifts and golden compliments. and yet, and yet, when he’s away from you for too long, he dives back into your embrace like a famished man, just to lap on your lips for hours after, in those nightly escapades full of pleasure, lust, and saccharine promises.
“will you love me? will you stay with me?”
“please, stop lying. i want you close. always.” when he hears how your breath catches, when your knees grow weak and wobbly, and when the tiny pants fill the air between you two, he never lets go, making sure you feel how his fingers dig into your hips, pressing his palms to the warm flesh beneath, creating marks of red and purple that disappear when morning comes.
seemingly lost in thought until a certain sound snaps him out of his stupor. he realises that you’re crying, holding his face with shaky hands, but there’s also a gentle smile gracing your features. his body stiffens, chest tightening so suddenly that it seems suffocating, just by seeing you cry and ask for him.
but there is nothing you can say, even if you want to pour your heart and soul into him. if he could only do the same in exchange…
his laugh rings, coming straight from his stomach and ending deep, rich, and hoarse in his throat. his hand snakes up to ruffle your hair gently as his lips kiss your forehead in a brief peck before falling down to plant another one on your jaw, then another, another, until he reaches the tip of your nose, where he lingers longer than before, covering you in even more butterfly nibbles.
“is this the gift you want the most? to know my name?”
boothill ノ
with a pearlescent smirk of spikes like death itself, he smiles upon you. he greets you in his arms, his shirt barely shielding you from the hard surface of the metal plates. the cyborg presses himself against you, trapping you within his embrace, until you push your bare front against his chest — warming the artificial body and breathing in his scent as you look up at him.
when he notices you whimper his name so sweetly, he can’t help but bring up his right hand and hook his fingers beneath your chin to guide your eyes to his own. has he forgotten how soft love can be, not burning like regret and hunger for revenge.
“hey,” he hums in that low, raspy tone, which sends shivers running across your back. “baby, does it feel good?” he whispers into your ear, letting you hear each syllable forming on the tip of his tongue. “do you think you’ll be able to handle all of it?” he adds, emphasising the last two words as he runs one of his fingers down until it taps your entrance, slipping into you again just to tease you, to see how you squirm within his grip and react to every brush of his lips against your neck.
he uses his free hand to pull your leg up, circling your thigh around his waist for good measure, imagining how it must feel when such a soft creature drapes over his synthetic form.
the way your knees clench against his torso makes his systems overheat, he believes, but perhaps it’s just because of the excitement flowing through his, what he still likes to call, veins, and the rush of heat shooting right between his legs, where he wishes he still could sense the thrill of getting aroused for real.
even if the man who is now nipping at your sensitive spot isn’t quite human, he doesn’t seem to be any different to you — his frame quivering from anticipation and something much, much deeper than that, something primal. fake blood pumping mad, sparks going along the wires from the mental exertion, and it seems like his lips melt into yours, just as wet and hot as the slick dripping from your folds and slathering his fingers.
he shifts to press your asscheeks flush to his groin, moving slowly, smoothly as his mouth lingers over your collarbone, savouring each gasp and shivering whine you offer him. he murmurs praises right into your skin.
“just like that, baby. i don’t remember when i was this happy… so keep showing me those expressions of yours.”
sunday ノ
he is careful not to mark you, because hickeys would immediately give the affair between you two away. the ones right under the edge of your clothes are quite inconspicuous, so unless someone pays special attention, they will remain undiscovered. you’re not allowed to tell anyone — this love is even sweeter when engulfed in mystery. he keeps things discreet for your sake and his own, knowing that a scandal would damage both of your reputations irreparably.
if you want to indulge the young leader of the oak family by playing the innocent, cute type, do so in moderation. this isn’t because he gets off on purity fetishes — quite the opposite. becoming more frustrated than anything, because your image goes against the reality he sees and the desires you stir within his soul.
when it comes time for him to act, he shows no grace to such an imaginary concept. whether you’re begging him for relief or whimpering beneath him helplessly, he finds joy in denying you just to make you writhe in sweet agony.
it’s not unheard of for sunday to hurt you during the shared nights, but he prefers to be gentle most of the time. still, if you ever tempt him into treating you rough, you’ve opened yourself up to being left unable to walk without feeling sore.
“my little doll, you asked for it yourself. don’t whine now that you can’t take any more of it…” he coos with a click of his tongue at the view before him — legs parted and his thumb flicking against your clit just right next to his cock parting your incandescent folds.
the very tip of his shaft remains lodged inside while his hips grind hard into yours, ensuring that he feels every wet stroke and inch of heat clenching around him as you struggle to contain it all. one hand grabs onto your waist, digging nails in enough that they leave impressions, while the other arm secures itself under your shoulders as he lies atop your chest and takes what he wants from you.
even in this position, sunday makes sure his lips never part from yours. he could easily place them anywhere else to get off — his neck is flushed a pretty pink with your desperate marks all over it, your nipples erect and sore from him rolling them between his fingers — but your mouth is all he desires. every thrust inside you brings the two of you closer until the kaleidoscopic ecstasy intertwines your bodies in perfect harmony.
#writing ノ#boothill x reader#boothill smut#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail smut#star rail x reader#star rail smut#honkai star rail x you#star rail x you#hsr x you#fem reader#sunday x reader#sunday smut#hsr x reader#hsr smut#sunday x you#aventurine x reader#aventurine smut
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⭑ i love my girlfriend
( enha reaction ) - HYUNG LINE
synopsis: when you tell them to use the shirt you bought — i love my girlfriend shirt — when you’re done with random girls coming up and flirting with your boyfriend.
❕𝐞n𝐡𝐚!m𝐞𝐦be𝐫x fe𝐦!r𝐞ad𝐞𝐫 ⋆ ge𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff ⋆ w𝐚𝐫n𝐢n𝐠𝐬 .ᐟ : curse words
❔ 𝐧ot𝓮𝓼: helloooooooo!! im back and afraid that you guys are sick of this i love my gf thing, but i promise ill try to post another headcanon later 🙏 there are a lot of ideas popping in my head, but im mostly of the time busy, so its hard to write an update every single day 😞 anyways, hope you guys enjoy this one~~
english is not my first language, so it might contain a bunch of grammar errors.
taglist and requests are open .ᐟ
heeseung would be surprised but taking it casually, like he was used to wear that shirt. his brows were raised and his mouth was opened, forming the shape of a circle. he then asked you: “do you want me to wear this?” and when you nodded he chuckled, taking a look at the t-shirt you handed him, printed with: i love my girlfriend. with the heart shape and all. he smiled, still not sure if you were being serious or joking, so he asked you again: “are you serious?” you sighed before answering. “give it back if you’re not up to wear it then.” when you were just about to snap the shirt from his hands, he backed up holding the shirt to his chest tightly. “i’ll wear it.”
and a walk to a nearby cafe was more embarrassing for you than for him. heeseung couldn’t stop greeting strangers in the street and pointing at his shirt and then at you, like he was confirming you were his girlfriend — and you constantly smacked his arm telling him to stop while you blushed. “yeah she’s my future wife!” heeseung yelled at an old lady across the street. “oh, congrats.” she would reply yelling back; smiling and giving both of you a thumbs up.
and trust me, heeseung knows exactly the reason why you asked him to wear that shirt.
jongseong would be in denial, but it doesn’t mean he would deny wearing it in the end. you knew your boyfriend was hot. and hot as fuck. but you weren’t prepared to deal with the amount of girls that tried to make your boyfriend theirs. “babe, no...” he shook his head. “please?” you pouted. “love of my life, i’m not wearing it. we already go out wearing matching clothing. why do i even have to wear that?” “do you need a whole explanation, jongseong?” oh no, not the government name. after a moment of silence, he answered: “okay, i’ll wear it babe.” “really? you know you have the free will to deny it.” he knows he doesn’t.
when both of you went out to go shopping, jongseong tried so hard to ignore the fact that there was a ton of people looking at him and pointing at his shirt discreetly. not to mention the girls eyes all over him. however, when they realised you were his girlfriend, and was even by his side clenched to his arm, their smile dropped while you smiled proudly.
“you’re happy?” your boyfriend asked you when he heard a giggle coming out of your mouth, making him smile with the thought of your happiness. “yes. very happy.”
jaeyun would think it’s a joke, but he would definitely be down anyways. when you told you wanted him to go out wearing that t-shirt instead of the shirt he was currently wearing, he would glance at it while you hold it and hand it for him and eventually laugh. “yeah? do you want me to wear it?” your boyfriend was clearly teasing you, thinking you were teasing him as well. “mhm-hm.” you nodded. “i’ll wear it then.” he would purse his lips nodding as well, thanking you after you handed him the shirt. “mind explaining your boyfriend why?” “it’s obvious.” you replied, shrugging. “no, tell me the reason behind it.” “no~ you’ll figure it out pretty quickly, now wear it.”
update: he didn’t figure it out that quickly, meaning that you had to explain him that you were pissed with those girls checking him out or interrupting your date night with him every single time or when you were with him. and wanna know a funny story? a girl tried to get your boyfriend’s number thinking you were his sister, even though jaeyun just kissed you a second before she walked at him??
jaeyun would be feel so shy after your explanation, and he didn’t care about the eyes that followed him and dropped right at his shirt; as he held your hand and walked next to you, feeling proud that he has such a cute and jealous girlfriend.
sunghoon would say no; and yeah, straight to the point. “sunghoon~ wear this! for me!” “mhm, no.” he would scrunch his nose at the sight of his shirt. “so you want other girls flirting with you while your girlfriend is next to you?” you frowned when he shook his head once again. “why? you know i only have eyes for you.” “hoonie, wear this shirt. pretty please.” you pout, but he just shook his head pursing his lips with his eyes closed; in a very cartoonish way.
well, haters can suck it up because that was not the day that they would win the moment your boyfriend gave up and agreed with wearing that shirt, realising that no matter how much he tries to, he wouldn’t be able to keep insisting. however, even though he ‘agreed’ with wearing that shirt , he was blankly staring somewhere ( ?? ) while going out with you because he was just too embarrassed to make eye contact with anyone — he was even embarrassed to make eye contact with you, but was gripping onto your hand very tightly to make sure you don’t feel left out or upset; and later give him the most feared thing a boyfriend can suffer: silent treatment *jumpscare*
even though he didn’t enjoy wearing the shirt, sunghoon would be so fucking proud to show that he you’re his girlfriend; and the love of his life. you were getting a drink for both of you while sunghoon was waiting near to you, when a girl came and asked for his number. i think he would say “i can’t give you my number.” or he would just say “no.” and point at you and at his shirt, proceeding to run to you after you finally got the drinks.
© imaluckygirl , originals .ᐟ 24.
#enhypen#enhypen fluff#enhypen x reader#fluff#enhypen headcanons#heeseung x reader#sunghoon x reader#enhypen heeseung#enhypen jongseong#enhypen sunghoon#sunghoon x you#sunghoon headcanons#hyung line#enhypen reactions#sunghoon#sim jaeyun#heeseung#park jongseong#jongseong x reader#jaeyun x reader#enhypen scenarios#enhypen au#enha x reader#enhypen jay#enhypen jake#sim jaeyun x you#sunghoon x y/n#sunghoon fluff#enhypen imagines#jongseong fluff
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So I minishifted to my kpop idol dr last night and I'm loosing my mind
Lowkey still kinda freaking out about it because it's only just when the realisation settled in that I FUCKING SHIFTED. AND TWO OF MY FATTEST CRUSHES WERE STOOD RIGHT THERE. FUCK. OKay let me explain what happened before I IMPLODE!😆
So given how startled I was when I woke up in what i assume is my studio room? (It was a pretty cute studio and looked like it WOULD be mine🤭🤞🏾) I was only there for a good 2 minutes before freaking out and shifting back like the COWARD I AM, so I'll tell you everything that happened whilst I was there😁
Okay so first of all, I woke up in "my" studio right next to my group leader Mei and my other best friend on the other end and I was SO confused at the time because I was trying to figure out where I was. I didn't understand why I was in a different room but like at the same time it felt familiar.
But anyway, I felt so comfortable and warm and realised it was because I had a really soft blanket wrapped around my body, which I suspect was from one of my members?? Maybe?? and then Mei looked over at me and noticed I was awake, she was like "Youre finally awake Keesh" and rubbed my back so gently i could have fallen asleep right there and then again. It was like I got a taste of satisfaction for my touch starved self.
And GOSH her voice was so much more raspy than I thought it was going to be i was quite taken aback😭😭 and her face sculpted by Aphrodite herself kinda switched to a concerned expression when she saw me looking around the room frantically like I didn't know where I was, she asked me if everything was alright, and I couldn't even reply with my voice because I was so stunned so I nodded weakly with most unconvincing smile ever because I was still processing what the hell was going on.
Then suddenly, I heard like two worryingly familiar male voices coming close to the studio room we were in☹️☹️(internally i was like FUCK OFF I cant do this rn). My head literally snapped to the door when i heard it creek open and standing right there was the glorious man he is, Min Yoongi, leaning on the door frame (with long black hair btw) and the gorgeous man he is, Jimin, peaking his head through from behind the door😭😭 (I think i remember him being Blonde?). When I tell you my pulse picked up at a million miles per second. Seeing Yoongi and Jimin in the flesh is something else you guys. And to say Yoongi is intimidating is an UNDERSTATMENT☠️☠️ those two were so hot oh my GOD. I was lowkey panicking because I was NOT prepared to come face to face with AANYONE from my kpop dr nevermind BTS☠️☠️ even though i intended to shift there last night.
But anyway, i heard Yoongi ask my members ask if I was still asleep because my food was getting cold, and Mei said, "Oh yeah, yeah, she just woke up.." and Immediately placed my head back on the table and covered my face with the blanket, PRAYINGGG she'd think I fell back asleep WHICH SHE DID THANK GOD🙏🏾 and right before I woke up here I heard Jimin saying something like "you should wake her up before he eats it all??" He was giggling while he was saying that, too. And then I shifted back here.
OH AND LET ME NOT FORGET TO ADD, THIS ENTIRE DIALOGUE WAS IN KOREAN?? AND I UNDERSTOOD IT ALL.
This experience is actually one of my most scariest/exciting/crazy ones ever. Not even just because I shifted there, but because of what happened prior to the shift. Me and my best friend were yapping to each other about BTS, and we were talking about the signs we picked up on and then the realisation I came to. The moment me and my friend and I made this silly girl group as a joke, it seems that we created a butterfly effect in our reality. And now, whatever sign I get about BTS, "coincidentally," always links back to my girl group.
Anyway so yeah idk wether or not I want to shift back because LORD I CRAVE TO SEE THEM AGAIN but like I am so intimidated by Yoongi and even Jimin I might just freak out the next time I see them again😭😭 @livingmydreamlife5555 @samara444 @4ellieluv @theshifterbear
#successstories#kpop shifting#shiftblr#reality shift#reality shifting#desired reality#master manifestor#law of assumption#4d reality#shifters#loa#shifting#drself#loa blog#shifttok#shifting community#shifted
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Hope
Hi! So this is the first time that I've wrote somthing this length in a while so this will be a bit rusty.
This is slightly self indulgent as someone who has chronic pain, I just thought I'd write someone up with a reader who has it in mind.
Anyway reader is someone who experiences chronic pain, it's a small insight into the mind of someone who lives with it. I tried to make the reader as gender neutral as possoble, but other than that I hope you enjoy. Please feel free to give feedback of any kind, I just ask that you are kind <3.
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton X Reader
Possible triggers: Dissusion of mental health problems, mentions of chronic pain and how it can affect someone's life, Mention of feeling sick / vomiting.
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The drawing room is not exactly the best place for you to be right now, you had initially thought that a spot of reading would be a sufficient distraction from the blinding pain shooting through your temple. unfortunately, the book you are reading, or trying to at least is not providing any useful distraction, with the words on the page becoming more blurred the more you try to preserver.
Huffing you close the book, trying to focus on something else to distract you from the burden you carry. The pain.
You were never a sickly child, quite the opposite, you were always able to bounce back from any aliment that affected you, that was until sometime during your early adulthood. You cannot fully remember when it happened, just that one day it started, a sharp pain like a needle had been pushed through just under your kneecap and the stubborn thing would not go away.
At first, you had thought you had just over-exerted yourself during the social season with dancing, however, when that had ended, and you found yourself with more time to rest and recover you found that this pain remained. And it had gotten worse, it slowly moved upwards towards your other joints, sending sparks between all the different offending joints.
A knock at the door breaks your train of painful thought, you slowly move towards the door, confused as you had confessed to your maid that if anyone needed or wanted you for anything to very gently turn them in another direction to not exacerbate your pain anymore with meaningless conversations.
The door slowly creeks open, your maid’s face apologetically peeking around the frame.
“Apologies, I understand you did not want to be bothered; however, you have a visitor. One who is very adamant to see you, even after I explained that you had fallen ill today…” she relays, she seems almost skittish, unlike her usual self. This visitor has put up more of a battle than others, who would see you?
Sighing you looked towards her, trying not to cringe at a sudden stinging in your temples, you can’t very well be mad at her, after all, she can’t ultimately swat away everyone that wants to see you, though you had hoped that you would’ve had more time to try and calm down this headache before seeing anyone, alas, fortune is not in your favour today.
“Please do not apologise, Ester, you tried your best,” you say sympathetically. “I do not think I would be so lucky to hide myself away for the whole day without interruptions, please do send whoever is most eager to see me in, if you would not mind.” With the housekeeper slipping back out the door you try to calm yourself, ‘breath, just breath’ you think, trying to calm yourself down, trying to calm the headache, as well as your body.
You are not given enough time, as you hear the door opening again, this time more swiftly than before, footsteps moving quickly and a huffing breath. You then realise a slight error in your wording to your maid early, while you had instructed her to tell people that you had fallen ill, you mostly assumed that she would only need to tell people already aware of your ailment, and with that understanding they would know that you were somewhat alright and not gravely ill and not someone else. Someone who is not aware of your condition, someone who is now staring at you with anxious eyes trying to determine what it is that is wrong with you.
With your body still positioned towards the door you fully take in your visitor, Mr Benedict Bridgerton. You watch as he steps into the room, the door slowly closing over, trapped.
“I was told you were ill” he starts, stepping closer towards the chair you reside in, eyes still darting over you trying to determine the cause of your ‘illness.’
“I give my apologies for being so ardent in wanting to see you, I had initially come here under different pretences, however, the way your maid described your illness I was stricken with worry.” He speaks too quickly, staring at you with a slightly overwhelming concern.
“What ails you so?” he finishes almost crouching in front of you. The pause in the room is too stifling, this question that you hoped you would never have to answer while alone. In the past, you were always quite fortunate when the question had come up, with your father or mother there to quickly move the conversation along. Never bringing the truth to light.
“A misstep walking down some stairs! The floors had just been washed and they were simply too enthralled within their novel to notice” was one such story that had to be shelved after multiple uses.
“Oh, you know they were just so concentrated with their needlework that they strained their hands; nothing to concern yourself about” another one, a slightly more believable story, and one that could be told repeatedly. However this time you were alone, there was no one to save you, no one to swiftly tell a half-truth. No, you were on your own, and with a mind-numbing headache in addition.
“Ah, yes, erm please do excuse Ester, she does tend to exaggerate a little bit with her storytelling, I have but a simple headache.” You are not exactly lying, you do have a headache, you are simply omitting that the ache is also everywhere else within you.
“Oh, thank goodness!” Benedict replies, visibly relaxing, almost bending in half with the sigh he lets out.
“I thought you to be gravely ill with how your maid detailed your condition” he continues, “That you could hardly move, and you were racked with pain” he recounts, what you can only assume to be Esther's attempt at persuasion. And while true, you had hoped she would have chosen something along the lines of having a simple cold.
“Yes, well, as you can see, I am in perfect health, you have nothing to worry about Mr Bridgerton, though your concern is duly appreciated. I do hope your time has not been wasted by travelling over here,” you respond, very much hoping that you can put this conversation to bed. You can feel the pain in your temples starting to come down towards your neck, you need to move, having been sitting in one position for too long but with Mr Bridgeton here you could not just up and move. You also had forgotten your cane this morning in your room, not thinking you would need it very much today, and you did not particularly want to be witnessed limping up and out of the room in front of a man who had no idea of your condition.
Your only plausible solution was to grin and bear it, or rather, politely smile and nod along to whatever this man was about to ask you.
“Nonsense!” he exclaims loudly in a jovial manner, making the pain shoot through you once more.
“My time is never wasted when it comes to you” he speaks softly, as if he realised that by shouting, he would be causing you pain.
“If you are in good health I was wondering if I might ask something of you?” Ah the question you have been waiting for, it could not have come quicker.
“Yes, you may” Your response could be seen as quite rushed if you were in a normal situation, however with the pressure in your temples building and the pain slowly becoming more intense, you found yourself not caring how your actions could be perceived as by others of the ton.
There is a moment of silence where neither of you say anything, staring at him expectingly, you choose to prompt him by nodding your head towards him, hoping he catches onto your hint.
“Oh Right!” he starts with a jump. “Well I came here today with a confession of sorts, I have witnessed you, wait! Ah!” he suddenly stops almost aware of how slightly strange he must sound.
“Oh goodness, well- I, god” You take some pity on him as he seems to stumble over his words, ablet not enough pity to warrant sitting patiently in an increasingly uncomfortable chair.
“Mr Bridgton, I do not mean to rush you but would you please simply ask this question” huffing slightly.
“I know this is not how I am supposed to go about this, but I cannot ignore my feelings for you any longer! Please would you do the honour of letting me court you?”
There is a pause after his confession, stunned, shocked you are not sure how to respond. You almost think it is some cruel jest that he has been set up to follow through, but as you look at him, his expression and how he holds himself you realise that he is being as truthful. You feel as if someone has thrown a bucket of cold water over you, what does this mean? This cannot be real. This man of high stature wants to court you. While not lowly in rank, you certainly are not what you would expect a Bridgerton to go for and certainly not someone as seemingly broken as yourself.
Sitting there for a few more moments you realise that he is still waiting for your response.
“I, I cannot” you start “I am very sorry, but I cannot accept this offer.” You state, dropping your focus to the floor.
“I. what?” Benedict almost laughs, stunned.
“Why can you not? Are you intended to another?”
“No, I am very much not.”
“Are you interested in someone else?” You scoff at the question.
“No, not that it matters either way” The pain starting to build up even more now that you are having to argue your case.
“I have refused your offer, Mr Bridgton, I do fear that Ester had some truth in her words and I feel a headache coming on. I think it best that you leave for the day” You aren’t lying per se, you have had a headache for the best part of the day.
“But why not? I do apologise, but I am simply confused. You are not intended to another, and you are not interested in anyone else, so why refuse my offer.” He states.
“At least agree to court me, and then you can make your decision afterwards, at least let me have a chance to show you how I care for you.”
You are starting to get frustrated, and the pain in your head has started to become unbearable, like someone smashing pots and pans together, you feel a ringing in your ears, and you almost want to throw up.
“I am not well!” you explode, your breathing is ragged as your chest moves quickly. The pain in your temples is more present than ever, cringing you move to push your forefinger and thumb to either side of your nose bridge and start to pinch, hoping that brute force would almost will the pain to subside.
‘Pathetic’ you think to yourself, ‘I can’t even argue correctly, must everything I do be muddled with pain?’ You try and calm your breathing, focusing on the feeling of your fingers on your face, the clothes you are wearing, your breathing, anything to try and calm the pain down before it loses control.
There is a strange tension between the both of you, a quiet blanket that has been placed over the room as you do not know what to say.
“I am not well sir… I have not been for quite some time” you start again, still pressing your finger and thumb into the sockets below your eyebrows.
“Ester was right. I am riddled with pain, every day. I cannot dress without the pain, eat without it, speak, walk, laugh; live without it, I am tormented by it…” You begin to feel a sharp pain behind your eyes as tears start to fall onto your cheeks. Realising that by unravelling this thread that you would not be able to stop, you cannot tangle it back up again and simply throw it into your sewing box never to be spoken about again.
“I cannot be who you want me to be, I cannot offer you anything. It hurts to live, and I cannot burden you with that, you would be throwing away your freedom if I were to agree to your request. Do you want that? To be saddled with an intended that cannot do the simplest of tasks without the burden of pain?” You seem to burst out into a frenzy of words.
Without giving him a chance to argue back you move to stand, using a hand to brace yourself on the side of the chair you are occupying, you push down to give your body the momentum to move, your elbow shaking as it strains under the surplus of weight it is not normally used to. You curse yourself for not bringing your cane with you.
You pause while trying to catch your breath, frustrated that you simply cannot run out of the room and hide after such a shocking outburst, left to just stand there trying to muster up the strength and energy to try and move towards the door. With your head tilted down you were fortunate enough that you could not see his face, which was one of pain and shock.
Starting again you move towards the door, gripping the backs of chairs and the edges of side tables, with your back turned you don’t see Benedict moving as well, like a kicked puppy wanting to be comforted he follows behind you, he does keep his distance, not wanting to upset you further than you already are.
As you place your hand on the door, dropping it down so you are grabbing the handle, you feel a presence behind you. From the corner of your vision, you see a hand place itself on the door. You slowly turn around to face him, you thank some part of him that he is not crowding you up against the door, that he has given you some space.
“Please let me go, let me go. You can be free, you can move on, let me be.” you pleaded, looking up at him, your eyes flitting over his face looking for a sign, any sign that would indicate that he headed your prayer. You slowly focus on his eyes, looking within them, your breath hitches as all you see is a kindness so gut-wrenching it makes you feel physically sick.
There is no malice, no pity, or any inclination that he will follow your word. All you see within his gaze is kindness, one of love and hope. You start to feel overwhelmed, having such a kind affectionate gaze homed in on you. You think back to all the times you caught his gaze; at balls, gatherings, when he would come to speak to you, when he came to visit today to ask to court you. You think about how there was no pity within his stare, no sympathy, no looks of “such a shame, one so young yet so ill,” none of that.
You start to think about how you have brushed him off, how you have ignored him, at times even running away from him, too wrapped up in your melancholy to even look, actually look at how he was gazing at you, too scared to even admit that someone might even look at you within out an ounce of pity.
You start to think about how you could allow this, the love and admiration of another person, how this could happen. Could this happen? Could you willingly put your anxieties aside and let someone in, could they be your rock, could they hold you when the pain becomes overwhelming, suffocating you, pulling you down into despair?
Could you let him? As this question appears within your mind you feel a spark, like flint and rock smashing together, start within you. It is almost unnerving, unnatural. You have not felt this for an extraordinarily long time, almost losing belief that you could ever feel it again.
Hope. Hope that you could be loved and cherished, that you could have someone there for your bad days, as well as your good days where you could go for a walk or a carriage ride, where you could go to socials and visit family.
This line of thought left you almost breathless, as you still stood within the drawing room of your home. Slightly pressed up against the door, with one of your hands behind your back on the handle as you were trying to escape…again.
As this chaos was happening within your head, Benedict slowly brought his hand to your cheek, hesitating as if unsure if his action would cause you more pain than comfort.
Pushing the feeling of guilt down, you take a leap of faith by slowly moving your head towards him, tilting it so your cheek rests within his palm. You flinch slightly, Benedict moving his band away from you, nervous that he might have caused you more anguish. Quickly you stop him, bringing your other hand to cage his, gently placing his hand back onto your face, cupping your cheek and jaw slightly through his hand.
“It…it did not hurt that much, I was just surprised is all” you whispered “It has been a very long time since anyone has held my face this way” You can feel your reserve beginning to crack, you pushed forward, that small spark of hope within you starting to burn brighter.
“It is quite lovely actually, I don’t have to use as much energy to hold my head up when it is being held for me” you ramble, trying to ease the tension and hopefully his nerves.
“I see” he replies slowly, looking over you to make sure that his actions are not upsetting you in any way. Slowing analysing your features, sketching your appearance in his mind, unsure if he might get an opportunity to be this close to you again.
Bringing his focus to your eyes he is startled at what he finds, hope. A small whisp of it, and while surrounded by what he can assume is anxieties and doubt, he is so certain that it is there.
“If you would let me” he continues “it would be an honour to hold your head for you if only for a moment, to provide but a small reprieve.” Realising that you are not stopping him from speaking, he continues.
“You are so extraordinarily strong, a remarkable person. Willing to take on so much and push through it all, despite the load you carry” he feels your head rest slightly more in his hand, seeing your eyes fluttering before you shut them for a moment. He is worried slightly that he might have messed up, saying something that pushed you down into the darkness rather than bringing you up into the light. However, as you open your eyes again, slowly raising your focus from his chest to his face, then to meet his gaze once more, he disregards his previous concern. He can see that spark burning ever so slightly brighter.
You gently pressed his hand between your own and your face, turning the latter into his palm so that your lips were ever so gently touching below his thumb. If he would be so bold he could move the digit with a feather-like touch across your cheek and wipe away any tear marks from earlier.
“But you do not have to carry this load alone, I am not sacrificing my freedom wanting to be with you” parroting one of your earlier statements with earnestness.
“I am not sacrificing anything, I come forward willingly, I come to you after hearing about you and your life. I come to you as a willing partner if you would have me. Allow me to carry some of your load, let me hold your head and hands for you. Allow me the honour of holding you during your dark moments as well as your light.”
“I want to be there for you, with you, I am not here out of pity, I am here out of admiration and love. I fear that if I loved you any less, I would be able to talk about it more, my heart is but a reflection of you.” He felt like he was rambling, struggling to find the words to convey his true feelings, how he was frazzled by you, in a way he had not been before.
There was a pause and he started to doubt himself, his words, and his abilities before he saw a subtle movement from the outskirts of his vision.
As you looked into his eyes you could feel your grip on the door handle slipping, becoming less tense, less firm. Overcome with emotions from Benedict’s confession your hand goes limp, falling from the handle completely.
As you stare into his eye you slowly bring now limp hand up towards his face, almost parallel to his still cupping onto your own. You move slowly, akin to a dazed animal who is wary of any sudden movements; as you reach, you settle your arm on his chest resting so that your palm now cups his jawbone.
Benedict sees the movement, your hand dropping and moving up, towards him, he feels like he might faint, being able to touch you is one thing, but you, touching him is something he did not consider. He shuts his eyes, almost squeezing them closed not wanting to frighten you with how shocked he must look.
When you finally rest your hand against his chest, he felt like his heart must have stopped beating, he froze, willing himself to take a breath, to steel himself before opening his eyes.
For when he did, he was in awe, the spark that was once so dim, nearly stamped out was burning and it was burning bright.
“Do you mean it?” you ask, voice shaking slightly.
“With my whole heart, with the air in my lungs and the blood in my veins. I will be by your side till you are through with me, till I drive you mad, till we are grey and even then, I will still hold your head for you so you can rest for a while.” Benedict tries to convey every ounce of his emotions that he feels so you can be sure that you are fully aware of what he is experiencing.
“I think I would like that” your reply is rushed. Not wanting to waste a moment, not letting it run away or hide. You finally made your choice, you would let hope win, you would lose the battle but win the war and your victory prize did not seem all that bad.
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It was no mistake
A James Potter smut.
When you tell James last night was a mistake he's determined to prove you wrong.
This is part two of ‘I dare you to steal his clothes - James Potter version’. Read the first part here, not that this is very plot driven but still.
Warning: smut, minimal plot
— The request —
The James fic was so hot wtf 👹👹👹 we need part 2 dear author 😭😭😭
— The writing —
You walked through the hallways of Hogwarts but your mind was still stuck in that bathroom where you had yesterday tried and more or less succeeded in stealing James Potter’s clothes. He had given you a night to remember and as dreamy as you still were about those activities, you were also very much aware that it was James Potter. He was your crush, but to him you were probably nothing more than a fun night. It was not like he was suddenly going to fall in love with you after one night of heavenly sex.
“Moony, you’re not hearing me. She’s the one.” Remus rolled his eyes as James almost jumped up and down next to him, ever since last night’s events James had been going on about you non stop. Sirius and Peter had weaselled their way away from James and had left Remus to listen to James’ rants alone. Remus rearranged some books on the shelves of the library, because nothing’s more annoying than misplaced books. “I need your advice, moony, I’ve been crushing on her since the start of the year and after last night I need to make a move or I might lose her to the next guy she’s being dared to steal clothes from.” Remus turns away from the shelves to face James. “I honestly don’t think that she would repeat last night's events with anyone beside you.” Feeling reassured and a bit more confident, James’ signature smirk returns. “You think so? You think I’m special to her?” Remus sighs and rolls his eyes again. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure she likes you. I mean no one sleeps with someone you hate.” James’ eyebrows knit together. “You obviously haven’t had heated hate sex.” Remus shakes his head no. “You?” James also shakes no. “No, I’m just thinking it would be hot… not as hot as last night, I mean, (y/n) and me-” “I don’t want to hear it again, James!” Remus interrupts and quickly continues. “Just go talk to her, use all your charm and you will win her over.”
You were still deep in thoughts, when James leaves the library and spots you. “Hey, hey, (y/n)! We need to talk.” Your eyes fling up to meet his and James is almost horrified to see how filled with panic your eyes are. You quickly scan the hallways for a way out, but fail to find a good excuse. James quickens his pace to keep up with you. “About last night…” James starts, nervously ruffling his hair, but before he has a chance to continue you speak up. “It was a mistake.” James’ face falls, but you don’t notice and continue. “I get it. I’m cool about it. Last night was just a thing and it won't happen again.” James nods as he listens to you, watching your serious expression and sinking his hands into his pockets. You suddenly stop walking and turn to him. You force a tightlipped smile and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. You hold out a hand to James. “Friends?” You ask with a shaky voice and flustered face. For a second James looks utterly confused, but he quickly realises that your flusteredness might have something to do with how you had screamed his name last night. James tilts his head and chews his lip, eyes focussing on yours. “What if I say no?” Your face instantly heats up. Why can’t he just be casual about it. Why does he have to be so James Potter about it!
“I got the sense that you liked what I did last night.” Your face was hitting tomato alert, but he just shamelessly continued. “Honestly, I enjoyed it as well. You felt amazing.” He whispers, while his eyes dart between you and everyone in the hallway to make sure no one overhears. “James-” Your protest comes out as a shaky whisper as your body craves James in an unholy way. “Come on, love one more time and then you can decide whether I’m worth keeping around or if you really just want to be friends.” Your expression goes blank as you process what James had just said. Did the James Potter just suggest that if you wanted he would be yours? Afraid that you weren’t fully convinced, James makes one last move, leaning closer to you with his lips almost brushing your ear. “You can have whatever you want, baby… my dick, fingers, tongue, I’ll give you anything you want.” His voice was husky and dirty, but there was also an almost inaudible nervousness as he worried whether you would accept his offer or just forget about him.
A silent yes in your eyes had told James that he could guide you to a nearby empty classroom. As soon as he closed the door behind you he wrapped an arm around your figure, pulling you against him. His eyes focus on yours as his free hand cups your cheek. “I know it’s only been a few hours, but fuck I missed you.” You smile and James is wild with excitement that he got you close to him again. Eagerly his lips search yours and you immediately move with his, making the kiss go from passionate to hunger. He picks you up and you can’t help but giggle at his enthusiasm. He places you on a nearby desk and he’s quick to take off his own shirt, giving you a worthy view. Your hand wanders over his chest and muscles. There was a reason Gryffindor won almost every game. This boy worked for it.
As amused and turned on as James was by your staring he really wanted your focus on kissing him. With a gentle finger he pushed your chin up to look at him so he could kiss you tenderly and deeply. It also gave him the opportunity to quickly undo a few buttons so he could pull your shirt over your head. With your hair now slightly messed up you looked even more desirable to him. Eagerly his lips move over yours again while his hands move to gently squeeze your breasts before unclasping your bra in one swift move. James struggles to keep his lips on you as his eyes desperately search for a glimpse of your chest. With a loving touch his hands massage the flesh of your boobs. A slightly suppressed moan reveals James’ excitement together with the growing bulge in his pants pressing against your panties. Pushing you back on the desk James now moves away from your lips to allow himself to play with your nipples, earning soft sounds from you as sensations build up, soaking your panties as he sucks on the sensitive skin.
Unable to keep himself in check James rocks his hips into yours, searching for fiction. You quickly slip a hand in his pants, making him groan as you tease his member. One hand pumps his dick while your other hand moves through his curls. Under your touch James only manages to leave sloppy kisses as precum stains his pants. He curses himself under his breath. This was not how he planned it on going, he needed to spoil you and not the other way around. So rather abruptly and roughly James grabs your hand and takes a step back so he can take off your skirt and panties. You open your mouth to ask whether you did anything wrong, but James doesn’t let you and kisses you roughly while moving a finger through your folds, making you squirm against him at the sudden touch. “Last night was not a mistake.” James breathes with a rough undertone as he watches your eyes fill with pleasure at his touch. Your slightly parted lips looked so delicious to you, but he wanted to hear you so instead he peppers kisses down your neck, while his fingers fuck you.
Your fingers entangle with his hair as pleasure rushes through you. You whimper his name as he pushes you closer to your high, making him work harder to get you there. He watches you with focus to pinpoint the exact second before you’ll cum so he can pull his fingers away from you, making you whine in need of him and a climax. Your needy eyes turn him on so much he has to grab his crotch for a second. “Trust me, love.” James whispers and pushes your legs wider with one move, making you yelp at the exposure and heave your chest. The view you were giving him, exposed and flustered had him struggling to not just fuck you right then and there but he was committed to make you his and have you every night from now on. With his eyes glued to yours he slowly kisses down from your lips to your pussy to finish the building orgasm he had kept from you only seconds earlier.
Your body tenses and your fingers cling to James’ curls as your wall clench. James can’t resist jerking himself as you gently and unknowingly push his face against your pussy, reaching your high. It takes a second before you have the strength to push the strong man between your legs away from your overstimulated cunt. As soon as you see his pleased smirk you know he isn’t done with you. You raise your hand to protest, but he just grabs your wrist, pulling you off the desk to turn you around. He presses you against him, your naked body against his bare chest. He still holds on to your wrist as his other hand slips between your legs again. “James.” You whine and he shushes you. “You still think last night was a mistake?” He teases you, placing kisses under your ear. He rubs his hard bulge against your bare ass and your sensitive pussy starts throbbing at just the thought of his thick member filling you like last night. “No, it wasn’t a mistake.” You breathe and James kisses your neck tenderly, before bending you over the desk and freeing his member from his pants.
Gently he slips inside you, holding you close as he fucks you passionately, like you were the only woman that mattered, a goddess to him, and only him for the rest of his life from now on.
Word count: 1720
#the marauders era#marauders era#james potter x reader#james potter imagine#james potter#james potter smut#papercorgiworldwritings
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Hellouuuu! I loved the Hotch teacher au, and I was wondering if could request more of them? Something a little more flirty/more direct but still a tad worried about crossing lines
—Hotch worries about crossing a line, but he can’t stop himself any longer. fem, 1k
“Hello, Mr. Hotchner.”
Aaron is far past the age where he gets nervous around women —age, or something else?— but the sound of your voice excites his heart. One moment he’s relaxed, watching idly as Jack races around the park on his bike with a grin, the next he’s alert. He’s sitting up.
He says your name more to himself than to you as you take a seat on the grass beside him. You’re in a summer dress, leaves of your skirt falling gently against your thighs as you shift.
“Hello,” he says.
“Hi, Aaron.”
He looks over the sunny grass and his surroundings in a slow catalogue of threats. He chose this park because it’s small enough to keep an eye on everybody. There are no surrounding woods, no wild animals, and no chances of Jack being snatched. Or, Jack could get snatched, but Aaron had confidence in his ability to keep pace.
“Are you looking for danger?” you ask softly.
He turns to you with a frown. “Why, is there something I’ve missed?” Your laugh ends his facade swiftly. “I want to give you my full attention,” he clarifies, “but I worry when he’s alone.”
“I can cope with half of it,” you say.
In a move that awakens some young notion of romanticism in him, you rest your face on your arm, squinting in the sunshine. The golden hour kisses your neck.
He can’t take it anymore. You’re Jack's teacher, but he can’t.
“You look beautiful,” he says, tone lowered in an attempt to match the air.
You laugh in your squinting and turn your face from him completely. Your arms shake with your laugh, the strap slipping down as you move. “You intimidate me so much, sometimes,” you say through it.
“I do?”
“I feel like you can guess everything I think.”
“I can’t. I can try.” He looks down to see Jack’s discarded his bike in favour of kneeling in the grass, a stick in hand. “But it requires some effort, sometimes, and while I’m not uninterested in knowing what you’re thinking, I’m not interrogating you.”
You sit up, smiling once again. “Well, what am I thinking now?”
“I thought you were scared of me?”
“I’m not scared of you, Aaron. I said ‘intimidated’.” You cross your arm over your stomach. “Is that okay? Will you tell me what I’m thinking about?”
He pauses. Take a deep but paced breath. “You’re thinking about me, but… You have your arm over your stomach, and your chest. You're guarding your vulnerabilities and yet you’re smiling. You’re wearing a dress in the same cut as the one you were wearing when I first called you pretty, but you couldn’t have known you’d see me here. It’s new. A new dress.”
You remember that he called you pretty, and you’ve begun to gravitate toward the same cut unconsciously, he can see easily from your little frown you hadn’t realised it until now. He has no intention of upsetting you, and he continues.
“You’re thinking about when I’m going to ask you on a date,” he says carefully.
“How could you know that?” you ask, still speaking softly, giving little indication as to whether he’s right or wrong.
Aaron could tell you it’s a professional hunch. Isn’t that what profiling is? Educated guesses that are often correct. But it’s more than that. “You look at my mouth when I talk,” he says. He’s not condescending you but he can’t help laughing.
“You look at mine,” you say.
“I do.” He meets your eyes. You smile without shyness back at him, but there’s apprehension in your eyes that he wasn’t expecting. “What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Jack’s coming up the hill, but he can’t carry his bike.”
Aaron winces. Sure enough, Jack’s at the bottom of the hill (which isn’t a very big hell, just Jack is still quite small) grunting with the effort it takes to drag his bike behind him.
“Buddy! Leave it there!” Aaron shouts with another laugh, this one distinctly affectionate. “Come on, don’t make your arms hurt. I’ll get it later.”
Jack drops his bike and rushes up the hill, grass on his knees and dirt on his hands as he drops himself down on Aaron’s leg. “Hi, Mrs. L/N,” he says. It’s a rare occasion where he doesn’t sound happy to see you, “why are you here?”
You turn and point toward the cafe across the intersection just past the fence of the park. “I was right there finishing my coffee when I thought for sure I could see your dad, and I did. So I came to say hello. Why, did you think you were in trouble?”
“No,” Jack says, driving his face into Aaron’s chest with a guilty giggle.
“What do you have to be in trouble for?” Aaron asks him.
“Nothing!” Jack laughs.
“I hope you’re telling me the truth.”
“Dad, I am!”
“You’re not in trouble,” you say. “Just here to talk to your dad, that’s all. He’s good at talking.”
“I know,” Jack says.
Aaron hugs Jack to his chest with one arm. The sun will set soon, and he’s promised Jack they’ll make dinner together, that he’ll let his son do all the dangerous chopping if he’s super careful. He can’t stay here flirting with you forever, as much as he’d like to, but he can’t leave you hanging again —what if the next man who sees you in your sundress with your face pressed to your arm gives you the attention you deserve?
“Would you like to get dinner with me?” Aaron asks you.
“When?” you ask. You don’t miss a beat.
“When are you free?”
“Anytime after three thirty,” you say. “Well, except for Wednesdays. That’s when I host craft club.”
He holds in a smile. “What are your plans this Friday?”
You shake your head, your own smile pressed into an excited line. “Nothing. I’m not doing anything.”
“Then… it’s a date.”
You press your hand to your cheek. “Okay.”
He could tell you what you’re thinking now, just it might come off smug. And besides, he has a bike to retrieve at the bottom of the hill.
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble#criminal minds
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Please please a follow up/ longer version of the “walking out during an argument” hc with Tan? Like SUPER ANGSTY but also it’s all resolved in the end (maybe walking out whilst visiting him on a job?! And without your phone, in a foreign place so he’s super scared 😭)
MWHAHA love angst (but always worry the dialogue feels cringe??? but I don’t think it is?? idk you guys tell me) thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌
A SURPRISE.
tangerine x fem!reader — angst
word count. 1256
Sometimes, when Tangerine was in the country for work, you liked to surprise him - either by waiting in his hotel room or tracking him down —with the help of the find my friends app— and meeting him at his location.
He had been gone for the better part of two weeks, and you were starting to miss him, sure he texted and video-called you, but often it wasn't enough. And since he was away for so long, you wanted to treat him with a quick visit - stopping by his hotel suite and asking him to dinner.
In your mind, this was a cute, simple way of spending time together without it being a hindrance.
So when you arrived at the hotel, you gave Tangerine's name and details, asking reception for a replacement room key - elaborately lying by saying you locked yourself out. And with the plastic keycard in hand, you made your way up to his room.
You swiped the card, and when you opened it, you were met with a gun pointed at you from the other side, your boyfriend standing behind it - aiming at whoever was trying to get into the room.
"It's me," you hold your hands up, the sight catching you off guard. "It's me. I wanted to surprise you."
Tangerine holsters his gun behind his back and opens the door wider to let you in, the look on his face far from happy to see you. "What're you doin'ere?"
You're a little taken back, the tone of his voice much more pointed than you would've expected. "I uh— I wanted to see you," you say softly, trying not to feel hurt by his comment. "It's been a while, and thought about going to lunch," you say closing the door behind you.
He looks stressed. Fed up, even.
"Thought it would be nice to spend some time together," you shrug, looking around the room awkwardly.
"I can't be doin' that."
"That's okay," you reassure, trying to soothe over the initial uneasy tension. "We can stay in," you add, making your way around his room - sorting out his stuff and folding the messily disregarded clothes.
"No," he says quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose - standing in the small corridor by the door.
"Get room service, watch some tv," you continue, unaware of what he said.
"No," he repeats, slightly louder than the time before - still going unheard by you.
"Maybe go for a walk after. The weather is nice too. Oh, I saw this cute little bakery by the park—"
"This ain't a fuckin' holiday," he interrupts, voice and tone abrupt.
You immediately halt, holding his t-shirt in your hand - pausing mid-fold. "I know, I just thought—"
But he cuts you off. "Just thought what?" he snarks, eyes glaring at you from across the room. "This is work, not some couples getaway. I don't want you being around here."
His words cut right through you, and you still - ears pulling back, brows narrowing in the middle. He's never spoken to you this way before. You were half-convinced he was having you on, playing a prank or such, but the stiffness in his demeanour told you it was anything but.
"Don't talk to me like that," you say, words soft and hurt.
"It's stupid, y'know that? Did you even think about it?"
"Course I did," you whisper, avoiding his gaze.
"Well, it doesn't fuckin' feel like that," he shouts, walking closer. "What if someone was watching us? Do you realise what could've happened? Do’ya?
You nod, lip almost wobbling from the scolding you're receiving.
"You could be fuckin' dead right now, y'know that?"
"Okay," you whisper, wanting him to stop.
"Dead," he repeats, the word loud and emphasised.
"Okay!" you snap, throwing his top back onto the bed. "I get it! Made a big stupid mistake, I get it."
He opens his mouth to retaliate, but then that cloud of anger suddenly dissipates, and he finally sees the look on your face - expression wounded.
You pick up your bag and place it over your shoulder, turning around to head for the door. But he tries to stop you, a hand on your forearm to halt your movement. You shake from his grasp and twist to face him. "I don't care who you are to me. Never speak to me like that," you utter, firming your features to accentuate your point. "Never."
He releases your arm, the immediate guilt slapped on his face. "Come on," he attempts. "Don't leave."
But you're already out of the door and in the lifts, making your way back down to the ground floor. He chases after you, getting caught behind a group of people - missing his turn. And by the time he gets down to the lobby, you're already gone. Nowhere to be seen.
You wanted to head home, but there were no trains until later on in the day, so for the time being, you were practically stranded. All by yourself in a city you weren't familiar with, trying to find something to do to kill the time.
During those few short hours of your absence, Tangerine had been making his way around the city trying to find you - going into shops and stores he knew you liked in attempts to seek you out. The bouquet of apology flowers in his hand getting beaten and crumpled from his rushing around.
He came up empty until he made his way back onto the street of his hotel - remembering what you said earlier, bakery by the park. He spots the small pink shop and heads right for it, rushing past the patrons on the street only to find the interior empty - the staff closing up for the afternoon.
Knocking on the glass door, he ushers a worker over - blurting out your appearance and asking if they had seen you. Luckily, your two-hour presence was enough to catch attention, and Tan was able to find out details of your whereabouts.
And then he turns around, spotting the park, someone familiar —you— on the bench just in his sight. He makes his way closer, soothing over the crumbled flowers.
"Hello," he starts, standing beside the bench - leaving a comfortable gap. "Been looking everywhere for you," he starts, voice gentle.
You keep your eyes on the lake ahead and scooch over, making more space for him.
He sits beside you, his gaze ahead like yours. "I got you these," he starts, weakly chuckling as he extends the bouquet towards you - placing them in your lap.
You look down and laugh softly when you see the state of them. "Thank you," you nod, turning to look at him. "They would've been really pretty."
He chuckles —for real this time—and twists to meet you. "Yeah. They were."
But you turn back away, looking ahead at the duck-filled water. "I should've texted you first."
He keeps his eyes on the side of you and nods, acknowledging what you said. "I was a dick."
You too nod, also acknowledging what he said.
"I spoke to Lem," he starts.
You hum, silently asking him to continue.
"We sorted some things out," he pauses, craning his neck - forcing you to look at him. "And I want you to stay tonight."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," he nods, sincerity in his voice - soft grin matching yours. "And I can make it up to you— show you about or something. It’ll be nice."
holly and michael from the office inspired me when tan is going around trying to find reader
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that daniel retirement au but like also loml by taylor swift where the love of his life was f1 until it turned into the loss of his life (because max will crawl through the screen and yell at me if i made him the loss of daniel’s life… even if the lyrics “the coward claimed he was a lion/i’m combing through the braids of lies/i’ll never leave/never mind” is very maxiel coded but i’ll be quiet no one needs to know me linking the ttpd songs to maxiel) and instead we’ll just say the lyrics “it was legendary/it was momentary/it was unnecessary, should’ve let it stay buried/oh what a valiant roar, what a bland goodbye” was the inspiration
Daniel finds Max sitting in the grandstand opposite the podium. He’s pretty sure there were a few straggling fans still sitting there, whether or not Max scared them away or promised them something to get the grandstand cleared out, he’s not sure.
He smiles when he notices Daniel walking through the seats, patting the one on his left and all Daniel can think is how wonderful and lovely Max has been through all this. If it was the other way around Daniel couldn’t promise he’d handle it the same.
Maybe it was a good thing it happened to him and not Max.
“Daniel? Are you okay?” Max notices, because he’s Max.
He plops down on the seat next to him and tangles their ankles together, needing something to stop him from floating high above the grandstand. “Yeah, Maxy. Just thinking. I’m okay.”
Max looks over and searches his face for any sign of lies and he must cover it well enough because he nods once, satisfied. His eyes never leave Daniel’s face, and that’s one thing that hasn’t changed over the years.
It’s always been: Walk in a room. Look for Max. Find that he’s already looking back, even if he shouldn’t be. Max has always been stupidly brave when it comes to them, so he tells himself he can be brave too when he reaches over and slides their hands together. Their fingers slot easily together, as they’ve done a million times over and he wants it for a million more.
“Daniel,” Max whispers quietly, looking down where their hands are linked together. He knows what he’s saying, what he’s asking. That once it’s out, it’s out.
Are you sure?, conveyed through the squeeze of a hand.
“I don’t care anymore,” Daniel laughs wetly, surprising himself. He hadn’t realise he was tearing up. “I’ve already given so much. I’m not going to let them take this away too.”
Max reaches over to brush the tears off his face, running his fingers lightly over cheekbones, trailing down to his jaw. It’s intimate, romantic, deliberate—there’s no denying the existence of a relationship when the photos come out. He hasn’t looked at the pitlane, but he knows that the photographers are there.
The photos are probably beautiful too.
But it’s not theirs.
He also knows there’s probably a couple of people from their comms team who are staring them down, but he finds that he doesn’t give a fuck anymore. He’s played his role, he’s done his part, he stopped being a F1 driver the second he got out of the car. He should be allowed to have this—they both should be allowed to have this.
Max runs his thumb over Daniel’s jaw for a couple seconds more before leaning down and kissing his forehead. He smiles, small and soft before Daniel shuffles down on the seat, leaning his head in the crook between Max’s neck and shoulder. They sit like that for a couple minutes, watching the pitlane get quieter and quieter as people start to leave.
“I love you,” he whispers, tilting his head up to meet Max’s gaze. “Thank you for doing this with me.”
Max’s gaze softens, a small smile creeping onto his lips. “Of course, Daniel.” He knocks their legs together and mumbles into his hair, “Always I said we would be together, no?”
He does know, all the way back in the beginning of the year where Daniel wanted nothing more than to melt into the sheets of the bed after another disastrous race, another race where the noise had grown louder, and Max had pulled him up and held him until he resumed some semblance of a person. How he reassured him that it was okay to let go of something he loved when it started to cause damage he wasn’t able to repair.
“I love you,” he whispers again, because he doesn’t say it enough for Max to love him the amount he does. He thinks if they chopped up every single atom in his body and rearranged it he would still end up loving Max. They’ve intertwined and weaved their way into each other's lives before they even realised what they meant to each other.
“I love you too, Daniel.” Max pulls where his hand has been on Max’s thigh and kisses the back of it, three times in quick succession before resting it back where it was. “I’m proud of you. It will be okay now.”
And when Max says it so earnestly, Daniel finds he starts to believe it too. If Max believed, Daniel would too.
They both watch as they close the shutter doors of his garage.
He hopes he’ll be able to visit one day and not be so angry about it anymore. One day where he’s not angry about his own career, not angry about the people or events that drove him down the road he thought wouldn’t appear so soon.
One day where he’s not so angry that the sport he loved so much stopped learning how to love him back.
(But that’s for the future.)
Right now he’s sitting in a grandstand with Max, who holds him with all the love in the world, like he’s the only thing that matters in the universe.
And he’ll go.
Quietly.
(bonus)
[Photo: Taken from a top down view; Max and Daniel’s ankles and feet tangled together, resting on the back of the plastic grandstand seats. His right hand is tangled in Max’s left, the ‘3’ tattoo on pinky is barely visible, their hands are resting on Max’s thigh.]
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maxverstappen1 💙
tengreenstopsigns I’M GOING TO BE SO INSUFFERABLE
8 December
#this is my offering to the race gods may both of the husbands do wonderful may daniel score some doints may max win etc#maxiel#five writes#daniel retirement au#me: he goes quietly#also me: he also comes out so not all that quiet but you can pretend the bonus doesn’t exist
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okay, can we go now?
you blink and take a couple of breaths to steady yourself. mick stares back at you curiously as he awaits your response. instead, you turn away and drop your head in shame. “okay, can we go now?”
you stand up from your side of the bench and take small steps towards the parking lot where you’d parked your car. your hands shake as you walk, feeling his stare on your back and practically hearing the questions he wants to ask.
“where are you going?” he asks. he assumed the you would turn back but you just carry forward. “i know you heard what i said.”
“i don’t think we should be doing this right now, mick,” you say softly.
you hear his heavy footsteps following you, desperate to get a hold of you. “why not? i’m telling you how i feel.”
“because i am your ex-girlfriend!” you shriek, stopping right in your tracks. you turn around and huff in frustration.
how is he not getting it? it’s simple — you’re his ex-girlfriend. it doesn’t get any simpler than that. in fact, you’re not even sure why you’re here in the front porch of some house party you’d both gotten invited to.
you’d caught his eye in the heart of the party you’d both been invited to. instinctively, you followed him out into the front porch when you saw him leaving the dark room.
you didn’t know what to say to him when he turned and greeted you with a small smile. your breakup understandably left both of you heartbroken but sometimes it feels like it hit you more than it hit him.
and you just missed him. but you know why it wouldn’t work even if you tried your hardest — you’d just end up where you started over and over again.
it’s just not meant to be.
“do you not remember how crazy we drove each other?” you point out, rolling your eyes. “mick, i miss you too, but we need to face that fact that we’re not right for each other. we’re going to die forcing to fit the puzzle pieces.”
“why does that matter? it will have to work out somehow,” mick scoffs, taking a step toward you. “because it has to — because i miss you.”
you sigh and drop your hands to your sides. you purse your lips together as you feel another sob arising in your chest. “we’re going to hate each other if we keep doing this. how many times have we found ourselves here? too many to count.”
the on and off again relationship cycle has to stop at some point, you realised some time last week as you sat in the shower mourning your relationship. 2 years is way longer than either of you should have dragged it on for.
but there’s always something about the glint in his eyes that always seem to draw you in.
and right now right here, in some random suburban street, you feel yourself being reeled in the longer you look up at him. you miss the way he holds you and waking up next to him in the morning. the breakfasts he would make you and the cup of coffee that would always greet you without fail.
“this has to be the one time we get it right.” he carefully wraps his hand around your wrist and sighs, his breath fanning over your bare chest. “this has to be the one.”
and you almost fold but you can’t help but remember how you left his apartment in tears. this time, you wiped his apartment clean of all your things after swearing that it was the last time you’d let yourself cry over him. the box of pictures with him still sits hidden in the trunk of your car, collecting dust and nearly making it into your apartment.
yet, even months following your breakup, it still stays in hiding. always almost making it into your apartment for safe keeping but you always make a u-turn for your car to throw it back in.
“we said the last time was the last time we do this,” you whisper shakily. “we always swear we’ll get it right and we never do…”
mick knows that. he remembers watching you helplessly pack your things and leave his apartment in tears, no longer listening to a word he’s saying to try and make you stay. but he just has a gut feeling that this time, it would work. you would somehow find a way to make it last this time.
it shouldn’t always have to end in both of you on the floor in a sputtering mess.
“just one more time.”
“i can’t do this with you anymore, mick.” you look down at where his hand wraps around you. you carefully tear his grip from you and try to ignore the way his hand tries to chase for you. you put your hands behind your back and take a step back. “i miss you too, but we can’t keep doing this, i’m sorry.”
you turn away again and continue your way to where your car is parked. but mick persists, following you once more. “just stay. let’s talk about it.”
“i feel like there’s not much to talk about at this point. you tell me you can live with my habits and then 2 months later we’re tearing one another down in irritation. let’s stop.”
you want oh so badly to stop where you are and ultimately find yourself in his apartment again somehow. you want to go against all intuition and get in his car and wake up next to him in his bed.
just like old times when everything was just right between you. you love that way he loves you but you can’t keep living counting the days of your relationship.
“but–”
“give it up,” you wave him off and stop right where your car is. you lift your head and throw him a sad smile. “we need to move on, mick. i don’t want to hurt you anymore.”
@33-81 @darleneslane @happy-nico @nikfigueiredo @namgification @c-losur3 @sakuramxchii @kissesandmartini
#mick schumacher x reader#mick schumacher x you#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 fanfic#disneyprincemuke#disneyprincemuke imagine#disneyprincemuke imagines#disneyprincemuke f1#disneyprincemuke isily
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How do I stop comparing myself to others and how can I feel fulfilled on my own without needing anyone else's validation?
hiii<3 i feel what you're going through, trust me i do. here are some of my tips that specifically worked for me + at the end i'll include some more recommended things to read/ watch.
how to stop comparing & feel fulfilled without needing anyone else's validation
how to stop comparing yourself:
start focussing and thinking about yourself more. lol ok i realise that may sound like "become self absorbed" but i suppose, to some extent, that is what im saying. you're becoming too interested in others' life around you if you find yourself comparing. its time to focus on you and up levelling yourself to the best version possible.
comparison = wanting their life style, yes? so when you find yourself comparing to others in your life, realise that its because you envy something that they have. maybe its money, popularity, prettiness, intelligence, etc. so its like a signal in your brain which is telling you: "i want this. but i dont have it." so now what can you do, work hard to get it.
focus on what you have. i read a quote once (i think its by Oprah Winfrey) and it goes: "if you focus on what you don't have, you'll always have less. but if you focus on what you do have, you'll always have more." instead of looking at other's lives and thinking "i dont have this, i dont have that", look at your own life and think "i have this, i have that."
feeling fulfilled without needing anyone else's validation:
self love. self love. SELF LOVE. self love will ALWAYS be the answer to this. learn to LOVE yourself. and if you dont, ask why!! i have a whole guide on how to develop self love HERE. Stop looking for love in others, GIVE YOURSELF THE LOVE FIRST!!
It’s you over them. Always. Always always always. Always choose you over them. If they want you to do something but you don’t, then you say “no. I will not do that” it’s scary? Oh boohoohoo, suck it up. Because if you are constantly doing stuff that others ask you to just for the sake of pleasing them, you are disrespecting yourself in the worst way. You are basically saying that what they want is more important than what i want and need. Ew. Don’t do that.
extra resources:
a guide to develop self love & confidence (by me)
vanilla's opinion🍰 edition 1: dealing with hate & not caring about what others think. (by me)
ways to stay unbothered (by @pastel-charm-14)
Self validation (by @prettieinpink )
Tam Kaur's youtube channel
Thewizardliz youtube channel
#agirlwithglam🎀✨#vanilla's pookies💌#vanilla self improvement⭐️#asks#q/a#it girl energy#it girl#self improvement#becoming that girl#self development#girlboss#girlblog#self love#girlblogging#dream girl#levelling up#self validation#feeling fulfilled#femininity#that girl#becoming her#itgirlism
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roommates: epilogue.
your new roommate is... odd, and recently, so are your dreams. still, despite the secrecy, the mystery, and his ice cold exterior, you have the feeling you'd waltz right into love with him. (maybe you already have before.)
pairing. scaramouche x gn!reader
tags. no warnings, slice of life, fluff, slowburn, friends to lovers, reincarnation au, post irminsul erasure
prev. masterlist.
You wake up in your bed, draped with Kunikuzushi's cape. You do not remember falling asleep. Stretching, you wince at the ache in your back and neck, the soreness in your thighs. Apparently, hiking up an entire cliff had not simply been one long dream.
A whole night has already come and gone, with the sun peeking out of the horizon and into a new day. Slinging the cape over a shoulder, you wonder if he is home.
He is.
He has even bought breakfast. It smells particularly delectable, all spread out across the dining table, and you realise he has gotten your usual order right. It makes you feel something rather warm inside.
“You bought breakfast,” you say, grinning. You plop yourself onto a chair. “I'm touched.”
He picks his cape off your shoulder, clicking his tongue. “Don't be. It was your mora I used.”
“Same thing.” You swat his words away with a wave of your hand. “Come sit and eat with me. You bought too much.”
You both know he doesn't need to eat, nor does he like doing so. At your wide eyed look, he rolls his eyes, humouring you anyway.
There's something different about him today, you think, glancing him up and down. He meets your gaze, raising a fine brow in return. You wink back cheekily, and he turns his nose up at you haughtily.
Ah.
He looks lighter. Less tense, less guarded. That usual air of wary indifference about him has dissipated somewhat, leaving behind a fragile sort of familiarity. Perhaps it has something to do with that night two days ago.
He had looked perfect that night, with moonlight glittering on his hair and stars reflected in his eyes. Though, you muse to yourself, Kunikuzushi has always looked the best in the sunlight.
It was true. Be it bathed in radiance and daylight, or shuttered with sunrays through the leaves, he has always, always looked like an angel. You suppose he might not see himself the same way, but you know in your heart it is true.
“Are you done staring?”
Your gaze snaps right back up to him. He scowls, arms folded, and when your eyes meet, he glances away.
You shrug, a smile creeping up your face. “For now.”
Secretly, you think you may never get tired of staring at him.
“So like, what do you do now?” you ask, swallowing down a mouthful of food. “Helping the Dendro Archon can't be all that you do.”
Looking incredibly put off, he huffs. “Unfortunately, it seems being ordered around by that god is all I'm good for now. At this rate, I wouldn't be surprised if I got enrolled into the Akademiya to make up for the stupidity of those Vahumana scholars.”
“Don't be like that,” you chide. You know of how impossibly hard Akademiya scholars worked, your mind wandering to Kaveh for a brief moment. He doesn't deign to reply to that.
Honestly, it sounds as if the Dendro Archon was trying to rehabilitate Kunikuzushi into society or something. Forcing him to live with a roommate, having him run her errands, and now even attending the Akademiya? He must know it too. There is no way he does not.
Vahumana suits him, in an odd, roundabout way. Not to mention, he'd look great in the Akademiya's uniform. You cock your head to the side. “Why not? Becoming a scholar is great.”
“What use do I have for mortal schooling? If anything, I am more learned than all of those scholars combined.”
“Sure, you're brilliant,” you snark. He preens at the praise, sarcastic or not. Archons, he's ridiculous. “But you should consider it anyway. Maybe you'll like it.”
“I doubt so,” he tells you stubbornly. Then, he shrugs. “But since you begged so nicely, it seems I have no choice.”
Oh, how you want to hit him.
You glance up at him, glancing away just as quickly. Your plate squeaks as you drag your fork across it, and you wince, setting it down. Kunikuzushi lets out a breath through gritted teeth, scowling. “Spit it out already, you fool. Haven't you kept me waiting long enough?”
You look up at him, surprised. Something had been lingering at the back of your mind ever since you woke up, but you aren't quite sure how he'd react if you brought it up. It must show on your face.
That thought shows on your face too. He scoffs, but this time, he looks a tad too pleased. “As if it would take a genius to read you. Now, out with it already.”
Wrinkling your nose, you glance away, humming. You suppose you'd never find out if you never asked.
“Well, what happens now?” You gesture between the both of you, then at the world outside the door. You can't bear to meet his eyes, your words uncertain and low. “Between us? I really don't know how else to put it. Are we still friends? Are we not? Were we — were we even friends at all? I mean, it's been so long and so much has changed…”
Friends, you say, because even though there was a time you were almost lovers, that time had been too fleeting to count.
A thunderous silence settles.
One breath, then two.
“You think too highly of yourself,” he says loftily. “You're just as predictable and insufferable as you were centuries ago.”
Your head snaps up, and despite the nonchalance in his words, there's a certain sort of intensity in his gaze.
“So, we are? Friends?”
He smirks, crossing his arms, leaning against his chair. He looks down at you slightly, all haughty, but it's as if a wall has crumbled away. “I suppose you've earned that right.”
You beam. He's ridiculous. On a whim, you stick out a hand.
Sunlight hits his face just right, and Archons, you can't help but feel he looks simply divine. He takes your hand at your insistence. It’s cool to the touch. He smiles a small, soft smile. It's warm.
No secrets, and no lies. No past, but an infinite future.
It's perfect.
“Well then! Nice to meet you, Kunikuzushi. I'm so glad we can finally be friends.”
fin.
bonus scene, years later.
“‘We're just friends’,” you mimic him, reminiscent of a time long past.
He scowls, face turned away from you. Grumbling under his breath, he shoots you a dark look. “I despise you.”
“And here I thought you looove me?” you tease, placing a hand over your heart as if wounded. You sling an arm around his own before he decides to fly off and ditch you in the middle of the city, and he doesn't even stumble at the sudden move now. You're getting predictable. Hmph. You'd come up with something later. “Who's the one who was all like, and I quote, ‘Then and even now, you —’”
He slaps a hand over your mouth, flushing pink at the tips of his ears. He swears it was but ‘a moment of weakness’. He does that a lot.
You pry his hand off your face, interlocking your fingers. He doesn't push you away. Instead, he leans in a tad bit, till your shoulders brush and your steps start to sync.
Smirking slightly, you look down at him, as haughty as he always does. “Whatever you say, darling.”
taglist.
@franaby @dragontammerz @ainnofinway @sketcheeee @briluvspnk @bunniicantsleep @featuredtofu @tragedy-of-commons @parkjayssi @xiaosantenna @idontevenknow129 @bfajax @mostlymoth @thenyxsky @kiyiiaarchived @skyvella @theautisticduck @someonealreadyhadmynickname @wanderersumbrella @im-just-here-for-the-coffee
#scaramouche x reader#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#scaramouche#genshin#genshin impact#soo thats it. yeah thats#the end. woah.#thank u for reading!! i hope you enjoyed
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