#SHES JUST SO CUTE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!I ADORE HER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!MY DARLING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[femme-enby]

Hardest part of creating things…

My cat insists upon “helping.”

[theperrylleluniverse]

The little "oh" and frown Della gives Paul when he sasses her L O L

Paul looks so pouty and grumpy heehee

Also she looks so excited to tell them what she’s found out!! She glances at both of their faces then lifts her chin up all proud and smiley

get this girl a private detective's license!!!!!!

paul and perry stop being such debbie downers!!!! she did such a good job!!! support your wife!!!!

[checkeredflagggs]

Rookie Comfort

Pairing: max verstappen x girlfriend!reader

summary: max and his girlfriend take the 2025 rookies under their wings

a/n: please give these rookies some slack oh my god. This was written during the race — which omg what an opening!!

Masterlist | Taglist

y/n

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 824,623 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

y/n: baby lion coming spring ‘25!

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user1: oh my god oh my god it’s happening!

↳user2: this is everything I’ve ever wanted

↳user1: same!

oscarpiastri: Congratulations!

↳y/n: thank you!

landonorris: Oh! Congrats! McLaren and Quadrant merch on the way!

↳y/n: nope!

↳landonorris: 😮

↳y/n: listen if this baby is gonna support anyone but their dad, it’s gonna be Ferrari

↳maxverstappen1: no

alex_albon: so has redbull signed baby verstappen yet?

↳y/n: not quite…I told them baby had to sign the papers themselves so it might take a couple of years!

charles_leclerc: Félicitations! Ferrari onesies on the way

↳maxverstappen1: thanks but throw them out.

↳y/n: absolutely do not! Forza Ferrari!

↳user3: max’s girlfriend (and boyfriend) being tifosi just makes sense liked by y/n, charles_leclerc

f1gossip

liked by user, y/n, user and 173,923 others

f1gossip: it seems like Max has adopted some rookies this year!

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user4: ok but that was so cute?

↳user5: right? They followed him around just like ducklings…

y/n: oh this is so adorable ☺️

↳user6: Queen! Is it true that max adopted them?

↳y/n: well even if he hasn’t I now have!

↳charles_leclerc: stop stealing my kid!

↳y/n: take better care of them then!

↳olliebearman: hi mom!

↳y/n: oh hello darling

↳charles_leclerc: 😱

↳olliebearman: sorry but she gave me some ice cream liked by y/n

↳charles_leclerc: i have ice cream??

user7: maxverstappen1 are you aware your girlfriend has decided you’ve adopted some rookies?

↳y/n: some??? No no no we’ve adopted all of them

↳maxverstappen1: have we??

↳y/n: yes we have!

↳maxverstappen1: ok

↳olliebearman: score!

↳gabrielbortoleto_: yes!

↳liamlawson30: does that mean free dinner?

↳isackhadjar: ill take dinner

↳jackdoohan: even me?

↳y/n: absolutely. Dinner on us tonight

↳kimi.antonelli: fantastico!

user8: I see that the winter break has made EVERYONE crazy…

maxverstappen1

liked by y/n, charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 1,823,192 others

tagged: y/n, olliebearman, gabrielbortoleto_, liamlawson30, isackhadjar, jackdoohan, kimi.antonelli

maxverstappen1: dinner with the wife and kids

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user9: DID THEY GET MARRIED AND NOT TELL ANYONE?

↳user10: if they did, they’ve been married for years.

↳user11: yeah max has been calling her wife since they started dating really

user12: im so invested in this family you have no idea

↳user13: big same

charles_leclerc: you didn’t invite me?

↳y/n: well the husband doesn’t usually invite the mistress to dinner with the wife?

↳charles_leclerc: I can bring ice cream over?

↳y/n: oh my god yes please. Baby lion is craving some classic vanilla please

↳user14: you know with everything with the rookies going on i completely forgot y/n is actually pregnant

↳y/n: i wish i could but baby lion is using my ribs as drums…

jackdoohan: thanks for the invite! And for dinner

↳y/n: you have an open invitation darling

↳jackdoohan: thanks! Will definitely be using that

kimi.antonelli: that was some quality pasta!

↳y/n: stamp of approval from our Italian!

↳kimi.antonelli: ehehehe

oscarpiastri: how does one get an invite to dinners like this?

↳charles_leclerc: son?

↳oscarpiastri: sorry dad but that looks very good

↳y/n: you’re welcome to come over as well!

↳charles_leclerc: stop taking my kids! liked by y/n

f1gossip

liked by y/n, user, user, and 824,813 others

tagged: y/n, olliebearman, jackdoohan, isackhadjar, fernandoalo_oficial, gabrielbortoleto_, liamlawson30

f1gossip: and it’s a race weekend that’s not been kind to the 2025 rookies

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user15: this is so insane…

↳user16: this better not be the entire season. My heart can’t take it…

user17: but ok y/n is working overtime on comforting her rookies

↳user18: the cameramen are doing the lords work on focusing on her

↳user17: I mean it’s not hard — she’s in one place and her rookies are coming to her

↳user18: as they should! She’s like 7 months pregnant

user20: I was biting my nails the entire race…

↳y/n: you were??? I was!

↳user21: how you doing girl?

↳y/n: oh my god so stressed

y/n

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 1,273,183 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

y/n: oh my love what a race this was! But I don’t think I can do it again…

view all comments

olliebearman: did you see my drive today?

↳y/n: I did darling! And you did very well!

↳user22: he was last?!?

↳y/n: and yet he finished the race when so many didn’t? With only 1 full practice session?

gabrielbortoleto_: thanks for being here today!

↳y/n: of course darling! It was a pleasure to see your first race!

↳user23: you’ve really just dove into this motherhood didn’t you?

↳y/n: they’re good practice for baby lion liked by maxverstappen1

oscarpiastri: ok but I’m gonna need a family dinner after today

↳y/n: oh absolutely! You and jack pick the place and we’ll be there!

↳jackdoohan: yes! We gotta go to my favorite!

liamlawson30: where’d you go? I’ve got your water

↳y/n: back to the car — I needed some peace and quiet

↳liamlawson30: On my way!

↳user24: love how they also jumped on the family train too

maxverstappen1: thanks for coming but maybe it’s time to head back home?

↳y/n: but our sons?

↳maxverstappen1: don’t worry. I’ll watch over them

↳charles_leclerc: as will I! Because Ollie is MY son

↳olliebearman: 😊😊😊

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @imlonelydontsendhelp @jessica3478 @il0vereadingstuff @taylorrrrrrrrrrswiftttt @widow-cevans @1-of-my-many-obsessions @charlesgirl16 @elliegray2803 @anunstablefangirl

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ YES, I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND, AND YES, SHE'S REAL! ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: what happens when your gamer boyfriend brings you on-screen for the first time?

contents: fem!reader. use of she/her pronouns + reader is referred to as gojo's girlfriend. toji slander bcs he deserves it.

author's note: everyone welcome streamer!gojo to the world! he'll be here for a while...

"oh, please," satoru laughs, leaning back and grinning at the screen in front of him. he tosses his hair, but it falls back into his eyes just seconds later. "no way you guys all thought i would lose that one. c'mon, have some faith in me!"

you watch satoru reply to the hundreds of comments lighting up the side of his monitor, smiling endearingly at the way he laughs at some and practically chortles at others.

it was only after the two of you started dating that satoru disclosed his streaming hobby, and to your surprise, he was pretty popular. thousands of people tuned in to watch him play some game or another every night, and well, it paid better than you'd expect.

satoru whistles, hands resting comfortably behind his head as a particular question catches his attention. "ah, do i have a girlfriend?" he muses, grinning as he shoots a quick side-glance at you. "yeah," he continues, snorting when what looks like a flurry of no fucking way's flood the chat.

he clicks his tongue disappointedly, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "what, did all eight thousand of you think i couldn't pull? thanks a lot," satoru deadpans, waving his hand and sighing dramatically. "i don't know what any of you mean. i'm a catch!"

you snicker at that, and your laughter only increases when satoru turns and gapes at you. he juts his bottom lip out, face sinking into an adorable pout at he crosses his arms. "even my own girlfriend's laughing at me," he mumbles petulantly. "hmph!"

satoru sticks his tongue out at you childishly, and you blow a kiss back. he pretends to faint before turning back to his monitor, quickly skimming the comments before he gasps. "what do you mean, she probably doesn't exist?!" he sputters, clutching his heart exaggeratedly.

the look on his face is priceless — imagine getting told by thousands of people that one, they think you can't pull, and two, that they don't even believe your significant other exists. naturally, satoru reacts as dramatically as ever. he pretends to ignore everyone in the comments before calling them out individually.

"oh, i see you, toji... fishy-guru," satoru gripes, wagging his finger at his screen. "my girlfriend exists and she's mine! don't even think about it." he pauses, squinting at the chat before correcting himself with an eyeroll. "fushiguro. whatever. either way, she's real and she's all mine."

satoru swivels his chair to face you, making an incredulous face as he gestures to the screen. "can you believe this?" he grumbles, ocean-blue eyes focused on you. "these guys don't think you're real."

you shrug, toying with the corner of his sheets as you smile back at satoru. he's so childish, but that's just one of the many things you adore about him. sure, he's an annoying brat, but at least he's a total sweetheart too.

your boyfriend extends his hand, beckoning you to come over to him. "c'mon, darling," he cooes, scrunching up his nose at you. "wanna help me prove these losers wrong?" satoru mouths please, and the puppy eyes he gives you are cute enough to convince you.

so you hop off his bed, running a hand through your hair as you stroll over to where he sits in front of his monitor. beaming like a kid on his birthday, satoru takes your hand and twines his fingers with yours.

smiling smugly, satoru pulls you on screen and into his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. you watch the chat erupt with she's real's and how did he pull a girl like her's and smile, flicking satoru's forehead affectionately.

he ignores the thousands of dumbstruck users in his comments and holds you close to his chest, adjusting his grip on your waist to make his lap as comfortable as possible for you. satoru's adoring eyes are fixed on you, only you, even as his chat explodes.

suguru-geto: haha i already knew

toji-fushiguro: how the fuck did a loser like him pull her?

yuuji-itadori: gojo has a girlfriend??? what did i miss??

[ashastoashas]

MY BABY MY BABYYYYYY…. YOU’RE MY BABYYYYY

NASTY little child. TERRIBLE creature whom i adore

[humanjarvis]

good heart

synopsis: zayne wonders if he’s mean. you reassure him otherwise.

tags: fluff. comfort. zayne is self-conscious and cute  pairing: zayne x reader word count: 641

a/n: surprise (not rly) first zayne fic :] it’ll be interesting seeing how i want to write him since i’m probably the most similar to him irl #neurodivergence. also posting the most depraved and fluffiest things i’ve ever written in the same week who said versatility

“Darling, have I ever been…mean to you?” Zayne asks hesitantly.

You’re cuddled on his sofa with your knees resting against him, halfheartedly watching a nature documentary. Brilliant rays of afternoon sunlight pour in through the floor-length windows, drawing most of your attention away from the grasslands and toward the trio of squirrels leaping over leaves in Zayne’s backyard. At his question, you raise your head from its place on his shoulder, squinting at him playfully. 

“Hmm,” you draw out, as if actually taking the time to consider his question. He blinks at you. “Nope! A little impassive, sometimes, sure,” you grin, poking his adorably neutral face. “But never mean.”

He forces out a weak smile at your teasing, gently lowering his gaze to your intertwined hands. 

When you don’t receive the usual politely packaged retort, you furrow your brows in worry. “Why do you ask? What’s wrong?” 

Still fixated on your interlaced fingers, Zayne clears his throat. “At the hospital today,” he starts, “one of the younger patients said I was…mean.” He bites the word out as if it tastes bad, the mere association of it with his character destabilizing his being. 

Perplexed, you unclasp your hand from his to lift his chin. “What happened?” 

“All I did was tell her that if she wants to feel better, she’ll need to take her medicine daily.” Now it’s your turn to blink at him. “Perhaps it was the tone I used, I’m not sure. I haven’t encountered this before.” 

Deep in thought, he moves to bow his head again, unconsciously avoiding your gaze out of unwarranted guilt. With a frown, you grab his face between your hands before that can happen, climbing over his lap to straddle him. 

“The Zayne I know is worried that doing his job makes him mean?” you ask, peering into his startled hazel eyes. “C’mon, Zaynie, she was probably just being stubborn. You of all people should know what it’s like to avoid taking medicine.” Lifting his top lip as if to inspect his teeth, you drive your point home when he flinches away. As his face flushes pink, you feel his cheeks warm under your hands.

“I’m aware that children…and adults…are hesitant to follow doctor’s orders at times,” he says, clearing his throat. “But I also know I'm not the most…expressive of people. I’ve gotten so used to behaving freely when I’m with you that I wasn’t monitoring my mannerisms in the pediatric ward today. I must have appeared quite intimidating to a vulnerable child. The thought made me uncomfortable. It made me wonder if…I’d ever made you feel that way as well,” he grimaces.

With a fond sigh, you tilt his face up to yours to kiss his nose. This time, his blink is slow and confused. 

“The only one you're being mean to is yourself,” you start, pinching his cheeks lightly. “No matter what’s on your face or in your voice, I know what’s in here,” you say, placing a firm palm over his chest. “You wouldn’t be Dr. Zayne without your directness. You wouldn’t be my Zaynie, either. And I happen to like both versions of him very much.” 

As you press another kiss to his nose, the corners of his full lips quirk up. “I suppose I should be nicer to him, then.”

“You’d better. Or else he’ll have to write ‘I am nice. I am kind. I have a good heart’ over and over again until he understands. Surgeons don’t have time for that.” 

“I'm sure I possess the cardiovascular fitness to work it into my schedule,” he quips. “I have a good heart, after all.”

As the joke lands, you give him an exaggerated wince, removing a hand from his smiling face to fake a retch. “Okay, maybe I was wrong. Subjecting me to that? That was a little mean.”

[wysteria-bloom]

I have a funny little request, How do you think the baldur's gate 3 companions would react or respond to Tav talking to someone and who ever they are talking to asks them something about a husband/Wife and they point to one of the companions say “Yeah that’s my Husband/Wife right here”, Or Tav greeting the bg3 companions and saying “Hello my beautiful Wife or Handsome Husband how are you today?” Idk I think it would be funny you can either do all the companions or just a few and whoever else you want.

P.S One of the companions has to Karlach pls and thank you. Have a good day/night

↪"Say that again?"

Bg3 companions x reader

Warnings : none that I can think of, if there anything triggering please let me know

A/n : this is such a cute idea !!! Thank you so much for the request and ofc I'll include Karlach it's a literal crime if I don't

Characters : Astarion, Karlach, Shadowheart, Gale, Lae'zel, Wyll, Halsin, Minthara, Rolan, Raphael

▢ astarion

Astarion is mid-sip of his wine when he hears it. You’re chatting with a bartender, mentioning offhandedly, "Oh, my husband enjoys that brand of wine!" The words seem to hang in the air. A moment later, he chokes, coughing as he hurriedly sets his glass down.

"Sorry, darling, did I just hallucinate, or did you actually call me your husband?" He grins, sharp and playful, but there’s something else lurking in his ruby eyes—something softer. "How bold of you. I don’t recall signing any vows, though if they involve more pet names and adoration, I might be convinced."

Despite his teasing, there’s an undeniable smirk of satisfaction on his lips, and later that night, when he thinks you’re asleep, you catch him whispering his name with your last name attatched—testing the sound of it with a chuckle.

▢ shadowheart

Shadowheart stiffens, her hand momentarily pausing over the clasp of her pack as you effortlessly refer to her as your wife in conversation. She recovers quickly, a well-trained mask slipping into place, but you catch the slight widening of her eyes, the way her fingers tighten just a bit.

When the conversation is over, she turns to you, arms crossed, voice a delicate mix of amusement and hesitancy. "Wife, huh? That’s...a rather serious word, don’t you think?" There’s no irritation in her voice, just a quiet wariness.

You lean in and reassure her—tell her it just felt natural—she exhales, her stance softening. "I suppose... it doesn’t sound terrible coming from you." She smirks faintly, then, in a rare show of vulnerability, she murmurs, "Say it again. Just once."

▢ gale

Gale practically beams. He was in the middle of explaining some grand magical theory when you casually referred to him as your husband, and the conversation might as well have ceased to exist. He turns to you with wide, delighted eyes, as if you just handed him the crown jewel of Mystra herself.

"You—you truly think of me that way?" His voice is filled with genuine wonder, his hands twitching as if resisting the urge to pull you into an embrace right there. "I must admit, I rather like the sound of it."

For the rest of the day, he finds ways to bring it up—entirely coincidentally, of course. "Ah, yes, my spouse and I were just discussing that," he’ll say to a trader. Or, "Well, as my beloved has so kindly pointed out..." He’s positively radiant, and when the two of you are alone, he holds you close, murmuring, "One day, perhaps, we could make it more than just words."

▢ karlach

Karlach lets out the biggest grin you’ve ever seen. One moment, she’s hauling a crate of supplies, and the next, she’s throwing an arm around you, laughing loud enough to startle a nearby bard.

"Wife? You think I’m wife material?" She practically lifts you off the ground in a hug, her infernal engine humming warmly. "Oh, babe, you really know how to make a girl’s heart melt."

For the rest of the day, she won’t stop teasing you. "Hey, love, your wife could use a back rub after all that heavy lifting." Or "Shouldn't a wife get extra rations? I think that’s fair." But underneath the playful exterior, there’s a warmth in her gaze every time she looks at you—like you just gave her something precious she never thought she could have.

▢ lae'zel

The moment the word leaves your mouth—wife—Lae’zel halts. Her expression sharpens, golden eyes locking onto yours with an unreadable intensity. The person you were speaking to wisely excuses themselves, sensing the tension crackling in the air.

She steps closer, head tilting, her voice a low rumble. "You claim me as a wife?" It isn’t anger, but a challenge. Prove it, her tone demands.

You meet her gaze unwaveringly and confirm it without hesitation, she exhales, something pleased flashing across her face. "Hmph. Among my kin, such a title is not spoken lightly. If you speak it, you must own it."

Later, when camp is quiet and you were walking towards your tent, she pulls you aside, her hand gripping your wrist—possessive, firm but there was a softness to it that couldn't be denied. She looked flustered, frowning at you with a twitch of her brow," As your... wife. I demand we sleep in the same tent."

▢ wyll

Wyll is in the middle of charming a noble when you casually refer to him as your husband. The words slip from your lips without hesitation, and at first, he doesn’t react—so well-trained in maintaining composure. Only until the noble left did something warm flicker in his bi-coloured eyes, his confident smile faltering for just a heartbeat.

"Ah—your what?" He turns to you, and for the first time in a long while, the Blade of Frontiers looks genuinely caught off guard.

When you confirm it with an easy smile, he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck, as if trying to suppress the warmth creeping up his face. "Well, now you’ve gone and made a man blush," he teases, but there’s a softness to it. A part of him that seems to hold onto the word like a cherished melody.

Later that evening, when the two of you have a rare quiet moment, he leans in, his voice lower, more earnest. "You really see me that way?" His hand finds yours, thumb tracing circles against your palm. "Because I could get used to that."

▢ halsin

Halsin is kneeling by a wounded animal, murmuring a quiet spell of healing, when the word husband leaves your lips. It’s said so casually—to another druid, in passing—that at first, he doesn’t seem to react.

But then, as the spell finishes, he turns to you, golden eyes warm with something deeply affectionate. A slow smile spreads across his face, creasing the corners of his eyes. "Husband," he repeats, testing the weight of it, his voice rich with amusement. "That is… a title of great commitment. And yet, hearing it from you, it feels as though it has always been true."

There’s no teasing, no hesitation—only an earnest kind of joy. He steps closer, brushing his fingers against your cheek, his touch feather-light. "If this is how you see me, then I will wear the title with pride." His voice drops to a low murmur, meant only for you. "And should you ever wish to make it more than words, I will answer gladly."

From that moment on, he often refers to you in kind—my heart, my love, and, on particularly affectionate days, even my wife/husband/mate. It is not just a title to him; it is a promise.

▢ minthara

Minthara doesn’t react at first. Not outwardly. She merely continues sharpening her blade, her red eyes cold and unreadable as you casually refer to her as your wife in conversation.

The person you were speaking to quickly departs, sensing the weight of silence that follows. Then, without looking up, Minthara speaks, her voice dangerously low. "You called me wife."

It isn’t a question. It’s an evaluation. A test.

You confirm it, she finally lifts her gaze to meet yours, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "How bold of you," she muses, setting her blade aside. "Amongst lolth-sworn drow, such words are not spoken lightly. They are a claim. A promise."

She stands, stepping into your space, her presence as commanding as ever. A hand grips your chin—not harsh, but firm. Possessive. "If you call me wife, then you had best mean it."

And yet, later that night, when the camp is quiet and she believes no one is watching, she lingers at your side a little longer. A rare softness flickers in her eyes before she turns away, murmuring to you just loud enough for you to hear—"Hmph. It does have a certain... power to it."

▢ raphael

The moment the word husband leaves your lips, Raphael goes completely still. The conversation you were having with an unfortunate merchant screeches to a halt as the cambion turns his attention fully on you. The air crackles with something dangerous—something deeply, intensely amused.

A slow smirk stretches across his lips. "My dear, I do believe I misheard you," he purrs, voice as smooth as velvet. "Did you just call me your husband? How delightfully bold of you."

He steps closer, red eyes gleaming with something unreadable—pleasure? Possession? The thrill of a game he suddenly must win? He takes your hand, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your knuckles. Never breaking eye contact as his lips were curved in that usual salacious smirk of his,"Now, if you are to call me husband, I expect proper treatment. Gifts. Devotion. Perhaps a throne befitting a devil of my caliber."

There’s teasing in his tone, but beneath it? Oh, there’s something else entirely. Later, when no one is around, he murmurs against your ear, "let me hear it again... it sounds so terribly tempting when it falls from those lips of yours."

▢ rolan

Rolan is mid-rant—complaining about some idiot who failed to organise the library books the right way—when you absentmindedly refer to him as your husband. He stops talking. Completely.

His mouth opens. Closes. His tail flicks rapidly behind him, betraying his internal spiral.

"Wha—wait—what did you just call me?" His voice cracks, and he immediately clears his throat, straightening his shoulders in a desperate attempt to regain his dignity.

When you repeat it, casual as ever, he stares at you like you just cast Wish in front of him. "That’s… I mean, I am an impressive partner, but—" He crosses his arms, looking away, his cheeks burning a darker, unmistakable shade of red. "You can’t just say things like that without warning someone!"

But for the rest of the day, he’s noticeably smug—standing taller, magic practically crackling at his fingertips. And if you listen closely, you might hear him muttering under his breath: "Husband. Hah... obviously."

[amirasainz]

The Queen without her Heels

The Monaco sun glittered over the paddock, casting sharp rays on the bustling scene. Amid the chaos of engineers, media, and fans, one figure always stood out.

Yn.

Tiny but commanding. Graceful yet grounded. Fierce and brilliant. The 22-year-old team principal of McLaren had quickly made a name for herself in Formula 1 not only because of her tactical brilliance and charisma but also due to her signature look: impossibly high heels.

She walked the paddock like a queen, a click-clack rhythm announcing her presence before she even spoke. No matter the weather, the terrain, or the hour, Yn wore her stilettos like a second skin. Her petite frame, standing at 1.57m, was elevated—literally and figuratively—by her towering footwear. And the drivers? Every single one of them adored her.

Even their girlfriends were head over heels for her. They admired her, respected her, some even confessed they had a bit of a crush on her themselves.

"There she goes," Pierre murmured, watching Yn glide past the Alpine motorhome, the sun bouncing off her hair like a spotlight.

"How does she not fall?" joked Alex, who leaned casually against the wall with Lily.

Lily smirked. "Because she's not human. She's a queen."

But today... today the paddock would see something no one ever expected.

It started innocently enough. Yn was walking from the McLaren motorhome to the pit lane, Lando and Oscar flanking her like loyal bodyguards.

"Do you have the strategy briefing notes?" she asked Oscar, who handed them over without breaking stride.

"Do I ever disappoint you, boss?" he said with a wink.

"You did forget your helmet in Singapore," Lando teased.

Yn rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue. "Children, please. Focus."

They were halfway down the paddock when it happened. A crack. A snap. A stumble.

One of her heels—a stunning red patent Louboutin—snapped clean off.

"Oh shit," Yn gasped, clutching onto Lando's arm.

Oscar immediately steadied her other side. "You okay?"

"No, I'm not okay! My heel just DIED," she cried dramatically.

The boys burst out laughing.

"It's not funny! These heels were limited edition!"

"You have twenty pairs in the motorhome," Lando snorted.

"That is not the point."

Eventually, her assistant arrived with a pair of sneakers.

"I feel... wrong," Yn whispered, staring down at her feet like they were foreign objects.

"You look cute," Oscar tried to reassure.

"I look like a baby duck," she muttered.

Lando grinned. "More like a drunk baby duck."

She smacked his arm. "Rude."

But it was true. Without the added height of her stilettos, her sense of balance was completely off. She kept stumbling, tripping over air, and walking like she'd just been born.

"I don't understand! How do people do this?" she cried as she shuffled toward the garage.

Oscar caught her for the third time. "Careful, boss."

"I was made for heels. This is unnatural."

"Think of it as... character development," Lando teased.

"Think of it as an HR complaint if you don't shut up," she fired back.

And so the day continued, with Oscar and Lando forming a protective triangle around Yn. Every step she took was monitored. Every wobble, every flail, every near-miss. It was like a royal guard detail.

When the two were finally pulled away for media duties, they were reluctant to leave.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Oscar asked.

"Yeah," Yn lied.

Lando bent slightly to her eye level. "If anything happens, call us."

"I will not perish without you, children. Now go."

Famous last words.

As Yn tried to walk up the shallow steps outside the Ferrari motorhome, her foot caught on... nothing. She flailed, her arms windmilling wildly. And then—

"Woah! Got you!"

Lewis's arms wrapped around her from behind just as she lost her balance.

"Careful, darling," he said gently, guiding her upright.

But the stumble had momentum. Before she could stabilize, she went down again.

"Yn!" Charles's voice rang out as he sprinted forward and caught her mid-fall, sweeping her into his arms like a princess.

"I am so embarrassed," she groaned, clutching her forehead.

Charles just smiled down at her. "You fall like a queen, at least."

"This is a disaster."

Lewis crouched beside them, brushing hair from her face. "You okay?"

"My knees hurt. My pride is gone. My life is in shambles."

Charles laughed, carrying her toward the Ferrari lounge. "We’ll fix your knees. Pride... we’ll leave that for tomorrow."

Inside, they laid her on a plush sofa. Charles retrieved a first-aid kit while Lewis knelt beside her.

"Let me see," he said gently, lifting her leg slightly.

"Be gentle. I’m fragile."

Lewis chuckled. "You’re the least fragile person I know."

Charles returned with ice and knelt opposite Lewis. Together, they pressed cold compresses to her knees, murmuring reassurances.

"This is the most pampered I’ve ever been," Yn mumbled.

"Good. You deserve it," Charles said, not looking up.

"I feel like a princess."

"You are one," Lewis replied softly, brushing her cheek with his thumb.

When the door opened again, chaos followed.

"What happened?!" Lando burst in, followed closely by Oscar, Max, George, and even Pierre.

"She tripped," Charles said simply, still holding the ice in place.

"Where were you two?!" Max pointed at Oscar and Lando.

"Media duties! We were gone for fifteen minutes!"

"And in those fifteen minutes, she almost died," George said dramatically.

"I’m literally right here," Yn said, waving a hand.

Lando was by her side instantly, taking over Charles's place. "I leave you for one second..."

Oscar sat by her head, brushing her hair back. "You okay, boss?"

"Just a little bruised."

"Her knees are scraped," Lewis informed the group.

"She can’t walk without heels," Charles added.

"It’s like watching Bambi on ice," Pierre said, earning a round of laughter.

Yn groaned. "Y’all are rude."

Max folded his arms. "I’m mad we weren’t there."

"Yeah," George agreed. "Why do they get to be the heroes?"

Charles smirked. "Because we were at the right place at the right time."

Lewis nodded solemnly. "And we answered the call."

Oscar scoffed. "Please. I carried her water bottle once when she had a paper cut. I deserve some credit."

Lando lifted Yn’s hand. "She held onto me when her heel broke. That was true intimacy."

"Boys," Yn interrupted. "Stop fighting. You’re all my knights."

Pierre leaned in. "But who’s your favorite knight?"

"Nice try."

The next day, she returned to her stilettos, walking with newfound pride and purpose.

"You look taller," Charles noted.

"I feel invincible," she said with a wink.

Lando sighed dreamily. "The queen has returned."

Oscar nodded. "Long live the queen."

And so she reigned once more—high above the chaos, balanced and brilliant, with a paddock full of loyal, slightly lovesick knights at her heels.

My requests are open!🧡

[januaryembrs]

YOU WERE LIKE AN ANGEL TO ME | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Request: my DARLING @avis-writeshq says- i’m a menace but i ADORED the spencer fic u posted 🥹 UGH THEYRE SO CUTE YOUR HONOURRRR 👹if it’s okay, may i request another fic with the same couple 🙈 perhaps one day reader is not as sweet or chirpy as she usually is, or she gets injured or threatened in the field? much love and lots of kisses xoxo 🫶

Description: Spencer swore he wanted to hate her. She was too happy, too chirpy, too much for a guy who spent months rotting in prison. But how could he ever hate her when she cried in his chest like that?

Length: 5k (I'm feral for these two)

warnings: post prison reid. Angst. depiction of suicide from the Unsub. gory language used. guns mentioned. mention of $nuff video and other murders. Nothing that hasn't been done on CM already.

authors note: if y'all want to see more with these two just SAY because I am all ears I would die on this ship

There were a lot of times in his time at the BAU that Spencer had wished he could have changed the outcome of their bad guy, surprisingly enough. There was the time they found their UnSub a few minutes too late, and one of the victims fathers decided to take him out then and there with a shotgun to the head. He was just a kid. There was the entire time he was with Tobias Hankel, and he lived in a state of both fear and sympathy for the boy trapped in his own body after years of abuse. There was Nathan Harris, the kid who had stopped him at the subway station and practically begged him for help to stop his urges to murder, only to slit his own wrists before Spencer could get to him because he thought he was tainted. 

He could see how it was easy in their job to get wrapped up in saving the day, in saving everyone they could. He just had hoped, on some stupid grace of a god he didn’t even believe in, that she would have at least remained untouched by the bad luck. 

Spencer had always thought, since the first day he had arrived back into the office after his stint in prison, that she seemed to just waltz through life easier than anyone else. He knew the concept of luck was not quantifiable, that it was just a coincidence that good things happened to some people, and bad things happened to others. He always grouped himself in with the latter, because what was his entire life if not one bad hand of cards after another?

Part of him had been seething with vitriol jealousy when he first met her. He hated how the elevator doors seemed to open without hesitation for her, no waiting required. He hated how her hair never seemed to fall out of place, while his required primping and preening to upkeep. He hated how she was always so happy, whether it had been she’d been given an extra cookie at the bakery for free, or her coffee had just tasted super delicious that morning, or the road works clogging the city had been put on hold the one day she needed to drive into the office. She was one of those people, he had decided, that life just seemed to smile down upon, and she beamed back in that dazzling grin. 

He felt sick to his stomach for ever wishing it gone, especially when she looked like she might never smile again. 

They never liked to say that they had easy cases and hard ones, all of their cases were difficult to process. But this one had been a handful above the rest. 

“UnSub has been killed on site, all units stand down,” Luke said into the radio, and the entire squadron took a sigh of relief, all of them except him. 

Because he saw that look in her eye, the way everything sparkly about her seemed to have vanished.

They had been following Bobbie Wrids for a week. Five bodies in, five men shot between the eyes execution style, almost six by the time they’d arrived on the scene. 

She’d gone with Tara around the front of the abandoned building; Penelope tracked their newest victim, Henry Frond, through his phone pinging off the nearest satellite towers, and it had been straight forward from there. Or at least it should have been. 

Because by the time Spencer and Luke arrived in their own SUV, Penelope had time to access the rest of Henry’s phone, and it was clear to see the victimology behind all six men. 

They were distributing snuff videos of women, some between themselves, some to other usernames on the darkweb, and Bobbie Wrids’ daughter had been one of them.

Bobbie had become somewhat of a vigilante, but he was a grieving father above all. He was a wounded animal chomping at the bit to soothe the ripping pain of his daughter's murder, the same one those men were getting off to. 

Tara and her exchanged a glance as Penelope relayed the information over their headsets, her once serious expression falling into something sombre and sorrowful. How could she arrest a man she couldn’t help but feel sorry for, one she couldn’t help but think wasn’t entirely wrong in his actions. 

“Bobbie Wrids,” Tara’s voice was stern, cutting through the silence of the desolate building. Their footsteps were careful as they made their way through the hallway, down to what had once been a rec-room, or perhaps a staff room, where they knew Bobbie had Henry, “This is the FBI, we’d like to talk,” 

They heard nothing, and she looked up to the older woman hesitantly, her finger hovering over the trigger the way Spencer had taught her. Tara took a minute, knowing she was leading the charge here with the girl being so inexperienced, before she nodded to the door knob and the rookie twisted the handle, pushing the peeling wood open gently. 

Bobbie Wrids stood in the centre of the room, moth eaten couches either side of the damp rug, the ceiling tiles half caved in from wear and tear. Henry Frond was already a pulp in the UnSub’s arms, and yet it was Bobbie that her eyes shot to first, sympathy shooting through every fibre of her being when she saw the distraught look on the father’s face. 

He was grieving. He was grieving his little girl’s death. He was looking for a solution, and this seemed to be his best bet. 

“Bobbie,” Her voice was shaky, her and Tara frozen in the doorway as the man brought the pistol to Henry’s beaten face, cocking it towards his temple before they could even explain themselves. “We’re going to come in, is that okay? We just want to talk, just let us talk-”

They had only edged closer by three paces between them as she was speaking before his knuckles turned white and he squeezed the gun tighter to Henry’s skin, the barrel contorting the flesh, “Don’t come any closer, this pig isn’t worth your mercy,”

“We know,” She said, her and Tara slowly stepping over a fallen ceiling tile, cracking under her boot as she met his desolate gaze for the first time, his head snapping to her. “We know what he did, Bobbie. What they all did.”

His throat bobbed, his bottom lip quivering and the sight of it, a man so broken, forced a frog into her oesophagus, and she willed herself not to cry. 

“They hurt my little girl,” Bobbie choked out, his face turning mauve as the tears began to build behind his eyes, “She was my girl. She was only eighteen.” 

She nodded, his wetted hues seemingly permissive when she stepped closer to where he held Henry hostage. 

“I know, I’m so sorry for what happened to her,” She said, her voice croaky, unstable as she wrenched it into something audible, “I’m so sorry,” 

“He doesn’t deserve mercy, none of them did,” Bobbie spat, his forearm crushing against Henry’s trachea in a vice-like grip. The man floundered, a wheeze coming from his lungs, not that she felt much sympathy for him. 

She sprung into action, flicking her gun onto safety and holstering it, Tara doing the same as she lowered her weapon to her side. He profiled as a vigilante; he had no reason to hurt them. 

“Bobbie, listen, I know they didn’t deserve to walk free, okay?” She said, taking the smallest step towards where the men stood, “But she wouldn’t want this for you, would she?”

The man flinched, his jaw hard as a rock with how he clenched his teeth together, as if holding back a sob. 

“Come on, Bobbie. Let him go, we have enough evidence to get him sentenced. We can get you a plea deal, I know a good lawyer,” She begged, because she wasn’t beneath it, because she knew he was a good man backed into a corner, “Please,”

Maybe it was the way her eyes were soft when she looked at him, or the fact two more agents burst into the room from the hallway, Spencer’s eye immediately falling to where she was stood so close to their UnSub, her gun out of hand. Tara stood by, but that wasn’t good enough for him. He edged with light footsteps until he was behind her, his gaze cautious, never leaving the gun in Bobbie’s hand. 

“Please,” She repeated, and Spencer saw Bobbie’s shoulders drop, every sliver of resolve draining from his body at her gentle tone, a deer approaching a hunter. 

Henry was thrown to the floor, the man practically dead weight as he gasped, almost retching at the feeling of air sucking back into his chest frantically, and Luke and Tara were quick to wrestle him into cuffs, the woman reading him his Miranda rights. 

Spencer almost made a grab for her then, because she was still creeping forward towards the man who had a loaded gun still live in his hand. He didn’t care for one second that the statistics said Bobbie wouldn’t lay a hand on her since she wasn’t part of his list. He didn’t care that every sign pointed to their UnSub being benevolent towards women, especially younger ones, that she fit his daughter’s description. Spencer didn’t care, he wanted her as far away from that gun as possible. 

His heart lurched into his throat when Bobbie did in fact make a lunge for her, just not the way he’d feared. Because she had grabbed him. She’d pulled him into an embrace, a hug, kind and sweet as she always was. 

Spencer cursed her for being so soft. It was going to get her killed. 

“Agent,” His voice was terse, worried if you dug a little deeper than the sharp surface, but she didn’t listen to him. She held Bobbie tight as the man unravelled on her shoulder, falling into heart breaking sobs and it was then Spencer realised she was crying with him. 

“It’s going to be okay, you’re okay,” She was shushing him, the killer, reassuring him he was safe, as if the killing thing wasn’t still between his fingers that clutched at her back with rough hands. 

“They killed my girl, they took her from me, and then they laughed about it,” He wailed, and she nodded, squeezing him even tighter if that was so possible, “No one would listen, the police didn’t listen, I had to do something,”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry,” This was wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be sympathising with the criminals. But she couldn’t help it, she couldn’t help the gasping urge to comfort the man who had lost his whole world, “I’m listening. Tell me about her,” 

“She was so beautiful,” Bobbie whimpered, sniffling into her shoulder. Spencer felt his chest twinge at the scene. He hated that she was so soft. “She never hurt a soul,”

She cried with him, though hers were choked down as much as she could get them, her wet cheeks the only proof she had ever let them slip. 

“I’m sorry,” She said again, because no matter how many times she repeated those two little words, it would never bring his daughter back, “I can help you,”

He pulled away from her shoulder, and it was only then that Bobbie Wrids even noticed Spencer, his face taut in anxiety as he watched the man’s hands still holding onto her body as if she was the only thing that kept him upright, which Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if it were true. 

He fished the cuffs out of his back pocket, his finger never leaving the trigger as he stared down at their UnSub cautiously. He knew he may be being cruel, knew that ten years ago he would be just as caring as her. But that Spencer was long gone. And what remained was screaming in terror that she was in the line of danger, that she was holding the danger in her bare hands like she didn’t see the jeopardy she was putting herself in. 

Bobbie pulled away to look at her, the creases around his eyes deep chasms, and even with the smattering of grey hair, the stubble, the cold, empty look of someone with nothing left, she thought he might have been a handsome man once. He looked at her with a ghost of a smile, and one of his callused hands came up to tuck her hair behind her ear as if it had been second nature to him for eighteen years. 

“You’re a sweet girl,” He murmured, and she blinked at him, her chest easing at the way his wails had subsided into something quiet. She could help him, she swore she would help him. He was a good man beneath it all. “But no one can help me anymore, sweet girl,”

And with that he lifted the pistol beneath his chin and pulled the trigger.

—

She heard someone scream before she realised it was coming from her own throat, but her ears were ringing and she couldn’t open her eyes. Her face was wet and hot, and for a second she thought it was tears, but she was beyond crying now. She felt arms pulling her back into a strong chest, and someone was murmuring to her, or perhaps they were speaking normally and the sound of the gunshot had knocked her hearing. Either way, it was like someone had pulled a bag over her head as she brought her shaking hands up to her eyes to wipe. 

She managed to crack her lids then when the sludge was gone, only to see the room still a blurry mess. She could make out, in the haze of blobs and crimson tint, Bobbie’s body slumped to the floor, a dark puddle seeping into the rug as those long arms tugged her out of the room. She only then looked down to her hands where she had rubbed her face and she caught the same claret plasma coating her fingers, her white shirt, her pants, her arms. It covered her head to toe. 

It was in her eyes, she realised when she saw the ichor coating her fingertips. It was blocking her vision, turning the world a vivid wine colour, and she thinks she whimpered, or perhaps it was a moan of horror seeing the puddle beneath Bobbie’s body growing larger by the second. 

“I don’t understand,” She said out loud, her head spinning, and she brought her fingertips up to her eyes again, maybe to get the blood out, god there was so much blood on her face, or maybe because she hoped to everything out there that she would clear her sight and find it all a terrible hallucination, the product of one too many nights of sleepless tossing. 

But when she rubbed her lids again, this time seeing the scene a little better, Bobbie was still dead. She had still been too late. 

“You’re in shock, you need to breathe,” A voice instructed her over her shoulder, and it was from the same person who had their hands around her waist, pulling her away from the crime scene, as CSI filed in from behind them. 

She tried pushing the arms off her, weak because she couldn’t feel anything that wasn’t the horror in her stomach, and it took her a second before she listened to their words and realised she was holding a breath in her chest, the way a toddler does when they’re overwhelmed. 

“I don’t-” She gasped, the air rushing through her lungs, so fast it made her cough, “I don’t understand, I was going to help him- I don’t understand- why?”

“I know, just breathe for me, sweetheart,” Spencer. She only just realised it was Spencer speaking, because he had never called her that and the gentle tone he’d taken was nothing like his usual, civil cadence. He had been dropping a few jokes the past few weeks since she’d driven him home, had been more touchy feely with correcting her form when she was at the shooting range, had delicately touched the small of her back when they were navigating a crowd together. He was slowly cracking from his statuesque expression that hadn’t left his face since he’d gotten out of prison, but the softness with which he held her waist was entirely new. 

“Spencer, I don’t- I don’t get it,” She said, her voice bubbling into a sob as she allowed herself to be pulled away with no fight left in her. He took her into the hallway, turning her body from the sight of his hand lifeless on the floor with little to no effort. She was damn near limp in his arms, “Spencer, I don’t under-understand, I was going to h-help him, why would h-he do that-”

“Shhh, you need to breathe,” He murmured into her hair, trying to lead her out the front of the building and far away from where she’d just been front row seats to a messy suicide, “Come on, just breathe for me, baby, and then we can talk,”

But she wasn’t listening, and he wasn’t offended. Spencer knew it was the shock. He knew the symptoms by how her respiratory system had picked up in a matter of seconds and it was like she had gone from zero to a hundred. She let out a long whine, tears collecting the blood on her lash line and her chest seized into action, gulping down air, too short to do anything for her lungs, and her legs began to buckle beneath the two of them. 

Spencer stopped in the hallway, realising she was in more shock than he must have thought. He knew she was sensitive, hell it was one of his favourite things about her. He knew she felt everything so deeply, burned too easily, like a daisy wilting in a dry heat, or candyfloss melting in his mouth. Spencer knew, as awful as watching death up close was for any agent, it would hit her hardest of all of them. 

He moved around to her front, his hands migrating from her waist up to her shoulders, brushing over her upper arms soothingly. But her body felt numb, her head felt heavy, and her eyes were glazed over, down a rabbit hole entirely away from him, even when one of his hands cupped her wetted cheek gently. 

“Just breathe, hey, look at me,” He tried a firmer tone, and she bent to his will too easily. It was a punch in the gut seeing everything shining and pretty leached out of her eyes, as if she had become soulless in a matter of minutes, as if she had lost all hope in the world the second Bobbie pulled that trigger. She looked like hell, blood still fresh on her cheeks, in her hair, smeared around her eye sockets where she had scrubbed so hard to get it off her skin, “You need to calm down, you’re going to faint if you don’t breathe,”

She nodded, or something close to it, her eyes falling down to the floor, and she seemed to wrestle for control over her chest then. But what came after was worse, Spencer thought. Her brows screwed together, her eyes welling up with more of those fat tears, and her lips dropping into a devastated pout, her eyes trailing over the mess on her uniform, on her hands. 

“Spencer, I don’t understand, I tried to help him, I wanted to help him,” She sobbed, sniffling to herself miserably, and he barely even thought about it when he pulled her into his chest, not caring that her skin would dirty his shirt. 

His hand wound into her hair, stroking her sweetly as she buried her wails into his vest. He used his other arm to pull her close to him, which she seemed to have zero qualms about as she clawed at his back to keep him close, as if she didn’t want to face what was going to happen when they left that building. 

Spencer regretted ever thinking her sunshine was too bright for him. 

–

She hadn’t smiled in a whole week. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had given Penny a very forced smile when she had fussed over the younger woman the first day she got back, had said thankyou with downcast eyes and a fragile grin when the blonde presented her with a framed picture of a puppy to keep on her desk ‘incase she needed something nice to think about,’

She hadn’t looked at it once, because they both knew it wouldn’t do anything, no matter how much she pretended for Penelope’s sake that she would put it to good use. 

He had taken her out for coffee on him that first day, but by the time they had got to the front of the queue, he had been doing almost all of the talking, which had become rare nowadays since he had come home from Mexico. Usually, it had been her filling the silences, because he knew in her right mind she hated the sound of static nothingness, she found it awkward and unnecessary when she could talk to anyone without thinking about it too hard. 

They had got to the desk, the barista smiling up at him as he ordered his usual, before he turned to look at her as the woman serving asked her what she would like. But she wasn’t listening, she was watching out the window, nothing particularly invigorating beside a bird cleaning its feathers on top of a stop sign. 

He said her name, putting his hand on her back and her head whipped around, her eyes empty as they looked up at him expectantly, “What do you want to drink?” 

She blinked, waking herself from a stupor, and looked at the barista with an embarrassed expression, “Hot chocolate, please,” 

And that was all she really had to say until lunch rolled around, and she excused herself to head home early. Emily smiled at her reassuringly, her eyes wary as she watched their happy-go-lucky rookie head for the elevators with a desolate look in her eyes. 

Spencer hoped she would come around on her own, or maybe even be brave enough to talk to someone about the thoughts rattling around that head of hers, but she just didn’t. She stayed as silent as possible, only ever speaking when spoken to, asking Emily if she could finish off her reports at home, to which the Prentiss woman never protested. 

But Spencer had had enough. He’d worried himself sick over her, and where all thoughts of how endearing and lovely and charming she was had sat in his head before, now it was all just ways he could think to make her smile again. 

It was the following Tuesday by the time he braved action. She had gone home after their midday briefing, apologising to Emily with tired eyes that seemed to be growing more and more heavy by the day, like she hadn’t slept a wink in a fortnight. Which Spencer thought was entirely possible. 

He pulled up to the house Penelope had not so discreetly told him was hers, definitely not because he’d asked, and definitely, definitely not breaching any human resource policies about distributing fellow workers information (meaning Spencer had almost certainly not begged Penelope for the address with those puppy eyes of his he knew could bag him anything). 

The peonies in the window bays were wilting but her house was something out of a fairytale. He wasn’t sure why he was really so surprised. It screamed her, everything about it, from the toadstool post box to the little green, cast iron bench that sat in the garden, the metal forged to look like florets of ivy holding the sitter upright. 

He rapped the brass knocker, the metal cold under his long fingers. Brushing invisible dirt off his shirt, he hoped she would answer as the present squirmed at his feet. 

“Just a second,” He hushed, and as if she heard him, the front door swung open to reveal her bare face he hadn’t seen since he’d helped her wipe the blood from her skin in the back of the ambulance. 

She looked at him with furrowed brows, before they quickly shot to the floor, to her cobbled pathway that had clicked under his shoes, and her face washed with a shock. 

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She crouched to her knees, a slobbery lick immediately meeting her cheek as the Spaniel rubbed his wet nose up to her ear, sniffing her unique smell, as if it was a bag of Class A’s, “I never knew you had a dog,” 

“I don’t,” He replied, kneeling with her to ruffle the soft fur behind the canine’s ear, “This is Ace. He retired from the Bomb Unit a month ago and Penelope sent me his handler’s number. They said he’s the happiest dog in the world,” 

 “I would be too if I stopped so many people from blowing up,” She said, but before he could ask what she meant exactly by that, Ace had jumped up and attacked her entire face with kisses as if he too thought that statement was worth silencing. 

And she laughed. She laughed louder than she had in days, weeks, her eyes crinkling in joy as the little pink tongue stole away her sorrow, tickled away the traces of the blood that had tainted her skin. 

Spencer smiled, his eyes watching her face scrunch in a squeal, hands eventually coming up to the elderly dog’s jowls to gently push him down. 

“Oh, you are the sweetest guy,” She said, and the words had him tugging at the leash to lick her all over again, “Yes you are, you’re the sweetest little guy around, huh?” 

She chuckled, scratching down the mutt’s neck, and her eyes flicked back up to Spencer, who watched her with more intent than she’d realised. 

“Petting and receiving affection from pets causes spikes in serotonin in our brain and reduces anxiety, did you know that?” Spencer said, Ace pushing his muzzle into the palm of her hand to prove a point. 

Her smile wavered slightly, and she looked at his hazel hues that seemed to see right through her, “Look, I’m sorry I’ve been so off lately, I just can’t sleep at the moment-”

 “Don’t apologise,” He cut in, though his tone was kind, and the two of them stood back up to their full height, “What happened was horrifying, even some of the longest serving agents I know would struggle seeing that,” 

She scoffed, unusually pessimistic coming out of her mouth, “You wouldn’t,”

His head tilted, not quite understanding what she meant, because she hadn’t sounded cruel when she said it. Then again, he didn’t think she was actually capable of that emotion. 

She looked at him, a flash of something vulnerable in her eyes, something like that day he’d held her in the hallway; too fast he almost missed it.

“You’re so brave, Spencer, you’re like invincible. I mean, you survived prison and your mom getting kidnapped and you bounced straight back to work like it was nothing. I can’t even watch a murderer die without spiralling out of control,” She huffed, rubbing the bridge of her nose and before he could respond on just how wrong she was, before he could tell her that that was exactly the opposite of what had happened because he had damn near changed every inch of himself in prison to stop himself from breaking, he caught her murmuring and he thought he might just have been punched all over again, “I wish I was like you,”

His jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowing into a frown as he stepped towards her, and her head shot to him, worried she may have said the wrong thing by mentioning everything that had happened, everything Pen had specifically said was a touchy subject, and she opened her mouth to apologise. 

“Do you know how unbelievably glad I am that you are nothing like me?” Spencer said, his voice bordering on furious and her fumbled for a reply, worried she had truly pissed him off. 

She wouldn’t blame him for hating her. She’d always worried, until perhaps that day they’d gotten into her car and she’d driven him home, that her very essence annoyed him. 

“I’m sorry-” She started, but he shook his head.

“Stop apologising,” He said, his hand reaching up to grab where her fingers tugged together nervously, his hold featherlike, his face softening when he saw her expression, “I don’t want you to be anything like me. I like you just how you are,” 

She sighed, eyes doe like with emotion as she looked at him, “Really?”

He smiled, a rare and genuine smile as she seemed to glow under his words, “Yes, really.” Spencer allowed himself to enjoy the way that the twinkle returned to her expression when he smiled at her with something almost like the old Spencer in him, before he cleared his throat, “We all like you. Everyone on the team likes how you are,”

She paused, nodding to herself as if knocking herself out of a silly daze, and Ace bounced on his hind legs trying to get her attention again. 

“You don’t think I’m too sensitive?” She asked, holding her palm out for the dog to nuzzle at with that wet nose of his. 

Spencer shook his head, “Sensitive is good. It means you feel something. Means you feel the good things deeper too,” 

Her smile was blinding, because she’d never thought of it that way before, and she looked like her old self again. Spencer wasn’t stupid enough to think she was never going to think about Bobbie again, he still thought about that first UnSub he’d tried to save. He still thought about Tobias Hankel. He thought about them all. 

But he was going to make sure she never turned into him. He didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself if she did. He’d protect her sunlight even if it burned him to know he could never have her the way he wanted. Because she was everything good, and he was him. 

She looked down at Ace, the life returning to her as she stood aside for the two of them to enter her house, “Tea?”

Yep. Spencer felt something run hot knowing she would always be out of reach. Didn’t stop him from thinking about it, though. 

[valalice]

۶ৎ dating older gf! caitlyn kiramman and having to endure the drastic ways the two of you text. cw. age gap (two consenting adults, about a 10 year age gap). reader is a college student. slightly suggestive. a somewhat modern au?

when you first started dating caitlyn you found it endearing and rather cute at how proper she texts you. always making sure to start her sentences when a capital letter and having correct punctuation. going out of her way to correct your speach : "Remember to capitalize I's, darling." // "There should've been a comma between there." // "So many exclamation marks, my baby must be really excited."

she also became rather familiar with all of your quick abbreviations, but not without questioning them : "What does PMO mean?" // "At this point, I know that one!" // "ABT means about?" // "I know BRB. Do you really think I'm that old?"

no matter at what stage you and caitlyn are at she will always keep sending you those chivalrous texts that makes your heart flutter when you read them. they started during the early stages of dating and they just happened to stick : "Good morning, Baby. Just made it to the office, already counting down the hours until we meet up for lunch." // "I hope your classes haven't been too draining today. Remember to eat and stay hydrated!" // "I miss you, pretty girl. Would you mind if I stopped by for a moment to see you?" // "You just continue to take my breath away."

older gf! caitlyn loves to spoil you by randomly sending you money, screenshots of purchases she got for you, or secret gifts that pop up in front of your door. she doesn't think twice when she sends you money or spends money on you, it's so casual for her to care for you in this way. but, it was, and still is an adjustment to openly accept the large quantities of money she sends to your bank account : "Don't worry about it, darling. You deserve it with all your hard work." // "Got you a little gift. X" // "Spoil yourself for me while I'm away on this conference." // "Look outside your door." // "I have your rent covered for this month, love." // "Treat you and your friends to a dinner."

you love to see how you're rubbing off on her in the way she text. she isn't adapting all of your short abbreviations for words and sayings, but she had adapted the use of you "Adorable emoji faces." as caitlyn calls them, even though you try to tell her they aren't even emojis : "Going to be picking you up in a couple of hours. Can't wait to spend the weekend with you. :D" // "But you could also do homework at my place. ;)" // "The office loved those brownies you baked! You're such a sweetheart. <3" // "Work? >:( I told you I'd take care of you. No need for you to worry your pretty little head about anything."

and when you try to send her suggestive text and decide to be risky on her phone, on her internet, older gf! caitlyn is quick to put you in your place : "Don't start something you can't finish." // "You're being a little minx today, aren't you?" // "Mhm. You're too cute when you're needy." // "Where'd my good girl go, and why has she been replaced with a brat instead?" // "A please could get you a long way."

. . . as much as you tease older gf! caitlyn on being "so old" and "texting like an old lady" you find all her efforts at keeping up with you (and even correcting you) heartwarming.

[birdyisthewordyy]

Hey is it okay for me to ask you to write the tulpar crew with an easily flustered reader

a/n: IM SO SORRYYY I haven’t been writing as often :( my meds are kinda being weird rn BUT I WILL THUG IT OUT!! I hope u guys like this one!!

Tulpar crew x easily flustered! reader

Curly

Thinks you are absolutely adorable

Sometimes teases you to get you embarassed

Might worry if he went too far though and check if you’re okay

Lots of very smooth comments

You confessed first, by some miracle without passing out

He of course said yes and that made you almost faint

“Sweetheart”

“Darling”

Lots of cute pet names

Kisses you randomly to thank you for things

“Thank you my love”

All in all he thinks you’re adorable

Jimmy

Oh boy

If you thought Curly was bad

This man will tease you until you DO faint

Weird ass pet names

“Princess” is his fav

Uses the fact that you clam up so easy to his advantage

If someone asks you a question and he’s nearby he’ll just put his hand on your hip and you’re a stuttering mess

Thinks it’s cute and funny

No way he’s confessing first

You have to suck it up

You’re mumbling and stuttering

“Oh my god this is so dumb….”

“Yep, it is. Keep going.”

Swansea

Doesn’t understand you

Why are you literally shaking because he called you sweet cheeks

LOL?

Doesn’t try to fluster you on purpose but it still happens a lot

Surprisingly he confessed first

Not a mushy confession or anything just like a

“I think you’ve got a damn good head on your shoulders. Want to go steady?”

You die

Not big on physical affection, rather do acts of service

Which makes you mutter out a “thank you” and look at the ground

“Sweet thing”

“Honey”

Very old fashioned so doesn’t try to show much emotion

He’s pretty damn sweet on you though

Thinks you’re…the bees knees

Okay maybe I’m writing him too old

Daisuke

Omg

He thinks you’re adorable

Loves to squish your cheeks and poke you

Big on physical affection

And big on YOU

He likes the way you cover your face

Because it means he gets to do the thing where he moves his hands away from your face and kisses your nose

“Babe”

“Love”

“My buzzy beautiful sunshine nugget”

He would do that last one as a joke

Or would he

“You’re so cute when you blush like that”

Which in turn makes you blush more

He definitely confessed first

Anya

Anya herself is easily flustered

So she does her best to not fluster you

Doesn’t mean she doesn’t compliment you or use pet names

Lots of “sweetheart”

“Darling”

“Lovely”

Kisses your forehead

If you get overwhelmed feels so bad

“I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry!”

Neither of you confessed

Daisuke had to get you two in the same room

And be like “YOU GUYS LIKE EACH OTHER!!”

When she’s doing your makeup you might blush

And she’d make a joke about how you don’t need blush anymore

She just needs to say she loves you ;D

[starstruckbich]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ you want Caitlyn's praise

summary: you love getting your general's praise, in any way.

tags: 18+ mdni men dni sub! female reader, dom!caitlyn, obsessed!reader, slightly pervy!reader, lingerie, praising kink, fingering, hair pulling, strap-on usage, dacriphylia.

note: after vi theres caitlyn smut obvii, anyways this one is my second time writing and to be clear this is for women loving girlies with mommy issues. hope you enjoy!

Your childhood was messed up.

Your parents made you literally want to run away and never come back, belittling everything you accomplished. So you did.

At first it was hard training to be a soldier for Piltover. You didn't exactly have the perfect skills for the job, but nobody does, right? Wrong. Everyone around you suceeded in training but you always struggled, so if you wanted to run away before, you wanted to die now from so much embarassment.

Everyone noticed it too. You were like a lost little puppy, earning laughs from your colleagues, and although they didn't mean any harm, it brought you down.

But everything changed when Caitlyn Kiramman became your general. And GOD what a woman.

Her movements were precise and clean, the sweat running down her skin as she trained and her blue eyes narrowed from tiredness. But most importantly, she was gentle with you, patient, guiding you. And every time you had to resist the urge to bite your lip.

You were so down bad that you started fighting better, staying in and practicing until you could pass out, winning your spars.

Everytime Caitlyn smiled at you it made want to scream in excitement, and every time she praised you, god just- obscene thoughts. You would do anything to make her eyes land on you, and only you (who is that little ginger bitch that's always trying to please her anyway?).

So when Cait started getting close to you, you felt like the luckiest woman alive, and also really down bad, which she notices.

So now, thanks to you not being able to control your mouth today during training with all your bottom lip biting and your "did i do good?" phrases, you are in her bed, in nothing more than a pretty lingerie set.

"C-Cait this is too much..." Oh you LOVED being in her bed, but you felt exposed in lingerie. However, all your concerns went out the window when Caitlyn joins you in her bed, getting on top of you and holding you in her arms as she kisses your neck.

"Mm... But you look adorable..." She mumbles, her signature british accent you loved coming out with her elegant voice.

Of course, you being absolutely down bad for her, liked that comment a lot. "I do? You like it on me? Do i look-"

She shuts you up with a kiss on the lips, then moves to your neck again, then collarbone, then your chest, causing you to let out a few whines.

Soon enough her hands move your pretty blue panties aside, and you're so wet that the sheets immediately start getting soaked, making Caitlyn widen her eyes in amusement for a second.

"I didn't know I made you this excited..." She says, a smug look on her face, although it is a sweet one. She holds your leg up with one of her arms, coming up to kiss your cheek as pushes two fingers inside of you, not slowly, because even though she tried, her little slut is just too wet.

"A-ah~!" You let out a whiny moan, hearing breathing in your ear as she streches you out. You can't help but clench around her fingers, thinking of all the times you fantasized about her fucking you stupid.

Cait just thinks you're so cute. Your whines, your neediness, the way your body is always desperate to feel her more and more. She also loves those bottom lip bites you give yourself as you take her fingers in.

"you're doing good darling, just... Open those legs for me..." Yes ma'am! Her wish is your command. She pumps her fingers in more with the access you give her, knuckles deep, faster. It's enough to leave you so worked up.

"A-ah! Ah!" You moan, accidentally pulling on your general's hair. "Shit, m'sorry!"

"It's okay, do it..." And unfortunately you really can't stop doing it, feeling her slender fingers hitting that sweet, sweet spot, a pervy smile coming up on your face for a few seconds by how thrilled you are, that you're in her bed, getting praised by her, and no one can do anything about it.

Once she feels that you're ready, she pulls her fingers out. You're already a mess, fingers still intertwined with her hair as if you're scared she's going to disappear, heavy breathing, sweating, flushed face...

Soon enough, she's pressing you into the matress, fucking into you with her blue strap. Her plastic cock is long, but comfortable enough not to hurt you. She knows what she's doing so she wouldn't anyways.

Of course, you're even worse now. Holding onto the sheets tightly, messy hair, oh right, and a fucking siren. The sounds you make are just goddamn unholy as you feel her strap fucking into you, slamming in and out and doing it all over again. It's music to Caitlyn's ears.

"A-AH! I cant take it i cant! Mh!" You know you can. Fuck you could take it more 7 rounds. You shake your head, but Cait keeps fucking into you, kissing your face.

"You're so adorable darling, you're taking me so well... There we go, spread them for me... So beautiful."

Is she trying to make you come fast? Because it's working. God you feel like a whore but there's not one hint of regret in your mind or body, the way you're sucking her up.

You're so wet that even with the fulness of the straps your fluids are dripping out. Oh you could do this every night no doubt.

"G-general! Please! M' gonna cum!" The way you say general instead of her name turns her on even more, going faster agaisnt your g-spot.

"You can come sweetheart, ngh..." She moves your legs, tilting them even more upward, making you scream. Before you even realize it, you're letting out little cries, overstimulated.

This is heaven and she's your angel. There's fluids practically gushing out of you, your general's thighs getting soaked in your arousal.

"Fuck fuck fuck yess!" You let out a final loud moan, cumming on Caitlyn's strap, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"Good girl..." She gives little thrusts, then slowly pulls out of you, watching as your pretty little pussy gushes out that sticky white liquid.

She kisses your cheeks, feeling the saltiness of your tears on her lips as she holds you, huffing.

"You really like praise, don't you..."

[sunrizef1]

Pushing it Down and Praying

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader, Oscar Piastri x Ex!Reader

Warnings: litteraly idk, emotional cheating (maybe)(not really)

Authors Note: this got away from me but I do rly like it

Requested: Yes/No

——

yn

liked by rolemodel lando and 121,008 others

yn and it feels like the end of a movie I’ve seen before

load comments…

user1 she’s so pretty

user2 I <3 ceilings

user3 me when I’m writing about my ex Oscar Piastri

user4 Oscar mention

user5 why is Lando in the likes

user6 ceilings, plaster

user7 ✨

user8 I miss dad

user9 the way they never posted eachother on main but yall are still attached to that relationship

user10 can we leave her alone with the Oscar comments

rolemodel love you

liked by author

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TWITTER

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INSTAGRAM

lando added to their story

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yn added to their story

oscarpiastri liked your story ♥️

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TWITTER

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lando

🎵 All My Ghosts - Yn Ln

liked by oscarpiastri georgerussel and 3,887,009 others

lando cuz I hate all my habits but I happen to love you

load comments…

user11 oh! Oh! Well-!

user12 oh darling that song is about Oscar piastri 😭

user13 is this cute…?

user14 as someone who's heard the rest of this song/album idk if this is the move

user15 idc reclaiming a song about an ex is actually adorable don't @ me

user16 cuz allllll my ghosts are with meeee

user17 the implication that comes with using all my ghosts… like I feel yn would say that her ghosts are Oscar at this point

user18 in the context of the last verse I think this is nice

user19 no yn like…

user20 idk how to feel

user21 don't think I haven't noticed that neither yn or Tucker are here

user22 Oscar liked… wtf are we doing

user23 oh I'm gonna lose my whole mind

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yn

liked by rolemodel oscarpiastri and 678,087 others

yn pushing it down and praying… song and mv out now

comments on this post have been restricted

rolemodel so proud of you and this video

liked by author

yn love you

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TWITTER

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MESSAGES

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INSTAGRAM

yn added to their story

lando replied to your story

lando

yk what I think I do

yn

And I'm grateful for that

lando loved a message ♥️

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yn

liked by lando rolemodel and 412,009 others

yn nobody knows what its like to be us

tagged: lando

load comments...

lando no, they don't 🫶🏻

liked by author

user24 ooh this clapback to the twitter detectives ik what this is

user25 this feels like a real healthy reaction to everything that happened actually

user26 these grown adults reacting healthily

user27 they’re adorable idc

user28 are these song lyrics???

user29 yall this is “spring into summer” it’s unreleased, she sang it a few weeks ago at a show. It’s also definitely about Lando lol

user30 in case y’all were curious about more of the lyrics for this song: “Hold it against me, cool to the touch, Nobody knows what it's like to be us. Somebody finds me in the shallow end, Love you like I mean it just because I can.”

user31 also: “You're always gonna be someone that I want. We have too many years between us. If I could jump into the past, I'd only change one thing, I'd never hurt you first, I'd never let you leave. And now I'm here forever, runnin' back to you, Always.”

user32 oh those lyrics are about her releasing pushing it down and praying aren’t they

user33 I saw all the comments and went and listened to spring into summer and I fear it’s so adorable I can’t

rolemodel I loved playing your ex in the mv tysm

lando yeah u guys rly look alike

rolemodel :(

user34 I need spring into summer released I fear

user35 oh I love them

user36 nobody knows!!!! No one!!!! Not one person!!!

liked by author

user37 I just think it’s really cool how they both got over the other song and stayed together while still being healthy and strong

user38 these are my babies

lando yeah yeah I love you or whatever

yn love you too or whatever

lando 😦 call me!!!!

user39 why do I get the feeling that's the first time yn has said ily to lando lol

oscarpiastri congrats 🍾

yn thanks Oscar :)

lando thanks Osc

oscarpiastri you’re welcome 👍

liked by author

——

Tags: @evie-119 @casperlikej

[paucubarsisimp]

hey gorgeous <33 i loved your smau with kimi, and i was wondering if you could do a smau with either lando, oscar or kika where reader is a model?? if not, that's completely okay!!

bed chem

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: bts of oscar and his model gf <3

warnings: swearing,

a/n: i couldn't pick between the three so i will be doing all three versions!! this is oscar's version

lando // kika

fc: random girlies on pinterest!

yourusername posted

yourusername 💐🎀💫 brandname

liked by oscarpiastri, iamrebeccad, user45, and others

view all comments

oscarpiastri pretty baby ❤️

yourusername thank you darling ❤️

lilymhe gorgeous girl 😍

yourusername youuu bby 🫶

user1 i love her ♥︎ liked by author

user2 she's my gf, she js doesn't know it yet

oscarpiastri sorry, but she's taken ☺️ user3 look at oscar being all possessive 🤣🤣

user4 DRESSSS 😍 ♥︎ liked by author

user5 how can someone be so fucking pretty 😩😩

oscarpiastri i ask myself the same question every day...

yourusername posted

yourusername hola miami 🌴🌺 alexandrasaintmleux iamrebeccad

liked by lando, user234, masonmount and others

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oscarpiastri ❤️

yourusername 🤭❤️

nicolepiastri my sweet girl ❤️

yourusername love you mama 🥹❤️

user1 hola mami*

mclaren good to have you in the paddock 🧡 ♥︎ liked by author

alexandrasaintmleux ma jolie fille 🫶

yourusername je t'aime mon amour 😩😩 oscarpiastri 🤨

user2 i love her sm ♥︎ liked by author

user3 i js know that oscar is gonna win now ♥︎ liked by author

user4 notice how oscar is always the first one to comment ♥︎ liked by author

yourusername posted

yourusername MY BABY WON MIAMI!! (i love you, but never do the griddy again) oscarpiastri

liked by oscarpiastri, kikagomes, mclaren and others

view all comments

oscarpiastri my lucky charm, i love you ❤️

yourusername i love you more my love 🥹❤️

lando i also got p2... if you care

yourusername congrats you big baby 😭🫶 lando 😁

kikagomes lindaaaa ❤️

yourusername 💍? kikagomes ofc 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️ oscarpiastri i would appreciate it if your girlfriend didn't flirt with mine under a post for me ☺️ pierregasly pierregasly please stop flirting with my gf yourusername yourusername neverrrr kikagomes 🤭🤭 oscarpiastri ah well that's nice!

mclaren p1 + p2 babyy 🧡🧡 ♥︎ liked by author

user1 OSCAHHHH ♥︎ liked by author

user2 😮‍💨😮‍💨

user3 it was atrocious 😭😭

y/nupdates posted

y/nupdates y/n reveals how she and oscar met during a live stream!

"how did i meet oscar? well i was a student at a university in london quite close to where oscar lived and i bumped into him at a bakery. "

"what made me like him? well i fell in love with his accent, its adorable really! and he was wearing this cute white hoodie and it was love at first sight!"

tap to learn more about y/n's favorite blush

liked by user2, user678, oscarynlover and others

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user1 THATS SO FUCKING CUTEE ♥︎ liked by author

user2 ahh his accent 😩

user3 she's so real for that

user4 okay but the part where oscar came in and she started smiling so hard

user5 frrr and the cute little "hi osc" user6 and the way he completely softened, said "hi baby" , kissed her cheek and stayed to watch her and tell her about something funny that happened with lando user7 AND THE WAY THEY BOTH WERE GIGGLING TOGETHER AT THE END

user8 i want a love like theirs 😩 ♥︎ liked by author

user9 okay but like did you see her bracelet??

user10 yess!! it was one that a fan gave to her in melbourne

oscarpiastri updated their story

caption: a bit of relaxing before italy 🤍🌊⚓️

yourusername updated their story

caption: home 💌💋

kikagomes updated their story

caption: we're stealing her, sorry not sorry piastri 💋

replies

oscarpiastri

nooooo give her back 💔

kikagomes

hahah never

she's ours now

oscarpiastri

alright just get her home in one piece 😭

oscarpiastri posted

oscarpiastri happy anniversary my love ❤️ yourusername

liked by lando, yourusername, logansargeant and others

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yourusername i love you so much baby

oscarpiastri i love you more pretty girl

lando congrats oscah

oscarpiastri haha thank you lando

logansargeant crazy how she's stayed with you all these years

oscarpiastri wow.

user1 it's been 5 years already??

user2 okay now break up :)

user3 stfu

user4 MY FAVORITE COUPLE ♥︎ liked by author

yourusername posted

yourusername i said yes!! 🥹💍 oscarpiastri

liked by lilymhe, charlesleclerc, oscarpiastri and others

view all comments

oscarpiastri the love of my life ❤️

yourusername i love you so so much my love ❤️ oscarpiastri i love you so much more baby ❤️

alexandrasaintmleux so happy for you ma belle ❤️

yourusername thank you so much my love 🥹❤️

lando right.. so no credits for helping set all this up??

yourusername oh! i had no idea lando, tysm <33 lando I WENT RING SHOPPING WITH HIM! RING SHOPPING!

mclaren our favorite couple 🧡 🧡 ♥︎ liked by author

user1 NO FUCKING WAY

user2 YESSS

user3 AHH IM CRYING IM SO HAPPY ♥︎ liked by author

user4 I VOLUNTEER TO BE THE FLOWER GIRL OR THE RING BEARER

lando NO, I WANNA BE THE RING BEARER oscarpiastri i was going to ask you to be my best man but okay... lando im happy being the ring bearer 😌 yourusername sorry lan, but leo's gonna be the ring bearer lando NOO 💔💔 can i still be the best man? oscarpiastri of course

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, @hollyf1,@mxryxmfooty, @halfwayhearted lmk if you want to be added!

[ssahotchnerr]

My friend told me this story about her going golfing with her fiancé and she was like omg he is so attractive the whole time so i assume that what reader feels like all the time being with Aaron lol

a little off course

OMG i'm continuing with the golfing concept because YES cw; fem!reader, established relationship, playfulness and suggestive content <3

"Next time you go golfing with Dave," As Aaron was lounging on the couch, your arms had wrapped around him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder. "Can I tag along? Please?"

A double take was necessary when you asked, the request far out of your character. You've never expressed interest in golf before, and he was exceedingly surprised. Maybe it was just another way for the two of you to spend time together. Maybe you thought it would be more exciting than it actually was. You were on some kind of agenda.

Regardless, the next free sunny Saturday, you were sat in the golf cart as he and Dave made their way through the course.

But, that's all you did. You had no clear intentions of playing; you plainly sat in observance, and Aaron felt your eyes following his every move. It was almost intimidating; he wanted to do well for you.

Little did he know that while he feared you were bored, you were thoroughly entertained; present for your own indulgences.

"Sweetheart." His eyes were squinting from the sun, Dave teeing off behind him. "Are you sure you want to be here?"

You offered him a smile, and he took a second to admire how cute you looked in your sun visor, casting a shadow across the bridge of your nose. "I'm absolutely sure."

"Since when are you into golf?"

"I'm very," You paused mid-sentence, watching him (or rather, his hands) as he fixed his glove, adjusting and retightening the hold it held. "Into golf."

Only, Aaron playing golf was what you were interested in.

He and Dave played a few weekends ago, and when Aaron returned home, you found yourself regretfully wishing you accompanied them. Just when you thought he couldn't possibly be more attractive; a new genre of Aaron was unlocked and never to be concealed again.

Crisp and clean in proper golf attire - fresh khakis, a polo shirt, a newly produced, light tan gracing his skin. And now being present, the way his broad back stretched and forearms flexed as he lined up for a shot, his chest heaving in a deep exhale after hitting. Could there be a better sight?

His eyebrows crinkled adorably. "But you're just staring at me?"

"Exactly."

"Oh, I see." Aaron's lips pulled into a combination of a smile and a smirk - he should've known. His hand was resting on the cart's overhead as he looked down at you. His voice remained low, to prevent Dave from overhearing. "You're just here to undress me with your eyes, aren't you?"

"Yes and no." You defended, failing miserably at keeping your caught smile at bay. "I'm here because I love you. The undressing is an added perk."

His furrowed brows relaxed in amusement. "Is it?"

"I'll jump at any opportunity to spend time with you. It's a beautiful day, you're within arm's reach." You reached out, giving his arm an affectionate squeeze. "And I get to swoon over you being sweaty and strong in the meantime. Besides, I'm also here to ward off any club members who think they may have a shot at you. You're on full display out here for anyone to see."

"Aren't you sweet." A breathless laugh escaped him - as if anyone had a chance when he had you. Aaron leaned down to kiss you gently, craning his neck slightly due to the obstruction of your hat. "Thank you, darling."

You grinned, crossing a leg over the other.

His stare hidden behind his sunglasses, Aaron's eyes involuntarily fell to your legs, seeing that your slightly-too-short skirt had slid up and exposed most of your thigh. Maybe you had a point.

"Do you want to give it a try?" He asked as Dave finished his shot, returning to the parked cart himself.

"Really?"

"Sure, I'll teach you." Aaron took your hand, helping you step off the golf cart before grabbing his driver from his bag.

He guided you to stand in front of him; his biceps were at your shoulders, his arms firmly around you and allowing little to no room for movement.

Caged in, you felt a flutter in more places than one, the weight of his chest against your back intimately familiar. Muscle memory.

A blush filled your cheeks. Not from the heat of the afternoon, but at the rate this innocent lesson (you were beginning to infer, this hadn't been innocent to begin with) had heightened. There was no way you'd successfully hit this ball now, even with Aaron's direction - being highly distracted.

"Hands here," he instructed with quiet command, moving your hands along the grip to the correct positioning. His lips were touching the shell of your ear. "Square your shoulders for me."

"Like this?" Only, you pushed your ass directly into his crotch. Aaron's hold on your wrists immediately tightened.

He barely managed a hum in confirmation, swallowing hard. "Just like that."

"Okay you two," Dave lectured from afar, a mix between amusement and slight disgust visible on his face. "Keep it PG on the green, please."

[wordpress-blaze-242934854]

The Heart of My Healing: A Love Letter to My Fur Baby

While most people spend this day avoiding black cats and watching for signs of superstition, I get the joy of spending it with my fur babies. I’ve talked about Oliver before, but today I want to introduce someone truly special—Maxine Wye Davis.

Maxi came into our lives in 2013. She was a rescue, just over a year old when Scott and I adopted her. She was our first baby, and because Scott’s battle with cancer meant we couldn’t have children, she quickly became even more than a pet—she was family.

Now at over 13 years old, Maxine is still one of my greatest sources of comfort and light. She is one of the few reasons I made it through the early, darkest days of grief after losing Scott.

As a puppy, she was lightning fast, strong, determined—and incredibly stubborn. I’ll never forget the time she was hit by a car and walked away with a shattered shoulder. It didn’t stop her. She adapted, learned to thrive with three legs, and became even tougher. That resilience shaped her, and in turn, she has shaped me.

Maxi is loyal, loving, sweet, and endlessly wise. She has a way of looking deep into my eyes like she knows exactly how my heart feels. And sometimes, I swear she’s saying, “It’s okay, Mommy. I got you.”

Her quiet companionship, her gentle understanding, and her love have helped me hold it together when I felt like I might fall apart.

So today, on this spooky, mysterious Friday the 13th, I want to say: Thank you, Maxine Wye Davis, for loving me. I am one incredibly blessed mommy.

With light, love, and a little bit of puppy magic, Karen

Source: The Heart of My Healing: A Love Letter to My Fur Baby

[cameronsbabydoll]

babydoll!reader and rafe going to the kentucky derby 𓃗♡

warnings: suggestive content / implied smut (soft, consensual) adult themes (sex, alcohol, cigars) light sub/dom dynamics (pet names, praise kink) references to crying (reader is described as a crybaby but it’s not framed negatively) romanticization of vintage gender roles (reader as a domestic housewife type)

the suite smells like strawberry lotion and hot rollers.

your powder blue dress is laid out perfectly across the bed, the tulle skirt puffed like a cupcake, the satin bodice shining under the soft morning light. you’ve been up for hours, you woke up with curlers in your hair and lipstick swatched across your hand, already nervous and giggly about today. your eyeshadow is shimmer-pink and pearly, your cheeks all flushed and dolled up, and your lips have been painted and repainted three different shades of red.

you hum as you slip into your vintage heels, little white kitten pumps with bows at the toes, and you pause in front of the mirror to clip your grandma’s brooch to your waist sash. the hat—white and floral, with lace and netting—sits just so on your head. you do a little twirl, tulle swishing.

rafe whistles low from the balcony.

“jesus, doll. you look like you walked outta a painting.” he’s in slacks and a crisp button-down, jacket draped over his shoulder and a cigar tucked between his lips. gold ring on his pinky, sunglasses on, sun hitting his jaw just right. he looks like trouble. expensive, rich boy trouble.

you skip to him on soft steps, leaning on the balcony rail with lace gloves tugged snug to your wrists. “you like it?” you ask sweetly, voice light.

“like it?” he grins, dragging smoke from the cigar. “baby, you look like a fucking 50s housewife on her honeymoon. you sure you don’t wanna just stay in and play house with me instead?”

you gasp, playfully offended. “rafe cameron, i have a dress code to uphold! the kentucky derby doesn’t wait for vintage girls in love.”

—

it’s busy. bright. loud.

but you’re floating through it all like a dream. lace parasol in one hand, rafe’s arm in the other, white gloves gripping him like a tether. every man you pass turns to look, and every woman either smiles knowingly or sneers a little with envy. your lipstick-stained julep glass never leaves your fingers.

you’re chattering endlessly, pointing out the horses by name. “that one’s moonlight darling! oh she’s my favorite. she’s sparkly.”

rafe, who’s already lost too much money betting on horses with pretty names, groans.

“doll. you gotta let me pick this one.”

you pout. “but moonlight darling—”

he groans louder. “fine. but if we lose again i’m selling your parasol for gas money.”

you win. of course you do. you squeal, jumping up and down in your tiny heels, wrapping your arms around rafe’s neck like a child who’s just been handed a puppy. he catches you easily, lifts you off your feet, spinning you once with a breathless laugh. he’s completely fucked. no one’s ever made losing money look so adorable.

“i wanna ride one,” you whisper later, eyes shining as you stare at the stables.

“you what?”

“just for a picture,” you say sweetly, tilting your head. “please, baby? for my scrapbook?”

rafe looks at you—dressed like a housewife, gloves dusty, tulle skirt caught in the wind, clutching a paper fan and smiling up at him like you’ll die if he says no—and he sighs.

ten minutes later you’re on a horse, absolutely glowing, gripping the reins with your skirt puffed out like a pastry, cheeks red from the sun and laughter. rafe stands beside you, sunglasses on, one hand holding your ankle to steady you, the other flicking his cigar.

“you look so fuckin’ stupid,” he teases. “but like, in a cute way.”

you stick your tongue out at him and almost fall off.

—

you’re still breathless from the high when you get back to the hotel.

your gloves are peeled off, your hat discarded. rafe’s already loosened his tie, shirt half-unbuttoned, eyes locked on you as you slip off your heels and sink into the velvet couch like a melted piece of candy.

“you were real good today, babydoll,” he murmurs, sitting beside you, hand sliding over your knee. “didn’t cry once.”

you pout. “not true. i got teary when the old man gave me the horse ribbon.”

“ah. right. almost forgot you’re a crier.”

you giggle, curling into him like a kitten, your lips brushing his jaw. “you said i could have a prize,” you remind him. “what if i want you?”

he chuckles darkly, pushing your curls away from your face. “you already have me, sweetheart.”

he fucks you slow. sweet. soft.

your vintage dress pushed up over your hips, white cotton panties stretched to the side. you’re lying on the hotel bedspread, legs wrapped around his waist, pearl earrings still on. your lipstick’s smudged and your hands are trembling, mascara threatening to run every time he murmurs something filthy in your ear.

he praises you the whole time. tells you you’re pretty. tells you you’re good. tells you that he’ll buy you a damn horse if it means he gets to see you all pink and pouty like this again.

you cry. of course you do. right on cue, right as you fall apart around him, clutching his shirt and babbling something about how much you love him.

“i know, doll,” he whispers, mouth hot against your cheek. “you love me. you’re mine. my soft little thing.”

the next morning, you’re in one of your old slip dresses, barefoot in the suite kitchen, making breakfast with a record playing in the background. you’re humming along to frank sinatra and scrambling eggs like a housewife, your lipstick already on.

rafe walks in shirtless, hair messy, phone in hand. “what’s for breakfast, mrs. cameron?”

you giggle. “whatever you want, mister cameron.”

he kisses you hard and says, “good girl.”