#but if we’re talking about the same set of photos

[twopoppies]

.

[adrienneleclerc]

hiii! I was wondering if you could please do a fic where Charles is dating a tall reader kinda like Tom and Zendaya's relationship

Hi! So Tom and Zendaya have a two inch difference, I can definitely make Charles date like a 6’1 reader, I was debating whether or not to make her a model so she can take advantage of her height. So I made her model for the same agency as Kika and she met Charles through Kika.

Model Behavior

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Tall! Reader

Summary: Charles is obsessed with his girlfriend

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: i Don’t really follow “Tomdaya” like that But from what i see on TikTok, Tom is Zendaya’s biggest fan so let’s see how this turns out. Also sorry for the late response! I have not been sleeping well lately, let me tell you. Don’t know if this is what you wanted…

Kika and Y/N were doing a photo shoot for the Miss Dior perfume, they were in hair and makeup.

“Oh just FYI, my boyfriend and his friends are coming on the shoot.” Kika said as the makeup artist was doing her eyebrows.

“Oh that’s cool, I finally get to meet your F1 boyfriend. Why are they coming over though?” Y/N asked.

“Pierre said that he doesn’t have a race this weekend so he is free for today and he invited Charles with him because they’re doing something later.” Kika responded after checking her texts.

“Cool, cool, how’s my blowout looking, Dana?” Y/N asked her hairstylist

“It’s looking good, mama.” Dana said.

“You sure?” Y/N asked. (Personally, as someone with 2C/3A curls, I get paranoid when it comes to blowouts. Not to mention pin straight hair, I think it looks awful on me)

“Yes I’m sure." Dana replied, putting rollers in Y/N's hair to have that voluminous 90s blowout look. Kika and Y/N were sipping their smoothies that they got earlier when Kika's eyes were covered.

"Guess who." The frenchman said. Kika took his hands off her eyes and turned her head.

"Pierre, querido, hi!" Kika got up from her chair to hug him. When he separated from him, she saw Charles. "Charles, can't believe you're here." She hugged him as well. "Oh, this is my friend and coworker, Y/N." Kika introduced Y/N to the F1 drivers and Y/N got up from her chair.

"It is nice to meet you guys." Y/N said, hugging the boys as well. Charles was in awe of Y/N, not because she was taller than him, but because she was so beautiful, so ethereal, basically a walking angel. He wouldn't be surprised if she was a Victoria's Secret Angel as well.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Pierre, this is my friend Charles." Pierre said, patting Charles on the back, he just waved.

“Oh Charles, congratulations on your home race win, that must have been exciting, right?” Y/N asked.

“You Watch Formula 1?” Charles asked, finally getting the nerve to speak.

“Oh yeah, big Ferrari fan too.” Y/N commented and Charles smiled.

“Hey, we should all go out to eat when the shoot is done.” Kika suggested, looking between charles and Y/N.

“Sounds great.” Charles said.

“But we’re supposed to…” Pierre was interrupted by Kika dragging him away. “What.”

“Querido, It’s obvious Charles likes Y/N and she likes him too, let’s just do a little double date and see if Charles asks her out himself.” Kika explained to her boyfriend.

“Okay fine, but you have to pay me back for paintball.” Pierre said and Kika rolled her eyes.

“Yeah i know, bebé.” Kika said and she walked back to Charles and Y/N, who were still talking to each other. Kika was going to say something when Dana came back.

“Y/N, time to take those rollers out. Kika, you’re needed on set.” Dana said, taking out Y/N’s rollers and brushing out the Dyson curls.

“Oh yeah, I’ll talk to you later.” Kika said to Y/N. They took some pictures with Kika, then pictures with Y/N, and then there were some, photos taken with Kika and Y/N together. The shoot took about 2 hours and Charles was just watching in awe, seeing how Y/N posed and how the photos turned out in the monitor, she truly was beautiful.

“That’s a wrap everyone! Kika, Y/N, good work girls, I’ll see you on the runway.” The guy in charge said. Kika and Y/N thanked the man and changed back to their usual clothes before leaving with Pierre and Charles.

The 4 of them went out to eat and they had a great time. At the end of the night, Charles managed to ask Y/N out on a proper date and she said yes. They have been dating for a few months and Charles couldn’t be a better boyfriend.

Charles took videos of Y/N walking the runway, behind the scenes photos of Y/N getting ready, posted them to his instagram grid and story. He is so proud of her, he was standing up whenever Y/N walked out, clapping, cheering, being Y/N’s biggest fan.

“You were spectacular out there, mon coeur.” Charles said, getting on his tiptoes to kiss her cheek. Y/N was wearing heels so now she was 5 inches taller than him.

“Thank you, baby.” Y/N said. When they were walking outside the venue, paparazzi started taking photos of them. They made it to his car and Y/N saw Charles’s instagram. “Aww, thank you, Charles, you’re the best.” Y/N kisses him before he started the car. They made it to Charles apartment and Y/N was getting ready for bed.

“You are so beautiful, Mon coeur.” Charles said, looking at Y/N removing her runway makeup.

“You don’t have to keep saying that, you know.” Y/N said.

“But it’s true. I am so lucky to have you, my whole following thinks so too.” Charles said before kissing her. “You coming to the Grand Prix next weekend?”

“Yep! I Don’t have any photo shoots to do that weekend so I’m going to support you and Carlos.” Y/N said.

“Perfect, I love you.” Charles said, kissing her again.

“I love you too, babe. Goodnight.” Y/N said, they got into bed and cuddled until they slept.

Liked by francisca.cgomes and 1,378,993 others

charles_leclerc Milan Fashion Week (spring-summer 2025) with yourusername, she was amazing as always, so proud of my beautiful girlfriend, she’ll be on billboards in no time.

User27 I thought it was an Y/N fan account at first, but it was just Charles simping for his girlfriend 😂

User 32 Y/N is so beautiful 😍 how did Charles bag a baddie like her

charles_Leclerc guess im just lucky

User 23 imagine having your boyfriend dedicating a post to you. They are such an adorable couple

User 45 Y/N dedicates posts to him too whenever she’s at a Grand Prix, they are so perfect for each other

User 61 girl, they’ve been dating for 3 months, relax

User 45 but they’re so cute 🥰

The End

Hope y’all liked it! Also, just a little experiment, if you follow me, comment why, thank you!

[mywritersmind]

MESSY - LN4

pt.1

summary : After a steamy night together, neither Y/n or Lando expected to see eachother soon. Well, when they find eachother in the paddock and come to the realization that Y/n is a Piastri and Lando is Oscar’s teammate… things get interesting.

listen up : pt.1 bc i had an idea and wanna wait for baku to happen for pt.2! Piastri!sister. Mentions of sex.

word count : 562

⋆｡‧˚⋆

When I entered the paddock with my brother this morning, I expected to not know anyone. Yet when I turn around and my eyes are set upon a man in the same papaya orange that Oscar wears, My jaw drops.

“This is the media pen.” Oscar whispers in my ear as we stand in the back, “Never been on this side.” then, just like that, my fear comes true. He points at him, “That’s Lando- my teammate!”

“Lando?” I repeat because I'm in such a shock that I can’t say anything else.

“Mhm. You’ll like him.” Oh yeah, he has no idea how much. Maybe enough to fuck him!? God what kind of sick joke is this!?

Lando’s eyes stray from the reporter for one second, but it’s enough for his eyes to find me. He does a double take. He looks as shocked as I feel.

Seeing the guy who I hooked up with after meeting for five minutes in a dark club four days ago was NOT on my to do list today!

He pulls his eyes away and looks back at the reporter. What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“What the hell?” Lando managed to corner me after my brother left me in hospitality, “What the actual hell?” I mentally groan, not wanting to deal with this.

“I feel the exact same!” My hand goes to my curled hair, “Lando Norris? Seriously!?”

“You think that’s crazy? You’re my teammate's bloody sister!” he looks nauseous, “How did you not know who I was?”

We didn’t exchange names. We were both tipsy, could barely see with those damn strobe lights, then were blinded by lust- apparently!

I roll my eyes, “Oh please, not everybody knows you.”

“No.” He grits his teeth together, “But you should! Haven’t you seen photos? You’re telling me you have never seen Oscar and I together?”

I groan, “I don’t have social media! I watch F1 for Osc and you all have helmets on! Fuck this is messy.” I always skipped the media parts and Oscar doesn’t talk much about his job when he’s home.

We’re in Baku this weekend, I may have gone out alone and found comfort in a random guy. That same random guy made out with me in a corner and took me to his hotel after.

I groan, “Oscar can NOT know about this!”

“No shit!” Lando shakes his head, taking a breath before looking at me again, “I’m sorry… Im not upset. I mean, how could I be after our night?” He laughs to himself but my face remains flat, “I’m stressed this weekend.”

I sigh, flattening my nice black dress, “It’s okay. Neither of us knew.”

He looks pained again, “I can’t believe you are his sister.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I raise a brow skeptically.

“You’re just…“ He tries to find the words, “hot?”

I laugh, placing my hands on my hips, “Good to know you like one thing about me.”

“Trust me love, I like many things about you.” I punch him in the arm.

“Hush up!” I shake my head, “Makes sense that you’re a driver though.”

“Oh?” He crosses his arms. God his arms.

“It explains the stamina.” I shrug and walk away.

“Just because you’re his sister doesn’t mean I’m not up for another round!” I flip him off.

[flemingsfreckles]

New Name

Synopsis: You and Jessie find a way to subtlety announce your marriage.

WC: 2.1k

Warnings: none :)

A/N: stuff in italics is in the past, previous stuff that happened… I promise replacement and drunk dial are being worked on… just sometimes you need a little bit of a fluffy break

Jessie adds your last name to her jersey as a way of announcing your marriage

Jessie smirked as she walked around into the locker room, immediately making a brisk walk toward her cubby where her jersey for the game today was hung. She could see it from across the room, everyone else’s, back of the jersey facing the room, names obviously on display, except hers.

Hers had been turned around, just as she has requested. As she reached it, she took a deep breath before reaching for the hanger and turning it to look at the back. For the first time she read not only her own last name, but followed by a hyphen and your last name. Unable to contain herself Jessie felt a huge smile break across her face as she quickly grabbed out her phone snapping a photo of the back before sending it to you.

You were at home, cleaning up from the breakfast you had made for your newly made wife before she headed out for pregame work. She had told you she needed to go in for something early, you didn’t question it. Jessie often had meetings, media, little extra training she wanted to do, small stuff that she’d add on before or after her game days so this was nothing new. What she didn’t tell you was why she had gone in so early.

That surprise came in the form of a photo. You opened your phone after seeing the notification from your wife, smiling when you remembered she was your wife now, not just your girlfriend, not just your fiancée, she was your wife.

Jessie 🫎❤️: had to come in to make sure this was all set

Jessie 🫎❤️: Attachment

You clicked on the picture and your jaw dropped. You saw the all too familiar image of a jersey, Jessie’s name and number on the back. Only now, your last name sat side by side with your wife’s. You stared and stared at the image.

Jessie 🫎❤️: Hope that’s okay, I’m thinking now that I should’ve double checked that it was okay to do today. We talked about it for the first game back but, I’m sorry.

You: I’m speechless, definitely not upset

Jessie 🫎❤️: okay, I still should’ve checked with you, I just thought it would be a cool way to announce it, and I figured it’s a good time to do it.

You: So everyone will know we’re married after today, I like that.

Private but not secret has been the motto that describes your relationship with Jessie. The two of you had been dating since she was at Chelsea. Neither of you ever publicly announced you were dating, but the speculation was abundant. The two of you were always together. You posted photos of Jessie with you at farmers markets, at coffee shops, on hikes, you always attended her games and she’d come see you in the stands, you weren’t hiding it by any means. PDA was never something you were big on so it didn’t bother you to be reserved around your girlfriend when others were present. After nearly 3 years together in London, when Jessie made the move to Portland, you followed her, only solidifying the rumors and assumptions that the two of you were together when fans spotted that Jessie was still coming over to the same girl after her move.

After a year in Portland together, you proposed, Jessie said yes and the two of you slowly began planning a wedding. Unfortunately with the Olympics, international windows, the NWSL season, on top of your job, little to no wedding planning was done by either of you. Not that you minded, it was fine, you’d get to it when you did. You were committed regardless, a piece of paper and a party weren’t going to change that.

It had been an off week for Portland, you and Jessie had been having an easy morning, both of you on the couch, books in hand enjoying each other's company.

“Would you ever have considered eloping?” Jessie puts her book down looking across the couch at you and nudging her foot into your thigh.

“Hmm?” You hum, engrossed in your book not fully hearing what Jessie had said. You finish reading the sentence you were on before putting your own book down to give her your attention. “Sorry what?”

“Eloping? Would you have ever considered it before?” She asks flatly before adding. “It’s in my book, I just was curious.”

“What do you mean ‘before’?” You shifted on the couch, pulling the blanket up more.

“Like we’ve discussed having a big formal wedding obviously, I mean like, before we discussed that?” Jessie clarifies.

“I mean, sure, I think I’d still consider it honestly, easy, quick, intimate. I’m honestly surprised you were more into the idea of the big wedding.” It was true, despite the small planning you had done, the guest list had been one of the first things, when it was all said and done the two of you were looking at a couple hundred names of people you planned to invite.

“I’m not, I actually always liked the idea of eloping. Just me and my future wife, somewhere with a view. I thought you wanted to do the full formal wedding, and I think it’s just been programmed into my head that I have to invite all my teammates and by default that’s a big wedding.”

You hesitate for a moment, listening and processing Jessie’s statement. Just as she goes to reopen her book you speak up. “Want to then?” You say, raising an eyebrow at her and giving a shrug of your shoulders.

“Want to, what?” She puts the book back into her lap.

“Elope?” You say casually, unsure of how Jessie had lost her way in the conversation you were having.

“Seriously?” Jessie squints across the couch at you.

“If you are?”

“When?” She cocks her head at you.

“I’m free tomorrow or if not tomorrow I’m also available the next day?” It’s true, you both were free, no plans, no responsibilities.

You watch Jessie squint at you before a smirk begins to show on her face. “I can’t tell if you’re kidding with me or not.”

“I’m not.”

“Okay.” She sighs and laughs. “Tomorrow then.”

“Okay, let me make some calls.” You immediately hop off the couch, making a run toward your phone that sat charging. You hear Jessie laughing at the way you frantically jumped from the couch, that was a sound you were ready to listen to for the rest of your life.

It took 2 phone calls, one to Jessie’s sister and one to a local company that helped you sort out everything you’d need. Jessie’s sister had always been Jessie’s best friend and since the two of you started dating, you became closer and closer with her, she was already set to be Jessie’s maid of honor, it made sense to call her and ask if she’d be your witness. You both also knew you could trust her not to let out your little secret before you wanted everyone to know.

The following day the two of you, Jessie‘s sister, a photographer, and the man who would marry you arrived at the trailhead of a quiet path that you and Jessie frequently hiked.

The five of you hiked to a small opening within the trees, a view of a mountain in the clearing. While everyone got set up, you and Jessie walked over, hand in hand, taking a second to admire the view.

“This is perfect.” Jessie said her head resting on your shoulder as the two of you looked out.

“I know.” You let out a satisfied sigh. “I can’t believe we were going to do the big party instead.”

“I don’t know what we were thinking.”

Just minutes later you and Jessie stood hand in hand, looking at each other with stupidly happy grins on your faces and joyful tears in your eyes as you were officially pronounced as wives. The two of you had just exchanged silicone wedding bands, all you could manage with a 12 hours notice, agreeing you’d get metal ones once you broke the news to everyone.

Jessie pulled you in for a sweet kiss, sealing your marriage. “I’m your wife now.” She said quietly as she pulled away, her forehead resting on yours as the two of you looked at each other.

“You’re my wife.”

Jessie sat in her cubby, jersey still hung up behind her as she nervously bounced her leg. Her other teammates would be showing up any minute, she wasn’t sure how to go about it. Did she make it a big deal? Make a formal announcement? Did she just wait for someone to notice?

That’s when Janine came around the corner first, giving Jessie a quick smile and wave that the urge to tell someone broke. Had it been anyone else Jessie might have been able to hold the news in, but her best friend, she couldn’t do it.

“We got married!” Jessie nearly shouts at her teammate who whips her head around from where she was standing at her own cubby.

“What?”

Jessie turns, grabbing the jersey behind her and holding it out to Janine. “We, last Friday, we got married, we eloped.”

“Holy shit!” She comes up, grabbing the jersey to hold it out and look at it herself. “Wow. I can’t believe it. Shy little Jessie, married before me.” Janine teased. Jessie could feel her face flush slightly. “Is this your announcement?”

Jessie nodded. “We decided might as well let everyone know, confirm the suspicions everyone has had for years now.”

“That’s really exciting Jessie, I’m so happy for you both.” Janine pats Jessie on the back before pulling her in for a quick hug.

“What’s exciting?” The two turn to see more teammates trailing in. A couple of them looked over where Jessie and Janine were standing.

“Go ahead, show it off!” Janine hands her back the jersey and Jessie wanders over to where the group of teammates stood. She slowly starts telling her teammates the news. It's only a few minutes before her whole team knows and the locker room is filled with congratulatory applause and cheers from her teammates as they all learn the news.

A few hours later you’re standing in the family section, sporting a jersey of your own, your new shared last name across the back. When you arrived at the stadium to get your friends and family credentials, a member of the equipment staff had met you, presenting you with a jersey that matched the one in the photo Jessie had sent you. A small note from Jessie attached to it.

‘For my wife, I love you.’ You smiled at the note, the fact that wife was your official title now still had yet to set in. You thanked the staff and quickly found a restroom to change in before heading to your seat.

You found yourself sitting watching, your right index finger and thumb playing with the silicone band that now rested on your left ring finger. It felt weird. Not bad, but new and different, exciting, every time you touched it you thought of Jessie and your perfect little wedding. A few of the other player’s family had asked about the jersey, some of them making jokes that you two needed to hurry and actually get married until you told them you had. You received the same congratulations that your wife was getting from her own teammates.

When the speaker came on to announce the starting eleven for each team you nearly held your breath waiting for Jessie’s name to be called. You didn’t know if she was having them say it, maybe she’d keep it just her name for the lineup. When you heard her first name called, your ears perked up, not only was her last name announced, but your last name followed hers, just as it was written on the jersey. You noticed a murmur in the crowd after the initial cheers died down. No doubt people were confused about her name but you didn’t care.

The game was an easy one, Portland beating Seattle and you got to watch your wife score a beautiful goal. As it landed in the back of the net she immediately bolted over to where you were standing, holding out her left hand toward the direction in which you stood before kissing her ring finger. She then turned to celebrate with her teammates, but the celebration definitely got the message across.

When the game finished you made your way down to the pitch to find Jessie. “Hi wifey.” You say, coming up behind her and wrapping your arms around her to pull her close.

“Hi wife.” She says, pulling her attention away from her conversation with Quinn who quickly congratulated both of you.

“My last name looks good on you.” You say as you lean over putting a small peck on her cheek.

“I know it does, we should’ve done this years ago.”

[nhlclover]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐊 | 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

summary: luke takes the risk and admits his feelings for you

warnings: a couple instances of cursing, mostly fluff, awkward dialogue

word count: 1.40k

“Luke, if you don’t get your ass over there right now, I’m gonna do it for you.”

Luke turned back around in his chair, reluctantly meeting the sets of eyes boring at him. Dawson let out a snort at Luke's sheepish face. “Look at his cheeks, he’s blushing.” Dawson laughed.

Luke rolled his eyes, taking a sip from his glass. His drink, purchased over an hour ago, had now become watered down and lukewarm.

“You’re such a pussy.” Jack taunted, sipping from his bottle.

“Okay, fuck off guys,” Luke muttered.

Luke fought the urge to look back over his shoulder where he knew he’d spot you still, dancing freely with your friends. Your body swaying and twirling along with the beat, hand in hand with your friend.

“Luke, c’mon, she’s been in Jersey for… what, six months now? And you still haven’t made a move.” Nico pointed out.

“She’s… we’re just friends,” Luke said, pulling his eyes onto his glass.

“Oh please, Luke, you’re not fooling anyone with that whole ‘we’re just friends’ bullshit,” Jack said, his tone practically a laugh.

Luke opened his mouth to retaliate but shut it promptly when he realized he had nothing. Luke had spent countless nights replaying your interactions, dissecting every smile, every laugh, every glance. But nothing gave him a clear answer on what your relationship was.

He remembered the first time you met. One of Luke’s first days on campus he’d gone to the rink to film some content for the Michigan Hockey social media. Your eyes caught Luke first, sparkling as you instructed him on the content he needed to film and the various photos to take.

He got to know you over the year, and your relationship developed into something that felt like more than friends, but you never actually crossed that barrier.

You laughed at his jokes, but then again you laughed at everyone's jokes. You smiled wide at him, but you smiled at everyone. The ambiguity drove Luke mad. Sometimes, he thought he caught you looking at him, your gaze lingering a second longer than necessary. But then he’d dismiss it as wishful thinking. Maybe you were just friendly. Maybe you were just nice.

Then, early this summer when you gave the news of your hiring by the Devils to Luke, he felt that maybe he’d get to clarify what you were. But six months of you being in New Jersey had come and gone, and the status of your relationship still hung up in the air.

“Look, Luke, just go talk to her,” Dawson said, his tone softer. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Luke knew the worst. The worst that could happen was you telling him you didn’t see him that way. That you valued your friendship but nothing more. The worst was losing the ease and comfort of your current relationship. The late-night conversations, the inside jokes, the shared secrets.

But the best? The best was you feeling the same way he did. The best was the possibility of something deeper, real and deep. That thought alone made his heart race and his palms sweat.

“Guys I… I don’t know.” Luke admitted, his voice low and barely audible above the music in the bar. “What if she doesn’t feel the same way?”

Nico smiled softly, recognizing the nervous demeanour of the younger boy. “Luke, you’ll never know unless you go for it. And if she doesn’t feel the same way, at least you’ll have your answer. You can move on. But if she does… think about it, man. Think about how amazing that could be.”

Luke thought about it. Thought about what could be between the two of you. And right now the best was seeming like it was worth the risk.

Luke took a deep breath, his mind racing. He glanced over at you one last time, seeing the way you laughed and moved so effortlessly. The fear of rejection loomed over him, but something shone through and pushed him forward. He watched as you said something in your friend's ear, before laughing and sauntering over to the bar.

“Alright,” Luke said, standing up and setting his glass down. “I’m gonna do it.”

“Attaboy!” Dawson cheered, while Jack and Nico whooped in encouragement. Luke gave them a look and they quieted their cheering. The last thing Luke wanted was for the boys to freak you out before he even got a chance to speak.

Luke leaned on the bar next to you, flagging down the bartender before you got the chance to. “Hey, man, can I get a Heineken and a Jack and Coke?”

You shot Luke a small, appreciative smile, your heart tensing slightly at him remembering your usual drink order. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to,” Luke said, glancing over at you with a small smirk tugging on his lips.

Once you got your drinks, Luke fully turned to you, heart pounding. “Having fun out there?” Luke asked, nodding towards the dance floor.

You laughed, a sounds that was melodic in Luke’s ears. “Yeah, you should join us.”

Luke chuckled, shaking his head. “Maybe later. I'm more of an observer than a dancer.”

You raised an eyebrow, teasingly. “Oh really? I seem to remember a certain someone busting some moves at that team party last month.”

Luke felt his cheeks heat up at the memory. “Okay, okay, maybe I dance a little. But only for special occasions.”

“What? Is tonight not special?” you asked, taking a sip from your drink.

He leaned in slightly, eyeing your face for any hint of where you were going with this. “It is now.”

Your eyes widened slightly, caught off-guard by his sudden boldness. “Luke Hughes, are you flirting with me?”

Luke grinned, feeling a rush of adrenaline run through his veins. “Maybe. Is it working?”

You bit your lip, fighting back a grin. Despite him trying to keep a calm exterior, you could tell that Lukes mind was running a million miles a minute. “Maybe. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

Luke took a deep breath, deciding that it was now or never. He set his bottle down on the bar top, wiping his damp hands hands, either from sweat or the condensation of his bottle, on his shirt. “Okay, here it goes,” Luke said under his breath. “We’ve known each other for a while now, and… I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you. You’re amazing, and I love spending time with you.”

Your smile widened, but you stayed silent, giving him the space to continue.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is… I have feelings for you. More than just friends. I’ve been trying to figure out if you feel the same way, but I can’t tell. So, I’m just gonna come out and say it: I like you. A lot.”

Your expression softened, a mixture of surprise and something else that Luke dared to hope was mutual affection. "Luke… I don't know what to say."

“Say you feel the same way,” Luke said, his voice slightly desperate. “Or tell me you don’t, just give me something, anything.”

“Luke,” you began, your voice filled with warmth. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”

You nodded, a smile spreading across your face. “Yeah. I’ve liked you for a long time too. I just wasn’t sure if you felt the same way.”

Relief washed over Luke, and he couldn’t help but grin. “So… does this mean we can give this a shot? Us, I mean.”

You leaned in closer, your eyes locked onto his. “I’d like that.”

Luke felt a wave of joy and excitement as he closed the distance between you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. The bar around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in that moment. When you pulled back, you were both smiling, as months of pining had finally culminated.

“So… where do we go from here?” Luke asked.

“How about we start with a dance?” you suggested.

Luke laughed, feeling lighter than he had in months. "Alright, let's do it."

He took your hand, leading you to the dance floor, where you both lost yourselves in the music. As the night went on, Luke realized that taking the risk was the best decision he had ever made.

[eveninggstar]

Princess Treatment

Summary: Whilst on stream, your viewers ask why you don’t have “smoking fingers” and you provide an answer.

Warnings: reader smokes, reader is intended to be female, one sexual innuendo, pre-established relationship, reader gets nails done, no use of y/n

A/N: i watched a clip thing on tiktok of someone pointing out Jake’s fingers and it’s because of smoking so i thought why not have a cutesy girlfriend not ruin her freshly done nails.

also expect some Johnnie to come up i have three requests and they are actually amazing so tysm for them!!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You were sat on your pink gaming chair, swaying side to side whilst you were beginning your stream. The viewers rolled in quick, as well as the various donations and quick messages.

A message catches your attention, halting your swaying. “Did you get your nails done?” you mutter to yourself as you lean forwards. “Oh yeah! I did.” You lifted your hands up vertically showing off your fresh nails. “Jake took me for my birthday.” You had a cheesy smile on your face as you brought your hands down. You put them under your thighs as your shoulders hunched up at the mere feeling talking about Jake gave you.

“I was going to get them done anyway,” you paused and thought about your incredibly outgrown nails prior. “if you saw my nails before…Wait! did i show you guys?” you rushed to your phone and went through your gallery.

You found the photo Jake had sent you. It was a picture of you squishing his cheeks together with both hands, and you can see how outgrown your nails were. You flipped your phone to the camera, trying different angles so your viewers could see. “Stop focusing on me,” you muttered angrily to your camera. It focused and showed the chat a cute picture of you and your boyfriend, with your outgrown nails.

“Like we took this when we went target, with Johnnie.” You set your phone down and talked with your hands, even more than usual with your nails. “He literally called me over and went,” you took a breath and made your voice higher in irritation to mock Jake’s, “Babe, show me your nails!” you scrunched your face up, then resorted to your natural voice, “And so i did that, he took a picture.” you paused, showing confusion in your face, “I think he put it on instagram, on his story. I swear he did something like that and.. was there a poll on if he should pay for me to get my nails done?”

Looking at the chat you see the confirmation, or the people who were unaware on how bad your nails looked in shock. You rolled your eyes, “Anyways, i have such a cute boyfriend the came with me and payed.” You showed your nails off again.

This time another message caught your attention, “If you smoke why don’t you have ‘smoker fingers’?” You furrowed your brows at the question. “What the fuck is smoker fingers?” You looked down to your keyboard and began to type ‘what is smoker fingers?’.

“Okay Chat, smoker fingers are~” you dragged out the final word, “Yellowish discoloration on the ends of your fingers from holding a cigarette; wait!” you look at your fingers. “Oh i know why!” you were about to answer when you got a phone call from Jake.

“Hello, i’m streaming.” you held up your speaker to the microphone.

“You wanna know why your fingers aren’t yellow?” Jake yelled in irritation.

“Why?” you giggled with your hand over your mouth.

“Because you always make me hold your cigarettes! Look at my fingers!”

“I can’t, we’re not on facetime,” you were proved wrong as he came through your door behind you. You turned around to see him just stood there with a hand on the door handle and the other on his hip.

You look at the camera, then the stream to see what the viewers were seeing. Then you turned to see Jake still in the same position, causing you to lean into your hands that were propped up on your desk and failed to conceal your laughter. Jake then strutted up to the camera and held up his yellowing fingers with nails littered with chipped polish.

“Look! This is what she does, making me hold her cigarettes!” he then turned away from the camera to look at you cracking up and trying to hide in your hands. “What do you have to say about this?” he then held him fingers up to your face.

“Cigarettes are gross,” you spoke in a small voice with a smile on your face as you peered up at him.

“So you have it inside of your body?” Jake questioned and looked down at you.

“Well, i do that with you. Don’t I?”

He stood there in shock and strutted out towards the door, then he turned around with a cock of his hip.

“Never speak to me again!” he spoke in an accent, then went to another accent. (idk how to describe it it’s kinda like a pageant mum?) “Love you, sweetie.” he opened and closed his hand in a wave and left your room, leaving you laughing your ass to your audience.

781 words

[outerspacebisexual]

Memories of Days Gone By - Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer has never understood having a cluttered desk at work. Then you start at the BAU, and he's forced to share a desk with the least desk-tidy person in the whole FBI. Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader Word count: 3.1k Warnings: none, except talk of reader getting shot a/n: woah, outerspacebisexual actually writing instead of just reblogging post about writing? crazy Masterlist

Spencer always thought that having personal mementos in the workplace was weird.

Maybe it came from his mother, whose desk was always so cluttered she could barely place anything down without something else falling off. He could—as with everything else—vividly remember sitting in her office chair, spinning in around and around in circles, watching his framed toothy six-year-old-self flying past him again and again and again.

She never swapped out that photo, even when he got older and his round, chubby face became angular with his teen years. Not when he graduated high school, or college, or college again. In fact, he knew for certain that photo still sat on his mother’s bedside table. So you’re always here with me, she’d said on one of her good days. And even though most of the time she had no idea who the tiny child with thick frames was, she still traced a finger down the side of the glass before bed.

When Spencer first joined the BAU, he’d made a point to ensure his desk was cleared every hour. Empty coffee cups, old files, shredding, sticky notes; after one hour, it all went. That way he could ensure that everything got done.

And that same habit continued for years, until you showed up.

Hi, you’d said on your first day, sticking out your hand and smiling wide. Looks like we’re desk buddies.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. The desk had belonged to Emily before you got there, and the idea of looking up and seeing you was just another reminder that he’d lost her.

He was nice to you, of course. You hadn’t done anything wrong. You’d simply taken a job opening from the ballistics unit to the BAU. It wasn’t your fault that his dead friend’s desk was now yours.

At first, he noticed how you had a habit of leaving empty coffee cups on your desk, choosing to get another one rather than reuse the one already on your desk. It wasn’t a problem. There were plenty of mugs in the kitchen. But when your chair hit your desk, they chimed together, and the noise set him on edge.

He left it alone for the first month.

But then came the files.

Files piled up on your desk---not in neat piles marked ‘Complete’ and ‘Incomplete’ like his—just spread out across the surface in every direction and orientation. And as the week went on, more and more were added until there was no discernible way to tell which had been done and which hadn’t. This led to you having to leaf through folder after folder until you found the one you were looking every day.

Spencer had been tempted to say something one week when he’d watched you out of the corner of his eye search for a file for fifteen minutes. You’d found it right as he opened his mouth, spinning in your chair and heading straight for Garcia’s office. Spencer had sat and stared at the mountain of manila folders then entire time you were gone, thinking to himself, How could you put up with this?

How could you deal with having to fight with your desk at every second of the day just to find something? The idea of it made him want to throw up. Not that his apartment was any better, he knew that. But there was a difference between work and home. Home was allowed to be messy and cluttered, full of the rest of your life outside of work. Work was work. It depended on being able to obtain information quickly and efficiently—not after ten minutes of rooting around.

Hey, Reid? you’d asked one afternoon. Have you seen that Milwaukee case file?

Which one?

The consult one? With the three missing girls?

He tried his best not to roll his eyes. I think you put it down on the edge of your desk.

You spun and rifled through the stack, grinning when you held it up. You’re a genius, you know that?

Pursing his lips, he said, Believe it or not, I do.

Spencer might’ve been bad at reading social clues, but he wasn’t an idiot. He knew that you were just trying to be nice and start a conversation, but he reached over and lifted the phone to his ear, pretending not to notice the way your face fell. You quietly turned back to your computer and opened the file.

A week later, you tried again. Reid, do you want coffee?

No, he answered quickly, despite blinking back the sting of a 3:00am emergency case. ‘Urgent’ was all the text from Hotch had said, and now he was sitting behind his desk once again, for the fifty-second hour this week. Hotch was never wrong. There had never been a case that Hotch had chosen where the team hadn’t been needed, not in all the years Spencer had worked for the BAU. But he couldn’t deny that there were times that he wished he wasn’t at work.

You sure? I know we got more sugar, if that’s what you’re worried about.

I’m fine, he snapped, harsher than he’d intended. Thankfully, you left it alone.

+

Then, you were all in Atlanta, consulting on a case of three male bodies and another man missing. By the morning, his head had cleared, and he noticed the space you’d put between the two of you when you both arrived at the ME’s office.

Doctor Glenn, thanks for meeting with us, you started.

Doctor Glenn had smile brightly at you, standing from behind his desk to shake your hand. Spencer waved. Of course. And please, Scott is fine.

You sent him a soft smile. Where are we with the latest autopsy?

Well, from what I can tell, the murder weapon was some sort of short-bladed knife. What kind, I can’t say for certain. The advanced decomposition on all three makes it tricky.

Something like a kitchen knife? Or pocketknife?

Scott nodded. It’s possible. Like I said, I can’t be sure at this stage.

Can I see the photos? Spencer asked.

Absolutely, Scott replied. I was going to give you the file anyway. He opened the closest folder to him, but frowned. Oh, this isn’t right. Sorry, it’s here somewhere.

Noting his reddening cheeks the longer he searched, you said, Your desk looks a lot like mine.

If Scott noticed you attempt to put him at ease, he didn’t make it known. Brows pinched tightly together, he queried, The BAU doesn’t have strict guidelines on that kind of thing?

You shrugged. Maybe, it does. Though, I’m sure I’d have been written up by now if it did. You leaned forward in your chair to glance at the photo frames on the side. Spencer could see them clearly from where he sat. Two dozen frames littered the side of his desk, all displaying four boys---from baby photos to teenagers. Are they your boys?

Scott, visibly grateful to have a distraction while he continued rustling through drawers, didn’t look up. Yes, the four of them. James, Patrick, John, and Liam.

Spencer watched in silence the conversation the two of you had.

How old?

James is almost 21, Patrick, 19, and John and Liam are both 16.

Twins?

Indeed.

Must have been a handful when they were younger, I’m sure.

He smiled gently. You don’t know the half of it. John’s decided to head to college in California and Liam’s heading to New York.

It must be nice to have them close, at least for the time being, you replied.

It is. I don’t quite know what I’ll do once they’re gone, if I’m honest. And I worry. Like every parent does, I suppose.

Well, if they’re half as kind as all these photos make them out to be, then I’m sure they’ll be just fine.

That’s kind of you to say. I’m not blind, either. I know it’s a lot.

You laughed. It’s not, I promise. It’s nice to have something to remind you of the good. Especially with jobs like yours and mine. Reminds you of what you’re working for. Who you’re working for. There’s so much darkness out there, if we don’t remind ourselves, we can get lost in it.

Scott produced a file from the bottom drawer, and Spencer just stared at you, even as you took the file and flipped through it.

+

A month later, Spencer found himself hunched over his desk, computer brightness on low as he tried his best to block out the noise emanating from every corner of the bull pen. With the migraine he was sporting, he was sure he could hear all the way to reception, which did nothing to help his pounding head. He clicked random buttons on his computer as his eyes watched each minute tick by.

Four hours. That was all he had left. Then he could leave and collapse down onto his couch and sleep for two days until it was gone. With each passing minute, his brain fog got worse, until he was reading the same sentence for the fifth time in a row without comprehending what it was saying. Who even sends an email at 1:04pm on a Friday?

Aaron Hotchner, according to the contact name at the top. He needed to reply. Hotch would be expecting an answer.

Spencer hadn’t even realised you’d been speaking until you waved a hand in the air over the partition between your desks.

What? he asked, when you just stared blankly at him.

I asked if you were OK?

He sat up straighter, doing his best to ignore the pain that stabbed through him. I’m fine.

You cocked an eyebrow. Are you sure? You don’t look great.

I said I’m fine.

You were silent for a long moment, and you refused to break eye contact with him. That was until you leaned over and reefed open a drawer.

What are you doing?

You continued to dig through it. I have some pain meds in here. Nothing fancy, but you look like you could use some ibuprofen.

I don’t need it.

And I don’t need to sit here and watch you suffer for the rest of the day, Reid. Seriously. It’s painfully obvious.

Spencer didn’t have it in him to reply. Any other day, and he might’ve snapped at you. But today, he would take your kindness. As he came around to your side, he peeked inside your drawer, noting it was the same as the top of your desk. Cluttered and messy.

He stared at the mountain of files, eyes roaming over your desk. Your nameplate. Your empty coffee cups. Your photos. He paused as he took them in—for the first time since you’d been here.

Many different photos were tacked onto the partition. Most were of a cat and a dog and a few people who he assumed were family and friends from outside of work.

Only one was framed—a photo of the team. He could remember the day. You’d only been at the BAU for a month and upon returning from a hard case, Garcia had surprised you with a cake and balloons in the conference room. You’d cried, he remembered. Which he’d thought was weird, but hadn’t taken much note of at the time. Anderson had snapped a photo at Garcia’s insistence.

Suddenly, a sleeve of ibuprofen was thrust into his chest. Here.

Thank you, he mumbled.

You don’t need to thank me, Reid. Just take it, and maybe seen Hotch about leaving early. That can be your thanks. You gave him a tight-lipped smile, which he returned before heading to the breakroom.

+

Six months after you started at the BAU, you got shot.

Not life-threatening, but a bullet to the shoulder meant you were laid up on leave for two weeks.

The bullpen had never been so quiet, Spencer thought. Though maybe it was his guilt that made him think that. It had racked him every day of the two weeks since they’d gotten back from Wichita. The bullet had been meant for him, and if he’d actually been paying attention to his surroundings, then he wouldn’t have missed the UnSub lining up the shot, and you wouldn’t have pushed him out of the way, taking the hit for him.

Your screams still echoed in his mind. The first, his name: Spencer! Get down! And the second, your yelp of pain. Spencer had fired off two shots in quick succession, taking out the UnSub with barely more than a thought before he was turning to you lying flat on your back and gripping your shoulder.

He’d accompanied you to the hospital, where they said long-term damage was unlikely, but you would have a long road to recovery until you had full use of your arm again.

Hotch had immediately put you on leave, threatening that he’d make you take even longer if he saw you in the office at all before the two weeks was up. You had kept your word to him that you’d take the full two weeks.

Spencer hadn’t been sure what to do about your desk for the first few days. Hotch had instructed him to take over your files, which was easier said than done.

Heaving your last folder into his ‘Complete’ tray, he breathed a sigh of relief. Glancing at the clock, he realised he’d been zoned out writing reports for four hours. The rest of the team had all gone—aside from Hotch, but when wasn’t he in his office.

Starting over the partition, Spencer eyed the mess that still cluttered your desk. He hadn’t wanted to touch anything except the files, which he’d gingerly sorted into what was done and what wasn’t, careful not to disturb anything else on the desk.

Now, staring at all you’d left behind when they’d suddenly been forced to jet off, he wondered if tidying it was the least he could do. Maybe you would thank him for it. Or maybe you’d tear his head off for touching your stuff.

He decided to take that risk.

Collecting the loose papers and random Post-its, he placed them neatly into piles to the right of your computer. Most where mindless reminders for yourself—Get the dry cleaning! and Pay the water bill by tonight!

Spencer wasn’t always grateful for his eidetic memory, but not having to remember small day-to-day tasks was a huge bonus for him. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to cope without it.

He straightened the tacked photographs and wiped down the team photo. He made sure your computer was properly plugged in. He ensured your tablet was fully charged for your return. He was almost satisfied, when he noticed one green Post-it note had fallen behind your monitor screen. Weaving his hands between the cords, he pulled it out.

Thanks for the ibuprofen. I really appreciate it.

Below his barely legible script, sat a small face he’d doodled. Truthfully, he hadn’t thought anything of it since he stuck it to your monitor.

But you still had it, even two months later.

He stuck it back where he’d put it the first time.

+

You’re back, Spencer said as he entered the bullpen the next morning.

I am, you replied, grinning wide. Do I have you to thank for this?

Placing his bag down on his seat, he said, I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Oh, come on. There’s only one other office neat freak in this whole place, and I know for a fact it wasn’t Hotch. When he said nothing, you rolled your eyes. Fine. Guess I’ll have to pass my thanks on to the boss man.

Spencer smiled as he unloaded his bag.

Cat got your tongue or something, Reid? He kept his lips sealed perfectly shut. Ok, then. Keep your secrets. I don’t need to know them. I don’t want to know them anyway.

I’m getting a coffee, he said suddenly, cutting off your teasing drawl. Do you want one?

You blinked. What?

I said, I’m getting a coffee. Would you also like one?

Uh, yeah. That would be great, you managed after a moment. Thanks.

He nodded, and he pretended he didn’t feel your eyes watching him the whole time as he made his way to the break room.

+

“Reid?” Morgan called, and Spencer looked up from the file he was currently nose-deep in. “Are you coming?”

“What’s happening?” he asked, furrowing his brows.

Morgan groaned. “Don’t tell me you forgot about dinner at Rossi’s tonight.”

“Oh, that’s tonight?”

“Yes, pretty boy. How could you forget?”

“I didn’t forget,” he mumbled, gathering his belongings as Morgan made his way over to him.

“From the looks of it, you absolutely did.”

“I didn’t. I just…have a lot on my mind.”

Morgan stopped at the side of Spencer’s desk, his signature smirk adorning his face. Spencer didn’t even look at him as he hastily jammed files into his bag.

“This is new,” Morgan commented, and he glanced over to see him staring at a framed photo he’d picked up.

When he flipped it around, Spencer could see it. The photo of him in his apartment, sitting on the couch, grinning ear to ear, and you sat right beside him, holding your left hand up to display the shiny ring adorning your finger. You’re looking directly at the camera. Spencer is only looking at you.

Spencer took the photo from him. “I liked it, so I got it printed.”

He didn’t have to tell him that he got every photo printed now. He’d never been a fan of technology, and the idea that all his best memories were being held ransom on a device that could be destroyed any minute made his head spin. So, he got every photo printed. Most were safely tucked away in albums on his bookshelf at his apartment.

But this one was special.

Morgan’s voice was gentle as he said, “It’s nice.”

Spencer smiled and brushed a finger over the glass. “Reminds me of the good,” he said.

Then he placed it back down on his desk, the frame right at home amongst all the others.

[babygorewhore]

Newlyweds

Mafia AU Rafe Cameron x fem reader

After a dangerous situation, you’re forced to marry mafia boss Rafe Cameron. Someone you went to high school with years ago. And now, you both attempt to make the best of it.

Warnings! OOC Rafe a bit considering it’s a AU. Non graphic Talks of violence, beginning of a universe for my version of mafia Rafe. Male receiving oral! Degrading! He is covered in blood but it’s not readers! Praise! Unprotected sex! Photo in the middle is edited by @rafeyscurtainbangs

Not only was Rafe Cameron your previous enemy from high school, a certified asshole who most people avoided, he was also apparently in the mafia. A fact you didn’t learn until you were forced into a marriage with him weeks ago.

The situation was necessary. A bargain you had to make in order to save your family who owed their rivals a debt.

In order to maintain your and your parent’s safety, you agreed to marry Rafe for status. For protection. You lied to your friends, saying you’d both been secretly dating for a while and decided to get hitched.

It could be worse, you reasoned during moments of anxiety and anger. While Rafe was a dick, he did provide a nice bedroom and bought you a ring that was fitting to your personality. You both were reluctant to this arrangement and so far stuck to minimal interactions.

His only soft spot you observed was in the way he spoke to his youngest sister. Wheezie. He didn’t give her the same cold, sarcastic bite everyone else got. Did you eavesdrop? Yes but you might as well learn as much as possible.

Rafe’s newest peace offering was currently in front of you.

A wardrobe full of new clothes. All your size, tailored to your figure and even specific items used in your hobbies. He didn’t leave hand written notes or explain how he knew what to buy.

You selected a dark dress and a necklace above your heart. Both suited to your body but it radiated a new life. One that promised danger, wealth and power. He insisted you join him for dinner, sending you a nonnegotiable text in the morning. Signed off with a simple, R.C.

The table was already set when you entered the dining room. It was dimly lit and the plates were expensive. The style was clean cut. Newest editions of technology in every corner with a view of the ocean nearby.

Rafe sat at the head. Still in his business clothes but his tie was gone. His shirts and pants were always pristine. His legs were parted, large hands gripping the arms of the chair as he watched you sit across from him.

He looked angry, blue eyes on fire and his jaw twitching with irritation. You weighed your options, crossing your ankles as you toyed with the fringes of the tablecloth. Ultimately, you decided to speak.

“Is everything okay?”

He snorted and his shoulders rolled. Rafe tapped his fingers against the chair, his gold rings shining around his fingers. “Had to handle some business. I’m tired of dealing with incompetent people and family shit.”

You watched as he chewed his lower lip and bounced his knee. You narrowed your eyes and leaned forward.

“Was any of that about me? About our,” You looked for the right word, “situation?”

Rafe gave you a bitter smile. “Oh yeah, yeah, yeah. Couple of people notice how unhappy we look and have big ass mouths. They know we avoid each other.”

“Shit,” You breathe and he nods.

“Yeah. Shit. So, this whole thing is gonna fall apart if we keep this up.” Your hackles started raising but Rafe pressed on, “I mean if we’re gonna do this we might as well…be friends or something.”

That surprised you. His effort to seem calm and logical. You knew it was probably unreasonable to still view him as that high-school jock who bullied Pogues almost ten years ago. Or the fact you were one of the few people who stood up to him.

“You want to be friends?” You parroted and Rafe flicked his hand nonchalantly.

“That’s what I said, right? Look,” Rafe set his elbows on his knees, trying to seem smaller. “I’m not some kid anymore. And as shitty as this whole thing is, I’m trying here. I’m trying to make all this work and take care of everyone.”

Your defenses let down slightly and you acknowledged his point. You raised a glass and held it up in a truce.

“Friends?”

Rafe had a ghost of a smile on his face, a sight that was attractive and he raised his own.

“Friends.”

Two weeks later, Rafe stormed in the house and he was losing his mind. You were out of the shower, still wearing a robe with nothing underneath when you heard the echoing slam of the door. You heard him screaming at the handful of people who worked at the house, ordering security and barking orders that you couldn’t understand.

You removed your headphones, his words muffled by and you stood up to leave your bedroom.

You both made an effort to be friendly, you wouldn’t say a particular bond was there but the terms were improving. Your conversation about friendship looming in the air as you came downstairs.

You searched for him and found him sitting in his office. A lineup of books on shelves, computers and photographs around you. The leather seat was large underneath his body but you were shocked at the sight of him covered in blood.

Rafe trembled and you noticed the gun in his right hand. He stared at you with his nostrils flaring.

“What the hell happened?” Your eyes widened as he tapped the gun against the chair.

“Lot of people died tonight. An investment of ours went wrong and uh,” He laughed but it leaked with rage, “Our common enemy attempted to kill one of my men.”

He had shared the name of one of his partners, someone he spoke about with something close to respect.

“Barry?”

Rafe nodded and blew out a breath. “Part of the deal. People step out of line, people disobey orders or they turn on us,” He glanced at the gun. “And we don’t forgive it.”

He exhaled tightly and met your eyes. “One of em said some shit about you. Said they were gonna kill you. And I shot him without a second thought.” Your mouth parted at his confession.

“You protected me.”

Rafe licked his teeth and laid his head back against the seat. “I protect what’s mine. Anyone who tries to take what belongs to me away, pays the ultimate price.”

His statement gave you chills. You shivered despite the warm robe and a carnal desire ached in your core. The sight of the blood, his spread legs and the gun dangling loosely in his hand made you approach him.

You knelt down, toying with the button of his pants. Rafe looked down at you, his neck straining as his chest heaved at your nimble fingers. You paused and waited for him to give you permission.

“You wanna suck my cock, baby doll? Thank me for what I did?” His voice had a playful tone but he set down the weapon. He set a steady palm on the top of your head as you tugged his pants down.

An urgency overtook you and you hastily peeled down his boxers. You swallowed at the sight of his dick. He was big, thick and the tip pulsed with need as he adjusted his hips. He was giving you an invitation and you gladly took it.

You started off teasing, kissing his happy trail and making your way down to lick the soft skin. Rafe locked his fingers in your hair, encouraging you forward and you sucked his balls. He grunted sharply as you moaned and instinctively bounced on your heels.

You took him into your mouth, the tip shooting precum on your tongue as you bobbed your head and teased him with the rhythm. Rafe began to unravel, his hold firm and he wrapped his hand around your head. He brought your nose to his stomach and you gagged. Deepthroating him as your hands flew to his thighs.

You started running out of air, tears flickering in your lashes and you pulled back. Drool and his pleasure seeping from your mouth. He growled at the sight.

“Filthy little slut. I got half a mind to cum on your pretty face and send a picture to everyone. But I need to feel that pussy,” Rafe hauled you on his lap. Your legs straddling his dick moments before he shoved you down.

Your wet cunt sucked him in, sending a whine through your throat and Rafe groaned the further you sank. He drove his pelvis up, his pace brutal as he smashed his lips to yours.

You tasted the tang of blood on his mouth but it only increased the pressure in your stomach. Rafe’s flesh hit your clit as you bounced, your thigh muscles aiding the movement.

“Mhm, ride my dick. Taking me like such a good girl. You’re so goddamn pretty like this,” He moaned into your mouth and he lewdly licked a stripe up your neck.

Your nipples were painfully hard as you held onto his shoulders and circled your hips. Rafe smacked your ass and wrapped his hand around your throat. Not extremely hard but enough to get your attention.

You cried out a louder sound of pleasure and Rafe wickedly smirked.

“God, you’re so fucking disgusting. Getting off on me choking you?” He scanned your body, watching your tits bounce as you fucked him faster. “That’s it, come on you can do it better than that. Uh huh, you gonna cream on it?”

You wailed as your climax hit you and you shook. Rafe growled, “Open your fucking mouth!” His loud command mixed in with your orgasm made you immediately listen.

He spat in your mouth and gave you one more hard thrust. Rafe’s cum burst into your pussy, your entrance greedily taking in his seed.

He held you as you both came down from aftershock and you caught a glimpse of yourself in a reflection.

His hand left a bloody print on your neck. From his enemies that were now yours.

“Now, you’ve really sealed the deal.” Rafe lifted you up, making your legs encircle his waist and he laid you on the desk. He shoved aside what was in his way and started trailing his lips down your chest.

“You’re such a sweet girl, huh? Rewarding me? Now, you’re gonna let me reward you.”

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Tagging @xxbimbobunnyxx @oceandriveab @oceanblvd111 @redhead1180 @gri959 @loserboysandlithium @usergeta @rafeinterlude @rafecameroninterlude @cameronsprincess @sturnioloshacker @stillwjk-channie-lixie @justafangirls-blog

[chaosandmarigolds]

Bc I’ve gotten so many requests!

MafiaLeadersdaughter (MLD Ig??) ! Reader x Simon Riley :p

Lil dribble Drabble series

“Aside from the obvious,” Simon motioned to the papers over the table, the photos taken of the obscure weapons dealers and organized crime leaders information and every little fact anything could be dug up on the few people they wanted to find. “What exactly am I needed to get ou’ of this?”

To that Price gives the lieutenant a small shrug, “Collateral. Get the information you can while undercover and when your cover is blown, bring the girl back.”

He looks down at the few pictures he had of the certain sects leader, a beaming smile across the face and an arm looped through a friend’s. Unassuming, pretty, sweet looking. Easy target- all the same, smart, probably wouldn’t let any information out.

Undercover had never been his thing anyway.

-

“Good morning, Jenny,” you happily chrip as you walk into the flower shop, looking through the new arrangements and you look over to the counter- expecting to see the same smile who had seen for the past four months. Instead you see an older person, maybe finish years older, a man- a medical grade face mask over his face but you still give him a kind smile. You set down your vase you were looking over and then walk over to the counter, “I’m sorry, I was expecting Jenny. But good morning to you too!”

With a quick introduction between you both you hum to the name and then leans forward, “Oh my gosh, I love that name. I have that name on my baby name list. ‘Simon’ ugh…so cute. Anyway-“ you tap the counter and then motion to the flower arrangements, “I’m picking these up for my dad, we have some guys from Italy coming and he wants to be all ‘ou look we’re so fancy.’”

“Right. Right,” With a short nod you watch as the man mutters to himself and then grabs the flowers. Only to falter to the sight of who you assumed to be Ivon.

You glance over your shoulder and then laugh, “oh! Let me introduce you- Simon this is Ivon, Ivon’s from Russia or something, owed my father money so he’s my bodyguard until his debt his paid. Ivon say hi!”

“Hallo.”

With a nod you look back to Simon, “Are you new to the area?”

With a glance between you and Ivon Simon sets the case down, “Moved about two weeks back.”

“Oh my gosh! Please, please please! Tell me you have friends or family here.”

“No ma’am.”

“Oh ew, don’t call me ma’am, that’s my mother- god rest her soul- but! You need an official tour of Manhattan, when do you get off?”

“Five.”

“Dinner? And Ivon can take you anywhere you wanna go! Not like uh…” you look him over, “you need a guard but Ivon’s the best, and I love to get to know everyone new to the community.”

-

“‘Ello.” Johnny had picked up the phone.

“Is capn there?”

“In a breifin wit Lasswell, made contact?”

Simon runs a hand down his face as he looks out the window of the shop, watching as Ivon ever so softly helped you into the car with the flowers. “Uh….yeah yeah.”

“Need backup?”

“Nah! Nah, I….she’s takin me to dinner.”

A silence.

“She’s fuckin doin what-?

“She’s as goody as she can get! I dunnae if it an act or somethin but—anyway, the meet between the Cortitalis? It’s happening.”

“Oi- how’d ya get that out of her-“

“Johnny she told me during our small talk.”

“…so she’s stupid.”

“No. She’s not and that’s the thing-“ the bell rung as another costumer is walked in and Simon takes a breath, “Gotta go.”

—

Annn…yeah, that’s all I got. I have a plot in mind but bear with me, if you have any feedback or comments please! I would love to hear them. <3

[reidsdimples]

When Everything Changed | Part 1

Enemies to lovers | Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Angst 🖤

Spencer isn't a fan of the BAU's new genius (you).

You didn’t have a particular like or dislike for Dr. Spencer Reid. For the most part you felt fairly neutral. He was a colleague, one of the team. The two of you weren’t super close but Garcia says that’s because there’s not enough space in the BAU for two genius’s.

He didn’t seem to care for it when you blurted out facts that Hotch asked for or knew a statistic down to a closer decimal than he did.

“If you would do your reading on rapidly updated internet databases instead of printed out media, your statistics wouldn’t be a month behind,” you sniped at him after he sassed you.

Hotch gave you a pointed look.

“He said 13.6% and you said 13.2%- that discrepancy is not one I’m concerned with. 13% would have been fine,” Hotch said and looked back down at the case file before him.

The jet hummed softly, Rossi raising his eyebrow at Reid who seemed to have something to say.

“Reid what do you know about sharp force injuries to the ears?”

“The ear canal is a sensitive and vulnerable part of the body, often associated with communication and hearing. The criminal may have chosen this specific method as a way to assert control or power over their victims by targeting a vital sensory organ. Depending on if he wound it into the brain slowly, it may have been a sadistic killing,” he answers rapidly.

“You think this was torture? It looks more like an instant death,” you answer.

“Ancient torture methods focus on the ears as a way to deal pain by shattering the ear drums and rendering the victim deaf. Given the amount of blood in the right ear I’d say it was done antimortem as a form of torture while the pick through the left ear was the killing blow. He even angled this ice pick upward and into the brain,” he runs his long fingers over the crime scene photos to show you.

You’re almost in awe that he was able to deduce that before seeing the bodies but you say nothing.

"The first two only had an ice pick to the ear which killed them," Hotch said.

"Maybe he hadn't learned yet that he enjoys the torture," Rossi adds.

“Either way this unsub has a fascination with ears,” JJ says.

“Maybe he’s deaf himself?” Morgan chimes in.

You accidentally kick Reid’s ankle while adjusting in your seat across from him, he snaps his head up and narrows his eyes on you.

The conversation spurs on all the way to Portland, Maine where the smell of saltwater invades your nostrils as you step off of the plane.

-

The following day you’re partnered up with Reid to sort through a series of clues left by the unsub. Two more bodies dropped in twenty-four hours, leaving 8 riddles on 8 bodies that needed to be decoded.

“I can take care of this myself,” Reid argues with Hotch.

“I know you can but an extra set of eyes can’t hurt, we’re on a time crunch. Monica Dentz went missing four hours ago. If he sticks to his MO, she only has ten hours left,” with that Hotch exited the room.

Reid rather aggressively tossed his should bag on the table before snatching up copies of the riddles from the table and pinning them to the board.

“I’m not trying to get in your way,” you sigh. You watch him organize the riddles on the board.

“Try harder,” he snaps.

You scoff but your eyes scan over his tall frame as he puts the board together. Nope.

“I think the first one is talking about a ship, same with the third and fifth,” Reid says as he flips a pen in his fingers.

“If you’re taking it literally. ‘Alone in the tide’ could just be a metaphor for loneliness,” you point out.

“And what do you make of ‘the bow takes charge, towards the arctic waters where she sleeps’?” He asks. He’s less condescending this time, more curious but still annoyed.

“That.. that’s probably about a boat,” you accept.

“If you look at these as a story, where you read them from the first lines strung together and then the second lines… it reads like a book. I think someone he loved died at sea,” it seems to click for Reid and he starts scribbling on the board. “And here… I think this means there was an explosion. A boiler room maybe?” He’s moving around the two boards quickly, talking fast, pushing his hair back from his eyes. For a moment you almost find it adorable.

“Maybe he went deaf in a boating accident that killed someone he loves…” you add, standing to look at the board.

He calls Garcia and then Hotch.

“He’s killing them on a boat, it’s symbolic for him. We think he was a victim of a boating accident and lost his hearing…” he continues to speak but you become distracted.

Why were you becoming attracted to him? He was never ugly but you had never noticed him this way before. He was too busy infuriating you with his attitude. Yet he was growing on you in the last few months. Weird.

“Now what?” You ask him.

“We wait for them to get names. Hotch will tell us where he needs us next, we’ll continue to work the profile from here,” he places the pen in his mouth and flips through the victim profiles again.

“Don’t you have an eidetic memory? Why do you keep going through those…”

“Helps me deduce the information,” he shrugs dismissively.

You frown.

“Ya’know,” you sigh and pull up a chair across from him. “I have no intention of overshadowing you.” He glances up from the file.

“So why do you go out of your way to correct or narrow down my answers?”

It’s a perfectly reasonable question. You didn’t know why you did it.

“Habit? I’m used to being the smartest person in the room,” you admit.

“Right,” is his only response as he opens another file.

You don’t know what else to say so you take a look at the profile the team has built.

2 hours pass in awkward silence before Hotch calls the two of you to meet them at the east harbor for a raid of the now named suspects boat.

Once you arrive, Morgan and Prentiss greet you while you’re fumbling with your vest. After a moment and a frustrated sigh, Reid steps behind you.

“Here the strap is twisted up,” he says.

His fingertips graze your hip where your shirt is riding up. Your breathing hitches but you try not to appear affected.

“Thanks,” you tell him.

“Sounds like a plan,” you answer Prentiss who had been explaining the entry points.

“The two of you friends now?” Morgan asks Reid.

“I wouldn’t call it that,” Reid answers stoically with his hand propped on his gun. You scoff and shake your head.

“What?” Reid turns his head to you.

“Nothing, let’s just do this,” you snipe. Morgan and JJ exchange an concerned glance.

The man was impossible. You understood if he had walls up, if he didn’t like new people or the competition. But he’s not even trying to welcome you in the slightest.

The scent of ocean air and dead fish fills your nostrils as you follow behind Morgan down the dock. Reid and JJ creep onto the stern of the considerable sized old yacht while Hotch, Rossi, and Prentiss took the bow. You and Morgan are entering through the main entrance of the cabin with deadly stealth.

You hear varying 'clears' come from your coworkers before you point Morgan to a hatch leading below deck. You think you can hear shuffling of some kind happening but it's hard to tell with the sway of the ship.

The rest of the team enter behind you but its Morgan who insists on jumping down first, forgoing the small ladder.

"Randy Lional, put your hands up," he's shouting as you drop down behind him.

You raise your gun as you take in the scene, someone else drops down behind you, it's Reid based on the silver revolver in your line of sight.

The man is crouched over an unconscious Monica Dentz, one of her ears bleeding and her wrists bound. You think she's still breathing.

"Put the gun and the ice pick down man," Morgan yells and then Hotch is next to him.

"He can't hear you," you tell Morgan when Randy drags the barrel of the gun over the girl's half naked body as though he's lost in a trance. His burly back is turned to the team and the situation is so unique that none of you know how to intercept him.

You push between Morgan and Hotch to slowly approach him. It's Reid who grabs your arm and shakes his head, something like concern playing in his hazel eyes. You take your arm from him and turn to the unsub.

An idea strikes you so you pull off your earring and toss it in his direction, it slides across the floor into his line of sight, causing him to jump up and turn around.

The man's eyes are wide, dark bags below them. He's frantic as he shakily points the gun at you. His stringy strands of hair are oiled to his chubby aged face and he appears to be shocked by the FBI's presence. He's aiming the gun at Monica's head.

"Put the gun down," Morgan yells again, gesturing at the weapon.

You begin to use sign language, after putting your own gun back in its holster. Reid steps closer to you, his revolver still raised.

"I know that you're hurting. I know what happened that night. I'm so sorry about your parents," you begin to sign. "But torturing others this way is not going to change what happened to you."

Reid glances at you, seemingly impressed by your use of ASL.

"She's trying to talk him down," Reid informs the rest of the team.

"Please, drop the weapons," you sign to him again. He looks more sad, defeated than before and you're hopeful.

"Does he profile as suicidal?" You ask the team.

"Yes," Hotch answers. You swallow hard.

Just then Monica stirs awake and begins screaming against the cloth gag in her mouth.

What happens next feels like slow motion, you don't even know how to process it.

Randy raises the gun and fires at you, three shots in rapid succession before you can blink. And then Reid has stepped nearly completely in front of you, firing two shots along with a barrage of shots from the team.

You hit the floor in a daze and chaos ensues.

"We need medics!" Prentiss is screaming into her ear piece.

"Two agents hit, one victim, subject deceased," Hotch is speaking into his mic as he rushes over to you.

The blinding pain is in your shoulder, the blood hot as it oozes out of you.

"Reid," you search for him.

"Ah, I'm okay. I'm okay," he doesn't sound okay.

And then you see it, the wound in his neck, the blood pouring from his mouth. Reid is grabbing at his throat for the wound, blood coating his hand. Crimsons running down his slender wrist and long fingers. Then Morgan is applying pressure to the wound while JJ is tending to you.

You wince in pain as she is pressing down on your shoulder. You can physically feel the metal bullet sitting inside of your body, sending pain radiating in all directions. People are talking all around you, JJ's eyes are full of tears as she tries to get you to stay conscious.

"Come on kid, look at me," Morgan is pleading with Reid. no no no.

"Why did you..." you try to ask why he stepped in front of you but the room begins to spin. You start to see double and you don't know if its you or Reid groaning in pain. Reid's eyes are rolling back in his head and he's starting to go limp in Morgans lap.

Reid took a bullet for you, and it may kill him. What if he dies thinking you hate him?

A blur of paramedics enter the space before you lose consciousness murmuring Reid's name.

A/N- Hope you guys love this. I'm already working on the 'lovers' part.

[angelicsoka]

BLIND DATE, j. drysdale

part two <3

word count | 758 words

pairings | jamie drysdale x single mother!hughes!reader

summary | you were never one for dating, especially when trevor is the one setting them up. but one date can’t hurt, right?

warnings | talk of pregnancy and terrible ex boyfriends. not proofread. one use of “y/n”. lowercase intended. this is a work of fiction, i am by no means saying this is how they act in real life.

a/n | thank you for 200 followers! i can't believe people actually enjoy my writing but here we are lmao. i’ve had this idea sitting in my drafts for a while but i finally decided to sit down and write it. its pretty short but i’m not against writing a part two :) anyway, enjoy!!

dating was never really your thing, at least not since your last boyfriend left you pregnant and alone in a city you were unfamiliar with. your ex had convinced you to move from michigan to california, something your family tried to warn you against, but you were stubborn. finding out you were pregnant was an accident, a routine checkup. what was supposed to be a wonderful thing turned terrible quick. your ex was angry, he wanted nothing to do with a kid. he gave you an ultimatum: get an abortion or we are over. but, as stated before, you were stubborn and had already to start to fall in love with the idea of being a mom. so, he left and you chose to stay in anaheim, a difficult decision but your ego was already hurt and proving your parents right was not what you wanted to do.

so, here you were, the mother of a two year old little girl who was your whole world. she was your moon and stars, the light of your life. it was you and her against the world, and you were content with that. that was until trevor zegras decided to intervene. “one date.” he begged, “he's a good guy, you’ll like him!” you had simply rolled your eyes, but after he offered to babysit for you whenever you wanted, you faltered, agreeing to the date. 

now, you were sat in a fancy restaurant awaiting the arrival of trevor’s friend. she felt out of place, her dress not nearly as elegant as the women that surrounded her. she checked her phone once more, ready to leave when a man in a suit rushed over, a hurried look on his face. “sorry, i’m sorry! trevor wouldn't stop yapping.” you stood up, smoothing out your dress before offering him your hand to shake. 

“it's all good, you must be jamie?” he nodded, shaking your hand. his smile made your heart flutter slightly, bringing a smile to grace your own lips. “y/n, it's a pleasure.” the anxious pit in your stomach began to settle as you sat, feeling comfortable in the presence of jamie. 

“trevor didn’t tell me much about you.” jamie smiled sheepishly.

“guess we’re in the same boat then.” you smiled, taking a sip from your water. “tell me, jamie, how is it that a handsome guy like you is resorting to blind dates to find a girl?” you questioned, a teasing look in your eye. jamie blushed, ducking his head slightly.

“well, hockey takes up most of my time and trevor takes up the rest of it.” you laughed at that, “it's like wrangling around a small child.”

“oh, i know that feeling all to well. my daughter is great at matching his energy.” jamie did well in hiding his shock, masking it with confusion, but you had learned to pick up on the small cues. “he didn’t tell you?” 

“no, uh, he wasn’t very forthcoming with information.” you nodded, unlocking your phone and pulling up a picture of your daughter. 

“this is my daughter, isla. she has enough energy to outdo trevor, but she’s my world and i wouldn’t change a thing about her.” jamie smiled at the photo of isla who was wearing an elsa dress, her mouth covered in chocolate. 

“she is very cute.” jamie looked to you, “just like her mom.” you blushed, laughing slightly. “how old is she?”

“just turned two, here’s her with my brothers at her frozen themed party.” you swiped to the photo of isla opening her presents with the help of your brothers. 

“is that jack wearing a… tiara?” jamie questioned, pointing to jack who had a crown, which was too small, on his head. 

you giggled, swiping to another photo, “yeah well, quinn and luke were wearing tutus but they attacked me when i tried to take a picture, but isla has them wrapped around her finger.” you showed jamie the photo of your daughter in her elsa dress, quinn and luke wearing matching tutus. “they don’t know i have this photo.” jamie laughed, a sound you were already growing to love. you closed your phone, setting it beside you. 

“anyway, tell me about you.” and he did, and you listened intently, never once losing interest. what you thought would be a boring date, had turned into one of the best dates you had ever been on. you exchanged numbers before you went your separate ways, another date already in the works. 

who knew trevor would make a decent matchmaker?

[bouquetface]

PAC: First Date.

Topic is first date. May have already happened or will. Not necessarily with your future spouse.

As always, I will be specific not going to appeal to everyone. Not every reading you come across is meant for you. Take it as entertainment.

Photos of Dom Fike because I’ve been feeling nostalgic.❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

1. 2.

One.

This relationship will begin through technology. Maybe an instagram DM. I don’t really believe it will be through a dating app. This is due to there being confusion at first. You may be unsure if they’re trying to talk to you romantically or in a platonic way. I see you going to someone in your house (roommate, sister, or mom). Reading some of the texts out loud and asking their opinions.

Whoever you tell may advise you to be careful. There is something about this person that makes them doubtful. It could be they have a mischievous appearance or persona. They may be a gemini rising. Attractive and seemingly popular. It can be unclear when someone like this is flirting or joking around.

Fairly quickly, they’ll ask to meet up. Somewhere local and in public. The setting of the date and casual way it was asked is making you overthink. You may think a proper date is something like going to the movies, going to dinner. Not meeting up at a random time during the day. It’ll be a sunny day. You may be given a loose idea of what’s going to happen. Like “i want to see you” “meet me at _____ since we’re both free”.

The lead up is going to make you nervous. It may be the advice/conversation you had about this person earlier. There are more nerves than usual for a meet up. The way they asked may make it still unclear if it’s a date or not. You could go back and forth with yourself on whether it’s a date or hanging out.

When you do meet up, the first comment made will instantly relax you. They may say something about your height. Physically, I believe they’ll be very lanky. It could be your lanky as well or you’re notably shorter. You two will end up walking a lot that day. You may get drinks or a small treat along the way. Seems you two are just exploring the area & talking.

They’ll be very curious about you. Asking lots of question, teasing/joking at your answers. They may ask questions off topic or change topics a lot. A bit scatterbrained but it keeps the conversation moving. At the same time they’re very detached. It doesn’t seem like they take life too seriously. They respond to things with humour or logic. Logic over emotions kinda person.

It really seems you are very nervous or confused. They don’t pick up on it at all though. They have a playful nature but you’ll still be confused at their intentions. I am not sure if this makes them a red flag or not. I don’t know if you tend to overthink things normally, or if their personality is making you react that way. Their chill & kinda stoic nature may not work for you.

It is the first date so it does take people time to open up. All their questions for you, does suggest they have a desire to get to known you on a deeper level. Yet, I will be honest this first date seems more like a hangout, kinda low effort so if that doesn’t appeal to you, this next date may be a let down. Keep in mind though it’s the first date and seems like the first ever meet up. Of course, they’ll be a bit on guard if they just met you. At the end of the day, it’s up to you to decide.

Two.

The two of you will be in a more private area than the first pile. Despite being alone with person, you’ll feel very comfortable. This might be someone you already knew before going on a date. Maybe someone from the past that you haven’t seen in a while. You could have gone to school together.

It could be dinner at a restaurant. Yet, the comfortable & private energy is making me believe you could be at yours or their place. They may walk you to your door and you invite them in. They may take you to their place after the night. Perhaps, you invite them in to watch a film.

This is very random but they definitely went to the barber a few days before this date to get cleaned up. You may really like the way their hair looks. They may have had a glow up since the last time you saw them. You could be wearing something very sexy. Black or red. Omg pile 2, this could be someone who felt friend zoned by you in the past.

Your look that night is driving them crazy. The scorpio card coming up is making me think you knew what you were doing when you put on that outfit. The fireworks card literally says “Loving Passionate Intimacy”. Whether it gets sexual that first night or not, the feelings are definitely there. It feels like a dream come true to this person. You are their fantasy come to life. They may have been secretly admiring you for a while.

4th of July is coming up so possibly for American readers, there could be literal fireworks. The reading is still strongly indicating an intimate vibe. You may sneak off together, end up alone watching fireworks. I literally pulled the fireworks card and am now hearing fireworks. I’m in Canada, and apparently my neighbours couldn’t wait until Canada Day (which is tmr). Crazy coincidence. They began and (have seemed to) stop at this pile.

Unlike the first pile, I believe very strongly you will want to see this person again. There is no doubt in my mind. You two are very attracted to each other. Not all the piles indicate a future spouse. For someone reading this, it definitely is the first night with your future spouse.

[insomniac4000]

Jelly Legs- ArthurTV

Becoming a camerawoman for ChrisMD meant two things;

Standing out in all weathers for hours on end watching people try to shoot a ball into the net and

Trying not to stare at ArthurTV while doing number one.

You were first introduced to Arthur on your first day on the job, you were obviously nervous but professional and found it sweet Arthur spent his down time when he wasn’t taking part in the video, asking you questions. It was a ritual now, after shooting had wrapped for the day Arthur would stop for you a chat, one of his questions was always ‘what are you doing after this?’ so you would tell him your plans whether it be with some friends or mostly going home and edit the photos from the shoot before watching some Netflix and Arthur’s response would always be ‘cool,’ and a nod before he stuttered and walked off to speak to Chris.

“Do you mind that Arthur has a crush on your videographer?” George asked when him and Chris were getting into an Uber to go home after another very long shoot. Your day was far from over still, you had to take the equipment back to the office and back up the SD cards before heading home.

“Nope, it’s been what? Eight months now and it’s still the exact same routine, he stares at her, talks to her about animal mating rituals, she follows him around with a camera for apparent content,” Chris said doing the finger quotes before continuing “Then he asks her what she’s doing that evening but never follows it up with oh you’re not doing anything? Maybe we could go out? There’s nothing to be worried about, Arthur is a man of habit,” the small man explained as he played with his phone. George nodded in agreement but just because he agreed with it didn’t necessarily mean that was the way it had to be.

“Has she said anything to you about possibly liking him back?” George asked raising his scarred eyebrow.

“No, I don’t know a ton about her outside of work, she tends to keep things professional mostly. I know she loved science fiction films so they’d be a good pairing in that sense,” Chris replied with a shrug and George nodded.

“When’s the next time you’re going out with your team? Let’s invite her along, I think it’s time you got to know her a little bit more socially,” George suggested and Chris nodded, just because he was unlucky in love didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to help out a friend.

“So if you fancy is we’re all going to go out for dinner and then some drink’s next Friday?” Chris asked you the next time you were both in the office, setting the wheels of the plan in motion.

“Oh wow, yeah sounds good,” you nodded before looking back to your screen.

“Really? Okay great,” Chris replied and you looked at him a little and frowned.

“Unless you were just asking me to be polite…”

“Oh no no no! It’s just, I wasn’t expecting you to say yes so quickly. I’ve kind of noticed you tend to keep to yourself quite often. Its one of the reasons why we’re doing this actually, to get to know everyone outside of work, I like to think it’s quite cool and relaxed here and I’m not some horrible slave driver boss,” Chris explained and you nodded. You did keep to yourself often and people had sometimes pegged you as unfriendly when you were simply unsure.

“Sure, it sounds good,” you smiled and Chris nodded before adding the line that made your heart thump a little.

“George and Arthur will be there too,” You needed a new outfit.

After work that day you went shopping, it wasn’t your favourite thing to do in the world and it was something you could do quite quickly, it was often the case that whenever you had money and needed to buy something there was never anything, here you now were in Westfield trudging through each shop in a desperate attempt to try and find something that made her look good but also make it look like she wasn’t making too much of an effort. She picked up a black cami with a floral pattern and lace trim, feeling the material between her fingers, maybe this would work some jeans? Suddenly she heard a voice the other side of her which sent chills right down to her bone.

“You know you suit dresses a lot more,” the dark voice said in a low tone, you froze and kept trying to tell yourself that this couldn’t be happening, there was no way he was here, it all had to be a misunderstanding, a terrible one at that.

You finally mustered the courage to look up and there he was in front of you, the one person you never wanted to see ever again in your life, the person who you thought you would never see again, sure the legal side of things had ended but perhaps naively you thought he wasn’t so stupid that he would seek you out and talk to you again. You pulled the hanger with the top on it from the rail and marched to the till, hoping that human interaction with someone else could firstly, cause him to back off and secondly it would stop you from bursting into tears. You bought the top but it only kept the tears at bay for those five minutes as the second you left the shop they started to flow. Your vision was blurry from tears no matter how hard you tried to wipe them away as they were being replaced so quickly. You could see a man approach you and you started to panic, your breath quickened in pace and you started to wheeze ever so slightly, feeling the intense squeezing sensation in your chest, a panic attack. You hadn’t had one of these in over four months, you were doing so well. The figure got closet but you noticed the hair wasn’t long and brown so it couldn’t have been him. But he was a big guy, you could tell he was definitely a gym bunny, it wasn’t until you could hear his voice that you started to relax.

“Y/N, Y/N it’s me Reev, what’s happened? Are you okay? Let’s get you somewhere a bit quieter,” he said softly and you nodded. Your main work was for Chris but as he didn’t have a crazy upload schedule you would often do other work in your down time mostly for other Youtubers as they knew your work from Chris and or shared an office with him so it was easy to coordinate.

You could only nod, not having the strength or ability to speak in that moment. It was only when you started to walk you noticed Theo who walked on the other side of you, you were squished between the pair and managed to find some seats in a quieter part of the shopping centre off from the main stretch of shops.

“Do you live far from here?” Theo asked scrolling on his phone for Chris’s number, not knowing who else to contact. Your breathing was still very erratic so you shook your head, it was roughly a ten or fifteen minute bus ride away so an Uber would take closer to ten minutes if not a little bit less.

“Do you have a housemate or anything we can call?” Reev asked but once again you shook your head as you gripped onto the bench so tightly while trying to steady your breathing. You lived alone, you had lived alone since you and him broke up, him. You couldn’t believe after so long you would ever bump into him, let alone him having the audacity to speak to you and now after months of hard work he was at the forefront of your mind yet again.

“Hey Chris, are you home? We’ve got a bit of a situation here,” Theo asked Chris who he had now gotten on the phone, he explained the situation with the little information he had and Chris agreed you could go to his if you needed somewhere. You were starting to feel incredibly embarrassed but still hadn’t gained your ability to speak, or regulate your breathing properly so off to Chris’s you went with Theo and Reev in tow.

“What’s happened?” Chris asked once you were settled on the sofa, a mug of tea in hand, a very concerned ArthurTV and George sitting on the other sofa staring at you waiting for answers.

“I saw my ex,” you managed to spit out, staring at the wall in front of you, you had a thousand yard stare, it was obvious you had been traumatised by something.

“Must have been a pretty shitty ex for you to react like that,” Theo noted. Arthur frowned, the thought of you being so upset by someone did not make him feel good, from the little he knew of you he had only known you as an incredibly sweet person.

“He was. I was so surprised to see him because well…” You sighed, it was all going to come out anyway you may as well let the cat out of the bag. You took a deep breath to compose yourself before speaking again “He went to prison, he was violent.” You stated before downing a big gulp of tea. An uncomfortable and stunned silence filled the room as you looked around to see everyone’s faces, there was a mixture of pity, shock and anger, it was usually what you got.

“Did you know he was out?” Arthur was the one to break the silence, he needed to know more, he needed to know if you were okay.

“Yeah, there’s no restraining order or anything, not anymore. I had a no contact order but he didn’t go to prison because of me, he had a fight with someone else, but still I just didn’t think he was stupid enough to talk to me in that shop. If you guys hadn’t have seen me I don’t know what would have happened,” you burst into tears again as everyone looked at each other not knowing what to do for a crying woman. Chris gave you a hug first, some of the others did too in an attempt to cheer you up, you spent the next hour telling everyone your story, asking their questions to the best of your ability.

“That’s why I keep to myself a lot and keep things professional, I’m so so scared to let anybody else in,” you explained, your gaze flicking to Arthur briefly.

“I can’t say I blame you, but you know if you need anything you can call on any of us right?” George offered as he nudged Arthur a little and the brown eyed boy nodded profusely.

“You know you’re safe with us,” Arthur added and you nodded, you did feel safe with them, but could you open up in the way you wanted to?

Armed with their new knowledge the boys had well and truly embraced you into their inner circle, the best part was as far as you could tell they weren’t just doing it because they felt sorry for you but they were genuine.

The work drinks were a huge success, you spent a lot of time talking to people but mostly you chatted to Arthur, George and Chris although pleased the two of you were talking were now very aware of the complication, as was Arthur but he was determined to not treat you any differently, in fact he was even more determined as he wanted to show you just how you should be treated, you deserved the very best.

“Do you think somewhere in China there’s English takeaway serving up questionable fish and chips and steak and kidney pies?” You asked Arthur as the pair of you tucked into a takeaway. The two of you had started to hang out together just you two. It was purely platonic, you had mentioned you had wanted to learn how to play chess so now it was a regular thing going over to his flat to play a game, eat and talk about your views of the world. For some reason this particular evening had ended up being a little boozy, Arthur often liked a drink but this evening he seemed to be drinking a little but more and also tonight you were in a mood to match him somewhat.

“Maybe, I want to go to China. I had a great time in Sri Lanka, I need to go to Asia a lot more plus it’s so diverse,” Arthur mentioned to you, you hadn’t travelled a lot but it was on your bucket list.

“I’ve never been outside of Europe, I’d really love to do something like that,” you replied as you ate your food.

“Maybe we could do something together? Only if you wanted to of course…” Arthur asked trailing off at the end as his shyness kicked in.

“That sounds amazing,” you smiled and blushed before eating some more of your dinner.

The two of you continued to eat in a comfortable silence, you always insisted on washing up when you went over to his flat despite his insistence it was fine but the two of you had a routine now, you washed and he dried and put away. You handed him a plate, the blush rising very quickly on your cheeks as your hand brushed with his momentarily.

“You’re very cute when you blush,” Arthur said, his eyes widened, he didn’t realise he had said it until the words fell out of his mouth, he stuttered a little as he tried to come up with something to say and now it was his cheeks which were the red ones. You couldn’t help but admire how cute he looked all flustered.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to choke out eventually and you frowned a little and shook your head.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s always nice to hear a compliment. You’re cute when you blush too,” you replied looking down a little picking up the fork and cleaning it so the last of the washing up was over.

“I just don’t want you to think I’m coming on too strong or that I’m only after something. There’s some nice guys out there and I really hope you believe you deserve something nice,” Arthur gushed, he didn’t know why he was saying this let alone why he was saying it now but he couldn’t help himself, the words were spilling out of his mouth he just couldn’t hold onto them anymore. You looked at Arthur carefully, trying to ignore the thumping in your chest. You reached out and grabbed his hand lightly walking back to the sofa where you both sat, hands still entwined and now resting on his knee.

“I know, I think you’re one of the good ones. I didn’t say anything before because of my past and I was scared to get into anything but I don’t want my past to effect my future anymore.” You admitted and Arthur had a very small and hopeful smile on his face.

“Does that mean we can maybe go out for dinner next time?” He asked his voice shaking ever so slightly.

“I’d really like that,” you replied with a giggle. This was going to be different in the best way possible.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Hi! Big fan :) You're an environmental lecturer, right? I recently got into a debate with someone about rewilding in the UK, and the clash with farmers and agriculture. To me, this is a no-brainer - I absolutely do feel for farmers losing their livelihoods, and I think there needs to be a system to help them transition to something else, but also, the planet is dying. But you explain things well, so I wondered if you have thoughts? Particularly on the Welsh side of things. Thank you in advance!

Hah. I literally have a lecture on this. Or, well, a chunk of a lecture, anyway; so yes! I have thoughts. I'll use those notes, and stick a big reference at the end in case you want to read more

I'll talk about this specifically from the Welsh perspective, okay so:

The rewilding project in Wales is the Cambrian Wildwood, launched in 2004ish by a guy who bought an abandoned farm in the northern end of Mid Wales with the express intention of rewilding it. The aim is to convert some 7000 acres, and the initial mission statement said they'd reintroduce wolves and lynx. That's the project I'm going to talk about, because it's a great case study for how to spectacularly fuck something up (and eventually realise you've spectacularly fucked up, and do something about it.)

These are the Cambrian Mountains:

When looking at that, there are two competing viewpoints that are relevant here:

The Cambrians are ecologically depleted. Their biodiversity has crashed since the Second World War, when modern farming methods were introduced. Environmentally, there is a perception of emptiness and degradation.

The landscape is a glorious one that has been shaped by the human actions taken on it for generations, as we are a shepherding culture – culture and land are inextricably intertwined.

That's a big fundamental difference! Two people can look at that same photo, and see something diametrically opposed. But there's more lying on it, so you also need to understand the socio-political background.

Socio-Political Background

(I know! Headings! So professional)

A lot of rewilding – Cambrian Wildwood included – is taking place in areas where farming is declining for various political/socio-economic reasons, so this can be ENTIRELY FAIRLY seen as yet another threat. This goes hand in hand with rural migration and community decline, too.

In Wales, we’re mostly rural, and characterised by extensive upland livestock farming (sheep in particular). Most farms are small to medium family-run setups. ON TOP OF THAT, the vast majority of Welsh farmers are Welsh-speaking, and the right to operate a farm the ‘traditional’ way without UK government oversight is seen by Welsh Nationalists as an important post-colonial act.

Many of them didn’t even like the National Parks being set up, as they were seen as an English outsider imposition that ignored the working nature and cultural history of the land. Remember: the farmed uplands are often seen as a heartland of Welsh identity, and those have historically been intentionally destroyed by UK central government land management decisions (e.g. Tryweryn, Elan, Claerwen, etc)

“Over the past half century we have witnessed the arrival of countless environmental fundamentalists… seemingly oblivious to the fact that their new-found paradise is already occupied by people whose connection with the land is deep rooted, dates back thousands of years, and is embedded in their language and culture.” (Nick Fenwick [Farmers’ Union of Wales] 2013)

SO IT’S CULTURALLY DICEY

(And in my opinion an incredibly stupid idea to go and give it a primarily English name with a Welsh translation as an afterthought but that is Elanor’s Opinion and not Scientific Fact)

(But fr fr if you ever have to get involved in these sorts of projects you will go a long way if you have the basic respect of learning the Welsh names and pronouncing them right rather than lazily expecting everything to be in English sorry sorry I digress)

From the Cambrian Wildwood’s Mission Statement on their website, their objective is:

“To rewild or restore land to a wilder state to create a functioning ecosystem where natural processes dominate by carrying out habitat restoration, removing domestic livestock, and introducing missing native species as far as feasible.”

Can you see the controversial bit of the statement

Can you see the bit where they directly say they want to remove domestic livestock

Jesus Christ

Cultural Differences

AND THEN HERE'S THE BIGGER PROBLEM

‘Culture’ in Welsh is diwylliant – literally, a ‘lack of wildness’. There is no direct translation into Welsh for the term ‘rewilding’ – the closest you can get is anialwch or diffeithwch, which mean ‘wilderness’ in the sense of ‘desert’ or ‘wasteland’. So right off the bat, if you tell a Welsh-speaking farmer that you want to rewild the place, what they hear is "We want to make it dangerous and empty and degraded."

A related concept is cynefin - knowing one’s ‘patch’ and the feeling of belonging associated. The term has its roots as a description of the way grazing animals know their area of mountain land, but it is also used to describe how people come to form an intimate experiential knowledge of place - and specifically, a Welsh farmer's cultural attitude.

Basically, Welsh literature and oral traditions speak of a relationship with the land, not a separation and longing for an untouched wilderness. Farmers feel this especially keenly. Culturally, this is a big part of why they do it – they’re rooted to the land, and therefore to their identities.

“Interviewees conveyed this by referring to areas proposed for rewilding as being comprised of “a quilt of cynefinoedd: interwoven stories, the layered and collective place-making of families and individuals over-generations, co-constituted with the physical landscape” (Wynne-Jones, Holmes and Strouts, 2018)

So, to them, rewilding is erasing and disregarding these stories. To them, this is not just a land-use change, but the latest colonial attack. They've known the family who lived on that farm for generations - every birth, marriage, death, joy, triumph, loss, everything. You are saying that you are going to strip that family, all those stories, all those people out of that land, to be forgotten.

…

However. There is a counterpoint to this.

Many farmers taking this view have therefore identified themselves as the only “truly Welsh” people in the debate, accusing environmentalists as being outsiders. The problem with this being, most of the environmentalists involved with the project are also Welsh; so who the fuck are they to say who is or is not Truly Welsh? It's what we on the internet would recognise as gatekeeping, with a big side order of No True Scotsman fallacy.

Also this quote sums it up well:

“Sheep farming in this country goes back a few hundred years. I think if you go deep enough into our culture and ancestry, we have a really deep native relationship with wild forest areas and with the wild animals that are native to this country…I just don’t agree that sheep farming is really part of our traditional culture.” (WWLF Interview [15] 2016) (Wynne-Jones, Holmes and Strouts, 2018)

This is also a fair point. It is true that upland sheep farming, the way we now practice it, is only a few hundred years old, and at the current intensity only a few decades (since WW2).

On top of which, there has been plenty of exploration over the years of farmers as being a government-subsidised landed gentry, which I won't go into here, but it also contains some fair points.

In truth, all of it and none of it is true. It’s far more complex and nuanced than either side might want to believe.

Solutions So Far

This is an ongoing project and they're still learning and changing new things and stuff, but a big thing they did was get someone in to basically be a mediator and listen to both sides, because Jesus, those sides were not listening to each other.

But to date:

They actually worked with a first-language Welsh speaker (WHY DID THEY NOT DO THIS FIRST I'm sorry I'm fine). Originally the Welsh translation of the project was Tir Gwyllt – wild land. But given that Welsh connotations with gwyllt are something out of control or dangerous, Coetir Anian has been chosen – anian refers to a sense of natural order and creation, a sense of health and vitality. Similarly, ‘rewilding’ is being translated as ‘di-ddofi’ – ‘de-taming’. This acknowledges the labour and culture taken to tame it, and just suggests an avenue for discussing some relaxation of farming practice in appropriate locations rather than, you know, releasing packs of wolves directly into sheep pens

In online materials and in community engagement events where traditional storytellers and musicians have performed to celebrate the Wildwood, the trustees have drawn heavily from Welsh myth in the form of the Mabinogion. Enormous amounts of the Mab lovingly and respectfully feature wild woods and wild animals. The emphasis is therefore on how wilderness is also part of Welsh identity – and arguably a much older part, going back to the Celts. (This is clever, in my view, but something to approach with care - it's rarely a good idea to play the game of "What's the most Welsh". But so far it's been done sensitively)

Land purchased for the project has so far been wholly limited to that available in the public domain. The main site, Bwlch Corog, was empty and unfarmed for six years before purchase, which has been stressed in all media interviews and releases; this is important, because farmers do have a sense of "Productive land is being stolen by environmentalists".

Large predator reintroductions have largely been abandoned. Lynx and wolves are no longer on the agenda. It’s possible they’ll be included in the future, but it is acknowledged as currently impractical (both from clashes with farmers and lack of habitat).

Instead, they’ve supported smaller species reintroductions, such as the Vincent Wildlife Trust’s pine marten translocations, and some proposed red squirrel ones.

Bwlch Corog is to be managed as an experimental plot that farmers are encouraged to engage with.

Assessing the potential for new income streams (from improved tourism and educational activities) rather than just the ecological benefits – this has become central to the project, and the emphasis is on how this might benefit farming communities and keep them together. This has been huge, and has also been successful in rewilding schemes in Europe.

Tensions are a lot lower now than they were ten years ago, but ultimately the problem was a bunch of outsiders came in and decided they knew best without listening to anyone else's point of view, and that meant both sides really dug their heels in. Much better now.

Ultimately... yes, I am in favour of rewilding, in a general sense. But I think it needs to go hand in hand with supplying farmers with the necessary subsidies to transition back to more traditional and sustainable farming methods, and the two elements run side by side. You can't do one without the other, not if you want them to succeed. The Pontbren Project is a great case study for how a farmer-led scheme can successfully aid them economically while also improving environmental outcomes, and we need to learn and incorporate more lessons from it when discussing this kind of landscape-level management.

Also, with land management in general, I think you're a fucking idiot and dangerously arrogant if you think you can get anything done without all stakeholders being on board. And potentially wandering down the ecofascism path, circumstances dependent.

Anyway, those are my thoughts. Source:

Wynne-Jones, S, Holmes, G & Strouts, G (2018), 'Abandoning or Reimagining a Cultural Heartland? Understanding and Responding to Rewilding Conflicts in Wales - the case of the Cambrian Wildwood.' Environmental Values, vol. 27, no. 4.

[fairy-writes]

Could you do Reno with falling in love with his future s/o? Such as how would he be acting and such. Idk if I am doing this right

LOOKING BACK IN TIME

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Kaiju No. 8

Pairing(s): Ichikawa Reno x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Civilian!Reader, Confessions, Reminiscing, Reader is implied to be shorter than Reno

Notes: Reno and Reader are in their 20s in this!

__________________________________________________________________________

“Hey, Reno?” You say as you look up from your various papers scattered across your desk. 

Wedding planning was a pain. 

Reno looks up from his own papers with an eyebrow raised. 

“Yes?” He asks, and you rub between your eyebrows.

“Remember when we first met?” At that, he gets up and meanders his way over to your side, where you’re looking at old photos to put up during the wedding reception. 

There are photos of your first date, photos of your engagement, and photos of your accomplishments. There are photos of Reno in his dress blues from the Defense Force, of all his service accomplishments, everything. There are photos from all points in your life, but you made sure to emphasize moments with the both of you. 

“‘Course I do. It’s a day I’ll never forget.” He said, leaning down to kiss your hairline. Ever since your engagement, his affection has grown tenfold. He was always pressing a kiss to your cheek, lips, or hand, or always had a hand in yours or on the small of your back when walking. Sleeping together at night is also filled with him holding you tight, so wiggling is pretty much futile. 

You lean back against his waist as he casually lifts you up and settles you in his lap as he sits down. 

“Would you mind telling me?” You say, and he chuckles,

“Why do you like this story so much? You were there!” He teases, and you lace your hands with his against your stomach. He squeezes your entwined fingers gently.

“I like hearing you talk about what you felt. It makes me happy.” You say, and he sighs, but it isn’t unhappy. It’s almost embarrassed. 

“Well… I had just gotten hired at Monster Sweeper Inc.…”

Your name being called was what broke you from your work. 

You flip your visor up, where it’s covered in kaiju blood and ichor, and look to see your coworkers approaching you. It was still early in the morning, but Monster Sweeper Inc. was supposed to get this kaiju disposed of by the end of the week, so you had headed out early. 

“Working early now, are we? Are you trying to get overtime?” Mitsuike Ichitaka called up where you were setting down your chainsaw and heading down to meet them. 

“Of course I am! That’ll mean my paycheck is nice and fat this time. Plus, you know I’m always down for overtime.” You shoot right back and hop the last few feet off the kaiju leg onto the concrete. 

It was then that you realized there was someone new in your midst. 

He was your age, with silvery white hair and violet eyes. He looked mostly unfazed, but you could tell the smell of decomposing kaiju was slowly getting to him. It usually did for those just starting out. 

Maybe Kafka had an extra pair of nose plugs to lend him. He was typically prepared like that. 

Everyone noticed you looking at the new guy, and Ichitaka piped up again,

“This is Ichikawa Reno! He starts today!” He said and introduced Ichikawa to you by saying your name. You peeled off a glove and extended it for him to shake. 

“Nice t’ meet you!” You chirped, and he nodded, 

“I look forward to working with you.” He said formally, and you let out a loud laugh,

“No need to be so formal, Ichikawa. We’re practically the same age!”

Reno watched as you revved your heated chainsaw to cut through part of the bone of the massive kaiju before them. He had been put on intestine work and was grateful for any break he received. 

“You checking them out again?” Hibino Kafka teased, and Reno flinched in surprise. For someone so large, he was quiet when he wanted to be. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He mumbled and flinched again when Hibino threw an arm around his shoulders with a loud laugh. 

“Of course you do! C’mon, it’s your first day, and you already have a crush!” He poked at Reno’s side in jest. 

“Kafka!” You shouted from atop the monster's corpse, and the two of them froze in their bickering to look up at you. You hoisted your chainsaw up to rest against your hip, “You better not be picking on the new guy!” You chastised, and Reno watched as Hibino paled as you revved the chainsaw again and got back to work. 

He thinks that was the first time he fell in love. 

“You fell in love when I threatened Kafka with a chainsaw?” You look up at him, where he’s playing his video game. The two of you have taken a break from planning and moved to the front room. You sit in between his legs as he navigates his first-person shooter game. He hums and snipes an enemy.

“I think that’s when my crush on you first started. You looked really hot with it in hand.” He mumbles, cheeks flushing as he thinks back about it. 

You begin to giggle, reaching to pause his game before getting on your knees and turning to face him. You cup his cheeks and kiss each one, then his forehead, then his nose, before he eventually drops his controller and wraps his arms around your waist. 

“You keep missing.” He says softly and you grin before kissing him on the mouth. 

Reno is gentle, almost overly so. He kisses you fervently yet is as gentle as the snow falling outside. His hands are calloused from years of holding a weapon to defeat kaiju, and you can feel a few old scars underneath his cotton t-shirt where you’re gripping his shoulders. 

The two of you pull apart but are still close enough for his nose to brush yours. 

“Tell me more stories.” You whisper against his mouth and feel his lips twitch into a small smile. 

“What do you want to know?” He asks, and you shrug, handing him his controller as he begins to play again. 

“What made you ask me out? I remember what I felt, but I don’t know what you were feeling at the time.” You say after a moment of thought. 

That makes Reno go silent for a moment. 

“I think it was right before the Defense Force exam…”

Reno couldn’t help but scuff his sneakers against the concrete. 

You had agreed to meet him. 

The sun was setting, the work day was long over, but everyone was gathering for drinks. Or at least those who were of drinking age were. You and Reno were somewhat excluded. Instead of drinking alcohol, you had mocktails or other drinks of your choice. 

But he had asked you to meet him outside in a few moments to talk about something serious. He didn’t tell you what. Part of him wondered if you knew what he wanted to ask you. You were perceptive like that. 

“Ichikawa?” Your voice makes him duck his head as if expecting a blow. He wasn’t quite sure why. You would never hit him; at least, you wouldn’t unless it was a friendly swat on his shoulder. 

“You actually came outside.” He said, and you cock your head to the side, 

“Why wouldn’t I? You said it was serious.” You replied. Your hair is washed out in the moonlight. The noise from the pub beside you died as the two of you mutually decided to go for a walk. 

He itched to hold your hand. Itched to cradle it in his fingers to feel the callouses from the tools of your job. Or would your hand be smooth? You always wore gloves even when it wasn’t required, and he often saw you putting on lotion during breaks. 

“Ichikawa? What did you want to talk about?” You asked when you were about a block away from your coworkers and the pub. 

“Reno.” He said and saw you frown,

“Huh?”

“I—” He cut himself off and fidgeted with his fingers. “I want you to call me Reno.” He mumbled and watched as the words dawned on you. 

And then you smile brilliantly, lighting up the sky brighter than the moon. 

“I’m honored you want me to call you that. But was that all?” You said, and he shook his head.

“I also wanted to ask you something.” He said, stopped walking, turned to face you, and in a moment of boldness, took your hands in his. They were soft, softer than he thought they would be, and he caught a faint whiff of your floral lotion. 

However, the moment he grabbed your hands, his mind went blank, and he forgot everything he had planned and practiced to say. So he stood there dumbly in silence. 

At least until you spoke. 

“Might I guess what you were going to ask me?” You asked lightly, and he finally nodded. A kind smile graces your lips, and he feels his ears and cheeks burn in embarrassment. In the three months he had known you, he had come to cherish your smile. 

You finally speak after seemingly choosing your words carefully. 

“Were you going to ask me on a date?” You asked, and he froze. Were you really that perceptive?

You would’ve made an excellent Defense Force officer had you wanted to apply. But you told him you had no such inclination to do so. 

He finally nodded, and your smile grew. 

“I’d love to.” You said, squeezing his hands.

“How did you know?” Reno asks after he finishes his story, and you shrug, eyes locked on the television.

“Kafka might’ve spilled the beans. But I wanted to hear it from you, so I never said anything until you asked to talk to me.” You reply, and he huffs.

“I knew I never should’ve told him anything.” He mumbles, and you just laugh.

[petrichor-han]

good luck, babe; haley sdv

PAIRING I haley x fem!reader

CAST | haley, alex, emily (stardew valley)

WC | 2.0k

GENRE I angst, fluff, suggestive

WARNINGS I explicit language, (excessive) alcohol consumption, bar setting, homophobia, internalized homophobia, vomit, mentions of kissing

SYNOPSIS I haley thought she knew what she liked, until the new farmer girl in town changed everything she thought knew about herself.

A/N I requested by anonymous. AH i know i already said it when i replied to your ask but ty so much for requesting; this is literally what got me into sdv in the first place so it was so much fun to write this one. hope you enjoy!! (event is now closed, but requests are open.)

EVENT MASTERLIST | RAIN’S PLAYLIST

It was completely normal for her to think another girl is pretty.

She knows this much; she isn’t stupid. But there was something else about this new girl, this farmer or whatever—that made Haley’s heart ache with a feeling she hardly recognized. Something that she knew was more than just complimenting a girl on her appearance, or holding hands while walking down the sidewalk. It was more than friendly hugs and sharing clothes. It was the late night talks about things like love and mortality and cheese fondue. It was the way she tried to match her lips to your lipstick marks on the bottle when you two shared a drink, because she felt like it was the only way she’d ever get to kiss them and mean it. It was the nights she spent in her dark room, staring at the photos that she had with you and of you, trying to tell her heart to stop beating so fast at the mere sight of your face.

And, it was what she should have felt for her ex, Alex.

Or… was it? Maybe that’s just what friendship is—maybe it’s always meant to be greater than romantic love. Haley couldn’t remember the last time she dated a man that made her feel the same kind of happy freedom that her very best friends did, or some especially pretty girls that she would see around the saloon from time to time. Maybe that’s just how being with a man is, she tells herself. Everyone always talks about it like it’s a burden anyways. Alex is as good as a man gets—no man will ever compare to her.

But as she lays in bed that night—after a hang out session that ran way too late into the night with you, full of fluttering heartbeats and drunk chocolate covered strawberry flavored kisses—she knows it’s something more. Deep down, she knows that what she feels for you is not only different than the love she feels for her other friends, but different than the ways she’s loved her past exes too. It’s so much deeper, so much more intense—so much so that it often leaves her gasping and clutching at her chest as her heart hammers at her ribcage, just begging to be freed.

She won’t let it, though. She can’t. Not after she told everyone that the reason she broke things off with Alex was because they were too busy, when in reality it was because she wouldn’t ever kiss him or sleep with him or touch him—“This isn’t a relationship, Haley,” he’d said exasperatedly, as tears ran down her face, “face it. We’re better off as just friends.”

And it was the truth. She liked Alex a lot—just not enough to do those things with him. She liked him just as much as any of her other friends, thinking that because she felt that signature flutter it was something more. Finally, a guy that made her feel the way that her girl friends did. It was a shame that she had a terrible habit of confusing friendship with something more.

Maybe that’s another reason she refuses to call this thing she has with you anything more than friendship, even though she knows that it is. It was embarrassing enough when she was mistaken with Alex and it strained their friendship for a good while—she didn’t want to do that to you too, and perhaps lose you for good. After all, she’s known Alex for a lot longer than she’s known you, and she always felt like he’d always sort of be around anyways—whether that was as her boyfriend or simply her friend.

You—where did she even start with you?

You came into her life like a tornado; destroying everything that she previously thought she knew about herself. She thought she knew herself well—she liked boys that were masculine but still pretty faced, she liked open mouthed closed eyed kissing, and she liked Alex.

But then she met you—Yoba, maybe she shouldn’t have ever stopped by your sunflower field—and she realized that no, she liked girls that were strong and beautiful, kissing girls with tongue and cupping their faces in her hands as she pulls back to admire her lover, and she liked you. And then she realized she didn’t know herself at all, and she better pull back before it was too late—too late to pretend it was just a phase, too late to pretend like she was still… what everyone expected of her.

It was all so devastatingly confusing. She only saw you as a friend—a very pretty friend, at that—until she started kissing you and realized that she felt more for you than she felt for her ex-boyfriend. And that was what completely destroyed her perception of the line between friendship and something more; further breaking what Alex initially began.

To be very fair, it wasn’t your fault—and she knew that. It was all her. So she poured herself into her hobbies, painting people until she realized that they all resembled you, going to the beach and collecting shells until she realized that all the ones in her hands were your favorite color. Kissing men that had your eyes or your lips, and closing her eyes the entire time, picturing only that feature.

She’s still running through these chaotic, messy memories as she forgets herself in the arms of another man that somewhat resembles you—this time, he wears the same type of clothes that you do, all flannel and denim. But his lips taste like tobacco and his hands are much too large and calloused, much more so than yours are. Your hands—in Haley’s mind—are perfect. Perfect to hold, perfect to kiss… and perfect for other things too.

“You’re so fucking hot,” the man growls against her lips, disrupting her thoughts and shattering her illusion of being in your arms instead of a stranger’s. She pulls away abruptly, her chest heaving as she pants, feeling bile rising in her throat.

This feels so fucking wrong.

She manages to mutter out an apology—or something close to it—before stumbling away, the seven shots of tequila finally making their reappearance as she locks herself in a dingy bathroom stall, heaving as she clutches the sides of the porcelain toilet bowl. It disgusts her to think about how many germs there are on the public toilet seat that she’s currently laying her face on, but the nausea bubbling up within her wins the fight. Exhausted, and disgusted with herself for multiple reasons, she finally vomits up the tequila and her dinner, tears pouring down her cheeks as she sobs into the toilet bowl, her cries echoing around the empty bathroom.

“Haley?”

Or, the not so empty bathroom.

“How did you know it was me?”

“I know what you sound like, Haley.”

She’s silent for a moment, her tongue sour with stomach bile as she takes in the concern and exasperation laced through your voice. You’re worried, but you’re also tired. This isn’t the first time you’ve found her in this very position, at this very bar.

“Can I help you get home?” you ask, tentatively. “I’m… worried.”

“There’s no reason to be,” Haley spits, though she feels guilt pooling in her stomach as soon as she says it—joining the alcohol in making her feel absolutely nauseous.

“Just open the door, Haley.”

She doesn’t want you to see her like this. Of all people, especially not you. But what else can she do? Go back out there and kiss that man wearing clothes that looked like yours, with her vomit breath?

She unlocks the stall door, wiping a string of drool from her chin as she refuses to make eye contact with you. She’s disheveled; the front of her blue top stained with sweat and vomit and God knows what else. Her makeup is running; her mascara clumpy and dripping down her cheeks in inky black tears, her lips swollen and lipstick smudged. Tears are still evident in her blue eyes, though she doesn’t look back at you—she’s much too ashamed to do that.

Instead of laughing at her or ignoring her, you feel a lump arise in your throat at the sight of your girl—she was once almost your girl—in such a state of unrest. It’s no wonder you reach down to rip off a few squares of cheap, one-ply toilet paper to gently wipe her inky tears, clean the smudges of pink lipstick around her mouth.

“Why are you still doing this?” she asks, her voice harsh. “Why do you still care? I haven’t talked to you sober in weeks.”

“That’s exactly why I’m still doing this,” you whisper back, your voice pained and your heart breaking as you see the cold look in her eyes. “Why can’t we be happy together, Haley? Why do you have to keep running away?”

“We’re not having this talk again,” she mumbles, her voice still slurring as she tries to push you aside and stumble out of the bathroom. She needs something—someone—to distract herself from your presence. “I’m not—I’m not like that. Like you.”

“Haley,” you say softly. And that’s all you say—a singular utterance of her name. Then you look at her, your eyes searching hers for something more, something to tell you to keep trying to reach out and see if she’s okay despite her hostility. Something to tell you that you’re doing the right thing, and that all she needs is some time to heal before—

“I’m not a lesbian.”

She’s said it before. She’s said it every single time you try to pick her up off the floor of this bar bathroom, even though you’re not trying to come onto her again. You desperately want to—you think you might love her, for Christ’s sake—but not when she’s drunk. Not when she’s still this lost and confused.

“Okay,” you say quietly, forcing a small smile. “I know. Just let me help you home, okay? As a friend. Nothing more, I promise.”

She regards you skeptically, swaying and steadying herself on the grimy bathroom wall for a moment as she narrows her eyes at you. “I don’t trust you,” she says, pointing at you. Her breath smells like bile and tequila but all you want to do is kiss her despite this. “You… you make me feel things. And it’s not right—it’s not who I am. You’re fucking me up.”

This time it’s more cutting—usually she doesn’t elaborate. Usually she lets you take her home, drop her off. You always leave two aspirin and a glass of water on her nightstand before you go, usually waving to Emily on the way out.

You know. Emily knows. She doesn’t know.

“I’m not fucking anyone up. If you’re feeling something for me, then you’ve been this way all along. And nothing will change that,” you say sharply, the dam finally flooding; splintering and breaking and releasing the torrents of water that threaten to separate you from Haley altogether, once and for all.

Feeling numb, you push past her, nudging her shoulder roughly on the way out. It’s not even on purpose—you just can’t see straight from the tears that are blurring your eyes.

Haley nearly trips over her own feet, calling out your name and making you turn around, groaning loudly with frustration.

“What?” you ask, your voice cracking with emotion.

She takes a deep breath, looking you in the eye. “I mean it when I said I’m not a—“

You don’t even wait for her to finish her sentence—for her to say that word like it’s something dirty or wrong. “Fine!” you snap, glaring at her. Tears dribble down your face in thick, hot streams. Your nose is dripping snot, wetting your upper lip. “Good luck, babe!” you say sarcastically, almost relishing in the heartbreak on her face. You turn on your heel, this time not caring—you wouldn’t be returning to the saloon anytime soon, not for her.

If she wanted to tell you something, she could come find you herself.

© petrichor-han 2024, all rights reserved. // divider credit: @saradika-graphics

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