#mastering lo in Spanish

[everythinginmyheart]

Want to improve your Spanish? Discover how to use the Spanish article "lo" effectively in your conversations! Whether it's for abstract ideas or emphasizing adjectives, this post covers everything. Check out real-life examples and start mastering Spanish grammar today!

[mylanguageclasses]

Want to improve your Spanish? Discover how to use the Spanish article "lo" effectively in your conversations! Whether it's for abstract ideas or emphasizing adjectives, this post covers everything. Check out real-life examples and start mastering Spanish grammar today!

[thetorturedlovergirl]

13 se despierta con estos mensajes despues de los eventos de Spyfall porque spy sigue teniendo su número (ella decide bloquearlo porque no está para sus pelotudeces a la madrugada).

[jungwnies]

the dad who stepped up | carlos sainz (cs55)

୨ৎ : featuring : carlos sainz x fem!reader/singlemom!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : not the biological father, but rather the father who stepped up!

୨ৎ : genre : romance & fluff ୨ৎ : word count : 947

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : this was such a cute little story, i can only imagine the spanglish going crazy in this household <3 psa... intentionally all lowercase

carlos never thought about being a dad so soon. sure, he wanted kids someday, but he always figured it would come later, after racing, after settling down. what he didn’t expect was for you to walk into his life, a single mom with a baby boy who barely knew how to say papa yet.

he met you when your son, nico, was only eight months old. you had been hesitant at first, not wanting to bring someone into your child’s life unless you were sure. but carlos? carlos was patient. he never rushed you, never forced his way in. he just showed up.

at first, it was small things; holding nico when your arms were full, rocking him to sleep when he got fussy, making faces at him across the dinner table just to see him giggle. then, before either of you knew it, nico wasn’t just some baby carlos happened to know. he was his boy.

now, four years later, carlos can’t imagine life any other way.

—

"okay, buddy, one more time, but this time big swings," carlos calls from the backyard, watching as nico grips his tiny golf club, determination all over his little face.

you stand nearby, sipping on a lemonade, watching your two favorite people as the warm breeze rustles through the trees.

nico, tongue sticking out in concentration, takes a swing, too hard, and the plastic ball rolls about a foot away.

"that was amazing!" carlos exclaims, throwing his hands up as if nico just hit a hole-in-one at augusta.

"it barely moved!" nico whines, stomping his foot.

carlos kneels beside him, adjusting his grip. "the trick isn’t power, campeón (champion), it’s control. even papá sainz had to learn that."

you smile, shaking your head as you watch them. “carlos, if you turn him into a golf snob before he even learns how to ride a bike, we’re gonna have a problem.”

carlos grins over his shoulder at you. “you say that now, but when he’s winning the masters, you’ll be thanking me.”

nico nods along, even though he has absolutely no idea what the masters is. “sí, mami! (yes, mommy!)”

your heart melts every time nico switches between english and spanish so naturally, something carlos had made sure to teach him from the moment he could talk.

—

later that evening, after dinner, you’re curled up on the couch together, nico snuggled in between you and carlos with his favorite book in hand.

“papá, can you read the book en español? (papa, can you read the book in spanish?)” nico asks, eyes wide with excitement.

carlos raises an eyebrow, clearly pleased. “sí, pero solo un poquito, eh? (yes, but just a little, okay?) i don’t want you getting confused.”

you smile, resting your head against carlos’s shoulder as he begins reading, seamlessly switching between english and spanish.

"the little dog ran through the��el bosque (the forest)…looking for his friend… pero no lo encontró (but he didn’t find him). so he kept running and running…hasta que… (until…)"

nico listens intently, repeating some of the words in his tiny voice.

“bosque!” he says proudly.

carlos grins, tapping his nose gently. “eso! muy bien, campeón. (that’s it! very good, champion.)”

you watch as carlos pauses and turns to nico. “and what’s a bosque?”

nico scrunches his little face, thinking hard before answering, “umm… a forest?”

carlos nods approvingly. “exacto! (exactly!)”

you laugh, shaking your head. “i swear, this kid is gonna be fluent before i am.”

carlos smirks, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “well, mamá, looks like you need some spanish lessons too.”

you playfully elbow him, making him chuckle.

just as you think nico is starting to doze off, his tiny voice pipes up.

“papá, i’m sleepy… pero i want uno más cuento. (papa, i’m sleepy… but i want one more story.)”

carlos lets out an exaggerated sigh, feigning exhaustion. “one more? vale, uno más. (okay, one more.)”

he flips the page, his voice soft as he continues reading. you feel nico’s breathing slow, his tiny body relaxing between the two of you.

you glance up at carlos, who is watching nico with that same gentle, loving look he always has. he catches you staring and gives you a small smile, his fingers reaching out to brush over your hand.

“you know,” you whisper, “you never had to do any of this.”

carlos furrows his brows. “what do you mean?”

you swallow the lump in your throat. “i mean… you didn’t have to be his dad. you could’ve just dated me and kept your distance. but instead, you’re his person. and i just… i don’t know. i hope you know how much i love you for that.”

carlos studies you for a moment before shaking his head, as if the thought of not stepping up for nico is ridiculous. he lifts your intertwined fingers, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand.

“i didn’t have to, amor,” he murmurs. “i wanted to. i chose this. i chose you. i chose him. and i’d do it again a thousand times over.”

tears prick your eyes, but before you can say anything, carlos leans down and places a gentle kiss on nico’s forehead.

“buenas noches, mi pequeño campeón. (good night, my little champion.)”

nico barely stirs, already deep in sleep.

carlos turns back to you, smiling softly. “now come on, mamá, let’s go watch bad reality tv and pretend we don’t have to wake up early tomorrow.”

you laugh, shaking your head as you follow him to the couch, where his arm instinctively wraps around you.

carlos sainz wasn’t the father by blood.

but he was the father who stepped up.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗙𝗟𝗨𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗬 𝗙𝗥𝗢𝗠 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗧 carlos sainz jr. x girlfriend! reader ( fluff ) fic summary , it's carlos'birthday and to surprise him, you learn a whole language to speak his tongue (0.5K)

( general master list | more of carlos sainz ) ( requests )

It’s his birthday.

Madrid is warm and golden, basking in the tail end of summer. You’ve booked the table weeks ago, called three times to make sure they’d have that wine he likes—the one he discovered in Jerez and hasn't shut up about since. And Carlos, dressed in linen and a grin that makes your knees buckle, is none the wiser.

You’ve been dating for years. Met in Monaco, fell in sync somewhere between race weekends and shared playlists. You've learned his routines, his tells, the subtle shape of his moods. He’s learned how you like your tea, how you hum when you’re nervous, how to make you laugh when the world feels heavy.

But you’ve kept this one thing tucked close to your chest.

He thinks you don’t speak Spanish.

And to be fair, you've sold it well—mangled pronunciations, asking for translations, dramatic groans whenever he FaceTimes his family and slips into his mother tongue. 

You’ve been practising, in secret. Podcasts in the car. Novels with sticky notes. Whispered phrases into the mirror. All to see the look on his face tonight. Reciving death threats by the green duolingo owl. All of it.

The waiter arrives. A smile and a thick accent. Carlos is about to order when you beat him to it. Calm. Casual.

“Hola. Vamos a compartir el pulpo a la gallega, por favor. Y una botella de vino tinto, el de la casa. Gracias.” [hi. we’ll share the Galician-style octopus, please. and a bottle of red wine, the house one. thank you]

Silence.

Carlos’s head jerks toward you like you just announced you’re moving to Mars.

“You—what—what did you just say?” he stutters, wide-eyed, blinking like he missed a gear shift in real time.

You smile, wicked and slow. “Yo ordené .” [i orderd]

He gapes. You’ve seen Carlos speechless—after wins, after you wore that dress, after you told him you loved him. But this? This is a different kind of stunned.

“You speak Spanish? Desde cuando ?” [since when]

You shrug, eyes glinting. “Desde siempre. Solo que . . . no en voz alta.” [since always. Jus. not out loud]

Carlos leans back, laughter erupting from him, warm and incredulous. “¿En serio? ¿Todo este tiempo? ¡Te he estado traduciendo memes!” [are you kidding me? All this time? i’ve been translating memes for you!]

You grin, leaning over the candlelit table. “Lo sé. Tuve que fingir confusión sobre «estás bien, cariño» durante unos tres meses.” [i know. i had to act confused about ‘are you alright, dear’ for like three months.]

He’s laughing so hard he nearly knocks over the wine. His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining, soft and warm and buzzing.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Quería darte una sorpresa. Por tu cumpleaños.” [i wanted to surprise you. for your birthday] You pause, cheeks warming. “Quería hablar tu idioma. Como le hablas a tu familia, a tus amigos. Quería ser parte de eso.” [i wanted to speak your language. the way you speak to your family, your friends. i wanted to be part of that]

Carlos softens like melting caramel. That look in his eyes—the one that says I love you without needing sound—wraps around you, wraps through you.

He brings your hand to his lips. Kisses the back of it with reverence. “Mi amor . . .” [My love]

Then, with a smirk, he leans in closer.

“So . . . ¿Significa esto que entendiste todo lo que le dije sobre ti a Fernando la semana pasada?” [does this mean you understood everything I said about you to Fernando last week]

You wink. “Cada palabra.” [Every word]

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Hey love. Could I please request some dad!Carlos, where he is super protective in front of the media but a huge softie in reality. Like playing dolls and princess with his darling.

Thank you🥹🥰

Carlos' little princess

The early morning light bathed the Spanish villa in soft hues of gold as Carlos gently lifted his four-year-old daughter, Yn, into his arms. She clung to her Papá sleepily, her tiny arms wrapping around his neck as she nuzzled into the crook of his shoulder. Today was a big day—race weekend had arrived, and while Rebecca couldn’t make it due to a modeling commitment, Carlos had insisted that Yn come along. He couldn't imagine a weekend without his little princess by his side.

“Are you excited, mi princesa?” he asked softly, smoothing back her unruly curls as he carried her to the car.

Yn yawned, rubbing her eyes before nodding. “Will I see tío Lando?” she asked sleepily.

Carlos chuckled. “Sí, mi amor. You’ll see tío Lando, and many more of Papá’s friends.”

With Yn safely buckled into her car seat, they set off for the track. Carlos glanced at her through the rearview mirror, smiling as she played with her stuffed unicorn, one of her favorite toys. The drive was peaceful, filled with the occasional question from Yn about the race, who would be there, and most importantly, whether there would be snacks.

When they arrived at the paddock, the media was already present, cameras clicking as soon as Carlos stepped out of the car. He wasted no time unbuckling Yn and lifting her into his arms, holding her protectively close.

“Papá, so many people!” she whispered, clutching his shirt.

Carlos pressed a reassuring kiss to her forehead. “Don’t worry, princesa. They just want to take some pictures, but they won’t come too close.”

The photographers kept their respectful distance, capturing the heartwarming sight of the usually intense driver cradling his daughter with so much tenderness. Unbothered, Yn buried her face in his shoulder, sighing contentedly as he carried her into the paddock.

Inside, the Williams team had set up a small play area for Yn. Carlos trusted their staff, and since they had a few younger mechanics who loved kids, he felt comfortable letting her play while he handled his team duties.

“Now, princesa, you be good and listen to tío Alex and the others, okay?” Carlos crouched down to her level, making sure she understood.

Yn nodded enthusiastically. “Sí, Papá! I will!” Then she leaned forward and whispered, “Can I have ice cream later?”

Carlos laughed. “We’ll see. Only if you eat all your lunch, okay?”

With that deal struck, Yn happily went off to play, leaving Carlos to focus on his meetings and practice sessions. Still, his gaze often flickered towards her play area, making sure she was happy and safe.

During lunch, Yn sat on his lap, her little hands holding a small sandwich as she ate. “Papá, you drive so fast,” she said between bites.

“Of course, mi amor,” Carlos grinned, tapping her nose. “That’s my job!”

She giggled, kicking her tiny feet. “I like it when you go vroooom!”

After lunch, Yn tugged on his sleeve insistently. “Papá, play dolls with me!”

Carlos raised a brow. “Right now? But Papá has to prepare for the race.”

Yn pouted, her big brown eyes widening in that irresistible way only a child could master. “But only you play dolls right, Papá!”

With a dramatic sigh, Carlos gave in. “Okay, okay. But only for a little while.”

What he didn’t expect was the media capturing the whole moment.

There he was, one of the fiercest competitors on the grid, sitting cross-legged on the floor of the hospitality suite, holding a tiny plastic doll in his large, calloused hands. Yn, looking completely in her element, was instructing him on how the princess should be dressed for her royal ball.

“No, Papá! She needs the pink dress, not the blue one!” she said, her tone exasperated but affectionate.

“Oh, lo siento, princesa,” Carlos said, barely containing his laughter. He swapped out the dresses, following her lead.

The sight was nothing short of adorable. The cameras outside the hospitality suite snapped pictures through the windows, capturing the moment a world-class driver played dolls with his daughter, occasionally kissing her cheek and making her burst into giggles.

Meanwhile, in the paddock, Lando, Charles, and Alex had spotted the scene and were watching with amused grins.

“I never thought I’d see the day,” Lando whispered. “Carlos playing with dolls.”

Charles smirked. “He’s completely wrapped around her little finger.”

Alex chuckled. “Honestly? It’s adorable.”

Inside, Carlos finally put the doll down, stretching his arms. “Okay, princesa, now Papá really has to work.”

Yn huffed dramatically. “Fine. But we play more later!”

He scooped her up into his arms, pressing another kiss to her cheek. “Deal.”

That evening, as he got ready for his qualifying session, he couldn’t help but smile when he saw his little girl cheering him on from the sidelines, waving enthusiastically.

Carlos may have been a racing driver, but first and foremost, he was a father. And nothing, not even a championship title, could compare to the love he had for his little Yn.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: hey guys. I hope you enjoy me first story. My requests are open for everybody!

-💙🦋

[flemingology]

mistletoe ─ alexia putellas x reader

part of my christmas series. full masterlist here!

in which: you try to drop hints to alexia through your christmas decoration

warnings: oblivious alexia deserves a warning on its own

wc: 6.5k

You and Alexia had met a couple years ago at the driving range which you worked at. The Spaniard, accompanied with some of her Barcelona teammates, had picked out your work place as their team bonding haven for the afternoon. You had taken a gap year between your bachelors and masters, spending 12 months in Spain with your aunt, in her apartment in the Barcelona city centre. You'd picked up a side job at the driving range which kept you busy throughout the year, but left you more than enough time to soak in the Spanish sun and to explore the rowdy streets of Barcelona.

You and her hit it off immediately, cracking jokes off of each other any time you had the chance. She liked how you didn't seem to treat her as Alexia Putellas – the footballer, but just as Alexia. Human Alexia. Not the one that everyone seemed to want a signature from, or a picture with, but just the one in her day-to-day life. The persona that she didn't get to be most of the times when she was out and about, so it was a welcome change for her.

By the end of their time at the driving range, Alexia had had to endure endless teasing and torturing from her friends about her connection with you. The midfielder hadn't had a romantic interest in a good while, forever claiming she was too busy, but she knew damn well that was a little white lie to cover up for the fact that – despite the attention she faced every single day – she was just really, really shy. So when her friends realized that Alexia was hitting it off with one of the workers from the range, they were adamant that she tried to get your number.

While you were closing up, putting the last sets of chairs on tables and making sure all lights were off and doors were locked, you were suddenly startled by a tap on your shoulder. You couldn't conceal the squeal that escaped your lips, but were quickly comforted once you turned around and saw the face that you'd been thinking about all afternoon.

Alexia's advances had definitely gotten to you throughout the afternoon. You remained professional, but you found yourself gravitating towards their lane every time you had a free moment. You spent most of your time mingling with Alexia and her friends, talking about everything and nothing. It was safe to say that a little flirting had occurred, but you knew who Alexia was and you wouldn't have put it past her for that to be something she did on a daily. You assumed that the Ballon d'Or-winning midfielder could have about anyone she wanted, so you quickly wiped the thought away of her being into you of all people.

"Oh, Alexia, it's you," you chuckled, holding your hand over your chest where your heart would be. "Lo siento, I didn't mean to scare you," Alexia said, her Spanish accent seeping through whenever she spoke English. "Don't worry. Everything okay? Was everything to your guys liking?" She gave you a curt nod, and moved her weight from one leg to the other. She seemed a little restless, but you couldn't put your finger on the emotions that were etched on her face.

Alexia opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, trying to come up with the right thing to say. You were just about to make a joke, when she reached into the crossbody bag she was carrying and pulled out a piece of paper. "Do you have a... uhm," she frowned, looking around. "How you say... una birome?"

A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips, amused at how restless the otherwise so composed footballer seemed. Despite your efforts, though, you couldn't help Alexia with her translation. You'd picked up a couple classes here and there, and your Spanish had gotten a lot better ever since you started your year out here, but your knowledge of the language still left a lot to be desired.

"Una biroma?" you replied, cocking your eyebrow at her. "No, birome. E, not a," Alexia frowned and seemed to have forgotten about what she actually needed, busying herself with explaining the pronunciation of the word. "Alexia, what do you need?" you interrupted her before she could get lost in her words, both wanting her to tell you what she wanted, but you were also running late to dinner with your aunt. You needed to lock up the range and drive home quick if you wanted to beat the evening traffic, but Alexia was giving you a hard time at doing so.

"Something to write, uh..." "A pen?" "Sí, a pen!"

A breathy laugh escaped your lips as Alexia's face lit up. You reached into your back pocket and pulled out the pen you used to write down people's drink orders during the day. "Here. This should do, why do you need it?"

Alexia snatched the pen from your hands and scribbled something down on the piece of paper she'd taken from her bag. Before you could grasp what was happening, she was done and pushed both the paper and the pen back in your hands, before rushing off towards the parking lot. You could just about clamp onto both before they fell down, calling after Alexia, but to no avail. She'd already turned the corner outside and she was out of sight. You shook your head and frowned, wondering what could've startled her all of a sudden. You opened up the crumpled piece of paper and noticed she'd written down her number, a couple scratched out numbers and it was written all wonky. She had clearly been nervous about giving you her number, but you still didn't feel like it warranted her just running out on you like that.

You couldn't help the warm feeling that nestled itself into your stomach at the fact you had seemed to make Alexia Putellas nervous. The Alexia Putellas, 3-time UWCL winner, 2-time Ballon d'Or winner, had gotten so incredibly nervous around you that she sprinted away when she gave you her number.

What you didn't know, whilst you were locking up, is that Alexia was receiving an unimaginable amount of stick at how she handled the situation, but her friends were silently proud of her nonetheless for at least attempting at putting herself out there. They know she struggled with it and for her to make this first step, despite all the pushing by her friends, it was a big leap.

Later that night, when you arrived back home from dinner with your aunt, you decided that would be a good time to message Alexia. You didn't feel like it was appropriate to text her right away, deciding to let some tension build up between the both of you before you allowed her the reprieve of knowing you liked her back.

You texted a little back and forth that same evening, and before you knew it had you a date set in your calendar. You'd agreed on going for coffee the day after, and the rest was history.

But what first seemed like happily ever after, was going to be nothing like it. Not in the slightest. Your first date with Alexia was amazing. The energy you shared at the driving range carried over to the café, the both of you sharing a couple hours talking about everything and nothing with each other. You talked about her career, her youth, her path up to where she was right now, and you talked about your studies, your home back in England and your experiences in Barcelona. You thought the two of you shared a real connection, but you couldn't shake the tinge of disappointment you felt when you didn't end the date with a kiss.

Nonetheless, a second date came, and the two of you still hit it off. You conversed like you'd known each other for years, never a moment of silence when you were together. It felt right with Alexia, you felt comfortable and you could tell she felt the same. And even if you couldn't sense it, you knew because she told you. She opened up about how she felt like she could be herself around you, a welcome change from her usual day-to-day life where she felt like she had to perform and be the version of herself 24/7, day in day out. Your heart had warmed at her words, and you couldn't help but hope that this time, your date would end with a kiss. But nothing was less true.

Weeks went on, date after date happened, you had both been to each other's apartments, but that base hadn't been covered yet. Despite your – sometimes not so subtle – hints, you started falling into a pattern of just casual friendship. It felt like, every week, the mountain was becoming higher to climb. The tension was palpable between the two of you and you knew the Spaniard could feel it too. She'd been more careful around you, a little less expressive and a little less touchy. You don't know who initiated what, but you knew something had changed in the air.

Before long, you started having doubts about the whole ordeal. You knew that, going into this, you were dating a professional footballer. You knew how their schedules got, how busy they were, especially someone like Alexia. Their time at football didn't just stop at practices and games, it was meetings, shoots, media events and so on. Alexia had weaved around her appointments to be able to see you regularly, but it had started to feel like she was slipping away a little.

-

Christmas was around the corner, your favorite time of year. Work had died down tremendously, understandable seen the ranges were outside. No one was interested in freezing their asses off playing some golf around this time of year. But from time to time, you had some customers that came in for a drink. You had gotten through most of your workday on Monday afternoon, when suddenly your phone chimed with a message.

From: Ale ⭐️ Hola, chica. Are you at work? I'm passing by soon. Wanna say hi. :)

You smiled at your phone, the message perfectly encapsulating what had drawn you in about Alexia. She was so sincere, she made you feel like you were genuinely important. She went out of her way to see you, even if it was just for an hour, she would move her shoot and shorten her time for the media just so she could grab a coffee with you. That's why the lack of romantic connection between the both of you confused you. There were a handful of times where you felt like you were going to take the first step, but you didn't want to push her into something that you weren't sure whether she wanted. She had opened up to you about how hard she found it to manage a relationship with her career, so the last thing you wanted to do was force one onto her. That's the reason why you decided to let her come to you, but months had passed now and nothing happened. The two of you had fallen into a comfortable rhythm of seeing each other weekly, catching up over a coffee or a film in either's apartment, but the midfielder seemed content with the situation you found yourself in right now, and it had started frustrating you to no end.

On one side, you assumed that it would be better to cut contact. You had to admit it, you were falling for Alexia and if you wanted to make sure you didn't get too hurt from the fall, you had to put yourself first and make an end to it. But you couldn't. Not when her strong arms engulfed you in a hug when she hadn't seen you for a week, not when you came home to your plushies meticulously arranged on top of your made bed as a thank you for letting her stay over the night before, and especially not when her lips softly kissed your cheek every time she wished you goodbye, eye contact lingering a little longer than you should, forever wishing she was kissing your lips goodnight instead of your cheeks goodbye.

You quickly rid yourself of your thoughts and sent Alexia a reply, not wanting to keep her waiting too long.

To: Ale ⭐️ Yeah, I'm at the range.

You didn't intend to be curt, but you had gotten worked up about the situation in your head and didn't feel like being overly nice to her right now. You finished up a bit of work and managed to answer a couple emails before Alexia's arms wrapped around your shoulders, pressing a kiss against the side of your head as you turned around and got up from your chair, meeting her embrace with one of your own.

"Hola," Alexia mumbled against the side of your face, squeezing you a little tighter before letting go of your body and placing her hands back in the front pocket of her hoodie. You took a moment to take her in. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail that was trying it's best to keep all her hair at bay, but a couple baby hairs managed to escape anyway. They stood up proudly on top of her head, almost mocking the rest of her hair that was tightly tucked away. She was dressed in a Barca hoodie and a matching pair of sweatpants, keeping her safe from the cold wind outside that mercilessly nipped at every bit of skin it could find. Her face was covered in a thin layer of sweat, remnants of the run she was on before she stopped here. She looked adorable, really, and you could just about press down the urge to surge forward once again and hide your face in her neck.

"Hey you," you smiled, locking eyes with her. "Good run?" Alexia nodded, still trying to catch her breath, the difference in temperature making it harder to regain her composure, your work place a lot warmer than the outside. "Yeah, it felt good. Had training earlier but I felt like a run, so I was happy that my legs were working with me."

You chuckled, no longer surprised at Alexia's incredible work rate. She'd worked hard to be where she was, and there was no way that she wasn't going to keep her spot cemented up there with the big names in football. So with that thought in the back of her mind, she kept working hard every single day, even though she had proved herself and others time and time again that she was the best.

You tried to match Alexia's excited energy, but there was something inside you that didn't allow you to be as expressive with the midfielder as you usually were. Whether it was the thoughts you were having about your situation before she walked in, or something else, you couldn't quite pinpoint, but there was a tension building between the two of you and it didn't feel nice.

"That's nice, Ale," you sat back down on your chair and absentmindedly started doing a bit more of your work, not thinking much of it. You and Alexia had co-existed a lot of times in her apartment, you doing some work for school and her rewatching her games, but this time the Spaniard wasn't having it. "Oi!", you exclaimed, as you felt Alexia flick your ear. "What was that for?" you questioned, cocking an eyebrow at her as you turned your chair back over to her, her face sporting a crooked grin.

"Am I not interesting enough for your attention?" she said, clearly meaning for it to be a joke, but you could sense the hint of disappointment in her voice. You cursed yourself internally for making Alexia think like that of herself. "No, Ale, I just need to get through some of this work here. I have a lot of emails to catch up with and seen as the range is quiet today, I was making good work of them," you tried to reason. "If you didn't want me to stop by, you could've said," Alexia quipped back, insecurity seeping through her voice. "No, no. It's not that," you said quickly, standing back up and grabbing one of her hands from her front pocket in yours. Alexia intertwined your fingers and you had to take a deep breath to compose yourself and to not get lost in the small display of affection the midfielder was showing you.

You meticulously picked out your next words, not wanting Alexia to feel like she's too much in this space right now. "I don't want you to feel like I don't want to see you, because I always do. You know that," you squeezed Alexia's hand and looked into her eyes, searching them for any sign of discomfort. "I was just a little busy. I'm sorry. I should've said."

Alexia pulled you into another hug, wiping away all the thoughts that were running rampant through your head. Right as you were sinking into her embrace, she pulled away. "No te preocupes. I'll let you finish up with the rest of your work. If you want to watch a film together later, call me. I'm free," Alexia pressed a kiss against your crown and left you to your own devices, stepping away from behind the counter gracefully stepping towards the exit of the building, picking up a jog right before she turned the corner and made her way back to her apartment.

You stood there for a couple moments, registering what just happened. Things always went like this. Alexia would show you some signs of affection, you'd get lost in it and pick everything apart about the small interaction in your mind for the rest of the evening. You didn't know what else you could do to make it clear to her that you wanted her. You'd voiced multiple times that you felt good around her, how you felt about the two of you, but it just seemed like she wasn't able to see through what you were saying. You tried to rid yourself of the insecure thoughts that were creeping past the walls of your mind and busied yourself with more admin work for the rest of the afternoon.

That night, you didn't call Alexia. You had a free night, but you didn't spend it cuddled up with her on the couch, like you had done often the past couple weeks. You and her would pick a film and get way too close to each other throughout it, before you inevitably fell asleep with your head on her lap, always disappointed the morning after when you woke up in her bed, alone. You appreciated that she carried you to bed, but you wanted to be with her. Not alone in her room, sheets cold on the other side, door ajar with the possibility of her joining you, but it never happened.

As much as you tried to distance yourself from Alexia, you couldn't. You didn't let yourself, but it was also nearly impossible with how the midfielder clung to you. You loved it, really, but you'd loved it more if you knew why she wasn't bridging the gap that was so, so clear between the two of you.

-

Christmas Eve. A day you'd grown to love over the past couple years. You didn't have particularly good childhood memories about the day, but ever since you were able to make your own plans for the festivities, December 24th had quickly become one of your favorite days. For the last couple years now, you and your friends had built the little tradition of going to one of your houses and celebrating it there. Everyone that attended made a dish, whether it was starters, main or dessert, and you all enjoyed the company with good food and a couple glasses of good wine. This year, though, you'd all agreed on having it in Barcelona. Your friends didn't want to pass up on the opportunity of seeing you, but they also really wanted to experience Barcelona in all its glory during the winter months. You couldn't blame them. If there was one thing you loved about these couple weeks, it was how nice the city was decorated. Christmas lights adorning every street lantern, Christmas trees littered throughout the city and the soft chime of Christmas music waltzing through the air.

You'd gone out of the way to decorate your aunt's apartment that was yours for the week, her going back to England to celebrate all of it with your family over there. She'd promised you she would give them all many hugs from you, a small side of yours still gutted about the fact that you wouldn't see your family, your mum for Christmas this year. But you knew, surrounded by your friends, you'd have an incredible night. This year, though, you all agreed that plus ones were welcome. You thought it was only fair that if they had to come to Spain, their partners were allowed to come too. That said, though, it seemed like you were the only one without a plus one. It wasn't really something that bothered you, having been single for quite some time now, but you would be lying if you said it hadn't been on your mind the past couple days. Your friends and their partners were out exploring Barcelona before they had to come to yours, and you couldn't help but dread the fact that you couldn't join them with a partner of yourself. Your thoughts dialed back to Alexia, seemingly inevitable, and you figured the least you could do was text her and wish her a fun Christmas Eve.

To: Ale ⭐️ Enjoy your Christmas Eve tonight, Ale. 🧡

You added a little finishing touches to your dinner table, meticulously arranging all the decorations that were on it as you felt your phone buzz in your back pocket.

From: Ale ⭐️ Thank you, amor. No plans tonight, though. I have training tomorrow morning and we aren't very big on Christmas Eve in our family

Despite the nickname driving you wild, your shoulders fell visibly as you read Alexia's message. You couldn't imagine not having plans on Christmas Eve. A thought crossed your mind and you acted upon it before the flurry of confidence got lost on you.

To: Ale ⭐️ Wanna join us? There's a couple friends and their partners coming over. We're just having a big dinner. Nothing too crazy. If you want, I'll drive you home for training tomorrow? :)

You quickly turned your phone back off and shoved it back into your back pocket, already nervous about Alexia's reply. You busied yourself with a couple final preparations to the snack plates you made, that being your part of the food tonight. You gave your table and food one more look, deciding you were satisfied with how everything looked before you made your way over to your bedroom and picked out the outfit you'd bought for tonight.

You were shopping in Barcelona on your day off last week when your eyes fell on a elegant-looking black jumpsuit. You realized that you didn't have an outfit yet for Christmas Eve, so the choice was made for you, and a couple minutes later you left the store with an extra bag hanging from your hands. You showed the piece of clothing to Alexia through a picture over text, and she voiced how beautiful she thought you would look in it. It was a simple compliment, but it'd warmed you inside and it had you thinking about how it could've been had you guys decided to start a relationship somewhere during the last few months. You could've spent the holidays together, buying each other presents, wearing matching pj's, watching Christmas films on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate in hand. But despite all the flirting and teasing, nothing had happened between the two of you, and you were here in your bedroom, alone. Before you could sulk any further, you felt your phone buzz in your back pocket.

From: Ale ⭐️ Oh, eso suena bien. Are you sure? I don't want to intrude on your night with your friends.

You chuckled at her concern, and typed a quick reply.

To: Ale ⭐️ Yes, I'm sure. I'd love to have you with us here. Vendrán a las 7, pero puedes venir un poco antes si quieres :)

You tried your best to form a coherent Spanish sentence, knowing Alexia liked it when you made an effort to try and speak her mother tongue. She'd let it slip one time that she found your accent attractive, and ever since then you'd attempted to learn a bit more in your free time. A quick glance at the clock told you the time was nearing 6, so you waited for Alexia's reply and then quickly jumped in the shower.

From: Ale ⭐️ Perfect. I'll be there. See you soon. x

The jumpsuit fitted you perfectly, hugging and accentuating your curves in all the right ways. You put on a light touch of make-up, not wanting to go overboard but you liked to add a little extra touch to your look on days like these. You made your way back downstairs and lit some candles, trying to set a warm and homely scenery for your guests later. You put on a soft Christmas playlist and took a step back to admire your work, infatuated by how cosy your place looked right now.

You'd turned off all the big lights and replaced them with your cosy mood lightning throughout the apartment, casting your place in a golden glow. The shadows of the candles you lit were dancing all over the ceiling. Your Christmas tree, which you had spent hours on last week trying to decorate it to your liking, was tucked away in the corner of the living room, its twinkling lights shining bright. The dinner table was decorated lightly, adding a couple red and white details to the table decoration. There was a mistletoe hanging from the arched entryway from the dining area to the living room, and you couldn't help but think about the possibilities it could bring later on. The light scent of cinnamon and peppermint hung in the air, courtesy of a couple scented candles Alexia had gifted you last week. She'd recently learned just how much you liked the holidays, and wanted to give you something that you could use in your place. She wasn't big on it herself, her and her family never having made a big deal out of it, so for her to go out of her way to pick something up for you, meant so much more to you than she could imagine.

The soft hints of music waltzing through the air really finished off the perfect picture, and it's safe to say you were more than satisfied with the way your apartment looked right now. The time was nearing 6:45 and you knew Alexia would be here soon, followed suit by your friends in the following 20 minutes. Right on cue, you heard a knock on your door.

You could feel your heart skipping a beat, but you tried to ignore it. You wiped your hands on your jumpsuit and tried to regain your composure by taking in a deep breath, before making your way over to the door in a couple quick strides and taking a look through the peer hole of the door. If you were nervous before, you surely were now. You couldn't quite see all of it, but the outfit Alexia was wearing had already left a dry feeling in your mouth. You caught yourself staring and shook your thoughts, stepping back and opening your door, revealing the Spaniard in all her glory. She was wearing a pair of black suit pants, combined with a white blouse that she left opened at the top. Her hair was straightened and fell down her shoulders, a welcome change to the ponytail and headband she usually had in when you saw her. You didn't see her in something else than her sporty attire that often, so every time you did, she always managed to take her breath away. As if her outfit wasn't enough to throw you off balance, she was holding a a big bouquet of red roses in her hands. The look on her face told you that she knew this outfit would've pulled a reaction out of you, and you wanted nothing more than to kiss the goofy grin off her lips.

"Ale," you breathed, "Hey. You look incredible," you said, taking a step back and allowing her space to enter your apartment. She turned back towards you and shamelessly checked you out, letting her eyes rake over your jumpsuit-clad body before she met yours. "Hear who's speaking. You look amazing," she said, inching closer to you and pressing a lingering kiss against your cheek. You didn't fail to notice the way her hand wrapped around your waist for a second, the skin on your lower back burning where she had just touched you. "Aquí, para ti," she said, holding out the bouquet in front of her. "You didn't have to do this, Ale, you know-," "Shh, don't worry. You invite me, so I bring you something."

A blush coated your cheeks as you took the bouquet from her, placing it down on the counter while you looked for a vase. "This looks nice, you've done a good job on decorating," Alexia said, her voice ringing through the apartment as she explored your living room. You lifted your head from the cabinet in which you found a vase that would suit the flowers, and shot her a smile. "Thank you, I spent quite some time on it. I'm glad you like it," Alexia hummed and returned back to admiring your decorated apartment.

The night went on just as you'd hoped it would. Not long after Alexia arrived, your friends came up too. Long, heartfelt hugs were shared with everyone, suddenly realizing you'd missed them so much more than you thought you had. Alexia didn't need an introduction to any of them, but it's safe to say they were more than surprised when they realized she was your plus one for the evening. A lot of questions were thrown your way whenever Alexia was out of earshot, but you tried to quiet them down because the last thing you wanted, was to get upset about how everything with Alexia went down the last couple of months. You cut it down to "we're just friends," multiple times, but none of your friends could miss the tinge of disappointment that flickered through your eyes every time the subject got brought up.

Lots of good food and a little bit too much wine later, your friends started making their way back out. You'd offered for them to stay over, but they had all made a reservation for a night at hotels nearby. They were all flying back home tomorrow and they could use the rest before a long day of traveling. Alexia was lingering, and while you actually didn't want her to leave, you were also surprised. After all, she still had training tomorrow. With the clock nearing 12, you knew she was way past her usual bedtime. "Ale, you okay?" you questioned, the Spaniard busying herself with cleaning up your table. You frowned when she didn't reply, so you stepped in and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Alexia." "Hmm?" she mumbled, surprise clear in her voice. "Sorry, I didn't hear. What did you say?"

You chuckled and rubbed her shoulder affectionately before dropping your arm back to your side. "Are you okay? I know it's late, I thought you'd want to leave early because you have training in the morning," you said tentatively, not wanting to seem like you wanted her gone. "Ah, sí. Yeah, I should get going," the midfielder said, but you sensed she didn't really want to do that. "You don't have to, you know that. You can stay here too and I'll drive you to practice tomorrow. I don't have work this week and my aunt isn't here, it's not a bother to me."

Alexia's eyes lit up and you knew you had her. "If that's okay?" she asked again, wanting to make sure that she was not a bother to you. You nodded, offering her a big smile. "Yeah, of course. Don't worry. I'll get my bedroom set up for you."

Before she could muster up a reply, you'd already turned the corner and were making your way upstairs. Truth be told, Alexia had felt a little out of place all evening. She had fun, lots of fun even, but she could sense that the air between the two of you was charged with something she didn't like. In all fairness, she was jealous of your friends. They had all brought their partners and were spending their Christmas Eve all cozy and cuddled up with their lovers, while you two were still just going about things as "good friends". She was tired of dancing around the feelings she had for you, the feelings she was sure you had for her too. She wanted nothing more than to spend her days as your girlfriend, waking up together in your bed in the morning, spending your days together, you coming to her games and her coming to your work whenever you had the time. She didn't want to act like she didn't want you in a different way than she had you right now. It wasn't enough. And if it couldn't be, she'd have to cut contact with you.

Unbeknownst to her, you were thinking about her too in your bedroom. You made your bed and put out some clothes for Alexia to sleep in, and you couldn't help but think about how disappointed you had been that you didn't get to love up on Alexia like your friends were doing with their partners all night. A couple fleeting touches would've had to do, each one lingering a bit longer than the other, telling you that Alexia was clearly feeling the same way about the situation like you. Despite the obviousness of the whole ordeal, neither of you had succeeded in taking the next step. You were caught up in your mind, when suddenly an idea came up to you. The mistletoe.

You made your way back down and were surprised to see your dining table cleaned up. The kitchen was still quite the mess, but that was something you would tackle yourself tomorrow. "Thanks, Ale, you didn't have to do that. I could've helped you", you said, the Spaniard waving you off from her spot in the kitchen. "Don't worry, please. You invited me tonight and you're letting me stay here, the least I can do is help you with cleaning up."

You mumbled another quick thanks when she passed by you, making her way to the living room and plopping down on the couch. You wanted to follow her, but there was only one thing on your mind and you wouldn't let it go until you'd got what you wanted. You lingered between the dining area and the living room, very purposefully standing under your arched entryway where the mistletoe hung. You prayed to all the Gods that Alexia would understand the meaning of the Christmas ornament, but the dumbfounded look on her face when you didn't join her immediately told you otherwise.

"Come here, I want to cuddle," she stated. You wanted nothing more than to join her on the couch, to fall in her outstretched arms, but you stayed put, because what you really wanted was something so much better than a cuddle. It wasn't out of sorts for you to be cuddled up together on the couch, so she looked at you weirdly and cocked her eyebrow and head at you when you shook your head adamantly. "¿Por qué no?"

"Ale...," you breathed, vaguely gesturing towards the mistletoe hanging above your head. You didn't want to have to spell it out, missing out on the sincerity of the moment if you had to explain Alexia what you wanted. But you thanked your lucky stars when you saw Alexia moving up from the couch and making her way over to you in a quick few strides. Your luck ran out soon enough though, when Alexia halted in front of you but didn't make any further moves towards you. "¿Qué pasa? Why do you have twigs on your ceiling?"

At that moment, you wished that the ground would swallow you whole. You thought you finally were about to get what you'd been yearning for the past couple months, but much to your disdain, Alexia clearly didn't know what the mistletoe hanging above the two of you meant. You sighed and closed your eyes, taking a moment to ground yourself before speaking up. "Alexia, that's a mistletoe," you explained. "A what? Mistle... toe? What is that?" You sighed again and pinched the bridge of your nose, barely containing a laugh at the ridiculous situation you found yourself in.

"It's a Christmas decoration, Ale, and it-" "Ah, sí. It's nice," she finished her sentence and grabbed your hand, tugging you towards her and back to the couch, but you planted your feet in the ground. "Alexia," you said sternly. She looked at you with wide eyes, surprised at the tone of your voice. "Yes?" "It's a tradition that, when you're under a mistletoe with someone, that you have to... you have to kiss," you whispered the last word, almost not wanting to voice it out loud, scared that you might break the bond the two of you had been building up the last couple months. Maybe this wasn't what Alexia wanted at all, maybe she just wanted you as a friend and nothing more. Doubts started to creep in the longer the silence between the two of you stretched, neither of you making a move. "Oh...," Alexia mumbled at last.

You looked down at your feet, playing with the rings that clad your fingers. "Yeah," you breathed, before braving a look at her. "I mean, we don't have to... it's just a silly tradition, really. I didn't mean to-," before you could embarrass yourself further while trying to turn the situation around, you felt Alexia's hands cupping your cheeks. She tilted your head upwards and took a step closer towards you, resting her forehead against yours. She closed her eyes for a second and breathed in through her nose, composing herself for a moment before opening her eyes again and locking them with yours. She brushed your bottom lip with her thumb before speaking up.

"Can I kiss you?" "Please do."

[wileys-russo]

Hi if its not too much trouble can we get a hc of alexia coming back from the meeting and finding pollito with only 1 eyebrow with a smug mapi with the razor

in the pollito universe with stuck, tiny silver flash, the one where the kids go bowling, in hiding barça femeni II the aftermath

"vale. now we're even nena!" mapi got up off of you, ruffling your hair and pocketing the razor as you hurried to grab out your phone, eyes widening in horror as you opened the front camera.

"you really did it! its gone!" you spoke in disbelief, finger tracing the now bare skin where your left eyebrow used to be, mapi grinning happily from the door. "sí pollito. let this be a lesson, the student will never best the master." the older girl winked, retreating quickly as you continued to sit on the floor staring at your reflection.

"lo siento pol-" the voice died off as you looked up, jana's face paling seeing the anger shine in yours, the other girls peeking around her with the same look of shock. "estás bien?" vicky asked timidly, hiding behind cata who was clearly trying to bite back a grin.

"los traidores!" you growled, hurrying to your feet and flicking your hood over your head, shoving past the group of girls and storming off toward the media room, ignoring their calls after you.

"pollito lo siento! come on amiga." jana groaned grabbing your hand when you refused to acknowledge any of them as you tugged your hand away. "you left me there. some amigas!" you huffed with a scowl, pushing open the media room door.

"all of you on time? this is a first." irene chuckled, the captains already seated as well as a few of your other teammates, the others likely still making their way over from the cafeteria.

"hey, not so fast." you tried to scurry off up the back, alexia fisting your jumper and holding you in place as your friends all took their seats sending apologetic looks which you only met with another glare.

"all on my list." you mouthed, finger pointing to them one by one as even cata's grin was wiped away at the very serious threat. "what is this i hear about dye in shampoo niña?" alexia questioned, tapping your shoulder as you turned but kept your gaze trained to the ground.

"mírame." but it didn't last long as alexia's finger found your chin and tilted your head up, her eyes widening as your hood slipped off revealing your new look.

"qué pasó!?" the older girl gasped, hands holding your face in place as a small crowd gathered and your cheeks blushed red in embarrassment, rapid spanish chattering a million questions at you which went unanswered.

but as more of the girls entered the room, looking on in slight confusion at the scene unfolding in front of them, she walked in afterwards laughing at something pina said.

"did you do this? why would you shave your eyebrow pequeña? eres estúpido?" alexia accused as you huffed and pushed her hands off, head whipping around to shoot a filthy glare at mapi which was enough of an answer without needing any words.

"maría pilar león." a few of the younger girls oohed at the full name, mapi pausing and faltering at the murderous look on her captain and close friends face. "you mutilated her!" alexia accused, hands on your shoulders and spinning you around to face the defender, pointing to your missing eyebrow.

"why is she missing an eyebrow!?" frido rushed over now, her hands turning your face side to side as you grunted and pushed them away, sick of all the attention and fussing. "ask mapi." you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest with a scowl.

"she dyed my hair purple! in case nobody noticed, pollito started it." mapi scoffed pointing to her hair which was pulled back, the once blonde strands now bring purple.

"the purple washes out! my eyebrow won't grow back for-" "three to four months." your mouth dropped open at jana's words, having googled the question out of curiosity herself.

then all hell broke loose.

"te voy a matar hijo de puta!" you roared, launching at mapi who made a strange sort of squeaking noise and tried to hide behind pina who shoved her and darted out of the way as you took her down to the floor.

all sorts of foul language dropped from your lips as you were pulled back and away from the defender, paños easily holding you back with your arms behind you as you kicked and swore and fought to be let go.

frido and ingrid instead begin to lay into mapi, chastising her in their native languages as alexia stood in between you and mapi, warning you to calm down and you'd be let go as chest heaving you fell silent, tapping paños to let her know to release you.

"if you thought the hair dye was bad...you are on my list and top of it maría. espera y verás!" you warned with a pointed finger to the older girl whose smile was all but smacked off her face, alexia shoving you and nodding for you to take your seat with an unimpressed frown.

you did so now squished in between lucy and aitana, alexia taking a seat behind you and tugging at your ear each time your gaze shifted to the tattooed defender a few rows away with a glare, returning your eyes to the media playing up front.

you'd calmed somewhat by the time the session wrapped up, lucy poking at your sides every few minutes with a wink, mumbling some sort of terrible dad joke in your ear until you cracked a genuine smile and settled, tension melting out of your shoulders.

ignoring ingrids demands to go and apologize to you mapi scurried out of the media room the moment you were all dismissed, far more scared of the way alexia's eyes narrowed in her direction the moment she glanced up toward you, her girlfriend following after her with a sigh.

"chica." you turned to look up at your friends who'd gathered in front of you, guilt present in their features as you glared up at them unimpressed.

"i think you should all shave one eyebrow too if you are really sorry." you warned, eyes narrowing as they all exchanged a look having a silent conversation. "vale, we will do it." at that your faux annoyance melted away, grin on your lips as you laughed.

"only joking." you assured, cata hitting you playfully as they sat down, all of you chattering away like normal as you waited for alexia to finish up and drive the pair of you home.

"pollito!" you looked up at the call, finding frido beckoning you over. "where are we going? i need to get my stuff!" you asked confused as the swede draped an arm over your shoulder and lead you out of the room, heading the opposite direction to the changing rooms.

"well lite kärlek if you are not going to have an eyebrow for the next few months, i am going to teach you how to draw one on."

[ellswritings]

Undercover Heat

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

TW: Regular Criminal Minds violence, mentions of blood, death, and gore, suggestive content at the end (no smut), a bit of foul language, enemies to lovers, Hotch is kind of a meanie.

»»————-　➴　————-««

Sitting in the Los Angeles police station for the third day in a row has the entire team from the B.A.U stretched thin and exhausted. They’ve been dealing with a serial killer who targets couples with large age gaps in upscale, luxury clubs. He’s taken out three couples in the past three weeks. Tension was thick in the air, the exhaustion from long hours spent hunting a brutal unsub weighing on each of them.

Y/N runs a hand over her face in irritation as she leans on Morgan’s shoulder. They’ve been driving themselves crazy trying to figure out who this killer is. They’ve gone to multiple different clubs asking if anyone has seen a man between ages 35-50 who tends to sit at the bar people watching rather than engaging in the night’s festivities. But the regulars and employees said they hadn’t seen anything. Their unsub has been strangling his victims in the luxury clubs before dumping their bodies exactly two miles away in very particular positions. They’ve all been found in public spaces. But so far, they were missing something.

Hotch stood at the front of the room, flipping through the latest crime scene photos as Rossi and Morgan finished pinning the map with the last locations of the attacks. Y/N sat across from Reid, skimming through her notes as she analyzed the patterns. With an IQ of 179, a doctorate in criminology and psychology, two master’s degrees in chemistry and law, and a B.A. in history and human resources, her mind rarely rested. She could also fluently converse in four languages—French, Russian, German, and Spanish—which had come in handy countless times in the field. Despite her vast knowledge and sharp instincts, this case had left her unsettled. Something was off, and they hadn’t cracked it yet.

Rossi broke the silence. “We’ve been over this already. The unsub is hitting clubs that cater to the upper class, targeting couples with large age gaps. But there’s still a piece we’re missing. Why these clubs? Why these victims?”

Morgan crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. “This guy knows how to pick his victims, that’s for sure. But he’s not choosing randomly—there’s gotta be something more connecting these places.”

Y/N frowned, glancing between the case files and the map. “It’s not just about wealth. These clubs aren’t the most high-profile ones in the city, and they’re spread out across the area.”

Reid tapped his pen against the table. “It’s true. They’re not clustered in one neighborhood, and they don’t have a shared ownership group or any overt connections that we’ve found.”

Emily Prentiss nodded from her spot at the edge of the table, deep in thought. “What about the victims? They’re all couples with significant age differences. That’s part of his ritual, but it doesn’t explain why he’s picking these clubs.”

Y/N was staring at the list of clubs they’d canvassed earlier: Ascend, Bourbon Room, Cielo. She narrowed her eyes, something beginning to click in her mind. “Hold on…”

“What is it?” Hotch asked, noticing her shift in focus.

Y/N sat up straighter, her voice thoughtful. “The clubs… they’re in alphabetical order. Look—Ascend, Bourbon Room, Cielo. He’s not just picking random spots. He’s following a sequence.”

Reid’s eyes lit up in realization. “You’re right. It’s subtle, but it makes sense. This kind of obsessive order suggests a particular form of OCD—a need to control every element of his actions. It’s not about the clubs themselves; it’s about the order they fall into.”

Morgan rubbed the back of his neck, impressed. “Damn. This guy’s not just a killer—he’s a full-on control freak.”

Hotch nodded, his expression serious. “If he’s following an alphabetical pattern, we can anticipate his next move. What’s the next club in line?”

Y/N flipped through the files, pulling out the next likely target. “‘DeVane.’ It’s upscale, fits the profile of where he’s been targeting couples. If he’s keeping to this pattern, that’s where he’ll strike next.”

JJ stepped forward, pointing at the map. “Alright. So we’ve got the next location. Now we just need to draw him out.”

Rossi’s eyes light up with an idea as he looked between Y/N and Hotch, “Well, we know the unsub’s got a thing for couples with big age gaps. Looks like we need a decoy.”

Before anyone could react, Morgan’s gaze landed squarely on Y/N, mischief dancing behind his eyes, “And we’ve got the perfect couple right here.”

Y/N blinked, momentarily stunned. “Wait, hold on, what?”

Emily, catching onto Morgan and Rossi’s plan, chuckled. “He’s right, you know. You and Hotch fit the profile. It’d be perfect.”

Y/N stared, incredulous, before glancing toward Hotch. The man was stone-faced, as usual, but she could feel the tension rise between them. “You want me to pretend to be in a relationship with him?”

Morgan shrugged, his smile widening. “Well, you’re 23, Hotch is… not 23. The age gap fits perfectly.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed, frustration building. “You’re seriously suggesting that Hotch and I—two people who can barely tolerate each other—pretend to be a couple?”

Hotch didn’t even look up from his files. “We’re professionals. We can set aside our differences for this.”

Y/N let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Set aside our differences? Hotch, we can’t even get through a team meeting without arguing over strategy. How do you expect us to pull off a believable relationship?”

Prentiss leaned in, smirking. “You two do argue like an old married couple already.”

Y/N threw her a sharp look. “That’s not funny.”

JJ chimed in, trying to defuse the tension. “Look, I know this is uncomfortable, but we need to catch this guy before he kills again. You two are the best option we have.”

Y/N shook her head, frustration bubbling over. “This isn’t just about being uncomfortable. We have to convince the unsub that we’re a legitimate couple—he’s going to notice every detail. And we’re not exactly… compatible.”

Hotch finally spoke up, his tone calm but firm. “We don’t have to like each other to do our jobs, L/N. We just have to be convincing enough to lure the unsub in.”

Y/N stared at him, arms crossed tightly. “Convincing? You and I can barely stand to be in the same room. How do you expect us to sell a romantic relationship?”

Morgan chuckled from the side. “Come on, L/N, you’re one of the smartest people I know. With that IQ and all those degrees, you can figure this out.”

Y/N shot him a glare. “I have a doctorate in criminology and psychology, a master’s in law and chemistry, and a B.A. in history and human resources. None of those degrees cover ‘pretending to like your boss who you can’t stand.’”

Rossi stepped in, his tone more diplomatic. “Look, we wouldn’t ask you to do this if we didn’t think you could handle it. This guy’s escalating, and we need to act fast. You and Hotch are the best team for this.”

Y/N sighed, clearly frustrated but recognizing the urgency. She looked over at Hotch, who met her gaze with that same impassive expression. “Fine,” she muttered. “But for the record, I still think this is a terrible idea.”

Hotch gave a curt nod. “Noted.”

»»————-　➴　————-««

Y/N stood in front of the mirror, eyeing the skimpy red dress that Emily had insisted she wear for this undercover mission. The fabric clung to her figure, accentuating every curve. The slit on the side revealed a generous portion of her thigh, leaving just enough room to conceal her gun but not much else to the imagination. The sweetheart neckline plunged dangerously low, exposing far more cleavage than she was used to. She felt exposed, vulnerable—but Emily had been insistent.

“Trust me,” Emily had said with a wicked grin. “You’ll knock them dead.”

Y/N took a deep breath and adjusted the neckline again, trying to reconcile the professional part of her brain with the woman staring back at her in the mirror. She wasn’t usually the type to use her looks to her advantage, but tonight was different. Tonight, the mission came first.

She stepped out into the hallway where the rest of the team was waiting. The moment she appeared, Morgan’s eyes widened, and he let out an appreciative whistle. “Damn, Y/N, you trying to kill the unsub or us?”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “It’s not that bad.”

Morgan grinned, his gaze trailing over her in a playful, non-threatening way that only a close friend could get away with. “If this guy doesn’t fall for the bait, Lord knows I will,” he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth making Y/N slap his chest.

Emily stepped up beside Morgan, her eyes lighting up with approval. “See? I told you that dress would be perfect. You look like a total bombshell.”

Y/N glanced down at herself, smoothing the fabric over her hips. “Yeah, well, I feel like I’m about to flash someone.”

Emily shrugged, unfazed. “That’s kind of the point.”

Morgan shot her a wink. “You’re gonna break hearts tonight, sweetheart. Just make sure it’s the right one.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered toward Hotch, who had been silent since she entered the room. His gaze was locked on her, but he wasn’t saying anything. His eyes were dark, his expression unreadable, but there was something in the way he looked at her that made her stomach tighten.

He quickly glanced away when she caught him staring, clearing his throat. “We need to focus on the mission.”

“Right.” Y/N nodded, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in her chest. She wasn’t here to impress anyone—least of all Aaron Hotchner. He was too serious, too controlled. While Y/N on the other hand tends to handle the job by hiding behind a wall of humor and sarcasm, something Hotch hates. They’d never gotten along. This was strictly business.

Still, as they walked out to the car, she couldn’t help but feel Hotch’s presence looming next to her. He hadn’t said a word about the dress, but the way his eyes had lingered on her—particularly on her cleavage—hadn’t gone unnoticed. It was like he was trying not to look, but failing miserably.

By the time they arrived at the club, Y/N’s nerves had settled somewhat. The loud thrum of music pulsed through the walls as they approached the entrance, and she straightened her spine, trying to adopt the confident persona they needed for the night.

“Okay,” she murmured as they stepped through the door. “We need to sell this. So maybe try not looking like a statue,” she grumbles lowly.

Hotch, staying ever stoic, gave a curt nod. “I know.”

But Y/N wasn’t convinced. Hotch’s body language screamed discomfort. His shoulders were rigid, his movements stiff, and he had the expression of someone being dragged to an event they wanted no part of.

She leaned in closer to him, keeping her voice low. “Hotch, you’re going to blow this if you don’t relax. We’re supposed to be a couple.”

“I’m relaxed,” Hotch said, though the tension in his jaw told a different story.

Y/N huffed in frustration. “You look like you’re about to interrogate someone, not go dancing with your girlfriend.”

Hotch shot her a look. “I’m here to catch the unsub, not dance.”

“You’re here to catch the unsub by pretending to be my boyfriend,” Y/N whispered fiercely. “Right now, you’re not doing a very good job of that.”

Hotch’s expression remained impassive, but Y/N could sense the faintest hint of annoyance in his eyes. “What do you suggest?”

“Start by putting your arm around me,” she said through gritted teeth. “Couples don’t walk into clubs two feet apart.”

Hotch hesitated, then slipped his arm around her waist. It was awkward at first, his hand hovering as if he wasn’t sure where to put it. But Y/N pressed into him slightly, encouraging him to pull her closer. After a moment, his grip tightened, and they moved deeper into the crowded club.

They found their way to the dance floor, where couples swayed and ground against each other in the dim, pulsating lights. Y/N turned to Hotch, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of their target. They had to blend in.

“Follow my lead,” she said softly.

Hotch nodded, though the tightness in his posture remained.

Y/N began to move to the music, her body swaying in time with the beat. Hotch tried to follow her movements, but he was stiff, almost robotic. She bit back a sigh and leaned into him, pressing her body against his as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“We’ve got eyes on us,” she whispered in his ear, her lips brushing against the skin just below. “Black hoodie, sitting alone at the bar. You need to make this believable. Stop acting like I have some incurable disease.”

Hotch’s hands found her hips, his grip firm but hesitant. Y/N could feel the tension radiating off him, but she kept moving, her body fluid and sensual as she ground against him. Their bodies remain close, she spins around pressing her ass against crotch, and for a moment, she felt his breath hitch.

“You’re too stiff,” she murmured, leaning her head back, her lips grazing the shell of his ear. “Relax.”

Hotch’s hands tightened on her hips as he tried to match her rhythm. Slowly, the tension in his shoulders began to ease, and he pulled her closer, his breath now becoming warm against her neck.

“That’s better,” Y/N whispered, her voice low and teasing.

Hotch’s hands moved more confidently now, gripping her hips with a possessive strength that sent a shiver down her spine. Y/N’s heart raced as she tilted her head slightly, brushing her lips against the skin of his neck. She trails kisses up and down his skin, nibbling at the soft spot that connects his shoulder to his neck. She turns back around, running her hands through his raven black hair, tugging on the strands which ends up pulling a small groan from Hotch’s lips. The music and atmosphere of the club seems to have pulled them in much deeper than they thought. It’s getting harder to breathe the closer they stay.

“We’ve got his attention,” she murmured, her lips ghosting along the curve of his jaw. She fights off every urge to leave a mark. “He hasn’t looked away for the past five minutes.”

Without warning, Y/N moves her attention from his neck and kisses him, her lips pressing against his in a way that was both soft and urgent. Hotch froze for a split second, but then his hands gripped her waist, pulling her even closer as he deepened the kiss. He’ll probably scold her for the unprofessional action later, but they need to keep this guys attention if this is going to work.

It was electric, the tension between them igniting in a way neither of them had anticipated. Hotch’s hand moves upward, gripping the back of her head. If her eyes were open, they’d be rolling into the back of her head with the way he’s dominating her. Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest as she kissed him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. For a moment, it didn’t feel like an act.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their eyes locked. Hotch’s expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze—something Y/N couldn’t quite place.

“He’s hooked,” Y/N whispered, her voice breathless. “We need to get him somewhere more secluded. Before he hurts someone else.”

Hotch nodded, his grip on her waist still tight as they made their way toward the exit. Once outside, the cool night air hit them, and Y/N quickly scanned the area, her heart still racing from the adrenaline of the moment. She can’t see if the unsub followed them. The only light illuminating the area around them being the moon.

“We need to keep making this look real,” Y/N murmured as they moved toward a shadowed alley. “Just in case he’s still watching.”

Without warning, Hotch spun her around and pinned her against the wall, his body pressing into hers. One of his hands is still tight on her hip, the other one shooting up to her neck, squeezing it slightly to hold her in place. Y/N’s breath catches in her throat as Hotch’s eyes visibly darken.

“Is this believable enough for you?” Hotch whispers, his voice low and rough in her ear.

Y/N swallowed hard, enjoying the tiny amount of pressure on her throat. “Yeah… that’ll do.”

They stood like that for a few moments, their bodies pressed together in the darkness. Hotch plants open mouthed kisses from her cheek all the way down to her neck and across her chest, the neckline allowing him much needed access. Y/N sucks in a shaky breath, still waiting for any sign of the unsub. She could feel the tension between them, the heat radiating off Hotch’s body as he held her against the wall.

Suddenly, movement caught her eye. The unsub stepped out of the shadows, his gaze locked on them. Y/N’s instincts kicked in immediately. She shoved Hotch to the side, spinning around to face the unsub as he lunged at her.

In one swift motion, Y/N ducked under his arm, grabbing his wrist and twisting it behind his back. The unsub let out a grunt of pain as she swept his legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground.

Hotch was by her side in an instant, helping to restrain the unsub as they waited for backup to arrive.

When it was all over, Y/N stood there, breathing heavily, her heart still pounding from the adrenaline. She glanced over at Hotch, who was watching her with an unreadable expression.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice soft but steady.

Y/N nodded, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Yeah. I’m good.”

Hotch’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he looked away, his expression unreadable once again. “Good work.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile, despite the tension still thrumming between them. “Thanks. You weren’t so bad yourself.”

As they waited for the team to arrive, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between them. The mission might have been over, but the tension between her and Hotch was far from resolved.

»»————-　➴　————-««

Y/N barely made it through the door of her hotel room before she kicked off her heels with a sigh of relief. Her feet ached from the hours spent in the club, and all she wanted was to peel off the red dress that clung to her like a second skin, take a long shower, and crash for the night. The team had successfully apprehended the unsub, and they’d earned a few hours of sleep before their early flight back to Quantico.

As she reached for the zipper at the back of her dress, a commanding knock on her door stopped her mid-motion. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was late, far past the time she expected anyone on the team to come knocking. Confusion settled in her chest as she moved toward the door, wondering if someone had an emergency or a last-minute update about the case.

When she opened the door, the sight that greeted her sent her heart racing.

Hotch stood there, but not like the composed, stoic team leader she was used to seeing. His tie was loosened, the top buttons of his shirt undone, and his usually slicked-back hair had a slightly tousled look, as if he’d been running his hands through it. But it wasn’t just his disheveled appearance that threw her off—it was the way his dark eyes flickered with something raw, something he was barely holding back.

He looked… frazzled, but not in a scared or anxious way. No, this was different. It was the kind of frazzled that spoke of barely-contained desire, the kind that made her feel like she was standing on the edge of a cliff.

Her heart skipped a beat as his eyes swept over her, lingering on the red dress she was still wearing. His gaze darkened, his jaw tightening for a split second before he quickly looked back up at her face. But not quickly enough.

“Hotch?” she asked, her voice uncertain, her brows knitting together in confusion. “What are you doing here? It’s late—”

Before she could finish her sentence, Hotch stepped forward, forcing her to take a step back. He shut the door behind him with a firm push, the click of the lock sending a shiver down her spine. His entire presence was overwhelming, the space between them growing smaller with each passing second.

“Why are you still in that dress?” he asked, his voice low and rough, his gaze once again dipping to the neckline of her dress. It wasn’t a question borne out of curiosity; it was an accusation, a demand.

Y/N blinked, completely thrown off by the intensity in his eyes, the tension radiating off him in waves. “I—I just got back. I didn’t have time to—”

But before she could explain further, Hotch took another step forward, backing her up against the wall. His hands were braced on either side of her head, caging her in. The heat of his body was intoxicating, the scent of his cologne filling her senses.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice a low growl, “what the hell were you thinking?”

Y/N’s heart was racing now, her breath hitching as she stared up at him. His face was inches from hers, his breath warm against her skin. “What are you talking about?”

“The kiss,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “The way you touched me. What were you trying to do?”

Y/N’s lips parted in shock, her mind spinning. This wasn’t an interrogation—not really. This was something else, something charged with an energy she couldn’t ignore.

“I was trying to sell the cover,” she replied, her voice faltering slightly, though she stood her ground. “We had to be convincing.”

Hotch’s eyes flashed with something dangerous. “Convincing? You were doing a hell of a lot more than that.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as his words hung between them, thick with implication. The way he was looking at her, the way his body pressed so close to hers, sent heat pooling in her stomach. She could feel the tension crackling between them, making it harder to breathe, harder to think.

“What are you trying to say?” she asked, her voice quieter now, her heart pounding in her chest.

Hotch’s gaze bore into hers, his voice dangerously soft. “You know exactly what I’m saying.”

Y/N clenched her fists at her sides, trying to regain control of the situation, of herself. But the way Hotch was staring at her, the way his body was crowding her against the wall, made it nearly impossible to think straight.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“You didn’t do anything wrong?” Hotch’s voice was thick with disbelief, and he leaned in even closer, his lips hovering near her ear. “You kissed your superior, L/N. You pushed yourself against me like a dirty whore. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

Y/N felt her pulse quicken, her skin tingling where his breath brushed against her ear. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to push him away or pull him closer. The heat between them was suffocating, and her body reacted in ways she couldn’t control.

“You kissed me back,” she shot back, trying to hold on to some semblance of control, even as her voice wavered.

Hotch’s hand slid down the wall, his fingers brushing against her arm, sending a shockwave of electricity through her. His lips were so close to her neck now, she could feel the warmth of them, but he didn’t touch her—at least, not yet.

“You want to talk about what I did?” His voice was a husky whisper. “Or do you want to talk about why you did it in the first place?”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her heart racing. “What are you trying to get at, Hotch?”

“I’m trying to figure out what was going through your mind,” he said, his eyes dark with intensity. “You could’ve made it believable without kissing me like that. But you didn’t.”

Y/N’s skin flushed, and she fought to stay composed. “I did what I had to do to keep the cover intact. That’s it.”

Hotch’s lips twisted into a smirk that sent a ripple of heat through her. “Is that what you’re telling yourself?”

Her pulse was in her throat now, and she couldn’t ignore the way her body responded to his nearness, the way her mind spun every time his breath ghosted over her skin.

“You’re trying to act like you don’t care,” Hotch murmured, his voice low, predatory. “But you can’t stand it, can you? You’re as affected by this as I am.”

Y/N’s chest tightened, and she pressed her palms flat against the wall behind her, trying to ground herself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You may be able to lie to yourself,” Hotch said softly, his hand brushing over her side, sending a shockwave of heat through her. “But you can’t lie to me.”

Y/N’s heart was pounding in her chest, her breathing uneven as the tension between them became unbearable. Every inch of her body was attuned to his, and the more they fought, the stronger the pull between them became.

“Maybe it’s you who can’t handle it,” Y/N shot back, her voice shaky, but defiant. “Maybe you’re the only one who’s affected.”

Hotch’s eyes darkened even further, and without warning, his lips crashed against hers, all of the tension, all of the pent-up frustration between them exploding in that moment.

Y/N gasped into the kiss, her body melting into his as his hands gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him. A certain wetness pools between her legs as his thigh spreads her legs apart. She grounds herself against him as the kiss builds. It’s fierce, heated, and Y/N can’t stop herself, her hands tangling in his hair as she kissed him back with equal fervor.

It was overwhelming—the way his body pressed into hers, the way his lips moved against hers, demanding more. She could feel the heat between them building, igniting something deep within her that she couldn’t suppress.

For a moment, everything else faded away. The mission, the team, the rules—they all disappeared, leaving only the fire that burned between them.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads resting against each other as they tried to regain control.

“This is a bad idea,” Y/N whispered, her voice breathless.

Hotch’s hand slid up her arm, his fingers brushing against her neck. “I know.”

But neither of them made a move to stop.

[ljblueteak]

Still not over this House Season 3 promo (from here)! Looks like it suggests that Foreman is identified with self improvement (or overcoming?) and wanting to make the world a better place, Cameron with compassion, and Chase with courage (but in a way that suggests he's making a mistake by risking himself). Wilson gets associated with loyalty and Cuddy with honesty (in a way that makes me think of Masters). On the Chase TWOP forum, user noriar 20 provided this transcript of the Spanish:

Foreman ... la superación, empeñado en hacer un lugar mejor de un mundo en el que nadie importa un carajo. Cameron... la piedad, abnegada hasta el punto de atravesar un infierno con tal de no decirle a un paciente que se muere. Chase, el valor... tan estúpido que prefiere jugarse su propio pellejo en lugar de arriesgar el de cualquier otro. Wilson... la lealtad, obcecado en ser fiel a un principio que solo le llevará a traicionarse a si mismo. Cuddy... la honestidad, capaz de recorrer el camino más largo para conseguir lo que alcanzaría saltándose un par de reglas. Y sin embargo, son los mejores; por eso aún forman parte de mi equipo. Lamentablemente humanos, pero, ¿Conoces a alguien perfecto?

Google translate gave me:

Foreman... the self-improvement, determined to make a better place in a world where no one gives a damn. Cameron... the compassion, selfless to the point of going through hell just to avoid telling a patient he's dying. Chase, the courage... so stupid he'd rather risk his own life than anyone else's. Wilson... the loyalty, stubbornly faithful to a principle that will only lead him to betray himself. Cuddy... the honesty, capable of taking the long way to achieve what he'd achieve by breaking a few rules. And yet, they're the best; that's why they're still on my team. Sadly, they're human, but do you know anyone who's perfect?

but if anyone wants to fine tune the translation, please do!

[ann0yed-b0yfriend]

I guess I need to make a post to introduce myself, since y'all found my horny intox post lol.

I'm 25. My first language is Spanish (ñ pa los gringos), so sorry for my English in advance. I'm a bartender a barista, and a huge stoner, so I love coffee, alcohol and the 🍃 devil's lettuce🍃.

My ex sub made me install Tumblr so she can send me stuff, and now I use it. Still learning how to use this, so be patient please.

This blog is just to write my horny thoughts. Feel free to send me stuff or ask me anything, I'll try to check my dms more frequently, but keep in mind that I'm just a nerdy, goofy, awkward kid that had a glow up, dms in my second tongue scare me a little bit lol.

Also I'm very busy irl, so sorry If I disappear for a while.

DISCLAIMER

Minors Do. Not. Interact.

The only good TERF, Racist, or biggot is a DEAD biggot, try me motherfuckers.

DO NOT call me Master

[missnellcollins]

moon knight headcanons:

they make you cry during a fight

note: once again, my personal headcanons. jake’s kinda sucks because i haven’t seen enough of his character 😭

i have a lot of inspiration to write for the moon boys, so if you have a specific scenario for a headcanon that you’d want to see, please comment or send it to my ask box

also… y’all interested in other oscar character headcanons..? like poe dameron, santiago garcia, jonathan levy, or even a mister miguel o’hara? let me know :)

steven

steven hates arguing. 

but it happens from time to time. 

and he is absolutely wrecked the moment he sees those tears.

“no-oh bloody hell-luv-“

he immediately moves towards you, cupping your face, trying desperate to wipe the tears away.

“darling, i’m sorry—i’m sorry—i never meant-“

would definitely start crying as well, and pull you into a tight hug. 

he holds you close, patting your head, running his hands through your hair, “i’m sorry. for everything.” 

from that day forward, he did his absolute best to have calm conversations and to not argue because he could not bear to see you in such pain ever again.

marc

now this man is very stubborn. very. he’s a master at arguing. 

he lies his way through anything if he can get away with it. 

but one night, he takes it too far. 

when he sees your tears, he is silent. unwavering. 

he knows he fucked up. just like he does everything, or so he thinks. 

it takes a few minutes for him to snap out of it before he moves towards you, slowly, cautiously.

he then will open his arms for you, “c’mere.” 

marc will hold you close, whispering in your ear.

“i’m sorry baby. i’m so sorry.”

that’s how you will stay. just quiet. alone. together.

marc cannot promise that he’ll stop arguing, it’s in his nature to bicker. 

but he can promise that he’ll never cross a line to where he brings you to tears ever again.

jake

for a man with homicidal tendencies, he’s honestly a sweetheart. 

he shuts up the moment he sees you crying. 

begins mumbling in spanish, cursing himself before approaching you. 

jake isn’t a touchy feely type of guy, but he’ll take your hands in his, giving them a gentle squeeze.

“lo siento, cariño. forgive me.” 

he immediately wants to forget about it, so he proposes to do something for you. make dinner for you, help out with chores, he’d do anything to see you smile after what he’d done. 

jake lockley may be a lot of things, but never does he want to be the man who you cry over.

[neiveel3llson]

Alfred: I didn’t even realize how sarcastic I was being. It’s starting to become a problem, I believe.

Dick: I lost Damian.

Y/N: How did you LOSE Damian?!

Dick: To be fair, he is very small.

Bruce: Did you have to stab them?

Jason: You weren’t there. You didn’t hear what they said to me.

Bruce: What did they say?

Jason: "What are you going to do, stab me?"

Bruce: That’s fair.

Y/N: *screaming while holding something large.*

Dick: *Chasing Y/N, screaming at them to not throw the large object.*

Jason: *Crouching at the car window, begging Damian not to call Bruce.*

Dispatcher: 911, what's your emergancy?

Tim: We locked our baby brother in the car and people are judging us!

*Comments under an image of a really hot knife cutting bread*

Jason: Imagine stabbing someone with this knife.

Tim: It would instantly cauterize the wound, so the person wouldn't bleed, so it's not very useful.

Y/N: if you want information it is

Dick: why would you STAB a person when you can have TOAST?

Jason: What are you talking about Dick? You love it here!

Dick: I'm not sure I do, I think I've just developed Stockholm syndrome.

Damian: You need to be more careful!

Bruce, who was dragged into Damian's issue: Careful? CAREFUL?! I'LL CAREFULLY WRAP MY HANDS AROUND YOUR THROAT-

Damian: Wow. I keep stepping on a lot of crunchy twigs.

Y/N: Those are bones, Damian.

Damian: *looks straight up* Not if I never look down.

Bruce: Yeah, I find it quite emotional. In like a cool way.

Alfred: Sir, did you just say it makes you cry in a cool way?

Damian: But what about Y/N?

Jason: Don't worry about them.

Jason: I once watched them fall down 5 flights of stairs, stand up, and keep eating their hotdog like nothing happened.

Tim: Your problem is that you’ve got no common sense.

Y/N: I’ve got plenty of common sense!

Y/N: I just choose to ignore it.

*Playing house with Damian and Jon.*

Jason, at Jon: You're my significant other.

Jon: Yeah I am!

Jason, at Dick: You're my child.

Dick: *Rolls eyes* Yes boss.

Jason, at Tim: You're my bitch.

Tim: Yeah I am- wait, what?

Jason, at Y/N: My bestie.

Y/N: Naturally.

Jason, Damian: HA, GAY!

Damian: Fuck you.

Alfred: And then they ran into my knife. They ran into my knife ten times.

Bruce: You mean you stabbed them?

Alfred: They ran into my knife, sir.

Bruce: Breaking News, Dick has disappointed us.

Tim: Why do you look like that?

Damian, laying face-first on the floor: Like what?

Tim: Like you’re dead.

Damian: It’s because I’m dying. Leave me here to perish.

Alfred: Young master Damian accidentally called Y/N “babe” in front of everyone today.

Damian: *sobs into the floor*

Alfred: *Turns on the kitchen light*

Y/N: *Sitting at the table, eating bread*

Alfred: It’s four in the morning, young master.

Y/N: Turn the light back off.

Bruce: This is a judgement free zone.

*Pulls out a knife the size of their forearm*

Bruce: And I mean it.

Tim: Well you see, the explanation is perfectly simple and scientific. It was because shut up. Shut up is why.

Y/N: Listen, in the wild wild west there is always a woman in the saloon and nobody messes with her even though they all have guns.

Dick: That's because she's a prostitute.

Bruce: Tim, why are you crying?

Tim: This book is so sad!!

Bruce, picking it up: But this is my diary-

Dick: Can we talk about that mass email you sent?

Y/N: Why? It was important.

Dick: All it says is, "I'm back on my shit".

Damian, shrugging: The people need to know.

Y/N, to Jason: You're starting to forget your Spanish. You don't practice.

Jason: Lo siento. Estoy embarazada.

Y/N: You just told me you're pregnant.

Damian: Congratulations Jason, you're glowing!

Y/N: If we were in prison you guys would be like my bitches.

*When Y/N and Jason were young and new.*

Bruce: Where the devil is Alfred?

Y/N: Well, it is raining outside... Maybe he melted?

Tim: Shall I look outside for a pointy hat?

Jason: Thanks for opening my message and not responding.

Y/N: All good bro, any time.

Jason: Fuck you.

Damian, over radio: Testing. Testing. Bruce, can you hear me?

Bruce, standing next to Damian: I’m standing right here.

Damian: You’re coming through good and loud.

Bruce: ‘Cause I’m standing right here.

Alfred: Perhaps, the true treasure was friendship all along. Although, I hope not, because I cannot spend friendship on new suits.

Damian: You wanna fight?! You got one!

Y/N: Okay! *raises fists*

*Bruce runs in, scoops Y/N up in their arms, and runs away carrying them because he just didnt want them to fight. Yet.*

Damian:

Damian: What?

Y/N: Any questions?

Dick: Uh, yeah, WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?

Y/N: Uh, a plan, duh...

Damian: Dick, chill, I know it’s weird, but Y/N has a point.

Dick:

Dick: THAT WAS LITERALLY A PONY DOODLE WITH A HAT!!

*Alternatively*

Joker: Any questions?

Y/N: Uh, yeah, WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?

Joker: Uh, a plan, duh...

Harley: Y/N, chill, I know it’s weird, but Joker has a point.

Y/N:

Y/N: THAT WAS LITERALLY A PONY DOODLE WITH A HAT!!

Bruce, answering the phone: Hello?

Damian: It’s Damian.

Bruce: What did they do this time?

Damian: No, it’s me, Damian. It’s actually me.

Bruce: What did you do this time?

Dick: Everyone thinks you suck.

Joker: I think you have the wrong number…

Dick: Damian?

Joker: Nope. Joker.

Dick: Well, you probably suck too…

Y/N: When I first met you, I thought you were weird and annoying.

Tim: And?

Y/N: And you are.

[charlotte-of-wales]

Happy 57th birthday to King Felipe of Spain!

Born 30 January 1968, Felipe Juan Pablo Alfonso de Todos los Santos de Borbón y Grecia is King of Spain, having ascended the throne on 19 June 2014 upon the abdication of his father.

Felipe was born in Madrid during the dictatorship of Francisco Franco as the third child and only son of Prince Juan Carlos of Spain and Princess Sophia of Greece and Denmark. Felipe was officially created Prince of Asturias in 1977, two years after his father became king.

On his 18th birthday on 30 January 1986, Felipe swore allegiance to the Constitution and to the King in the Spanish Parliament as required by the constitution, fully accepting his role as successor to the Crown.

To prepare for his future role as commander-in-chief of the Armed Forces, Felipe joined the Spanish Army in 1985. During the next two years, he completed his military training in the Navy and Air Force. After completing his civil and military studies, he undertook official duties representing his father in different social and institutional events, such as chairing charity foundations or attending inaugurations of Latin American leaders. At one of these events with the press, Felipe met TV news journalist Letizia Ortiz Rocasolano, whom he married in 2004. Felipe and Letizia have two daughters: Leonor, Princess of Asturias (19) and Infanta Sofía (17).

Felipe attended school at Santa María de los Rosales, and then high school at Lakefield College School in Ontario, Canada, and studied at the Autonomous University of Madrid, where he graduated with a degree in law. He completed his academic studies by obtaining a Master of Science in Foreign Service degree from the School of Foreign Service at Georgetown University in Washington, D.C., where he was the roommate of his cousin, Crown Prince Pavlos of Greece.

Felipe ascended the throne at the stroke of midnight on 19 June 2014: The next morning, after receiving the Captain General's sash from his father, he was formally sworn in and proclaimed king in a ceremony held in the Cortes. Upon his accession, he became the youngest monarch in Europe, being nine months younger than King Willem-Alexander of the Netherlands.

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗥𝗘 𝗖𝗔𝗗𝗔 𝗣𝗔𝗟𝗔𝗕𝗥𝗔 franco colapinto x girlfriend! reader ( fluff ) fic summary , it's your aneversairy dinner with colapinto, this year you wanted o gift him something special: speaking his language (0.5k)

( main master list | more of franco colapinto ) ( requests )

The restaurant’s tucked into a quiet corner of Milan, the kind of place where the pasta is hand-rolled and the waiters don’t bother with menus. Franco had picked it for your anniversary, all dim lights and intimate corners, a little too classy for how much you wanted to climb across the table and kiss him breathless.

He grins from across the table, chin propped in his palm, curls just messy enough to be illegal.

“Tenés esa mirada,” he hums, wagging a fork at you.  [you’ve got that look]

You raise an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“I said you’ve got that look. The ‘I’m up to something and you’re not ready’ look. Classic vos.”

You fight the smile. He’s not wrong.

He’s been rambling for minutes — about how he saw a dog on the way here that reminded him of a loaf of bread, how he couldn’t focus on reading the team brief this morning because "vos me distraés demasiado, boluda" [you distract me too much, idiot] — and you’ve let him go on. Let him fill the space with stories and laughter, his fingers dancing in the air like punctuation.

But then the waiter comes over. And you strike.

“Buenas noches. Vamos a empezar con la burrata y el carpaccio, por favor. Y después . . . el risotto de setas para mí, y él quiere la pasta al pesto. Ah, y una copa de Malbec, por supuesto.” [good evening. we'll start with the burrata and carpaccio, please. and then… the mushroom risotto for me, and he wants the pesto pasta. oh, and a glass of malbec, of course]

The fork slips from Franco’s fingers like his soul just left his body.

“ . . . ¿Qué?” […what]

You lean back, all cool and casual, sipping your water like you didn’t just short-circuit your boyfriend.

“¿Querés pan o estás bien?” [do you want bread or are you good]

“¿Desde cuándo hablas español así?!” [since when do you speak Spanish like that]

You shrug. “Been practicing. I wanted to surprise you. Happy anniversary, mi amor.”

He stares at you, stunned.

Franco Colapinto? Speechless? Nobel-level achievement.

“You’re insane,” he breathes, laughing now, eyes shining. “This is . . . This is better than points at williams.”

“Oh, that important?”

“Sí. Porque vos… Dios, vos me dejás sin palabras.” [yes. Because you… god, you leave me speechless.)

You grin. “That a good thing?”

“The best thing.”

He reaches across the table, threading his fingers through yours, thumb brushing your knuckles like he’s grounding himself.

“Vos no sabés lo que esto significa para mí,” he murmurs. [you have no idea what this means to me]

You do, actually. You know about the sacrifices, the grind, the childhood kart weekends running on empanadas and duct tape. You know his heart — how big it is, how much it carries. And you learned his language not just for the words, but for him.

For the boy who talks too much and feels too deeply. For the man who’s yours.

“Te amo,” you say softly. [i love you]

And for once, Franco doesn’t have a witty comeback. Just a crooked smile, a kiss pressed to your knuckles, and eyes that say everything else.

[vintagej3llyfish-1]

Asper "Stranger" Knight

< 1st main oc >

i couldn't resist anymore of posting her info grrr, her backstory it's something I'll post another day bc i didn't finished it ;v

General

Name: Asper Knight

Nicknames: Wasp (By her father), As (By Price), Sergeant Knight

Alias: (none)

Callsing: "Stranger", Sierra zero-five

Age: 27 (MW:2019) 30 (MW:2022)

DOB: 5th June, 1992

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Asexual

Nationality: American

Place of birth: [REDACTED]

Spoken Languages: American English (native language), Spain Spanish (Family purposes)

Rank: Master Sergeant

Occupation: retired US Army, American CIA (Central Intelligence Agency), formerly member of Armistice, member of Task force 141, working with SpecGru (also)

Role: EWSI and Combat Medic

Affiliations

TaskForce141

• Captain John Price

• Lieutenant Simon " Ghost " Riley

• Sergeant Kyle " Gaz " Garrick

• Sergeant John " Soap " MacTavish

• Sergeant Samantha "Butterfly" Wright ( @welldonekhushi )

Warrior Task Force ( @islandtarochips )

• First Sergeant Tiala "Malie" Toa

• Captain Kanoa Toa

• Sergeant Agnes "Blast" Falagi

• Sergeant Nigel "Squirrel" Harrinson

Los Vaqueros

• Rodolfo Parra

• Colonel Alejandro Vargas

CIA

• Station Chief Kate Laswell

Appearance

• Skin tone: Beige

• Hair type: Straight

• Hair colour: Naturally light blonde

• Eye colour: Crush green

• Height: 5'6ft (1.70m

• Weight: 119lbs

• Scars: Just some few and very big ones

• Body size: Medium

• Blood type: AB+

Skills

Main skills: Electronic Warfare & Signals Intelligence (EWSI), defense strategies that use technology to gather information and disrupt adversaries

Fighting style: She's the type of punching on weak places and twisting any part of the body, she's very fast with her movements

Weapon preferences / distinct : Remington 870 Tactical, CZ 750 sniper rifle. Black climbing picks, apparently always uses three, two on the belts and one on the back with a rope on it

Favourites

• Colour: Turquoise

• Animal: frilled neck lizard

• Food: None, she eats anything but red meat

• Drink: Monster

• Flower: Red spider lily

• Dyed hair: Yes, she died her hair completely, in a dragon style type

• Hairstyle: Mullet cut

Personality

Introvert: She doesn't like to be around with people very much, she prefers to be alone all the time. She's lightly scared of human kind

Flinching and fidgety: Asper flinches at the single movement of anything near her head or body, she's very conscious of being beaten up again and again and also in her childhood it terrifies her.

Careless of herself: She's always working, always hearing her rank and surname being shouted by the higher ranks, but no worries she eats properly

Scared state: Asper has a sensitive heart, everytime someone jumpscares her she can even faint or get into a frozen state with wide eyes and trembling, if she collapses it's because she's fine.

Hates humankind (misanthropy): I don't have to really explain this but she hates humand kind, she's scared of human kind and hates being around anyone

Random facts

• She deals with paranoid personality disorder (PPD), selective mutism and complex-post traumatic stress disorder.

• Poor woman has epistaxis (nosebleed hemorrhage), she constantly has nosebleeds once or twice at week

• A weird thing about her is that she doesn't like stitches, instead she likes to close her wounds with staples, like her mother usually did.

• Her throat is very sore every time it's almost like burned inside, she finds it hard to speak and swallow food, due to her CIPA she doesn't find it painfully

• Since her childhood, she's been with Congenital Insensitivity to Pain with Anhidrosis (CIPA) wich means she can neither feel pain or regulate her body temperature or even sweat, that's why she almost doesn't notice she's wounded

• The way her calling developed was that she was always alone and didn't matter to anyone. Some people started asking if she worked there because she didn't even seem like one; she seemed more like a stranger, for that reason. And it's quite funny because if they called her "Strange," it would be quite confusing if someone said, "How strange that Strange is quite strange."

• She is losing or gaining weight, it's a in-between, she loses weight and at the next week she goes completely normal into her normal weight

• She doesn't eat meat because she's very disgusted of meat. Since she had to eat literally flesh in her teen age and now she doesn't like it

• Sometimes frog blinks for no reason

Negative Traits

• She's used to reject things or gifts of anybody

• Always saying sorry non stop whether she fails something

• Has a necessity to make everything good, she over thinks about things at the point she looks anxious and murmuring to herself

• She knows how to drive but her driving it's the combination of Price's and Ghost's driving

• Her favorite MLP pony is Fluttershy

Backstory

coming soon..

—————