#I just really like the way she looks at him there

[flux1563]

Seeking attention ft karina

Words :7k

Tags : squirt, titfuck, creampie

"You're not listening to me, Karina," groaned her friend Winter, her voice cutting through the buzz of the crowded cafeteria.

Karina's eyes snapped back to Winter, a hint of annoyance flashing across her face before she plastered on a smile. "Sorry, what'd you say?"

"I said, you're not listening again," Winter repeated with a knowing look. "You've had your eyes on him all week."

"Him?" Karina played coy, but her cheeks betrayed a soft blush as they turned towards the figure Winter indicated—Y/N, the enigmatic scholar who sat at the corner of the room, nose buried in a book. His tall frame and chiseled features made him the center of attention without even trying, yet he remained oblivious to the whispers that followed him. "What about him?"

Winter rolled her eyes. "Come on, Karina. You can't ignore the fact that every guy in class wants a piece of you, but you're pining over the one who barely notices anyone exists outside of his textbooks."

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch and the start of another dreaded afternoon class. Karina's heart skipped a beat as she gathered her books, her thoughts racing. Winter's words echoed in her mind—everyone else saw her as the object of desire, but she only had eyes for the unattainable. The one who didn't seem to care about her curves or her smile. The one who was perfect for her, yet so out of reach.

As the students shuffled out, Karina took a deep breath, steeling herself for the challenge she was about to undertake. She had to get Y/N's attention somehow. She had to make him see her beyond her body. An idea began to form in her mind—she would ask him for help with her homework. It was a simple plan, but it was a start.

That evening, Karina found herself standing nervously outside Y/N's apartment, her heart pounding in her chest. She had sent him her address earlier in the day, hoping he wouldn't think it strange. The door creaked open, and there he was—his piercing gaze meeting hers, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

"Hi," she managed to squeak out, her voice betraying her nerves. "I, uh, I need help with my homework."

Y/N looked at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a curt nod, he stepped aside to let her in. "Follow me," he said, his voice low and even.

The apartment was small but meticulously organized. Textbooks and notepads lined the shelves, and a faint scent of coffee lingered in the air—a stark contrast to the chaos that was Karina's own living space. She followed him to a clutter-free desk, her eyes scanning the room for any personal touches that might give her a glimpse into his soul. But there were none, just the cold embrace of academia.

He sat down and gestured for her to take the chair opposite. "What do you need help with?"

Karina's mind went blank. The words she had rehearsed on the way over escaped her. "Everything," she blurted out, feeling like a fool.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement playing at the corner of his lips. "Everything is a broad subject. Be specific."

Her cheeks burned as she opened her book to a random page, her thoughts racing. This wasn't going how she had planned. "Just...just math," she stuttered. "I'm really bad at math."

For a brief second, she thought she saw a flicker of something warm in his gaze before it was gone, replaced by the cold detachment she had come to expect from him. "Alright," he said, pulling out a notepad and pen. "Where shall we begin?"

And so, the night of tutoring began—a dance of numbers and formulas that Karina stumbled through, eager to impress him with her ability to learn. Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more she needed to do to capture his heart. Little did she know, the real lesson of the evening was just about to start.

Y/N's patience was unyielding, breaking down complex problems into bite-sized pieces that she could digest. His eyes never left her face, watching as she struggled, nodded, and finally, clicked with the material. It was as if he could see into her mind, understanding her thought process and gently guiding her to the right answers. The way he spoke—so calm, so certain—was like a balm to her frazzled nerves.

As the hours ticked by, Karina's mind began to wander. The way Y/N's fingers moved with precision across the page, the way his tongue darted out to moisten his lips as he concentrated, the way the light hit his sharp jawline—it all painted a picture of a man who was more than just intellect. He was a masterpiece of focus and discipline, and she found herself drawn to him in ways she hadn't anticipated. Her thoughts grew hazier, and the room felt hotter, her heart racing as she stole glances at his strong arms.

The math grew simpler, but the air grew thicker with tension. Each time their eyes met, there was a spark—quick and fleeting, but it was there. Karina's cheeks flushed, and she swallowed hard, her pulse quickening as she wondered if he felt the same. She tried to shake off the thoughts, telling herself to focus on the task at hand, but it was no use. The more he taught her, the more she found herself adoring him—not just for his brains, but for the way he made her feel seen.

Her bladder finally decided it had had enough of the emotional rollercoaster and interrupted her thoughts. "I need to go to the bathroom," she said, a bit too loudly, her face flushing deeper.

Y/N looked up from the book, his eyes briefly meeting hers before he nodded towards a hallway. "First door on the left," he said, his voice a bit gruffer than usual.

In the bathroom, Karina took a deep breath and stared at her reflection in the mirror. The idea that had popped into her head in the cafeteria now seemed silly and desperate, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she needed to do something drastic. With a shaky hand, she turned the faucet the wrong way, watching as the water spurted out and drenched her shirt. Her heart raced as she called out, trying to sound more panicked than she felt. "Y/N! Help, the sink's broken!"

The footsteps grew closer, and the door swung open. Y/N's eyes widened at the sight of her, his expression a mix of concern and confusion. "What happened?"

"I...I don't know," she lied, trying to look as flustered as possible. "It just sprayed everywhere." Water droplets clung to her lashes and trickled down her neck, her shirt clinging to her skin.

Without a word, he stepped in, his movements efficient as he turned off the faucet and began to mop up the mess. The tension in the room was palpable, and Karina felt her breath hitch as his arm brushed against hers. This was it—her chance to get closer, to show him she wasn't just a pretty face.

He handed her a towel, and she took it, her eyes never leaving his. The fabric of her shirt had grown translucent in the dampness, the lacy outline of her black bra visible beneath it. She knew he could see it, could see the curve of her breasts and the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

Summoning all her courage, Karina took a step closer, her hand shaking slightly as she reached out to him. Before she could second-guess herself, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was tentative at first, a soft brush of skin on skin, but as he didn't pull away, she grew bolder. She felt the towel drop from her hand as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

Y/N's body stiffened for a moment, but then, to her surprise, he relaxed into the embrace. His hands found their way to her waist, holding her gently as he returned the kiss with an intensity that made her knees wobble. Karina's pulse raced as she felt his warmth envelop her, his scent overpowering the lingering smell of ink and coffee in the room. It was everything she had hoped for and more.

Breaking away, she whispered, "Just touch my breast, dear." Her voice was a breathy plea, her eyes searching his for any sign of rejection. For a moment, she thought he might push her away, that she had crossed a line she shouldn't have. But instead, his eyes searched hers, as if looking for an answer she hadn't given. Then, ever so slowly, his hand moved up, his thumb brushing the fabric of her shirt before sliding beneath to graze the sensitive skin of her collarbone.

"Ahh," Karina moaned as his hand finally reached its destination, cupping her breast gently. The feeling was exquisite, and she leaned into his touch, her breath hitching. His thumb traced lazy circles around her nipple, eliciting a whimper from her lips. The warmth of his hand seeped through her damp shirt, sending shivers down her spine.

Without breaking eye contact, Y/N reached behind her and deftly unclasped her bra. It fell away, revealing her full, round breasts to the cool air. He took a step back, his eyes drinking in the sight of her exposed flesh. The look of amazement on his face was all the validation Karina needed—she was more than just a pretty face.

"You should be proud of yourself, Y/N," she murmured, her voice filled with passion. "Everyone in this university wants my body, but they can't have it because I've fallen in love with you."

Y/N's gaze remained locked on her, his expression unreadable, but his actions spoke louder than words. His other hand found its way to her other breast, kneading it gently as he bent his head to take her nipple into his mouth. The sensation was heavenly, and Karina's back arched as a soft moan escaped her. She had dreamt of this moment, of feeling his warm breath against her skin, his lips wrapped around her sensitive flesh. His tongue danced around the peak, flicking and suckling, sending bolts of pleasure straight to her core.

Encouraged by his responsiveness, Karina grew bolder. She reached for the button of his pants, her trembling hand slipping it free and pushing the fabric down just enough to reveal his thick, hard erection. She couldn't believe what she was seeing—nine inches of pure masculine beauty, the girth of it making her mouth water. "Oh, my god," she murmured, her eyes going wide.

Y/N's eyes snapped to hers, a mix of surprise and arousal. He didn't protest as she guided him to sit on the edge of the tub, his back against the wall. "What are you doing?" he breathed, but she could see the desire in his eyes.

"I never knew you had such an...impressive size," Karina said, her voice a seductive purr. She knelt before him, her eyes never leaving his as she wrapped her hand around his shaft, feeling the heat and power of him. "It's like you're holding a piece of the universe."

Y/N's cheeks colored slightly at her words, and he couldn't help the smug smile that tugged at his lips. "I've never had anyone...measure me up quite like that," he said, his voice thick with desire.

Karina's hand looked almost comical around his length, her fingers not even coming close to touching her thumb. "Look, my hand can't even wrap around it," she said, her voice filled with awe. "You're just too big."

Y/N's smile grew wider, a hint of pride in his eyes. "I've been told I'm...gifted," he said, the word rolling off his tongue with a hint of arrogance.

Karina couldn't help but laugh, the sound echoing through the bathroom. "Gifted is an understatement," she said, her hand still stroking him. "But I'm going to need two hands for this."

With a sly smile, she leaned in closer, her ample breasts pressing against his thighs. "Do you like it when my boobs wrap around you?" she asked, her voice playful and full of mischief.

His eyes widened, and he swallowed hard. "I...uh...yes," he finally managed to say, his voice strained.

With a knowing smile, Karina leaned in closer, her breasts pressing against his thighs as she began to move her body up and down in a rhythmic motion, her nipples grazing his shaft with every pass. The feeling was exquisite, and she watched with rapt attention as his expression grew more intense. Her breasts moving faster and faster around his thick cock.

"Karina," he gasped, his eyes squeezed shut as she worked him with her body. "I'm gonna cum."

"Cum on my boobs," she whispered, her voice a siren's call. "I wanna feel it on me, I wanna feel you in me."

The words were barely out of her mouth when she felt him tense, his hands tightening on her shoulders as he let out a deep groan. Warm, sticky cum shot out, covering her breasts and chest in a hot, pulsing wave. She moaned in pleasure, feeling the warmth spread over her sensitive skin. It was a sensation she had never experienced before, and she reveled in the power she had over him in that moment.

Panting, Y/N opened his eyes, looking down at her. His gaze was a mix of shock and lust as he took in the sight of her cum-covered breasts. "I've never..." he trailed off, unable to find the words to express his thoughts.

"It's okay," she murmured, standing up and reaching for him. "We're just getting started."

Their clothes discarded in a pile on the floor, Karina led Y/N to the bedroom, her eyes never leaving his. The air was charged with desire as they tumbled onto the bed, their bodies entwined in a passionate embrace. His hands roamed her body, exploring every curve and valley, worshipping her in a way she had never felt before.

He kissed her again, his tongue delving into her mouth as she straddled him, her wetness coating his stomach. His cock was still semi-hard, and she felt it nudge against her inner thigh, sending a thrill through her. She wanted more—needed more.

With a seductive smile, Karina slid off him and lay down on the bed, her legs spread wide. "Keep playing with me," she murmured, her voice a sultry whisper.

Y/N's eyes darkened as he complied, his fingers moving back to her swollen clit. He teased it mercilessly, circling and flicking, watching as she writhed and moaned beneath him. Her hips rose and fell, seeking the friction she craved, and he took the opportunity to glide his fingers down her body, tracing the path of her curves before returning to her core.

Her breath hitched as he pushed a finger inside her, feeling the warm, wet embrace of her pussy. It was tight and slick, and he could feel her muscles contract around him as he began to move in a slow, deliberate rhythm. He watched her face, memorizing every expression that played across her features—the way her eyes fluttered shut, the soft moans that escaped her lips, the way her cheeks flushed a deep pink.

He added another finger, curling them inside her as he continued to rub her clit with his thumb. Karina's moans grew louder, her body trembling with the effort of holding back. "I'm close," she panted, her eyes squeezed shut. "So close."

"Cum for me, Karina," he urged, his voice thick with need. "Let go."

And with that, she did. Her body arched off the bed, a high-pitched scream tearing from her throat as she came, her pussy clamping down on his fingers. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever felt before—intense and overwhelming. It was as if every nerve ending in her body was on fire, sending waves of pleasure crashing through her.

As her orgasm subsided, Y/N didn't give her a moment to catch her breath. He kissed his way down her body, his mouth finding her sensitive clit once more. He began to suck and lick with renewed vigor, his tongue swirling around the swollen nub in a way that made her hips buck against his face.

"Oh, fuck," she gasped, her eyes flying open. "Oh, oh, oh!"

Y/N felt the warmth of her climax flood over his face, a salty sweetness that only added to his own arousal. Karina's body convulsed above him, her legs trembling and her toes curling as she squirted like a fountain, her juices spraying across his cheeks and chin. It was a sight he had only ever seen in porn, but here it was, happening in real life. He lapped at her, eager to taste every drop, his cock pulsing with need.

Her body finally went lax, her breathing ragged and her skin glistening with sweat. Y/N sat back, wiping his face with the back of his hand, a look of wonder on his own. "I've never seen that before," he said, his voice filled with awe.

Karina giggled, a lightness to her tone that hadn't been there before. "I've never done that before," she admitted, a shy smile playing on her lips. "But with you, it just feels...right."

He leaned in, kissing her deeply, tasting her on his tongue. His hands found her hips, pulling her closer to him. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

The words sent a thrill through her, and she felt a newfound confidence bloom inside her. This wasn't just a physical attraction anymore—it was something deeper, something she hadn't even realized she craved. "Thank you," she whispered, her eyes searching his for any sign of doubt. But all she saw was desire—pure, unbridled lust that mirrored her own.

Without another word, Karina swung her leg over him, straddling his waist. His cock stood at attention, and she took it in her hand, feeling the weight of him, the heat and power of his arousal. She positioned herself over his tip, her heart racing as she lowered herself down. The first inch was tight, a slight burn that made her gasp, but she didn't stop. She wanted all of him—needed all of him.

Y/N watched with bated breath, his eyes never leaving hers as she took him in. His hands found her hips, guiding her, urging her to take more. She felt the head of his cock push against her tight entrance, and then with a sudden, desperate need, she slammed herself down onto him. The pain was there, but it was overshadowed by the pleasure—a white-hot spark that ignited within her.

"Ahh, you're so deep," Karina screamed, her voice echoing off the walls of the small room. His cock filled her completely, stretching her in a way that she had never felt before. She paused, panting, trying to adjust to the feeling of being so completely filled. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she began to rock her hips, sliding up and down his length.

Y/N's eyes rolled back in his head, his hands gripping the bed sheets tightly. "You're so tight," he groaned, his voice strained with the effort of not losing control. "So fucking tight."

Karina's nails dug into his chest as she took him deeper, her body moving in a rhythm that was both agonizing and exhilarating. Each time she slammed down onto his cock, she felt him hit a spot deep within her that no one else had ever reached. It was a feeling she had only dreamed of, a feeling that made her feel alive. "Ahh, so good," she moaned, her voice breathy and full of need.

Y/N watched her, his eyes dark with desire. He could feel her walls tightening around him, her muscles clenching as she grew closer to the edge. "Cum for me again, Karina," he ground out, his own release building.

Obeying his command, Karina raised her pace, her hips moving faster and faster as she chased the elusive orgasm. She could feel it building, the pressure growing until it was all she could focus on. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she threw her head back, her long hair cascading down her back.

Then it hit her—a wave of pleasure so intense that it stole her breath away. "Ahhhh," she screamed, her pussy spasming around Y/N's thick cock as she squirted against his belly. He watched in amazement as a gush of liquid spurted out, painting his stomach and chest with her essence. The sight was erotic, and he couldn't hold back anymore.

"Now it's my turn, Karina," Y/N growled, his eyes dark with need as he raised his hips to meet her thrusts. "Let's come together."

His words sent a jolt of excitement through her, and she eagerly leaned into his rhythm, her body moving in perfect sync with his. She could feel him swelling inside her, the heat of his climax building with every stroke. The room was a symphony of moans and skin slapping together, the sweet scent of sex hanging heavily in the air.

With a final, powerful thrust, Y/N buried himself to the hilt, and Karina felt his warmth flood her as he came with a roar "AHHHHHH". Her own orgasm crashed over her, a second wave of pleasure so intense it left her trembling. She threw her head back, her mouth open in a silent scream, as she felt herself squirt again. It was as if her body was claiming him, marking him as hers.

Collapsing onto his chest, Karina tried to catch her breath, her heart pounding like a drum in her ears. Y/N's chest heaved beneath her, his cock still hard and pulsing inside her. She felt the sticky warmth of their combined releases, the evidence of their passion smearing between them as she moved.

They lay there for what felt like an eternity, the only sounds in the room their heavy breathing and the distant hum of the city outside. The weight of his body was comforting, anchoring her to the world. The feel of his heart beating against her cheek was reassuring, a steady rhythm that matched her own racing heart.

Finally, Y/N pulled out with a groan, and Karina felt a sense of loss as his cock slipped from her. He rolled to the side, taking her with him, and they lay there, their limbs tangled together. She could feel his softening length against her thigh, the stickiness between her legs a constant reminder of what they had just shared.

The silence grew heavier, and Karina felt a twinge of nerves. What came next? Would this be a one-time thing, or had she finally broken through his icy exterior? She turned to look at him, his eyes closed, his face a picture of peace. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

Y/N's eyes fluttered open, and he looked at her with a softness she had never seen before. "For what?" he asked, his voice low and gruff.

"For making me feel...important," she said, the words spilling from her lips before she could stop them. "For noticing me for more than just my body."

He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. "You're more than just a pretty face, Karina," he whispered, his breath sending shivers down her spine. "Much, much more."

The words were a balm to her soul, and she nestled closer to him, her heart swelling with happiness. The night had started as a simple homework session, but it had turned into so much more—a confession of feelings she had never dared to hope would be reciprocated.

But as the reality of what had just happened sank in, Karina felt a flicker of fear. This was uncharted territory for her—she had never been with someone who valued her mind as much as her body. Would she be able to keep his interest? Would she be enough for him?

Y/N must have felt her tension, because his arms tightened around her, pulling her closer. "Don't worry," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "I've noticed you for a long time now. And I like what I see."

The words sent a shiver of pleasure through her, and she let herself relax into his embrace. For now, she was content to lay there, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking and the promise of what was to come.

But as the moments ticked by, Karina grew restless. She knew she couldn't just lie there forever—there was still so much to explore, so much more of him to experience. With a sultry smile, she rolled off of him, her body still sticky with their combined arousal. "Now get all on fours," Y/N said, his voice a command that sent a thrill through her.

Without a second thought, Karina did as he asked, her hands and knees sinking into the plush comforter. She felt his body shift behind her, the heat of him a stark contrast to the coolness of the room. "What kind of stamina do you have?" she asked playfully, peeking over her shoulder at him.

Y/N's eyes never left hers as he lined himself up with her wet, pink opening. "Let's find out," he replied, a smug smile playing on his lips. With one powerful thrust, he pushed into her, filling her completely. Karina gasped "ahhh", the sensation of his thick cock stretching her was almost too much to handle. It was a feeling she had never experienced before—like a mix of pleasure and pain that left her breathless.

He didn't give her any time to adjust. Instead, he began to pound into her, his hips moving with a fierce, almost brutal rhythm. His hand found her hair, and he gripped it tightly, pulling her head back as he slammed into her again and again. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through her body, making her toes curl and her nails dig into the bed. "AHHHH!" she screamed, the sound a mix of pleasure and surprise.

Karina felt herself stretching to accommodate him, her body adjusting to the relentless onslaught of his thick cock. It was a delicious pain, a feeling she had never experienced before. Each time he hit the deepest part of her, she felt an intense pressure that bordered on unbearable—but she never wanted him to stop. "Yes," she panted, her voice barely audible. "Harder, Y/N. Just like that."

Y/N complied, his movements becoming more forceful. He could feel her body tensing, her muscles clenching around him as she grew closer to climax. He watched her in the mirror, the sight of her bouncing breasts and arched back making him even more determined to push her over the edge. "I'm gonna squirt again," she screamed, her voice echoing off the walls.

He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back as he whispered in her ear. "Do it, Karina. I want to feel you come all over my bed."

And with that, she did. Her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, crashing over her body with a force that made her see stars. Her pussy spasmed around him, gripping his cock like a vice as she squirted uncontrollably. The bed beneath her grew wet, the fabric soaking up her juices as they spurted out in a torrent.

Y/N's hand didn't stop moving, his palm connecting with her ass cheek with a loud smack. She yelped, the pain mixing with pleasure, sending another bolt of sensation straight to her clit. It was a delicious cycle—each spank making her cum harder, each orgasm making her more sensitive to his touch.

"Yess..." she gasped, pushing back into him. "Spank my ass, baby."

He complied with a smack that was harder than the last, and Karina's eyes rolled back in her head, her mouth forming a perfect O of pleasure. "U like that, don't you?" he taunted, his voice a dark growl.

"Yes, I do," Karina moaned, her body begging for more. Each slap of his hand against her flesh sent a fresh wave of arousal through her, making her pussy clench around his cock.

"You're such a good girl," Y/N said, his voice thick with satisfaction as he continued to pound into her. "So responsive to pain."

The smacks grew more intense, each one sending a jolt of electricity through her body. Karina could feel the beginnings of another orgasm building, the pressure in her pussy growing tighter with every hit. "AHHHHH," she screamed, her voice raw and needy. "Y/N, I'm gonna cum again!"

He leaned down, his teeth grazing her ear. "Come for me, baby," he murmured. "Come all over my cock."

With a final, hard spank, Karina's body shattered into a million pieces, her orgasm consuming her completely. She screamed his name as she squirted once more, her pussy flooding him with her release. Y/N groaned, the feeling of her tightening around him too much to resist. He thrust into her one last time, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself deep inside her.

Their bodies went still, both of them panting and trembling with the aftershocks of their shared climax. Y/N leaned down, kissing her neck and shoulder before slowly withdrawing. Karina felt the emptiness acutely, a sudden coldness where he had been so warm and hard.

They lay there for a moment, their limbs entangled, their breaths mingling in the quiet of the room. Then, with a soft groan, Y/N rolled onto his back, pulling her with him so she was nestled against his side.

Karina lay down beside him, her heart racing. She looked up at the ceiling, trying to process what had just happened. It was more than she had ever dreamed of—more than any of the fantasies she had concocted in her loneliest moments. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "For giving me an orgasm that no one else ever has."

Y/N's eyes searched hers, his expression unreadable. "It was nothing," he said, but the tenderness in his voice belied his words. He stroked her hair, his touch gentle and soothing. "You're welcome to come over for homework help anytime."

The room was quiet, the only sounds their breathing and the distant hum of the city outside. Karina felt a warmth spread through her, a sense of belonging that was new and exhilarating. "I will," she said, her voice filled with promise. "As long as you don't mind me...distracting you like this."

A smirk played on his lips, and he leaned in to kiss her forehead. "I don't mind," he said, his voice low and intimate. "In fact, I might just enjoy it."

With that, Y/N pulled her to her feet, scooping her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing. Karina giggled, her arms wrapping around his neck as he carried her back to the bathroom. The cold tiles against her back were a stark contrast to the warmth of their bodies, and she felt a thrill of excitement at the thought of what was to come.

He set her down gently, his hands sliding down her body to grip her ass. "Bend over," he ordered, his voice firm and commanding. Karina complied eagerly, her hands braced against the cool porcelain of the sink. She felt his cock nudge against her wetness, and she pushed back, eager for more.

Y/N didn't disappoint. With one swift motion, he plunged into her from behind, his cock filling her completely. Karina gasped, her eyes squeezing shut as she felt him stretch her open. He began to move, his hips slapping against her ass as he fucked her with a ferocity that left her trembling.

Each thrust was punctuated by a smack, his hand coming down hard on her ass cheek. The sound echoed through the bathroom, mingling with her cries of pleasure. "Oh, fuck," she moaned, her body writhing beneath his touch. "You're so rough."

"You love it," he grunted, his hand coming down again, this time harder. "You love it when I spank your pretty ass."

And she did. The sting of his hand only made her more aroused, her pussy clenching around him as she pushed back to meet each of his movements. The mirror in front of her was foggy with steam, their reflection distorted but unmistakable. She watched as he claimed her, his hand rising and falling in a rhythm that matched his strokes.

Her body felt alive, each touch a spark that ignited a fire deep within her. She could feel another orgasm building, the pressure in her core growing tighter and tighter with every smack. "Yes," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Keep going."

Y/N's hand never stopped moving, his fingers finding her clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts. Karina's legs began to shake, her body on the edge of something she hadn't felt before. It was as if every nerve ending was alight, every inch of her skin sensitive to his touch.

And then it hit her—a climax so intense it felt like a supernova. Her pussy clamped down on him, her body convulsing as she screamed his name. He didn't stop, his hand never faltering, his cock plunging into her with a relentless pace. "Cum for me," he growled, his voice a dark command that sent shivers down her spine.

And cum she did, her pussy spasming around him as she squirted once again. Y/N watched in amazement, his own release building until he couldn't hold back any longer. With a final, brutal thrust, he came deep inside her, filling her with his warmth.

They stood there, panting and shaking, for a long moment. The only sound in the room was the dull thud of their hearts and the distant rush of the shower. "You're mine," Y/N murmured, his voice a gentle rumble in her ear.

Karina leaned back into him, her body still trembling. "Yes," she whispered, the word a declaration of ownership. "I'm yours."

Their bodies were slick with sweat, their breaths mingling as they held each other close. The world outside didn't matter anymore—all that existed was the two of them in that small, steamy room.

But eventually, the moment passed, and reality began to creep back in. "We should clean up," Karina murmured, her voice still shaky with the aftermath of pleasure.

Y/N nodded, his arms sliding from around her waist. He stepped back, giving her the space to stand up straight. "Let's get you cleaned up," he said, his voice a mix of satisfaction and concern.

Karina felt a blush creep up her neck as she turned to face him. She had never been so exposed to anyone before, not even herself in the mirror. But with Y/N, she felt a strange sense of vulnerability that was thrilling rather than terrifying. She watched as he grabbed a towel, his own body still flushed with arousal.

He wrapped the towel around her waist, tucking it in gently. "Come on," he said, taking her hand and leading her to the bathroom. The cold tile felt good against her hot skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the room they had just left.

Y/N turned on the shower, the water spraying hot and steamy. He stepped in, pulling her in after him. The water cascaded down their bodies, washing away the sweat and cum that had painted them both. He took a washcloth, his movements deliberate and tender as he began to clean her. The sensation of the cloth moving over her skin, combined with the warm water, was almost too much for her to handle. "You're so gentle," she murmured, her eyes drifting shut.

He didn't respond, his focus solely on her. He washed her thoroughly, taking his time to pay special attention to her breasts and pussy. His touch was soft but firm, as if he was afraid to break her. Karina felt her body responding to him again, her arousal building once more.

But she knew they couldn't go on like this forever. "We should get out," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "We're going to turn into prunes."

He chuckled, his eyes meeting hers. "You're right," he said, turning off the water. He stepped out first, grabbing two towels from the rack and handing one to her. They dried each other off, the silence between them a comfortable one.

Once they were both dressed again, Y/N turned to her, his expression serious. "I need to tell you something," he said, his voice low.

Karina felt a sudden knot in her stomach. What was it? Had she done something wrong? "What is it?" she asked, her voice small.

He took a deep breath, his eyes searching hers. "I didn't just do this because you're...beautiful," he began, his words tentative. "I did it because I care about you, Karina."

The confession was like a weight lifted from her shoulders. "I know," she said, her voice firm. "And I care about you, too."

He leaned in, his hand cupping her cheek. "I want us to be more than just...this," he whispered, his thumb brushing against her bottom lip. "I want to get to know you—all of you."

Karina felt a warmth spread through her chest. "I'd like that," she murmured, standing on her tiptoes to press her lips to his.

The kiss was sweet, filled with all the unspoken promises of a future together. When they pulled away, she knew that this was just the beginning. "Let's go back to the living room," she suggested, taking his hand. "We have the whole night ahead of us."

Y/N nodded, a smile playing on his lips. "I've got an idea," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "How about we start with a movie?"

They settled onto the couch, their bodies still humming with the aftermath of their passionate encounters. Karina curled up against him, feeling more content than she had in a long time. The TV flickered to life, but neither of them really watched it. Instead, they talked—about their hopes, their fears, their deepest secrets.

And as the night grew darker outside, their bond grew stronger, weaving a web of trust and desire that neither of them wanted to break. For the first time in a long time, Karina felt truly seen—not just for her body, but for the person she was inside.

Y/N pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her in a fierce embrace as they lay down on the bed, their limbs intertwined. The scent of their lovemaking still lingered in the air, a potent reminder of the passion that had just transpired between them. Karina's heart fluttered in her chest, the feeling of his naked skin against hers both familiar and new.

The sun had just begun to peek through the blinds, casting a soft glow across their entwined bodies. The light danced across Y/N's features, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the softness in his eyes. He leaned down to kiss her, a gentle pressure that spoke of affection rather than lust. Karina felt her heart melt a little more with each brush of his lips.

"We should get ready," Y/N murmured, reluctantly breaking the kiss. "We don't want to be late for class."

Karina groaned, burying her face in his chest. "Just five more minutes," she begged, her voice muffled. But she knew he was right—they had to face the world outside of this cocoon of intimacy.

With a sigh, they both sat up, the cold air of the room hitting them like a slap in the face. Karina watched as Y/N stood, his cock still semi-hard and glistening with their combined juices. The sight made her stomach flutter, and she couldn't help but admire the way his muscles rippled as he reached for his boxers.

They dressed quickly, the act of putting on their clothes almost mundane in comparison to the intensity of the night before. But even as they stepped into the crisp morning air, Karina felt a newfound lightness in her step.

They walked together to the university, her hand in his, their bodies close enough to feel the heat of each other. As they passed other students, she noticed the glances thrown their way—a mix of surprise and envy. Y/N had always been the quiet, brooding genius, and she had always been the flirty, popular one. But now, they were something more—something she hadn't even known she wanted.

Men's eyes followed them, lingering on Karina's curves and the way she leaned into Y/N. They whispered among themselves, their voices filled with disbelief. "How did he get her?" she heard one of them murmur, the words sending a thrill through her.

Y/N seemed oblivious to the attention, his focus solely on her. He held the door open as they entered the lecture hall, his grip on her hand tightening slightly. Karina couldn't help but feel a sense of pride, a swell of happiness that he was hers—at least for now.

As they took their seats, she couldn't stop herself from laying her head on his shoulder, her hand wrapping around his arm. He tensed for a moment, then relaxed, his hand coming up to squeeze hers. It was a silent declaration, a promise that no matter what the day brought, they had each other.

The professor droned on about calculus, but Karina's mind was elsewhere. She was lost in the sensation of Y/N's warmth beside her, the feel of his muscles shifting as he took notes, the way his eyes would occasionally flicker over to hers. It was as if their night of passion had forged an unbreakable bond between them, a connection that went beyond the physical.

But she knew it wasn't all rainbows and butterflies. They had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed, and she couldn't help but wonder how it would affect their dynamic outside of his apartment. Would he still be cold and aloof in class, or would he treat her differently? And what about the other students—would they whisper and gossip?

Karina pushed the thoughts aside, focusing instead on the steady beat of Y/N's heart beneath her ear. For now, she was content to bask in the warmth of his presence, to revel in the knowledge that she had managed to crack open the shell of the enigmatic student she had been pining for so long.

The rest of the world could wait—for now, all that mattered was the here and now, and the promise of what was to come.

---

Winter's words played on a loop in Karina's mind as she sat in class, unable to focus on the lecture. "I think you got what you wanted, Karina," Winter had said, her voice filled with a knowing smile. "Tell me your stories." Winter's curiosity was palpable, and Karina felt a blush creeping up her neck as she thought of the tales she could now share.

Her thoughts drifted back to the night before, the way Y/N had looked at her with such intensity, his eyes dark with passion. It had been more than just a physical connection—it had been a meeting of minds, a melding of souls that had left her feeling both exhausted and invincible.

Karina leaned back in her chair, her eyes glazing over as she remembered the feel of Y/N's cock sliding into her, the way he had filled her so completely. It had been more than just sex—it had been a declaration of intent, a claiming that she had never experienced before.

But Winter was waiting, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Karina knew she had to tread carefully, to choose her words wisely. After all, this was new territory for her—how did you explain to your best friend that you had not only slept with the guy you've been crushing on for months but had also managed to break through his stoic exterior?

---

"So, what happened?" Winter asked eagerly as they met up for lunch, her eyes wide with anticipation. Karina took a deep breath, her heart racing as she recounted the events of the previous night. Winter's jaw dropped, her eyes never leaving hers as she listened to the details of their steamy encounter.

"You've got to be kidding me," Winter whispered when Karina finished, her voice filled with awe. "You actually did it. You got him to crack."

Karina couldn't help the smug smile that played on her lips. "It wasn't easy," she admitted, "but I think I've figured out the trick."

"Well, spill it," Winter said, leaning in. "I want to know everything."

Karina took a sip of her soda, her mind racing with the memories of Y/N's gentle touch, his fierce passion, and the way he had made her feel. "You just have to be...persistent," she said finally. "And vulnerable. He's not like other guys—you can't just throw yourself at him and expect him to catch you."

Winter nodded, her gaze thoughtful. "So, you had to show him that you're more than just a pretty face," she mused. "That you actually care about him, not just his body."

Karina nodded, feeling a warmth spread through her. "Exactly. And once he saw that, he couldn't resist."

The cafeteria buzzed with the chatter of students, but the two of them sat in their own little bubble, lost in their conversation. Winter's eyes were filled with admiration, and Karina felt a sense of pride that she had managed to do what no one else had.

[no-144444]

the oscars- o.piastri

꩜ summary: you bring your own oscar to the oscar's!

꩜ pairing: married! oscar piastri x actress! fem! reader

꩜ a/n: just realised i never posted this and it has been sitting in my drafts for over a month and a half ish lol

I want you to come with me. 

Those words had run through his head like a fucking jack-hammer for weeks. What did that even entail? Acquiring a tux, sure. He could do that. Learn all the names of the people he could potentially meet, any celebrities or old co-stars he’d probably met but didn’t remember. Again, he could do that. Sit beside you all night and let you be your wonderful self as he got a first class seat and bragging rights about the fact that he was yours, he did that all day everyday. 

So why did this feel so different? He’d been to award shows before. Not the award show, but motorsports ones. You’d come as his date. The world knew about you two. He’d gone to the BAFTAs with you one year. He should be fine. He knows he’s just there to hold your hand all night and make sure you don’t forget to eat something, but this just feels… different. This was the Oscars. The one night all of Hollywood steps out in their very best, hoping to get something back. And you were nominated in 3 categories. 

“Fix your bowtie,” Hattie fussed over him as he rolled his eyes. You’d even invited his whole family. You weren’t super close with yours and they hadn’t really supported your career, but the Piastri’s had. Nicole went to every premiere you offered her, sometimes flying last minute just to be there to support you. He remembered how touched you’d been when she showed up at your Cannes debut, you called him crying that night, not even knowing what to do with yourself because you thought it was just so nice. You were 14 then, but you were 24 now, and you weren’t just his girlfriend, you were his wife. You were officially part of the family, even though you had been from the moment he’d brought you home. He started playing with his ring, a nervous habit he’d picked up since getting married. 

“It is fixed,” he snapped back as she fiddled with it. “Mum said it looked fine-”

“I wasn’t looking at you when I said that!” she called from the other room. Oscar rolled his eyes again. 

“Your eyes are on swivels today,” Mae teased, looking up from her phone. Oscar fought back rolling them again, and instead went for a scoff. 

“I’m the only reason you guys are even coming,” he scoffed, Hattie still fixing his tie. Mae’s jaw dropped in offence. 

She gasped. “Excuse you! I think Y/n would still invite us even if you guys got a divorce.” 

A shiver went up his spine at that thought. Leaving you?  He couldn’t do it. He knew in his bones he’d adore you until he was old and grey, and probably a while after that too. 

“She definitely would,” Eddie added, walking in. “Plus, she’s dressed now, if you want to see her.”

Oscar tried to pull away from Hattie, but he just got choked by his bowtie, resulting in a fit of coughs and a gaggle of laughter from his sisters. 

He heard a chuckle he knew all too well and he turned his head. You were radiant. A burgundy formal gown, your hair exactly the way you loved it, and that wonderful look in your eyes. The one he saw when he woke up next to you. The one that made him blush no matter how long you’d been together. “You alright there?” you questioned.

He chuckled and Hattie finally finished with his bowtie, so he turned to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his lips to yours as he lifted you off the ground- just slightly. You grinned against his lips and he felt the panic that had been building completely subside. You pulled back as your feet reached the ground again, and chuckled. “Do I have lipstick?” he asked, a question he asked most days. You nodded, but Mae got up to take a photo, giggling at her brother with you. It didn’t bother him. You finally just wiped it off and smiled at him. 

“What do you think?” you asked, pulling back and giving him a spin. You showed off the low back and he knew he’d be ripping this dress off of you tonight. He swore the breath was knocked from his lungs every time you looked at him, but truly, you were breathtaking. 

“I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the entire world,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Oh yeah?” you smirked. He nodded. 

“Oh yeah.” 

The Red Carpet was as overwhelming as usual, but he enjoyed watching his sisters interact with the few fans of theirs that were there. He watched you with so much love and pride in his eyes, so much so that Tim had to nudge him to remember to walk on and not just stand in the back of your photos looking at you lovingly. When you finally finished up, you grabbed his hand as he led you into the auditorium. 

“You still have my speeches?’ you questioned. He tapped his chest, signalling that it was in his breast pocket. You smiled. “Thank you.”

“Always,” he smiled back. “Forever.” 

As soon as your moment began, it ended, because Nicole pulled you away to go talk to people and fucked off to the dinner table. He watched as you worked the room, animatedly speaking to people as he watched on from his seat at the table, thoroughly enjoying his food. 

It was his dad who pulled him out of his daze, asking how he was feeling. 

“I’m fine,” he nodded, only slightly lying. 

Chris smiled. “She’s going to win ‘em, I bet you.” 

“She will,” Oscar nodded. “Her work has been incredible this year.”

“You’re telling me,” he chuckled. “I cried for three days over the Outrun.”

Oscar laughed out loud as his dad shook his head. “I know what you mean.”

Just then, Oscar caught your eye from the other side of the ballroom and you smiled at him, waving. He waved back. You were a vision in burgundy. He swore to go he was going to get heart palpitations from how beautiful you were. 

“Starting soon now,” Tim clapped his hands on Oscar’s shoulders. “Better be ready with those acceptance speeches.”

Chris smiled at Tim. “Took the words out of my mouth,” he chuckled. “Also have to practice your shocked face. Even though we all know she’s going to win every single one of them,” Chris tapped his leg. “Like how she pretends to be shocked when you win.” 

Oscar laughed, his cheeks going red. Why was he being embarrassed by his own father and step-father at the Oscars right now? He wanted you back, you could always calm them down, make them less… whatever they were. 

“Busy?” you asked, coming up to the table, your question directed at him. He stood up immediately. 

“Not at all,” he shook his head, the boys behind him chuckling like schoolgirls. He took your hand and you led him to the foot of the stage, squeezing his hand. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you whispered, leaning to his shoulder. “Thank you for coming.” 

“I'm so proud of you,” he smiled, his hand sneaking around your waist to pull you closer. He loved this. These quiet moments between all the hustle and bustle of your own lives. The room melted away behind you as you both stared at the stage you hoped you’d end up on tonight, but he knew you would. “I’ll always come.”

You chuckled. “You said cum.” 

He rolled his eyes, the soft moment between the two of you, now abruptly over due to his choice of words. He looked down at you and you laughed at his unimpressed stare. “I love you?” you offered, cupping his cheek. 

“I guess I love you too,” he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours gently, but quickly- as to not get lipstick all over his mouth. 

“And the nominees are; Anora, written by Sean Baker. The Brutalist, written by Brady Corbet, Mona Fastvold. A Real Pain, written by Jesse Eisenberg. , September 5, written by Moritz Binder, Tim Fehlbaum; co-written by Alex David. The Substance, written by Y/n Y/l/n,” the crowd cheered and he felt your hand squeeze his just a little tighter. “And the winner is… Anora, written by Sean Baker!” 

Despite the loss, you stood and clapped for him. Oscar joined you, though he thought you should’ve probably won. You both sat back down as his speech began and he took your hand again. “You alright?”

You nodded beside him, your eyes fixed to Sean and his speech. “There’s still like 4 hours left, don’t worry.”

He chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to your hand. Ever the positive person. 

“And the nominees are; Anora, Sean Baker. The Brutalist, David Jancso. Conclave, Nick Emerson. The Outrun, Y/n Y/l/n. Wicked, Myron Kerstein,” you tensed beside him. “And the winner is… Y/n Y/l/n, The Outrun!” 

And the room stood for you. He felt like he was in slow motion. You both stood up at the same time, a bright smile on your face (he was sure he looked ridiculous), and you turned to him and you hugged him. 

“Holy shit,” you whispered. He smiled back, nodding. 

“You fucking did it,” he cheered as he pulled the speech out of his pocket. “Go accept it.” 

You nodded and started your descent down the stairs. The entirety of Hollywood was on their feet for you. You’d been working in the industry since you were a kid. Everyone knew how wonderful you were. Only he got to see it everyday. He watched, pride practically spilling from every pore as you stood up on that stage, taking the award in your hand, the sheet of paper in your hand. You looked up, a teary smile on your lips. “Wow,” you breathed out, looking at the room, but your eyes immediately met Oscar’s, and you both smiled again. “Hello, and thank you,” you started. “Umm… alright, speech- yes!” you unfolded the piece of paper in your hand and took a deep breath. “Well… first of all, I’d like to thank the academy, because this-” you held up your award. “Is incredible. And next, I’d like to thank my family. Nicole, Tim, Chris, Hattie, Eddie, Mae,” Oscar was already tearing up, and he was sure his mom was at the floodgates stage of it all. “You’ve been so incredibly kind to me over the past decade. You took me in when I was just a random 14 year old your son or brother was dating, and you gave me a family, and I'll always be grateful. Next, I’d like to thank my husband-” he felt a tear fall down his cheek and he knew there were about twenty cameras on him. There were a few cheers from the crowd. “- Oscar, you’ve made me insanely happy, and you’re my everything. But you’re also the only person I’ll ever let in my editing room. I love how curious you were at the start, and now, how effortlessly you help me. Truly, this is half yours-” you chuckled, and so did he. “No matter what. Whether you were coming in from a race weekend, totally exhausted, or just come back from a run, you’ll sit beside me in silence and help me make it all work. I don’t think you understand how much that means to me, so, thank you. I love you all, thank you!” you finished off, just wiping the small tear that had fallen away, as the crowd rose for you again. Oscar was a goner, tears falling freely as he tried to wipe them away. God, you were too kind. He adored you. 

The night ended at 3am, you walked away with two Oscar awards, and one Oscar. He was grinning the whole time, too. Couldn’t stop. You won Best Editing and Best Supporting Actress. His family were elated and you giggled on the way back tot he hotel as you watched videos of them react to you winning, since they weren't sitting beside you.

Both you and Oscar were exhausted, so you fell into bed, immediately tangling with each other and knocking out. 

He ran a hand through your hair as he lazily closed his eyes. "Y/n?"

You hummed against his skin, sign enough that you were slightly conscious.

"I adore you," he whispered, the silence of the room seeming even quieter in the dark. You looked up at him through tired eyes, a soft smile on your lips.

"I feel it," you smiled. "And I love you too."

Best night ever.

mclaren masterlist

navigation for my blog :)

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Pt2 of dp x dc au where Danny is the 99th attempt to clone Kon by Tim. Danny is an overprotective 2 year old who hates Ra's Al Gul with a passion.

[Pt1: here]

Tim is more than ready to leave the LoA and stop having to dance around Ra's. He doesn't feel safe, but he needed the resources. Dick made getting them any other way impossible, with him telling the whole hero community he's crazy and needs help and shit. Tim is more than pissed about it, but he can't help but be amused by the outcome.

Sure, Ra's is trying to wife him, and that's awful and terrifying and all, but watching Ra's try to win over a 2 year old who despises his very existence is hilarious. Aedan, or Danny as the toddler is insisting to be called, goes out of his way to be petty to Ra's and clings to Tim any time the man enters the room. Danny has torn or spilled things on paperwork and clothing, left things just out of sight to trip Ra's, put foods in unexpected places as the man steps or sits in it, purposely and maliciously coloured on and destroyed things he found out were Ra's and Ra's alone, and so much more. Tim is kind of proud of the chaos.

But Tim also has to shove down the anxiety that Ra's might have actually did something to Danny while on his missions. Danny was left on base because it was too dangerous to bring him. He tries to get back as fast as safely possible, just in case, though. Danny hasn't said anything yet on WHY he despises Ra's, but Tim is keeping an eye out.

All in all though, Tim has no remorse as he packs up and leaves with Danny in toe, blowing up every base he knows about and draining their accounts on his way out. He leaves Danny with Tam during his final showdown with Ra's, making sure Dick is in the area to catch him. He's not leaving his baby early.

"So I have everything I need to prove Bruce is alive and how to save him. I'm NOT crazy." Tim tells Dick when he wakes up after his fight with a pissed off Ra's, before remembering Danny and chuckling, "Actually, I'm a little crazy. Not about the Bruce thing, or what I did to prove it, but I did do something else insane."

"I believe you... about the Bruce thing." Dick eyes him in concern. "What did you do?"

"I maaaay have cloned Kon."

"You WHAT?" Steph looks absolutely flabbergasted. All his family members do actually, including Alfred.

"Yeah, so, I had a little bit of a mental breakdown." Tim stares at his hands, picking at the nails. "I was really missing Kon and spiraled and now I have a son... surprise.."

There's so much sputtering before Steph slams her hands on the medical bed, silencing everyone and getting Tim to look at her. She's flung her Spoiler mask off and leaning way too close.

"You have a son?? How old is he?? When can we meet him?? What's his name??"

"Er.. his name is Aedan Drake, he insists on being called Danny currently. He's about 2. And you'll be meeting him as soon as I can call Tam. I didn't want either of them near when Ra's came for me." Tim leans away from her. "Especially because Danny seems to hate the guy and puts himself between us at any chance he gets."

"That's concerning" Dick mumbles.

"Yeah.." Tim blinks hard. "I'm not even sure why Danny hates him. I have no idea if Ra's did something to him while I was otherwise engaged. It terrifies me not to know, but I only have the word of a creep and a 2 year old to go off of."

No one seems to know what to say to that. They all silently agree to keep an eye out for any signs Ra's did something to Danny.

"Can you pass me my phone?"

"Sure, Timmy." Dick hands over the phone. "Who do you think is going to be his favourite aunt or uncle?"

"Fuck if I know, the kid is completely different from Kon when it comes to interests. I love it, but it makes guessing what he'll like interesting. Currently, he's obsessed with space and ghost stuff. He likes watching space documentaries over cartoons." Tim chuckles while locating Tam's number.

Steph laughs. "Of course your kid is as weird as you!"

He sticks his tongue at her, and she does it right back. The call connects.

"Tim?"

"Hey, Tam! Not dead yet!" He grins at her groan. "I'm at the manor. Tell Danny to be careful of my ribs before you bring him over."

"Can do. Be there in 20. Danny? Do you want to say hi to your daddy?" Is all the warning Tim gets before his son screeches.

"HI, DADDY!" He can't hold in his laughter. The siblings closest to him look amused, clearly having heard the yelling.

"Hi, Danny! Tam giving you candy?"

"Nooo" Danny is a terrible liar. Tam says something. "See you soon, daddy."

Tam takes the phone before Tim can reply. "He didn't want to sleep before he saw you. I expect he'll crash after seeing your okay, candy or no candy."

"It's fine, Tam. I don't care so long as it doesn't become a regular thing. Now, drive safe."

"See you soon." And the call ends.

Dick sniffles. "My little Timmy is growing up!"

Steph points dramatically at him. "You're a teen dad!!"

"I mean, I'm a teen vigilante and a teen CEO. Being a teen dad is the most normal thing I currently am." Tim says, raising an eyebrow at her. "Beside, you technically were too. Only difference is I'm just keeping the baby I made... Er.. I mean that in the least insulting way possible. I respect your decision, just respect mine."

"Okay, but you virgin Mary-ed your baby. I, at least, got laid for mine."

Tim flushes. "Dude!"

"I'm sure we can still find you someone our age into dilfs and get your cherry popped." Steph grins at him.

"Steph! Shut up about my sex life!" Tim throws a pillow at her and struggles out of bed. "I hate you so much right now."

"Master Tim, please take the crutches if you're planning to leave the med bay." Alfred calls out, and Tim grumbles, but complies. Detouring to the locker room and throwing on a sweater and some sweatpants that's been sitting in his locker for a year. They smell a little musty, but they're clean and cover the bandages. Hopefully his son won't freak out too bad. Losing his spleen traumatized the poor kid.

He heads upstairs to wait near the front door. Dick, Damian, and Steph following behind him like the worse ducklings he could think of. Dick, at least, grabs a chair so Tim can sit while they wait.

"Master Tim, does Master Danny have any allergies? And what are his food preferences?" Alfred asks as he passes out post patrol drinks. Tim doesn't accept his, he doesn't want it to be in the way when Danny comes flying in. Literally. Danny figured out how to float about a month ago, and his feet have barely touched the floor since.

"He's got the same weaknesses as all the other kryptonians. He's not a picky eater and doesn't seem to be allergic to anything food wise, but he hates toast." He smiles at the looks his siblings send him. "Don't ask me why. He just hates toast. Veggies, no problem, but toast? Toast leads to temper tantrums."

Steph cackles loudly at that while a confused Dick chuckles.

"I shall keep that in mind." Alfred sounds amused.

"I've gained massive respect for Ma and Pa Kent. Superpowered toddler tantrums are rough when you're just a human." Tim knows he has a dopey look on his face, but couldn't care less. "Danny's such a sweet kid, though. He gets so distraught if he accidentally hits me and does everything in his childish power to apologize and "make up" for it when he does."

Tim frowns. "Which is another reason I'm worried Ra's did something. Danny would hit, kick, and bite the man anytime he got in range. It seems out of character and more personal than just not wanting to share his dad."

"That is concerning." Dick shares his worried frown. They wipe the looks off their faces when there's a knock on the door. Steph dances over and opens it.

"Hell-"

"DADDY!" A tiny blur darts around her and skids to a stop in front of Tim. He can hear his siblings melt as this tiny child holds up his arms. "Up!"

"Just remember to be careful with my ribs, sweetheart. They got hurt." Tim says while scooping his son up. "You ran right past your aunt and uncles, think you can say hi to them?"

Danny looks at his siblings, seemingly debating if he vibes with them, before waving a tiny hand. "Hi.."

Steph and Dick being overly dramatic and acting like they just suffered a heart attack from cuteness, spooks the poor kid. Danny hides his face in Tim's shoulder. Damian edges closer, blocking Dick and Steph's view. He makes sure to lean down to be more at Danny's eye level.

"Hello, Aedan. I am Damian Al Gul Wayne. I hear you dislike my grandfather. A valid response to meeting the man." Danny peaks at him, and the teen gives him a small smile. "Ignore Stephanie and Richard, they can be a lot, but they mean well."

"Baby Bat!" Dick sounds like close to happy tears.

"Demon Brat! That's the nicest thing you've ever said about me!" The grin is audible in Steph's voice.

"They are, unfortunately, also idiots." Damian says sagely.

"There it is." Tim chuckles, running a hand through Danny's soft feathery hair. Danny looks between Tim and Damian, there's a calculating look on his face, clearly deciding if he should give this "Al Gul" a chance. "It's fine, Danny. He's very different than his grandfather. If you ask him nicely, I'm sure he'll introduce you to his pets."

"Pets?" Danny blinks and turns to fully look at Damian.

"Indeed. I currently have a cat, a dog, a cow, and a turkey." Danny literally vibrates at the news.

"Can I meet them?"

"I'd be more than happy to introduce you tomorrow." Tim has never seen Damian look so soft. "You and your father should get a good night's rest. You'll have more energy to play that way."

Danny pouts, but agrees. "Okay."

"Thanks for babysitting, Tam." Tim calls out to the woman watching everything unfold with amusement.

"No problem. He was an angel, even while sugar high." She grins. "I'd be more than willing to do it again sometime. I'm going to head out now. Bye, Danny!"

"Bye!!" Danny floats a little to wave wildly at her as she leaves. Damian keeps his surprise off his face and not moving in the way of the tot's goodbyes.

"Aedan, may I carry you?" Damian asks once Danny is settled back in Tim's lap. "Your father unfortunately needs to use crutches to get to his room."

Tim is amused by the calculating look sliding back onto Danny's face. He can only imagine the kid's internal debate; let Damian pick him up and the Drakes can retire and cuddle in Tim's room or stay right where he is. It never ceases to amuse Tim on how Danny can ping pong between normal toddler behavior and being ridiculously serious. He blames himself for forgetting to adjust the knowledge download when making him. The kid knows about more things than he should, and it's made him more jaded than a 2 year old should be.

"Okay... on'y cause it's bedtime." Danny informs Damian while holding his arms out. Damian gently picks him up.

"Of course." Tim can't believe how cute his murderous little brother is being. Guess he can add small children to the things that make the teen loosen up.

Tim struggles a little getting up the stairs, but he gets there. Damian waits patiently with a worried Danny at the top. Tim is positive that only reason he isn't being teased is because his siblings don't want his protective baby to dislike them. It's funny, but actually really nice. He's really tired of his family's culture of making fun of any weakness. Danny's cute baby face and hatred for bullying is really going to change this place, Tim just knows it.

Dick carries Danny's baby bag upstairs after them. Tim can feel Dick wanting to coo, but holding it in because Danny keeps eyeing him warily. Just adding to Tim's amusement.

Once in Tim's room, and after good nights are exchanged, Tim and Danny get ready for bed. Tim cleans himself up by taking a bird bath in the sink, not fully willing to commit to a shower just yet. He mostly just doesn't want to change his bandages. He also wants to cuddle his son, who's patiently waiting on the bed with his wolf plushy. He named it Wulf, which was a hilariously Kon thing to do. Tim nearly died from cuteness when Danny told him the plushy's name.

Tim lays down and tucks Danny to his chest. "I love you, kiddo."

"I 'ove you, too, Daddy." Danny mumbles before conking out. Tim can't help his smile. He dozes off to Danny's tiny snores.

Tim wakes up to Danny wiggling around. The tot waking up, but not wanting to. A glance towards his alarm clock, 10:30. They've actually slept in. Nice.

"Morning, Danny."

"M'ning." Danny mumbles directly before unintentionally smacking Tim in the face with Wulf. Tim huffs a laugh and sits up, his spin cracking as he stretches.

"You hungry?"

Danny flops over, grumpy to be awake. "Yeah."

Tim grins and scoops Danny up. "Let's eat breakfast in pajamas!"

Danny looks surprised. Tim insisted they be dressed in light armor the whole time they were on the LoA, so the suggestion must seem insane to him. He scrunches up his face. "It's safe here?"

"This is probably one of the safest places for us to be." Tim kisses Danny's forehead. "I'll admit, it hasn't always been that way for me in particular, but we're working on it, and I trust them to not stab me in the back... You're allowed to be as petty as you want if you find them dissatisfactory."

"Like wif Rawthy?" Tim takes a deep pleasure in Danny's deliberate mispronouncing of Ra's name. Danny knows how and can say it properly. He just chooses not to. Tim loves it.

"Exactly." Danny is now completely awake and buzzing to cause chaos. It's adorable.

"Yay!" Tim starts carrying Danny to the kitchen, completely abandoning the crutches he was told to use.

"Just remember to play nice first. You don't want to accidentally bully someone who doesn't deserve it."

"Fine.." Danny pouts. Tim kisses his cheek.

"Thank you, sweetie."

"Master Tim. Where are your crutches?" Alfred jump scares the Drakes.

"O-oh! Hi, Alfred, I was just taking Danny to the kitchen for breakfast!" Alfred raises an eyebrow and Tim pouts. "And I didn't feel like using them."

"Oh yeah!" Danny remembers that Tim was using crutches now and is wiggling to be set down. "You're hurt, Daddy! Put me down!"

"Okay, okay, starlight!" Tim chuckles, setting the boy gently on his feet. "Better?"

"No!" Danny drags him to the kitchen's small breakfast table. "You'll never heal! Sit down! We'll get your crontches!"

"Crutches, Danny. And how about we have breakfast first. The crutches aren't going anywhere." Tim smiles at his son. "You can even ask Alfred what my wound care should be after we eat. He can explain everything and you can hold me to it."

"Indeed." Alfred sounds amused, possibly not thinking this 2 year old will hold them both to it, but Danny will.

"O'ay" Danny then blinks. "What's fo breakfast?"

It's all pretty peaceful. Tim just enjoying a lazy morning with his son. As soon as Danny is done eating, he drags Alfred away to get the crutches and explain Tim's wound care to him. Tim can only watch on in helpless amusement.

"He's adorable." Dick grins as he enters the room and sits across from Tim.

"Yeah." Tim is still smiling at the doorway Danny and Alfred left from, but it takes a sad tilt. "Losing my spleen really traumatized him. He polices my unhealthy habits and does his best to get me to take care of my injuries when he's sure they won't be used against us."

"YOU LOST YOUR WHAT??"

"It's been a crazy year."

"Tim, Timmy, my caffeine addicted little brother, I'm going to need more information than that!" Dick is stressed, but Tim is still feeling a little petty, so he answers nothing.

"I forgot my meds, actually. I usually shove them in a pocket after dressing, but I didn't get dressed... oops." Tim shrugs. "It got Danny to feel safer with being here, since I'm not insisting on light armor or anything like on base."

"Tim! I have questions!" Dick is flailing.

"Daddy!" Danny flies into the room (literally) and is shoving his pillow divider case into his hands. "You forgot!"

"Thank you, Danny. I was just realizing that and was planning to grab them after you got my crutches." Tim runs a hand through Danny's hair before dry swallowing his medication. Alfred slides into the room with the crutches.

"It warms my heart to see a youth so dedicated to keeping track of other's health." Danny turns and beams at Alfred.

"I like helping!"

"That's very admirable, Master Danny."

Danny frowns a little. "I'm too little to help a lot yet."

"Any help is more help than before." Tim cuts in, giving a lopsided grin. "Besides, your dad is atrocious at self care. You got to help your dear ol' dad. I'd simply die without you."

"You're not old." Danny mumbles, blushing at how thick Tim is laying it on. Tim noticed early on that Danny needs to feel needed or helpful, or he'll spiral and get depressed. He's not sure why Danny is like that. Tim's 90% sure it's not something Tim downloaded into his brain or said to Danny, meaning it could be something he picked up from Tim's own behavior, or possibly someone at the LoA manipulated into him, or is just something Danny naturally had. Tim has no idea on the why, but makes a point to let Danny help him, even when he really doesn't need the help. He wants his baby happy, and does try to talk to Danny about not having to help. But, ya know, pot, kettle, and all that. Tim knows his own need to be useful is just as bad.

He should find them therapists for it now that he's thinking about it. Last thing he wants is Danny to end up like him. Tim has done some insane and stupid shit to help and/or please people.

"My joints disagree." Tim jokes.

"I feel that." Dick chuckles. "Good morning, Danny!"

"Good morning..." Danny says shyly, floating into Tim's lap.

"Do you have any plans for the day?" Dick asks.

"Dam'n's pets?" Danny looks hopeful.

"Ah, he's looking forward to introducing you." Dick aims his 100 watt smile at Danny, who doesn't seem to know what to think of the man.

"Indeed I am." Damian choses that moment to enter the room. "Hello, Aedan."

"Hi!!" Danny carefully gets off of Tim's lap so he can zoom to his uncle. "What is their names??"

Tim grabs the crutches Alfred left nearby. He spends the rest of the day dodging Dick's questions, watching Danny be delighted by Damian and his pets, and passing on the information on Bruce. It's a very nice, peaceful day.

So, of course, it can't stay that way. It's Duke meeting Danny that unintentionally disrupts the peace.

"Hello, Danny. I'm Duke Thomas. I'm a meta like you." Duke greets Danny cheerfully, but Tim can't help but notice Duke doesn't take his sunglasses off.

"Hi!!" Danny floats about a foot off the floor. "What powers do you have??"

"I have photokinesis." Duke makes a tiny rainbow in his hands. Danny oos and aaas over Duke's explanations before he totting over to Damian to play with Alfred the cat. Duke stares after Danny for a minute before turning to Tim, who's getting more and more worried.

"Duke?"

"Do you know Danny glows?"

"He what?" Tim's ribs hurt from how hard he jolts.

"Okay, okay, was pretty sure I was the only one who could see it." Duke mumbles before finally pushing his sunglasses up and making eye contact with Tim. "He glows the same way Jason does during a pit rage episode. Danny's glow is more stable and constant and a brighter shade of green, but it's definitely the same thing."

Tim can feel himself shaking in barely concealed rage. "That motherfucker. I should have completely destroyed everything he loved."

"Who?" Duke asks warily.

"Ra's. He had to have done something to Danny. There's no reason Danny should be glowing like that." Tim takes a calming breath, not wanting Danny to see him angry.

"I'm sorry." Duke offers his sympathy.

"Not as sorry as Ra's is going to be."

"Are we planning a murder over here?" Jason jokes as he enters the room through the door next to Tim and Duke and sees Tim's face.

"Debating the pros and cons of it currently." Tim takes another deep breath.

"Oh, shit, for real?" Jason looks shocked.

"Danny glows similarly to you." Duke explains. "Meaning Ra's definitely did something to him behind Tim's back."

"Ooooh! Yeah, okay, that's very murder worthy." Tim smiles a little at that, feeling validated.

"Thanks, Jason."

"No problem, I'll help. I got beef with both Ra's and Talia, so I can take all the blame if Goldie or Demon Brat ask." Jason offers. "Before that, introduce me at the kid. Dick has been insufferable all day. Squealing and sending pictures and shit."

Tim chuckles. "Yeah, I do that. Hey, Danny! Can I borrow you for a second?"

Danny pats Alfred the cat one last time before trots over.

"Danny, this is your Uncle Jason."

"Hel-"

"Why do you smell green?" Danny cuts Jason's greeting off. He's staring hard at his uncle.

"Smell green?" Jason head tilts and squats down to be closer to eye level with the kid. There's still a foot of difference between the two, but it's the thought that counts. "What do you mean?

"You smell green." Danny frowns, thinking hard on how to get them to understand what he means. "Like Rawthy. And the weird lake thingies."

"Rawthy?" Jason and Duke both look confused.

"That's his name for Ra's. Danny gives the people he doesn't like awful nicknames to mess with them." Tim smirks at the looks his siblings give him. "He's fully aware of what he's doing, and I see no reason to stop him."

"Oh! He's petty!" Jason grins. "Just like his dad!"

Danny beams at Jason, clearly proud of himself.

Jason preceeds to give the simplest and kid safe version they've ever heard of his story. "To answer your question, I got really hurt by a bad man, and so your uncle Damian's mother dropped me in the green lake to heal me, but the green got stuck."

Danny seems to think about what he was told before holding his hands up to Jason. "Hug?"

"Sure, kid." Jason scoops Danny up into his arms and stands. Jason seems to stiffen as Danny melts. "Huh?"

"What up?" Tim asks, eyeing Duke in a way that demands the picture Duke just took be sent Tim. He wants that picture. Duke smiles and nods.

"Your kid just calmed the Pit." Jason gives Tim a stunted blink. "It's completely silent."

"Huh??"

"Dude, I don't know!" Jason hugs a snuggly Danny closer to him. "I'm pretty sure I could argue with Bruce about his stupid rules and keep a level head right now. I'm hugging your kid anytime I see him if this is the vibe I get each time."

"Only if he agrees to it." Tim flounders with this new info. "I'm still trying to teach him boundaries and consent."

"He's definitely tied to the pit in some way." Duke says, texting rapidly. "It's unfortunate that we won't be able to locate and murder Ra's before Bruce is rescued."

"I should have taken my chance." Tim grumbles.

Damian walks over, eyeing Jason and Danny. "Something happen?"

"Apparently, Jason smells like green, like Ra's and the "green lake", and can calm Jason's pit." Tim explains. Damian looks pissed at the first part, understanding it means Danny was exposed to the Pits, but he looks like he's not sure how to take the second part. Which, mood.

Danny starts wiggling. "Down, please."

"Oh! Sure, little man." Jason gently puts Danny down. Danny slides up to Damian.

"Can I still play with kitty Alfred?"

"Let's go see. He might be done hanging out and we must respect that." Damian takes Danny's hand and leads him back to Alfred the cat. The remaining siblings watch them for a minute.

"He's sweet." Duke turns a smile towards Tim.

"Like sugar." Tim has his own fond smile. "I don't regret making him at all. Best mental breakdown decision I've ever made."

"You terrify me sometimes, Timbers."

"Only sometimes?" Duke jokes, but Tim can see there's some truth to Duke's joke. There's a wariness in his eyes. But Tim just shrugs, not offended in the slightest. He knows he's a bit much, and Duke is the newest to his brand of crazy.

Tim does end up giving Jason and Duke more concrete answers to his year away, unlike when Dick was asking earlier. Mostly because Tim and Jason started to bond before they both left Gotham and can commiserate, and he tells Duke because he's there and it's funny to watch his reactions to what Tim and Jason are saying. It reminds Tim that he's watched his sweet 2 year old troll the hell out of ninjas and Ra's.

The rest of the night is tame. It becomes apparent that Danny prefers the "calmer" family members. He shies away from anyone being rambunctious, so mostly Steph and Dick. Everyone else is just abandoned for a new person if they start yelling or shouting. Tim thinks it's probably because he's not used to Steph or Dick's energy, having not met anyone like them before, and his ears are sensitive. Tim starts looking for noise canceling headphones for him at that realization. He didn't notice because the LoA bases were always quiet, outside of the training grounds, so it wasn't an issue before.

Danny still polices Tim's wound care, much to everyone's amusement. He memorized everything Alfred the human told him about Tim's injuries and takes it very seriously.

It's a fun night, all things considered.

[augustwinesworld]

𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞'𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬

What if your eyes looked up and met mine one more time?

description: 

pairing: dr. michael robinavitch x female ob/gyn attending! reader

genre: hidden pregnancy…maybe? age gap (michael late 40s, reader mid 30s), female reader.

notes: i love this so much it’s insane

word count: 2.9 k

extra: moodboard | playlist | ☆:**:. 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐞 .:**:.☆ 

Feel free to #𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 (◕‿◕✿) *:･ﾟ✧ if you have any scenarios in mind! I might not write everything but I’ll respond to everyone.

series masterlist: 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞'𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬

ten years ago…

The city was still asleep when he closed the door behind him.

No one saw him leave—not the landlord, not the neighbor who always smoked on her balcony, not the woman he loved, still asleep down the hall with the bedroom door cracked open just enough for the light to spill in.

Robby stood in that silence for a long minute, the chill from the hallway seeping into his bones like penance. Then he turned the key in the lock and walked away.

The air outside was the kind that burned in your lungs.

Pittsburgh was cold in the fall, but this was the kind of cold that made everything sharper—clearer. Unforgiving.

His bag was slung over his shoulder, his steps steady but slow, like maybe the weight of what he was doing hadn’t settled in yet. Or maybe it had, and he was just trying not to feel it.

He didn’t take a cab. He walked the ten blocks to the station with his hands in his pockets and his jaw clenched tight.

The city was gray and heavy, the sky the color of steel, and every street corner felt like it might shout her name back at him if he let his mind wander too far.

He had written her a note. It was short. Too short.

Something about needing to go. About not being who she thought he was. About not being enough.

He hadn't signed it.

He told himself it was better this way. Cleaner. Less to untangle.

She wouldn’t have to look him in the eye and see the mess of a man too afraid to stay. She wouldn’t have to see him crack apart under the weight of what he couldn’t say: I love you, but I don’t know how to deserve you.

Because that was the truth, wasn’t it?

He loved her. God, he loved her so much it made everything inside him ache. But love wasn’t always enough, and he was already unraveling—already halfway gone in ways that scared him.

She had plans. She had brightness. She talked about future things like they were inevitable—like there was a place in them carved out for him. Like he belonged.

Michael didn’t know how to belong.

And she—she kissed him like she believed he’d always come back.

He left like he knew he never would.

He remembered the way she’d pulled him close the night before, bare legs around his hips, her breath soft and warm against his skin. She kissed him like the world was still safe.

Like it was forever. Like it was just the two of them in that tiny apartment and the future didn’t scare her. She whispered something against his collarbone—something like don’t go far, something like see you in the morning—and he’d shut his eyes so tight it hurt.

She kissed him like she believed in him. And it broke something in him, because he didn’t.

After, she curled up against him and fell asleep fast, trusting him to stay.

He spent the whole night awake beside her.

Watching the ceiling. Watching her chest rise and fall. Memorizing the shape of her hand resting on his chest like she was anchoring him to something good. Something real.

And then, right before the sun came up, he kissed her on the forehead, like that could make up for everything he didn’t have the courage to say. He got up without a sound, packed only what he needed, left the note on the kitchen counter where she’d find it after coffee.

At the station, he stood on the platform with a coffee in one hand and guilt in the other. The train was delayed. Of course it was. The universe was cruel like that.

He didn’t cry. Not really. But his chest hurt in that splintered, hollow way grief lives in.

If she had woken up…

If she had asked him to stay…

He didn’t know what he would’ve done.

But she didn’t. And he left. He let the train carry him away from the only thing that had ever felt like home, trying to convince himself he was doing the right thing.

He never turned around.

And he never saw the light flick on in the apartment just moments after the train pulled away.

He never saw her wake up, heart hammering, reaching for the empty space beside her.

He didn’t see the light flick on in the apartment just minutes after the train pulled away.

Didn’t see her reach across the bed for him, only to find cold sheets and silence.

Didn’t see her walk barefoot into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from her eyes, only to stop short at the note waiting for her like a knife on the counter.

She read it once. Then again. And again, like maybe the words would change if she stared long enough.

They didn’t.

And the life she thought she was building—the one she’d let herself believe in, with the man she’d trusted enough to love without hesitation—cracked down the middle, quiet and sharp.

There was no warning. No fight. No goodbye. Just an empty bed, and a note, and the sound of something breaking that she couldn’t name.

He didn’t know what she looked like in that moment.

Didn’t know the way she slid to the floor, back to the counter, note crumpled in her hand, trying to breathe around the hollowed-out space where he used to be.

He didn’t see her cry.

All he knew was that he had left.

And he hated himself for it.

five years later…

Michael hadn’t meant to come.

He told himself it was just dinner. Just a few familiar faces. Just something to fill the silence that had started to feel like its own kind of punishment.

It wasn’t nostalgia, not exactly. Nostalgia required sweetness, and he’d scraped most of that out of himself years ago.

But the invitation had come anyway—some old friend from undergrad, or med school, or residency, someone he hadn’t seen in years but still had enough of his email to keep him tethered.

“Come by if you’re in town,” it said. “It’s been forever.”

It had been forever.

And Michael—idiot that he was—had found himself driving across the city through the soft December dusk, half hoping the offer had expired by the time he arrived.

Pennsylvania never changed much. It was gray and clumsy in the winter, still bitter enough to make your bones ache if you didn’t move fast enough. The streets were slick with slush. The streetlights glowed gold on the pavement. Somewhere in the distance, carolers sang just off-key.

But the house? The house was warm.

Not just in the literal sense—with its firelight flickering behind windows, the sharp glow of a chandelier, the steam rising from pots in the kitchen—but warm in the way that made your chest hurt.

Laughter spilled from the porch. Music floated through the cracks in the windows. He could see the silhouettes of coats being shrugged off, cheeks kissed, wine poured.

He parked across the street and left the engine running.

He told himself he just needed a minute. Just a minute.

And then—he saw her.

Through the window. Like a movie he had no right to watch.

She was wearing soft pink, not scrubs but something casual and delicate, like the inside of a seashell. Her hair was up. A few strands curled against her neck, the way they used to when she rushed from the shower and didn’t have time to dry it all the way.

She looked older—but in the kind of way that hurt, because it meant time had passed without him. Because it meant she had kept living while he had buried himself alive.

She was talking to someone, laughing. There was a wine glass in her hand. A freckle he remembered just barely visible near her collarbone. When she smiled—God, when she smiled—it twisted something in his ribs.

He should’ve left. Should’ve never come.

But instead, he sat there, drowning in it.

In her.

It had been five years.

Five years since he left.

Five years since she kissed him like she believed he’d come back.

And he had left like he knew he never would.

That last night haunted him. The way she had wrapped herself around him like she was memorizing him. The softness of her lips, trembling just slightly. The way her hands had lingered against his back, as if she could keep him there by sheer will.

She had whispered, “See you in the morning,” into the curve of his neck, her voice barely audible, casual like it meant nothing at all.

And he had kissed her like he believed he could make that true.

But it was like she knew what was coming, on some deeper level. Like her body had braced for it before her mind could catch up.

There was no morning for them. Not after that.

No safety. No stability. No staying.

He had packed too fast. Left without enough. Told himself it was better this way—for her, for them. That she deserved more than someone already half-destroyed.

It hadn’t mattered. It had broken her anyway.

It had broken him.

He looked away from the window, throat tight. A dog barked somewhere nearby. He couldn’t breathe.

Michael reached for the door handle.

Just do it, he told himself. Go in. Say hello. Apologize. Pretend to be someone who deserved to walk through that door.

But then he looked up again—just as she turned, laughed, leaned against the counter like she belonged there—and everything in him stalled.

Because she did belong there.

She looked happy. Or at least… okay. Stable. Surrounded by light and warmth and people who hadn’t vanished when things got hard. What right did he have to walk back in now, five years too late?

None. Absolutely none.

He dropped his hand from the door.

And drove away.

He didn’t see her turn back toward the living room.

Didn’t see the small boy—curly-haired, pajama-clad—pad over and raise his arms.

Didn’t see her scoop him up and nuzzle her nose into his cheek like it was the easiest, most natural thing in the world.

Didn’t see the boy giggle, and press his hand to her face, and whisper something that made her laugh even harder.

He didn’t see any of it.

All he saw was her silhouette, soft and golden, disappearing behind curtains as he turned the corner and left her behind again.

He told himself it was better this way. Cleaner. Safer.

He told himself she had moved on. That she didn’t need him. That he didn’t need her.

But as the city lights blurred past his windshield, as the ache in his chest settled deeper, more permanent—

Michael knew he was still lying.

To her. To himself. And to whatever part of him that still woke up some nights thinking she was there.

present day…

There was a rhythm to emergency.

You breathed in crisis. Bled urgency. Learned to function in the eye of the storm.

And Dr. Robby had made a home in the storm.

That morning had been like any other. Fast. Messy. Loud.

A cardiac arrest. A teen with a bullet in his shoulder. An elderly woman with a stroke mid-grocery run. The ER moved like it always did: fast and fractured.

Until it didn’t.

Until everything stopped.

The moment he heard her voice.

“Move! He’s crashing—give me the crash cart, and get respiratory down here, now!”

He froze mid-step, the trauma form in his hand suddenly weightless.

That voice. Familiar. Unshakable.

He turned toward the chaos at trauma bay two—and there she was.

Pink salmon scrubs stained with something dark. Her hair half pulled back, half falling out. Her hands fluttering between the boy on the gurney and the nurse trying to get a BP cuff on.

And her eyes—God, her eyes. Were wild, terrified.

She wasn’t supposed to be here.

Not in this city. Not in this hospital. Not on this day.

She was yelling something about sats. Chest pain. A fall.

“He got hit—he was riding to school and some jackass blew through the stop sign—he wasn’t moving, he was cyanotic, I couldn’t find a pulse—so I just started compressions, I didn’t wait for the ambulance—”

Her voice cracked. “I was right next to him and I didn’t react fast enough, fuck—I should’ve seen it coming, I should’ve grabbed him—”

Someone—Whittaker, already gowned up—stepped in beside her. “We’ve got him now. You have to step back, let us work.”

“He’s my son.”

The words cracked something in him.

The boy. Robby saw him clearly now. Pale. Unconscious. A small bruise blooming across his temple. Dark lashes stuck together from oxygen tubing, blood, and sweat.

He couldn’t look away.

Because something inside him twisted hard—like recognition, like guilt, like some ancient ache that had been sleeping for ten years and woke up screaming.

The boy looked like her. Same cheekbones. Same curve of the jaw. Even the soft dip in his left cheek, like it had been sculpted by memory. But the eyes—

They were closed now, but when they’d fluttered open briefly under the lights—

Brown.

Not hazel, not green. Not hers.

His.

It was a stupid thing to fixate on, maybe. But in that split-second, his brain flooded with it. The timeline. The math. Ten years since he left. The kid—what, eight? Nine?

The breath Robby took didn’t make it to his lungs. It caught somewhere deep in his chest, behind his ribs, sharp and sudden like broken glass.

He took a step back without realizing it, hand coming up like he might need to steady himself on something, anything. The edge of the trauma board. The counter. The wall.

He felt the air shift beside him before he heard the voice.

Dana.

She didn’t say anything right away. Just appeared at his side like she always did when things went sideways—silent, sharp, steady. Her eyes flicked from the boy to Robby’s face and back again.

“You okay?” she asked quietly, too low for anyone else to hear.

Robby didn’t answer.

Didn’t know how to.

Because his mind was spiraling now. Backward. Forward. In every direction at once.

She hadn’t seen him yet. She didn’t know he was there. But that didn’t stop the crash. The sound of her voice cracked through him like a whip, and now this—this kid, with her face and his eyes—it was too much.

“I think—” he tried, then stopped. Swallowed hard.

Dana gently guided him toward the side wall, just out of the direct chaos. “Just breathe for a second. I’ve got it. I’ve got eyes on the board.”

“I need—” he started again, but his throat closed up.

“Hey,” she said, softer now. “It’s okay.”

But it wasn’t. It was anything but.

Because standing there, watching that boy fight for breath, watching her fight like hell to keep him here, Robby felt everything he had buried start to claw its way to the surface.

The weight of the note he left.

The sound of the train pulling away.

The memory of her asleep, the light spilling into the room, her hand on his chest like she was anchoring him.

He’d thought that version of himself was dead. Buried under work and years and choices he couldn’t take back.

But now—now it was like the past had ripped itself open and demanded he look.

The room blurred for a second. He blinked hard. Tried to focus.

He heard her voice again, still panicked.

“Why the hell aren’t we intubating?! He needs to be intubated!”

Whittaker again, calm and unmoved. “He’s stable enough to scan. You can come with us if you stay out of the way.”

A voice behind his left shoulder now—one of the paramedics.

“She brought him in herself. Collapsed on the street. She didn’t wait for the ambulance—drove like a maniac to get him here. Said she didn’t trust the timing.”

He still hadn’t moved.

The whole world had narrowed to the sound of her breath, the strain in her voice, the way her hand shook as she pushed hair from the boy’s forehead.

Then—quiet. A new voice. Softer. Dana again, back in the room now.

“He’s going to be okay. He’s stable. We’ve got him.”

She exhaled for the first time.

Just once. Then pressed a hand to her chest like she needed to physically hold herself together.

And that’s when someone said her name.

Soft. Familiar.

The sound of it—her name—snapped Robby out of whatever fog he’d been standing in.

That was all it took.

He moved.

Through the flurry of techs and doctors. Past Mohan adjusting the IV, past Whittaker calling out a page to peds. His footsteps were too loud, or maybe the whole room had just gone silent when he stepped in.

She turned at the sound of her name.

And saw him.

For the first time in ten years.

The recognition hit like a punch. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just… undeniable.

Her face went still.

Not surprised. Not angry.

Just raw.

As if she’d been bracing for this moment for years without knowing it.

He opened his mouth. Didn’t even know what he was going to say.

All that came out was her name.

And everything else fell away.

© AUGUSTWINESWORLD : no translation, plagiarism, or cross posting.

[cameronsbabydoll]

i have a question! when she was experiencing deep depression after birth, you mention that rage would go to deep lengths into helping her.. but what if she went too far and she like passed or smth(really dark ik im sorry 😔), how would he react to losing her (like js a scenario ik it won’t really happen)?

okay i’m not making her die for the sake of my mental health….. im sorry but i did make her get sick !!

you faint in the hallway.

tbat’s what the doctor tells him later. but all rafe knows is that one moment you're there, quiet and pale and holding the baby monitor to your chest like a lifeline—and the next, you’re on the floor, eyes fluttering, mouth barely forming his name.

he doesn’t even remember shouting. just the scramble. calling sarah. telling the kids to stay upstairs. blood roaring in his ears while he pressed a cold cloth to your forehead, his hands shaking as he tried to remember what to do.

you’re fine, the doctor says. exhaustion. malnourishment. dehydration.

words that shouldn’t ever apply to you.

“did she talk to you?” the doctor asks. “did she mention anything? mood, appetite, anxiety?”

and rafe just sits there, dumb. his jaw clenched, arms crossed, heart split between guilt and blind rage.

because no—you didn’t say a word. and he didn’t notice.

when he gets to your room, you’re half-awake, hooked up to an IV, hair messy, eyes dull. you look up at him, weak and already apologizing. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean—”

“stop,” he says, voice breaking as he sits down beside you. “don’t —don’t do that.”

he runs a hand over his face, then down your arm gently, like you’ll disappear if he touches too hard. “i didn’t see it. i should’ve seen it. i thought you were just tired.”

“i am tired,” you whisper.

“i know,” he murmurs. “i know, baby. i’m gonna fix it.”

and this time, he means it.

not just the soft promises and fruit bowls left on your nightstand. no. this is full-on restructuring the entire way your life looks. he’s calling in help, easing off work, booking appointments, even sleeping with the baby monitor on his side of the bed now.

because seeing you fall like that—seeing how far gone you’d really gotten behind the walls of your pretty smile—was like watching the whole house he built with you start to collapse.

and rafe cameron may be many things, but the man you married would rather burn down the world than let you fall apart again.

[checkeredflagggs]

Credit Cards

Pairing: max verstappen x girlfriend!reader

summary: max needs Ollie and Kimi out of his house — so he gives them his credit cards and a vague list

a/n: another fun one to write 😂 also I laughed so hard at this picture of him…

a/n2: ok so this was kinda requested? Imma be honest — I veered wildly of course from the actual request but I hope you like it anyway

a/n3: also a little something for @sinofwriting who saw nothing!

Masterlist | Taglist | Rookie Masterlist

Private Messages, Max and y/n

Private Messages, Max and Ollie/Kimi

Private Messages, Max and y/n

Private Messages, Kimi and Ollie

Bluesky

user1: oh my god this was Ollie???

↳user2: if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes…

↳user1: you’d guess it was Charles’ parking??

↳user2: yeah

user3: omg that’s Ollie?

↳user2: and Kimi!

↳user3: awwww that’s so cute — they’re together in Monaco?

↳user2: yup!

user4: i wonder what brought them out??

↳user5: right? Last I knew they were still holed up with max and y/n

↳user4: for my own peace of mind — I’m saying cravings

↳user5: I love that so much

user6: no blood test needed here…

↳user7: not at all

↳user8: god I hope that’s not actually genetic 😂😂

Private Messages, Ollie and Kimi

Bluesky

user9: no way 🤣🤣

user10: did someone actually buy that many diapers???

user11: this is gonna be my new Roman Empire!

user12: omg I saw this too and I swear to god it was Ollie and Kimi!

↳user13: the drivers??

↳user12: yes!

↳user13: seriously???

user14: if these ARE Ollie and Kimi — that’s hilarious. Do they understand how kids work?

↳user15: I’m guessing not 😂

user16: that’s so many — do you think y/n might be having multiples??

↳user17: we don’t actually know when her due date is…I thought, based on size, it might be soon but it’s possible she’s still early and is just having 2 or 3?

↳user18: this is so horribly invasive?

↳user19: absolutely true! It’s (more) likely that Kimi and Ollie just didn’t know how many diapers to buy

user20: god I wanna know how they’re gonna get them back to their house…

↳user21: OMG that’s such a good point — it’s not fit in their car…

Private Messages, Kimi and Ollie

Bluesky

user22: big same!

↳user23: oh to be so spoiled…

↳user22: I’d love nothing more

user24: that was Ollie!! I saw him coming out of the Chanel store!

↳user25: literally start talking rn

↳user24: nothing much to say honestly — he was following Kimi I guess, who like booked it out of the store, and i managed to get a selfie with Ollie!

↳user24: he said something like they were doing some shopping for baby lion!

↳user25: Stop. That’s so adorable!

user26: are max’s adopted kids shopping for his unborn kid right now??

↳user27: that’s absolutely what it looks like

↳user26: I love that more than i can say

Private Messages, Kimi and Ollie

Bluesky

user28: they’re just little kids really

user29: oh that’s so adorable

user30: I swear I saw them stop for ice cream before they went in the toy store

↳user31: well they’ve apparently been out all day — they need a pick me up 😂

user32: ok but I need to know where max and y/n are? Cause you know our chronically online queen has like alerts to her kids names?

↳user33: that’s a good point!

↳user32: she’s been suspiciously absent so far today…

user34: update! They made a bee-line to the LEGO section of the store and are now sitting on the ground comparing different racing sets

↳user35: hopefully not for the baby! That’s bad

↳user34: I’m gonna go out on a limb and say they’re buying it for themselves — Kimi keeps trying to sneak more and more Mercedes sets into their cart and Ollie is just replaced them with the Ferrari and Haas ones

↳user35: omg 😂😂

user36: ok but how do I die rn and reincarnate as a specific baby??

↳user37: same but im like asking for a friend!

↳user38: im not. I need to know for myself

Private Messages, the Pride

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @jessica3478 @il0vereadingstuff @taylorrrrrrrrrrswiftttt @widow-cevans @1-of-my-many-obsessions @charlesgirl16 @anunstablefangirl @evie-119 @sugarfreerbr @princessesgarden @tukes @mayax2o07 @teti-menchon0604 @galaxygurlll @star73807-blog @shelbyteller @ihaveitprinteddout @lilymaleshka @kuolonsyoja @allthings-fandom @mountainshuman @hannahmotors10 @moonypixel @nikfigueiredo @daisydaze111 @deephideoutmilkshake @loveyahachoo @raizelchrysanderoctavius @dying-inside-but-its-classy @mimisweetz @books-fangirl-books @bookishprophecy

[hanasnx]

being spencer’s secret lowkey girlfriend who also happens to work at the FBI, but in a different unit. and there’s always talk about how hot you are and spencer always hears how much people want to fuck you.

and he just has to laugh to himself because at the end of the day he’s the one who gets to fuck you into the mattress every single night 🙂‍↕️🩷

OH, SHE’S SO HOT — s.reid

“ be my addiction, material girl / wrapped ‘round my finger like diamonds and pearls ” 🪽

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ ✉️ | criminal minds. NOTES. thank god u said smthn anon ive been wanting to write about smthn like this. also im only on s1 so those are the characters i’ll be using. WARNINGS. fem reader ノ established relationship ノ everybody thirsting over you is currently single ノ suggestive material.

“she’s pretty.” jennifer relents with a shrug. her curiosity gets the better of her and she leans forward for a better glimpse of you. this isn’t your unit, but you’re paying a visit to hotch over at the far side of the room. “she’s really pretty.” she muses, her tone shifting to one of admission while she sizes you up. it’s not that you’re any kind of threat or unwelcome presence, but now the wheels in jj’s head are turning, “her and hotch aren’t… they couldn’t be…” SPENCER REID, who’s been sitting politely at his desk, perks his head up. he hadn’t seen you come in, but his pen raises and his lips part, all to claim you as someone he knows until he’s interrupted.

“girl like that? c’mon. at the very least he’s thinking about it.” derek chimes in, smoothly taking an open seat in one of the desk clumps to join the gossiping throng. spencer closes his mouth, pen dropping to his lap defeatedly. jj shifts in her position, having leaned her tailbone on the edge of the desk to cross her ankles smartly. now she needs a better angle to see you and aaron’s conversation. derek gestures to your back with his hand vaguely, addressing the group like he’s an expert in using his background in profiling for this specific strain of body language. spencer obediently follows the direction, furrowed brows landing on you as he cranes his neck to see you. “look at the way he’s standing. toes pointed towards her, making eye contact. he wants her.” derek scoffs, taking a long sip from his coffee as he studies you. it’s hard to tell from just the sliver of your face visible, but he’s seen enough of you to know you’re a catch. the genius starts to scratch his head.

“guys, hate to be the buzzkill, but can we get back on task?” elle interrupts just as jj was opening her mouth to continue scheming. “we don’t know anything about her. besides, hotch isn’t the kind of guy.”

“kind of guy to what?” jj clarifies with an impish tug to her lips, pivoting her head to cast elle a sly glance.

elle meets her gaze. “to get into a workplace relationship. he’s too professional for that.” she pinches her one shoulder in a shrug as she organizes a pile of files. spencer’s lips purse, mind racing at the prospect of being judged for unprofessionalism. it did occur to him there would be some scrutiny involved, which is why you and him have mostly been sneaking around thus far. still, it’s intimidating to have it laid out like this in front of him… and oddly thrilling. his fingers begin to fiddle with the pen in his lap. big, brown eyes glance from person to person as they lead the conversation, soaking in all the information like a sponge.

“he’s a guy.” derek once again imposes his theory, and says the statement like it’s definitive. even jj rolls her eyes. spencer clenches his jaw, tilting his head to himself as if it say, yes, that’s true. i fell for it, too.

“just because you haven’t been getting any doesn’t mean you get to go and make it everyone’s problem.” the blonde teases, straightening to her full height, heels clacking as she passes behind derek, giving him a healthy pat on his shoulder while he laughs sarcastically.

“ha. ha.” it’s a dry reply, one that leaves the group quiet for a second while penelope takes the recently departed’s place. “hey, garcia.”

“hey, what’re we talkin’ about?” she asks in that perky voice of hers, it’s only the throng’s hushed tones that bring her down to their level. she ducks her head symbolically. “sorry. didn’t know we were swapping secrets.”

elle may not act amused, yet she’s still participating. “they’re talking about hotch and the new girl.”

“tattletale.” derek taunts.

“grow up.”

“the new girl?” penelope confirms quizzically, twisting her face to match her dialogue as she scans her surroundings. it’s clear when she’s spotted you because her jaw drops, “oh, she’s hot.” once again she’s scolded by her colleagues shushing her, ducking down a second time with some exclamation about how weird they’re being. semi-hidden behind a desk’s partition, she goes for a second look. she doesn’t announce to everyone that you made hotch laugh. it’s a small kind of chuckle, a clear smile on his lips. it’s something spencer notices though, and he bows his head to avert his prying eyes. he doesn’t know hotch to joke around like that, and he doesn’t like the way it feels. instead, penelope points something else out, “she kind’a looks like spencer’s type, don’t you think?” her thumbs gestures to you lazily, and everyone looks at you through a new lens.

derek sets his sights on something to antagonize, “huh. awfully quiet there, reid.” he muses as he leans over, the flat of his hand batting spencer’s shoulder to get his attention. “what d’you think of her?” he asks coolly, sinking back into the chair while he sets his ankle up on his knee.

“hm?” spencer responds as if he hasn’t been listening, pulling the pen from between his lips. he meets derek’s gaze over the coffee cup, and all derek does is point and nod towards you discretely. spencer obliges now that he’s been asked directly. “oh, um…” he takes his time. “i dunno, she’s… i dunno.” brown eyes drool down like molasses, from your hair, to your smart outfit, to the seams from your pantyhose at the backs of your calves, to your black heels. you know he loves that. he’s broken through a couple pairs of those tights because he just couldn’t wait. “she’s… you know…”

the speechlessness causes a small eruption behind him, the group swapping expressions and silent conversations about his reaction. the spencer they know would start talking about the quality of fabric you’re wearing, the history of it and how—fun fact—it started some war in some country that doesn’t exist anymore. any useless knowledge he could spit out because his brain is a computer. they don’t get a chance to break the silence, you and hotch split. hotch begins his ascent to their desk clump and you pass by. everyone averts their eyes, everyone but spencer. you’re not shy either. you hold his eye contact, you even give him a small knowing smile, and a deliberate nod. derek’s jaw seems to unhinge witnessing such an obvious bid. spencer glances back at everyone, “now, guys—now, now—“ he stutters out, trying to fit words in with innocent gestures and a nervous grin. derek’s hand clamps on his shoulder and jostles him in some kind of show of manly camaraderie.

“dr. reid, you dog!”

“she was totally looking at you, spencer!”

“oh, my god.” derek, penelope, and elle respectively all give their input just as hotch approaches.

“what’s this about?” he asks, brows knit together at such an unusual display. spencer can’t seem to answer that either, shoulders stuck in a shrug and mouth open to make some case that never gets made.

@HANASNX 2025 | do not copy, plagiarize, or steal.

[wordsofwhimsy]

ᴄᴜᴛ ᴅᴇᴇᴘ, ᴋɪꜱꜱ ʜᴀʀᴅ ʚ♡ɞ

Pairing: Lenless [No Goggles]!Mark Grayson x f!Reader

Warnings: Fucking fiiiilth, smut bitches!!!

Tags: Threats of violence including self harm, absolutely toxic behavior, reader matching his freak in the worst way

Word Count: 2,814

Inspiration: “None of Ur Friends Business” – Ginuwine

Synopsis: Your dangerously unhinged not-boyfriend threatens to “take care” of the friends of yours that keep trying to pull you away from him, and you are having none of it. literally a crazy stand-off

a/n: you know i had to jump on it after this anon message!! god he’s such a damn psychopath, need that 🤪

His hands are warm—too warm—palming your waist like he owns it. The soft press of his mouth against yours is hungry but practiced, like he’s done this in his head a thousand times and tonight he’s just filling in the details.

You’re trying to stay focused. Trying not to melt into him completely. But his knee is nudged between your thighs and your hands are fisted in his shirt and—God—he smells like the night. Wind and sweat and danger.

And he feels it. The shift.

Mark pulls back just barely, his breath brushing against your lips. “What?”

You blink up at him, chest rising and falling too fast. “I… I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

He laughs—low, sharp, a little breathless. “You say that with your hands still on me.”

You pull back further, guilt blooming under your skin. “It’s not me. My friends… they don’t think I should be around you.”

Mark’s eyes flicker, and something inside them cracks. Not anger. Not surprise. Something worse. That slow, dangerous amusement he gets when he’s too far gone to care.

“Ohhh,” he says, sitting back on his heels, still straddling your legs. “Them.”

You shift, tugging the hem of your shirt down, suddenly too aware of how vulnerable you are underneath him.

“They think you’re… I don’t know, unstable,” you murmur. “That I’m not thinking straight when I’m with you.”

He tilts his head, watching you like you’re some kind of puzzle he’s already solved. “And are they wrong?” You hesitate. His grin widens. “Didn’t think so.”

“Mark…”

He leans down again, slower this time, arms caging you in as his voice drops to a whisper. “You think they know what this is? What we are?”

Your heart stutters. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is,” he murmurs, mouth brushing your jaw. “They don’t get a say.”

“You can’t just—”

“Yes, I can.” His eyes meet yours. Calm. Controlled. Unsettling. “Because I don’t care what they think. And you don’t either, not really.”

You shake your head, but it’s weak. Your resistance is paper-thin and he knows it.

“They don’t know what it’s like when you look at me like that,” Mark mutters, voice velvet-dark, “like you want me and hate yourself for it.” You swallow hard, trying to find your footing in a conversation that’s already sinking fast.

“They’re just looking out for me,” you say, weaker than you mean to.

Mark hums, dragging his fingers up your thigh like he’s barely paying attention—which only makes it worse.

“Yeah? Then maybe they should spend less time worrying about you and more time fixing their own messes.” His tone is too casual. Too cutting.

You frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He looks at you like it’s obvious. Like he’s been holding back and is just now getting bored of pretending.

“Let’s start with Lauren,” he says, like he’s choosing a weapon. “She’s real concerned about your well-being for someone who’s still sleeping with her ex behind her current boyfriend’s back.”

You freeze.

“And Maya?” He laughs under his breath. “She’s got a lot to say about how ‘toxic’ I am for a girl who gets blackout drunk just to forget she texts her therapist at 3am.”

“Mark—”

He leans in, grinning, like he’s telling you a secret. “They don’t care about you. They just don’t want you to have something they don’t have.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off, voice dropping low and dangerous.

“Especially your girl Sadie.” His eyes are locked on yours now, completely still. “The way she looks at me?”

Your breath catches.

Mark's lips curve into something that’s almost a smirk, but there's something sharp underneath. “So obvious. Like she wants me to look at her the way I look at you. Like she’d lose her mind if I touched her the way I touch you.”

Your skin prickles. “You’re imagining things.”

He chuckles, and the sound is mean. “You really think I don’t notice? She doesn’t even breathe when I walk into a room. Like she’s hoping I’ll slip and touch her by accident.”

His fingers trail up your arm, slow and lazy. “But I won’t. You know why?”

You’re quiet.

He leans in, mouth just brushing your ear. “Because she’s not you.”

You shove at his chest—not hard, but sharp enough to get the message across. “You’re such an asshole.”

Mark barely moves. Just blinks, lazy and slow, like a cat watching its prey squirm.

“Yeah,” he says. “And?”

You sit up, untangling yourself from under him, heart pounding. “You don’t get to talk about them like that. They’re my friends, Mark.”

He watches you now, eyes darkening. The grin slips, just slightly.

“They’re hypocrites,” he says coolly. “They don’t like me because I don’t kiss ass and pretend I’m something I’m not. And you—” He leans in before you can react, voice low and dangerous. “—you like that about me.”

You flinch back. “You don’t know what I like.”

He scoffs. “Don’t I?”

His hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist—not hard, not painful, but firm. Controlled. You freeze.

“That little act you pull?” he says, head tilting. “Like you’re just so confused, like you don’t know if this is right?” His thumb brushes your pulse. “It’s bullshit. You keep coming back. You let me touch you. You want me here.”

Your stomach flips, anger warring with the way your skin burns under his touch.

“I want you gone,” you whisper. He laughs again, and this time it’s ugly. Sharp and disbelieving.

“No, you don’t.” He shifts closer, crowding into your space again. “You’re mad because I said what you’re too scared to admit. That your friends aren’t saints. That Sadie wants me. That deep down, you love the fact that she can’t have me.”

“Mark—”

“You want me all to yourself. And you hate that you do.”

You yank your arm back. “You’re insane.”

He smiles. There’s no denial. No apology.

“You knew that when you let me in your bed.”

You stare at him, heart pounding, jaw clenched so tight it hurts.

“You’re sick,” you whisper, voice shaking. “You think this is normal?”

Mark doesn’t even blink.

“No,” he says easily. “But I think it’s honest.”

You push at him again, harder this time. He lets you—for now. You scramble off the bed, putting distance between you like that could somehow make this safer. Make him safer.

“I’m done,” you say, trying to sound stronger than you feel. “This was a mistake.” He tilts his head, eyes tracking your every move like he’s amused by the performance.

“I really don’t like how much they distract you,” he says, tone casual—too casual. “Your friends.” You go still. Mark’s gaze sharpens. “Always in your ear. Telling you what to think. What to feel. Pulling you away from me.”

“Don’t,” you say, voice rising. “Don’t go there—”

“I’m just saying,” he cuts in, standing now, slow and unbothered. “Maybe it’d be easier if they were gone.”

Your blood turns to ice.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Mark shrugs. “Just a thought. Clean slate. No distractions. Just you and me.”

Your mouth opens—no sound comes out. You swallow, steady yourself, and find your voice. “You don’t mean that,” you whisper. “You’re just trying to scare me.”

His smile is all teeth. “Why would I want to scare you?” He starts to cross the room toward you and you instinctively step back. “I like you,” he says softly. “I don’t want to scare you. I want to protect you. And if that means getting rid of people who are bad for you…”

He trails off, as if he’s genuinely thinking it over. “…then maybe it’s not that crazy.”

“If you touch a single hair on their heads,” you hiss, “I swear to God, you will never get to touch me again.”

Mark goes still for a second, like he’s processing that, weighing it. Then he scoffs. Loud. Dismissive. Cruel. “You think you can stop me?” he says, stepping forward with that wolfish grin. “If I want you—” His voice drops an octave, sickly sweet, almost a purr. “—I’ll just take you.”

And in one motion, without flinching, without breaking eye contact, your hand shoots out to your desk. The cold metal of the scissors hits your palm.

Mark’s smile falters as you lift them up, pressing the tip against your own throat. Just hard enough to leave a mark. Just long enough to make your point.

“I will literally end it right here,” you hiss, voice shaking with fury—not fear. “Do not fuck with me.”

Silence.

Heavy. Dense.

Mark stares at you like he doesn’t even recognize you. Like you just flipped some internal switch he didn’t know existed.

His chest rises, then falls—slow. Controlled.

“…Whoa,” he breathes.

You press the blade in just slightly deeper, enough to make his jaw clench.

“I’m not your little toy,” you snap. “You don’t own me. You don’t get to hurt the people I care about just because you’re obsessed with me.”

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are,” you spit. “You are absolutely obsessed. And I’ve let you get away with it because you’re hot and you kiss like you invented sin, but I swear to God, Mark—”

You jab the scissors toward him now, and he flinches. The grin is gone. He’s listening.

“You pull one more psycho stunt, and I’m gone. Not just gone—I will erase myself from your life so fast, it’ll make that little broken brain of yours crack in half.”

He blinks. Then runs a hand through his hair, pacing a little like he doesn’t know whether to be angry, aroused, or in awe.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “You’re out of your goddamn mind.”

You lower the scissors, your voice cool and even.

“Takes one to know one.”

Mark just stares at you. Breathing hard. Jaw clenched. That frayed little thread of control he was holding onto? It’s gone. Burned up in the fire between you.

And you—you’re still gripping the scissors. Chest rising and falling like you just ran a marathon straight through hell.

“You are,” he says finally, voice low, wrecked. “So out of your fucking mind.”

You toss the scissors onto the desk with a loud clatter.

“Guess you finally met your match.”

He takes one slow, deliberate step toward you. Then another. Eyes locked on yours like he’s looking at the only thing in the world that makes sense anymore.

“You’d really do it,” he mutters, half-laughing. “You’d die just to spite me.”

You blink once. “And you’d kill for me.”

He stops right in front of you now, inches away. His smile is wild. Reverent.

“I’d kill for you,” he echoes, voice rough and quiet, “and you’d die just to spite me.”

A beat passes. Then another.

And it snaps.

He grabs your face with both hands like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, crashing his mouth into yours with zero hesitation—hungry, desperate, possessive. Like he’s been waiting forever to kiss you like this and now he’s afraid someone might take it away.

You kiss him back just as hard.

There’s no hesitation left. No doubts. Just teeth and hands and ragged breath, both of you pulling like you’ll tear the other apart. His hands are everywhere—your waist, your back, fisting in your shirt like he’s anchoring himself.

You gasp into his mouth, tugging at his hair, and he groans like it’s killing him.

“I need this,” he pants against your lips. “Right now.”

You nod, forehead against his, eyes burning.

“Then take it.”

That’s all he needs.

Mark doesn’t hesitate—his mouth crashes back onto yours like gravity just stopped working and you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. One hand fists in your hair while the other slides down, grabs the back of your thigh and lifts, walking you backward like he owns the floor you’re stepping on.

You’re on the bed in seconds. Breathless. Legs parting before you can think, just to feel him there, all heat and muscle and sharp, chaotic want.

“You drive me insane,” he growls, dragging his mouth down your throat. “You threaten me with scissors and then tell me to fuck you—what the hell is wrong with you?”

Your hands claw at his shirt, yanking it up over his head.

“I learned it from you, asshole.”

He laughs—dark and low, mouth brushing your collarbone. “Guess I’m a good influence after all.”

And then he’s everywhere.

His hands are rough, impatient, sliding under your shirt, dragging it up like he can’t get to your skin fast enough. Lips on your chest, your stomach, leaving bruises he wants you to see later. Mark is marking you—no pun intended—like it’s instinct, like he needs people to know whose you are the second they see you.

Your touching him back, his skin is hot under your hands—like he’s burning from the inside out, like if you peeled him open you’d find wildfire and want. His mouth doesn’t just kiss—it consumes, dragging over your skin like he’s trying to eat the memory of your friends, your doubts, your resistance. Like he wants to own every piece of you you’ve ever tried to keep from him.

You feel his smirk when you gasp, when your legs wrap tighter around his waist, dragging him closer. You’re not even sure who started it anymore. You can’t remember who kissed who first. Just that it was inevitable.

“You like this,” he growls against your throat, lips brushing just under your jaw as his fingers trail lower, dragging over your ribs like he’s memorizing them.

You try to sound strong. You try to bite it back.

But the sound you make when his hand slides between your legs? It’s not strong. It’s needy.

Mark fucking shudders.

“Jesus,” he whispers. “You’re soaked.”

“Shut up,” you snap, flushed and breathless. He laughs, and the sound vibrates through you.

His mouth ghosts over your nipple, tongue flicking, teasing. He pulls your underwear down slow, smirking when you arch into him.

His teeth sink into your thigh, just enough to leave a mark, and he groans like he’s been waiting his whole life to hear you say that. And when he finally slides into you, it’s with a low, rough growl—like it takes everything in him not to lose it then and there.

You’re so full, so tight, so perfectly wrong for each other it makes your eyes roll back.

His hips grind deep, hard, like he’s trying to bury himself somewhere beneath your skin. He’s panting in your ear, messy and raw, fingers tangled in your hair while yours scratch down his spine hard enough to leave tracks.

He likes it. You can feel it in the way his pace stutters, the way he moans—raw and low and real.

“I could ruin you,” he gasps against your lips. “You know that?”

“You already did,” you breathe.

And that’s it. That’s when he snaps.

He grabs your thigh, hikes it higher, and slams into you with a force that knocks the air from your lungs. The headboard cracks against the wall, but neither of you care. The room is nothing. The world is nothing.

Just this.

Just him.

Just you.

Your moans turn to sobs, his name ripped from your throat like a confession. “Harder,” you whisper against his neck.

He doesn’t hold back.

Your bodies move like war and worship—teeth clashing, breath tangling, sweat slicking your skin. Every thrust is a promise and a threat.

You moan his name and he mutters, “Say it again.”

“Mark—”

“Louder.”

“Mark—”

He leans in, lips brushing your ear. “You’re mine.”

You don’t disagree.

He’s everywhere.

He’s everything.

And when you cum—shaking, gasping, half-crying—he watches you like he’s witnessing something holy. Like he’s the one being touched by God.

“Mine,” he pants, grinding deeper, chasing his own release. “You’re mine, you’re fucking mine—”

And when he finishes, it’s with a broken, desperate groan, spilling into you like he’s giving you a piece of his soul and doesn’t care what you do with it.

Breathless silence.

Only the sound of your heaving chests, sweaty limbs tangled, skin burning.

Mark buries his face in your neck. His voice is hoarse, barely a whisper. “…You scare the shit out of me.”

You grin weakly, fingers threading through his hair. “Good.”

-------------

Part Two - Brunch Edition!

[kxsagi]

not sure if youve done something like this before or if its too suggestive but maybe the reader is a little nervous to be intimate because she’s inexperienced or has never had a bf before? with isagi or anyone tbh

“𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲”

a/n: header image had everything to do with this post

definitely suggestive! 

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, itoshi sae, shidou ryusei, kaiser michael, ness alexis, karasu tabito, yukimiya kenyu

isagi yoichi

he immediately notices you're nervous and his tone softens right away. 

he’s super patient, like, won’t even kiss you unless you give the tiniest nod of approval. 

“we don’t have to rush anything, okay? i just like being near you.” 

isagi would totally ask you what you're comfortable with, hands twitching a little at his sides because he also gets flustered when it’s serious. 

if you mention that you’ve never had a boyfriend before, he gets wide-eyed and a little red. 

“then… i’ll make sure your first is really good. not just like… that! i mean, like, relationship stuff!!” he panics and waves his hands around. 

he’s such a sweetie though, will always check in with you and hype you up like, “you’re perfect, you know that?” 

itoshi rin

stoic exterior but the moment you say you’re nervous or new to this, he blinks. 

“... that’s fine.” he says it so matter-of-factly, like it’s not a big deal at all. 

but inside? heart doing backflips because you trust him enough to say that. 

he’ll adjust instantly, pulls away a little, gives you space, his touches turn featherlight. 

he won’t tease. instead, he mumbles a quiet, “you can take your time with me.” 

might shyly lace your fingers together and just stay like that for a while. 

he respects your boundaries to a T, but lowkey gets a little possessive like, “you’ve never had a boyfriend before? then i’ll be the only one.” (he’s dead serious btw.)

nagi seishiro

when you admit you’ve never had a boyfriend, he tilts his head like, “huh… really?” 

not because he thinks it’s weird, but because he genuinely can’t believe someone as cute as you hasn’t had one before. 

he goes, “guess i’m your first then. sounds kinda nice,” with a lazy grin. 

he’s surprisingly gentle. like he’ll curl his arm around you when you’re nervous and go, “you don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna, okay?” 

nagi’s love language becomes being near you – long hugs, head resting on your shoulder, casual hand holding. 

if you flinch or hesitate, he pauses and mumbles, “sorry… too fast?” 

then just flops next to you and opens a game. “wanna watch me play instead?” it’s his way of saying he’s happy just being with you. 

mikage reo

reo is so smooth but the moment you confess you're inexperienced, his face softens completely. 

“oh… hey, that’s totally okay. i’ll take care of you,” he says with the gentlest smile. 

he's a natural flirt, but he dials it back for you. goes from flirty to full-on boyfriend mode. 

“you don’t have to impress me, y’know. i already like you just the way you are.” 

if you’re nervous about kissing, he literally whispers “can i kiss you?” like it’s sacred. 

he spoils you with reassurance: “you’re doing great,” “you’re cute when you’re shy,” “i feel lucky to be your first.” 

will not shut up about how honored he is to be your first boyfriend. texts you “first bf privileges 😛” as a joke but is lowkey whipped. 

itoshi sae

he raises an eyebrow when you tell him, like, “never had a boyfriend? huh.” 

then gets this smug, slow smirk. “guess you’ve got good taste now.” 

but then he sees how genuinely anxious you look and his tone shifts immediately. 

“hey. it’s okay. i’m not going to rush you. ever.” 

he’s really good at reading your body language. if you tense even a little, he backs off with zero complaints. 

instead of being touchy, he becomes comforting, like letting you wear his hoodie, brushing hair behind your ear, soft glances. 

if you ever cry or feel embarrassed, he’ll literally hold you and mumble into your ear: “don’t be ashamed of that. i’ll go slow. you don’t have to be perfect with me. just be you.”

shidou ryusei

when you say you’ve never had a boyfriend, he blinks. 

“you’re tellin’ me no one’s ever hit that?” cue your face going red. 

he laughs when you get flustered, but his tone changes quick once he realizes you're actually nervous. 

“okay, okay, sorry. i’ll behave. promise.” 

he genuinely tries to dial it down, even if it kills him to not be all over you. 

surprisingly good at physical comfort. throws an arm around you lazily and lets you hide your face in his hoodie. 

whispers stuff like, “you’re cute when you’re shy,” and then immediately goes, “wait, sorry, was that too much?” 

lowkey proud to be your first. wanted to ruin everyone else’s chances from the start. 

kaiser michael

“you’ve never had a boyfriend?” he says with that signature smirk, but something soft flickers in his eyes. 

he gets cocky for a second: “figures. you’ve got high standards.” 

but then his expression shifts, and he actually looks… serious. 

“i won’t mess this up,” he says, more to himself than you. 

kaiser can sense hesitation in a heartbeat. he reads you like a book (well he does read psychology books). 

instead of teasing, he leans in and says, “tell me what makes you comfortable. i’m listening.” 

runs a hand down your arm slowly, like he’s testing the waters, and waits for your reaction. 

terrifyingly good at making you feel like the only girl in the world, but also shockingly gentle when it counts. 

ness alexis

he freezes the moment you confess you're nervous about intimacy. 

“oh… oh no, did i do something wrong? i didn’t mean to rush anything!” 

poor baby panics a bit, apologizing and waving his hands around. 

once you explain, he calms down and becomes the sweetest boy ever. 

“thank you for trusting me with that,” he says with a pink blush on his cheeks. 

he’s super respectful and extra careful after that, asks before everything, even hand-holding. 

will write you little notes like “you make my heart beat really fast” and leave them in your bag. 

he's just so honored to be your first that he treats the relationship like it’s the most precious thing ever (because to him, it is). 

karasu tabito

“wait… seriously?” he raises a brow, not mocking, just surprised. 

then he leans back with a teasing grin: “guess that means i get to corrupt you, huh?” 

you smack his arm, and he laughs, but quickly softens when he sees you're actually nervous. 

“hey… i’m kidding. mostly.” he nudges your shoulder. “you don’t gotta prove anything to me.” 

he’s smooth, but chill. sits with you on the floor, back-to-back, talking about random things until you’re comfortable. 

if you get shy, he shifts into “calm big brother best friend energy” mode and jokes around to make you laugh. 

but then he’ll randomly drop a line like, “y’know, it’s kinda cute being your first. i’ll make it worth it.” 

yukimiya kenyu

his first instinct is to reassure you. 

“thank you for telling me. i’ll make sure to be extra mindful of how you feel.” 

he’s the kind of guy to ask permission before leaning in or even brushing your hair behind your ear. 

yukimiya is elegant with his words: “i don’t want to rush something so important. you deserve tenderness, not pressure.” 

the type to take your hand gently and rest it over his heart so you can feel how fast it’s beating, too. 

absolutely adores the fact he gets to be your first, but never brags about it. 

just smiles to himself like he’s memorizing the moment, tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear and murmurs, “you’re doing so well. i hope you know how beautiful you are.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[rafesheaven]

how i met your mother જ⁀➴♡

warnings — fluff, strangers to lovers, story of how rafe & reader met, being set up on a date, reader & rafe both being stood up, light teasing, rafe making reader easily flustered, the entirety of this is the past & the present is under the heart divider. a/n — reuploaded valentine's event fic (originally posted 2/10)

"why did i agree to this again?" you mutter, wishing you were home. yet here you are, waiting in a restaurant for your date to arrive. you had only agreed to this date because there was no use in arguing with your friend, who decided to set you up on a date with one of her co-workers. you knew she was only looking out for you and didn't want you sulking to yourself in your apartment, but you were dreading the date after being broken up with on valentine's last year.

you huffed as fifteen minutes passed, and there was still no sign of your date. you reached for your phone to thumb through your messages in case he sent a text about running late before placing your phone onto the table when you found zero messages. your eyes scan the dimly lit restaurant before propping your chin onto the palm of your hand. your fingers drummed against the cloth, frowning at the sound of laughter from couples surrounding you. "happy valentine's day to me," you stared at the empty seat.

the hostess made her way over, and you could see the pitiful look on her face as she made her way to the table. "i'm sorry, but we're going to have to ask you to give up the table." your shoulders slumped, wishing the ground would open and swallow you whole, "oh…um, can i stay a little longer? in case he's running late?" she gave you an apologetic smile, "i'm really sorry, i hate doing this. if it was up to me, i would let you."

"no, it's okay, you're just doing your job. i understand, but thank you," you gave her a small smile, grabbing your phone to slip into your purse. you stood up, throwing your purse over your shoulder, and exited the restaurant. frustrated, you pulled your phone out to call tyler, who was supposed to be your date, when you bumped into someone. "shit, i'm sorry, i wasn't looking where i was going," you ushered an apology. "it's okay, it was partially my fault," rafe chuckled, picking up your phone.

"hey, are you okay?" your eyes snapped to the man in front of you, "yeah, i'm fine, just ready to be home. it's been a long night," you muttered. “yeah, tell me about it,” rafe snickered, "i was walking up to the restaurant to meet my date, only to see her leaving with her ex-boyfriend." his fingers brushed against yours as he handed you your phone. you couldn't deny he was attractive, which made it hard for you to believe his date just up and left him, "if it makes you feel better, i was stood up."

"you’re telling me someone decided to skip out on a date with you? not only is he a dumbass, but he’s clearly blind." rafe snorted, shaking his head. he was just as confused as you were when he told you his date left him. “yeah, it seems like i don’t have luck with valentine’s day,” you joked, hoping he wouldn’t notice how easily flustered he made you. rafe noticed how you avoided eye contact with him, “i guess we should change that, huh? you know…i still have ten minutes till my reservation, it’d be a shame to let it go to waste.”

“i-i don’t even know your name, and we’re going on a date?” your cheeks grew warmer by the second. “oh, so it’s a date, huh?” he hummed, enjoying the way your eyes widened as you struggled to find words. “n-no, that’s not what i meant–i just–” you stuttered. “getting all shy on me already? you’re cute when you’re flustered,” he teased.

“n-no,” god, you wish you would stop tripping over your words. you can’t even remember the last time someone made you this nervous. “rafe,” he laughed, “huh?” you furrowed your brows. “my name is rafe. i figured i’d tell you my name if we’re going on a date,” he grinned, knowingly using your words against you.

“that’s the story of how i met your mother,” rafe kissed the crown of your daughter’s head, bouncing her up and down his leg. you smiled to yourself, pushing yourself off the doorframe, “no more stories for tonight, you have school tomorrow.” rafe stood up, carefully setting her down in her bed to tuck her in.“i’m glad your dates didn’t show up,” your daughter yawned. “me too, baby,” rafe chuckled, his eyes already fixed on you before planting a kiss on your cheek.

taglist + moots: @anacamofficial @chrissturnslovergirlx @dollyfiles @heartsforvin @ilovefiction4lmen @littlelamy @memoirofasparklemuff1n @nemesyaaa @rafesbabygirlx @rafesangelita @v3n1ce-bxtch @kild4re @rowdydevs @cameronsprincess @faiyaz555 @rafeyscumangel @rafeysangelbaby

[street-smarts00]

Wish You Were Sober

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Summary: The four times you confessed to Spencer while drunk, and the one time you did it sober

WC: 8.0 k

Tags/warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, lot’s of mention of alcohol consumption, regretting things said while drunk, drunk flirty reader, reader is emotionally constipated and doesn’t want to feel her feelings at first

A/N: chat I’ve been sitting on this for MONTHS it’s been marinating in my google docs for a while so hope you enjoy! I lowkey picture this happening in earlier seasons Spence but picture whatever you like ;) Beta read by the lovely @whats-yesterday00

The first time it happened, your feelings were just starting to peek through the surface. 

You tried your hardest to shove them back down. Trying to convince yourself that developing the beginnings of a crush was absolutely not happening. But the alcohol opened the door you tried to close.

The whole team went out for drinks on a friday night. After multiple shots with Derek and JJ, plus the drinks you had before that, you were feeling quite a buzz. A buzz that always left you more flirty and courageous than normal. 

You were busy dancing amongst the crowd with Penelope and JJ. The music was flowing through you all as it blasted throughout the bar. The movement and crowd caused the temperature to rise exponentially. 

You wiped the sweat forming on your forehead and paused your dancing. 

“What’s wrong?” JJ asked. 

“I’m melting,” you answered, fanning yourself. “I gotta go sit down.” 

Penelope blew you a kiss and said, “be back soon!” as you made your way to the table. You of course blew a kiss back to her. 

After weaving through the mass of people, you approached the table housing the rest of your coworkers with a heavy sigh. 

“You done partying already, pretty girl?” Derek teased. 

“No, not yet. I just need a breather. It feels like 1000 degrees right now.” You sat down across from him and next to Spencer. 

Derek’s attention was pulled towards someone behind you. A smirk grew on his face, “Oh Reid look, it’s that girl from earlier she’s back.” 

Spencer’s face flushed at Derek’s remark. 

“What girl?” you asked intrigued. You hated the taste that question left in your mouth. 

“It’s nothing,” Spencer tried to brush off before Derek interrupted. 

“She was flirting with him when he went up to the bar.” 

“She was not!” Spencer squeaked. 

Derek chuckled, “oh yes she was,” his eyes turned back to you. “She was definitely into him. And judging by the fact that she keeps looking over here, I think she wants to talk to him again.”

Spencer hid his face in his hands and quietly groaned.

“Why don’t you go over there? Go talk to her,” you encouraged while silently hoping he doesn’t leave the table.

Spencer lifted his face from his hands. His face was scarlet now. 

“I can’t.” 

“Why not?” 

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but cut himself off. He saw your eyes staring back at him and felt his palms getting sweaty. He swallowed and stuttered on his words. “Because I wouldn’t know what to say. I can’t flirt.” 

Derek leaned back in his chair, dissatisfied with his answer. “That’s bull.” 

“It’s not bull.” That was probably the closest you came to hearing Spencer curse. “I’d probably make a fool of myself and say something stupid.” 

“Spencer, you say a lot of things,” this earned a chuckle from Derek across the table, “But I don’t think you could ever say something stupid.” 

Spencer tried to resist the smile spreading on his face from your compliment. 

“Still doesn’t change the fact that once I open my mouth, she’ll lose all interest in me.” 

A small pout appeared on your lips. “Well, I don’t see how a girl wouldn’t find you endearing.” 

“Really?” He didn’t believe you. 

“Yes! I thought you were so cute when I first met you,” your eyes brightened. “The day we met, I remember you were rambling about something and I just sat there amazed.” 

He swallowed as his ears turned crimson. “You thought I was cute?” his voice cracked at the end of his question.

“Sweetie, I think you’re more than cute,” your voice lowered as you locked eyes with him. 

“Morgan calls you pretty boy for a reason,” you continued with a mischievous glint in your eyes. 

Spencer’s heart damn near stopped. He knew your playful demeanor was from the amount of drinks you’d consumed, but still seeing you so openly attracted to him was making him delirious. 

Morgan, of course, found the whole interaction to be the most intriguing thing he’d seen all week. The growing amused smile on his face was telling enough. 

“Wow I think that girl from the bar has got some competition,” he teased. 

You shrugged in response to his comment. “Maybe,” was all you gave as your answer. You stood up from your chair with Spencer's eyes still beaming at you. 

“I’m gonna go dance some more,” you turned to the man next to you. “You wanna come with, pretty boy?”

Spencer struggled to get the words out for a few seconds. “I can’t. I don’t know how to dance.” 

You tried to hide the disappointment on your face but the gleam in your eyes had dimmed. 

“Maybe next time,” you replied before making your way back to the girls. 

Spencer watched you walk away and disappear into the crowd. He then received an extensive amount of teasing and questions as to why he didn’t say yes from Morgan for the next 20 minutes while you were gone. 

Over the weekend, the hangxiety set in. You layed in bed staring at the ceiling as the memories from Friday night flooded your mind. 

The anxiety followed into Monday as you stood in the elevator. The doors opened to the sixth floor and you reluctantly dragged yourself to the bullpen. 

Your hands tightened around your bag as you approached your desk. Spencer’s eyes lingered on you as you set your things down

“Morning,” he greeted with a small smile.  

“Morning,” you mumbled. 

You fidgeted with your hands and stepped closer to his desk. 

“Listen Spence, about Friday night… l’m sorry I was flirty with you.” 

His cheeks turned a dusty rose at the memory. “It’s alright.” 

This still didn’t ease your worries. “Are you sure?  The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable around me. Especially because of something I did.”

His eyes softened when he noticed just how nervous you were. 

“I don’t, I promise,” he reassured. 

“So we’re okay?”

He nodded with a small smile and the weight started to lift off your shoulders. 

___________________________________________

The second time it happened was a few weeks later. 

It was Derek’s birthday. The whole team went out to dinner followed by a trip to the bar to keep the night going. 

Spencer stayed behind at the table, watching you order drinks and chat with Emily at the bar. He also tried to ignore the angry green feeling surfacing as the bartender flirted with you. 

“So, are you finally gonna dance with her tonight?” Derek asked the young man as he sat down beside him. 

Spencer sighed as he kept his eyes trained on you. “I don’t know.” 

His friend patted him on the back, “Come on man. Consider it my birthday present.” 

Spencer turned his attention to the man beside him. “I already got you a present.” 

“Kid,” Rossi interjected from farther down the table, “in my professional opinion, when a woman asks you to dance, you dance.” 

This brought out a smile from Hotch. 

“Even if you think you’ll look like a fool,” Rossi continued. 

“Like two weeks ago when that woman asked Morgan to dance,” Hotch teased, which brought out an annoyed expression from the man in question. 

“Hey! I was not that bad,” Derek defended. 

“You looked like a bird doing a mating dance,” Spencer now joined in. 

Derek looked appalled from the younger man’s joke. 

Soon after you approached the table with Emily. “What’s so funny?” You asked the table.

”Morgan's attempts to woo women,” Rossi joked. 

Emily took a sip from her drink and rolled her eyes playfully. “Oh where do I begin?” 

Derek stood up from the table shaking his head and smiling. “Well, I’m gonna go dance with people who appreciate my moves.” He then made his way to the open area where Penelope and JJ were. 

Back at the table, before you could sit down, the speakers of the bar started to play Maneater by Nelly Furtado. You gasped and a bright smile filled your features. 

“I love this song!” You squealed. 

You set your half consumed drink down on the table and looked at Spencer, “Do you want to go dance?” 

He looked at you surprised. “Me?” He squeaked. 

You giggled, finding his reaction cute, “Yes you!”

Spencer started closing in on himself. Before he could come up with the excuse he used last time you said, “I can teach you. It’ll be so much fun!” 

You were oblivious to the knowing looks from your other team mates at the table. Your focus was only on Spencer. Staring deep into his golden eyes and finding nothing but comfort. 

“Okay,” he agreed with a small smile. 

You beamed with excitement, “Yay! Let’s go.” You offered your hand to him. He took it and found you pulling him up from his chair and towards the dance floor. 

He followed you through the people in the crowd until you found an open space to settle. You held onto his hands as you swayed to the beat. 

Spencer tried to follow you but was still noticeably tense. He was also less focused on his dancing because he was too enamored by your movements. Watching you sway so effortlessly with the rhythm. 

“Look at you Spence! You’re getting the hang of it,” you praised. 

He appreciated the compliment but cringed, “I feel awkward.” 

“That’s not how dancing should feel. You should feel free and loose.” You let go of his hands and spun around.

A real smile spread on his lips, “I’m surprised you’re this coordinated with how many drinks you’ve had.” 

“Oh, I guess you missed when I almost stepped on you.” 

He chuckled, shaking his head, “I guess I didn’t.” 

The song ended and changed to Don’t Stop The Music by Rihanna. Your jaw dropped and your face filled with excitement. 

“You like this song?” he asked even though he already knew the answer. 

You grabbed his hands once more and grinned, “Yes!” You resumed dancing with his hands in yours. This time you were mouthing the lyrics of the song. 

I gotta get my body moving, shake the stress away you heard from the speakers and shook Spencer's hands. 

“You gotta shake the stress baby!” you cheered at him. 

He bashfully laughed watching you drunkenly shout. And hearing you call him baby, but that’s beside the point.

As the song played your hips and shoulders moved to the rhythm of the music. He wasn’t as successful as you when it came to swaying his hips but he could move his shoulders and copy you. 

Who knew that you’d be up in here lookin’ like you do?

You took a step back and gestured to him as the song said. Spencer shook his head and pulled on your hands to bring you back closer to him. 

Do you know what you started? I just came here to party

You took him pulling you back as a way to sneak your arms around his neck. 

But now we're rockin’ on the dance floor actin’ naughty 

Spencer’s cheeks started to turn red at the closeness. 

Your hands around my waist, just let the music play

You retracted your hands to grab his and place them on your waist. 

We’re hand in hand, chest to chest, and now we’re face to face 

By the time your arms returned wrapped around his neck, his ears were crimson. With your arms around him your shirt raised slightly. His hands met the gap of your skin that was exposed. 

Even though he felt like his insides were going to melt, he kept his hands on you and kept dancing. Spencer followed the steps you took, the way you moved back and forth. He was finally starting to let the music flow through him. 

You definitely took notice. It only made you more eager to dance with him. 

As the song continued into the next verse you grew more confident. 

Don’t you feel the passion ready to explode? 

Your hands moved to his shoulders. You moved in closer, and with a playful smirk sang along the words so Spencer could hear. 

What goes on between us, no one has to know

Just when Spencer thought the fluttering in his stomach couldn’t get worse, you leaned in close to his ear and whispered the next lyric.

This is a private show

The air between you was magnetic. It felt like you were in your own little world. Like the rest of the bar goers were gone. Suddenly, it was just you two on that dance floor. 

Spencer’s face was inches away from yours. You were so close you could count the freckles on his pink cheeks. 

“You look so cute, all flustered,” you muttered. 

He licked his lips nervously, “I’m not used to dancing like this with someone.” 

“Are you having fun at least?” 

“Yes,” he answered instantly. 

“Well then, we should do this more often,” you offered with a sweet smile. 

As the song came to an end you leaned up and left a kiss on Spencer’s cheek. You took a step back to fully look at him. His eyes slightly widened and his lips parted from your peck on his cheek. 

“I love dancing with you,” you released your hold on his shoulders. The ghost of your touch was still hot on his skin. “Hopefully we can do this again.” 

His eyes shined as he looked at you, “I’d like that.” 

________________________________________

The third time it happened, Spencer got a phone call at 12:04 am. 

He was resting on his couch, nose deep in a book, when he heard his phone buzz. He breathed a sigh of relief at the caller ID revealing it to be you instead of Hotch with a new case. 

When he answered, he heard loud music and faint voices in the back. 

“Hello?” 

You quickly answered back, “Spencer! I didn’t wake you, did I?” Your voice had a higher pitch than normal. 

“No, I was just reading. What’s up?” 

“I went out to a bar for girls night but…I had one too many drinks,” you whined. 

He sat up straighter, “are you alright?” 

There was a pause before you spoke again. “The room is spinning. I’m really dizzy and everything is overwhelming,” you mumbled. Hearing you sound so scared and small made his heart hurt. 

“I didn’t want to bother the girls because they’re having so much fun and none of them can drive right now.” 

Before you could finish your statement, he was already standing up and walking to find his shoes and jacket. 

“Do you want me to pick you up?” He knew the answer. 

“Please. Can you?” you begged. 

Spencer was grabbing his keys and out the door in a heartbeat. “Of course, I’m on my way.”

Ten minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot. He walked inside and looked around the crowded room. A few meters away, a hand rose from a booth and waved him over. 

He followed it and found Emily, JJ and Penelope keeping you company at the booth. You rested your head in your arms, which were folded on the table. 

JJ carefully tapped your arm, “hey, your ride is here.” 

You slowly lifted your head up and beamed at the sight of him. 

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he said softly. 

“They found me,” you said pointing to your friends. “They said they would babysit me until you showed up.” 

He chuckled and lightly rubbed your shoulder, “You okay? You think you can walk to the car?” 

You nodded and slowly stood up. 

“Text one of us when you get home safe,” Penelope announced. 

You gave a lazy thumbs up in her direction and turned to Spencer, “Can you remind me to do that?” 

The corners of his mouth turned up in amusement. “Of course. Come on, let's get you home,” he nodded towards the door. 

You waved and said goodbye to the girls before Spencer led you through the crowd with his hand in yours. You grasped his hand like it was an anchor in the over-stimulating environment. 

When you stepped outside, the cool breeze caused goosebumps to rise on your skin. The fresh air and dulled sounds were already starting to help you feel better. 

Unfortunately, your balance was still screwed and you managed to trip over air. Before you could fall to the ground, Spencer swiftly reached out and caught you. He helped you stand back up and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. 

“I got you, you’re okay,” he muttered close to your ears. 

Him being so sweet was going to make your stomach twist. 

The rest of the walk to the car he kept his arm around you. Your body instinctively leaned into him and used his frame to keep you upright. 

When you reached his car, he opened the passenger door and let go of his hold on you. You almost whined at the loss of contact. 

“Thanks for coming to get me,” you spoke quietly as he helped guide you into the car.  

Before he closed the door and headed to the driver's seat he offered a kind, “You’re welcome.” 

The beginning of the car ride was quite aside from the hushed music on the radio. You leaned back, slouching in the car seat. 

You watched Spencer’s hands on the wheel instead of the rapidly changing view of the windshield. Your fuzzy mind was trying to focus on anything that wasn't the dizzy spinning feeling that couldn't go away. 

Of course your thoughts were jumbled with images of the man next to you. 

“You’re so nice,” you said with a fond look. 

He looked at you with brief confusion over your random declaration. “Thanks,” he returned his eyes to the road. 

You shuffled in your seat to face him. 

“No you’re really nice,” you huffed, frustrated he somehow didn’t understand the full scope of what your drunk brain meant. “You’re so kind and sweet to everyone. I love it.” 

An amused smile grew on his face. “I try to be,” he returned.  

“You are.” 

He quickly glanced over to see your figure leaning against the seat. Or more like the seat holding you up. Your eyes occasionally felt heavy, leading to your eyelids fluttering every so often. 

“You look half asleep,” he teased. 

“I feel half asleep.” 

“Then why are you so chatty all of a sudden?” 

You shrugged, “I don’t know, just feel like talking.” 

You forced your eyes open to get a better look at him. “I like talking with you.” 

Spencer tried not to think about how your voice was much more soft and melodious than normal. 

“I like talking with you too,” he affirmed. 

He suddenly went down a mental rabbit hole of your previous conversations with him. How often you conversed over coffee early in the morning. All those plane rides home where you both had to stifle your laughter so as to not bother the others. Or the dozens of times he rambled to you about endless topics. 

“I’m surprised I haven't bored you yet with how much I talk.” 

“Oh sweetie, I could never get bored of you.” 

His ears started to turn red at the flirtatious tone in your voice. 

“I could listen to you talk for hours. Even about things I don’t understand. I’ll always listen to you,” you continued.

“Really?” He muttered with a slight voice crack. His heart rate was steadily growing. 

“Uh huh,” you confirmed sweetly. 

His eyes darted to yours for a fleeting moment. You looked completely and utterly enraptured by him. 

“Your voice sounds like honey.”

Spencer's grip on the steering wheel tightened. He kept his gaze trained on the road ahead. 

“We’re almost at your apartment,” he deflected. 

Your smile fell slightly. 

The air in the car was growing stale by the seconds. Neither of you spoke until he pulled up to your building. 

As you reached for the door handle, he whispered for you to “wait one second.” You complied. He got out of the car and walked to your side. He opened the passenger door and held out a hand for you. 

“What a gentleman,” you said with a smug grin. 

He chuckled and made sure you didn’t stumble as you stepped out of the car. 

“I try,” he replied. 

“You succeed.” 

As you walked together to your apartment, neither of you let go of the other's hand. At your door, you fumbled with your keys. Spencer tried to offer to open the door himself but you shooed away his hand and mumbled, “I got it, I got it.” 

After fighting with the lock, you stepped inside and practically threw your bag on the couch. You were seconds away from falling on the couch yourself before Spencer calmly grabbed your shoulders. 

“Come on, let's get you to bed.” 

You whined but didn’t object. He guided you down the hall to your room. In the dark, he reached for your lamp and turned it on. You plopped down on your bed and yawned. 

“Where are your makeup wipes?” He asked, looking around the room.

You pointed towards the dresser, “In the top left drawer.” He followed your directions and returned to your bed, handing the pack to you. 

“See I told you. You’re so nice,” you complimented while lazily cleaning your hours old makeup off. 

“Why because I got you your makeup wipes?” He joked with a playful tone. 

You giggled in response. The sound made Spencer feel like he was the intoxicated one. He would never get used to the way you laughed. 

“No silly, not just that. The fact that you’re still here.”

You tried and failed at getting your lipstick and eyeliner off. Instead you smeared the deep colors around your face. 

Spencer’s lips formed a thin line, trying not to smile at you smearing your makeup. He grabbed a fresh wipe and kneeled down in front of you. “Here let me help,” he mumbled. With careful hands, he pressed the damp wipe to your face to finish the job. 

“Of course I was going to stay with you,” he acknowledged your previous comment. “I’m not going to just drop you off. I wanted to make sure you were safe and feeling okay.” 

You tried not to smile because his hand was so close to your mouth. Your brain was going to short circuit at the closeness. His face mere inches away. His hand and the skin of your face are only separated by a tiny piece of cloth. 

You watched intently as he used his thumb to wipe off the last bit of lipstick. His movements were desperately slow as he handled you with care. Like you were a fragile statue he couldn’t let break. 

The action made your chest tighten and your heart race. If you had consumed another drink or two back at the bar, you would’ve jumped at the chance to kiss him. 

But instead, you stared deeply into his eyes as he checked your face for any more makeup residue. His pupils were wide. You assumed it was from the dim lighting of the room. 

You may not have been drunk enough to kiss him, but you were drunk enough to joke about it. 

“What if I just kissed you right now?”

His eyes widened and his lips parted in shock. “What has gotten into you?” he questioned in a lighthearted tone. 

“What? it’s not just me! You’re also staring at my lips!” you put your hands up in defense with a mischievous grin. “Just say you wanna kiss me.” 

He chuckled at your antics. “Because I’m taking off your makeup. And what about you staring at my eyes?” 

A grin spread on your face. “I can’t help it. They’re beautiful. Nice to look at.” 

“They’re not that nice.” 

“I beg to differ gorgeous,” you returned with a wink. “I could look at them all day.” 

Spencer smiled as his cheeks turned pink. He looked between your eyes and your lips before his expression faltered for a moment. Like he was mentally stuck on something. 

However, because of your dizzy mind and vision, you didn’t pick up on it. 

He stood back up and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You think you’ll be okay?” 

You nodded, “Yeah. Thanks again for … everything.” 

“You’re welcome.” He started walking towards your bedroom door but before he left the room, he paused. “Don’t forget to let the girls know you got home safe.” 

Your jaw went slack and a hand flew to your forehead, “oh my god you’re right.” 

He fought back a grin from your reaction. “Goodnight,” he offered before he left. 

You waved and said goodnight as his frame left your bedroom. The sound of the front door shutting soon followed. 

Before you passed out for the night you texted penelope you got home safe. But you didn’t see her reply until the morning. 

Penelope: yay! 

Penelope: hope you feel better my sweets <3

Thanks :) I have a raging migraine so I better feel better soon 

Penelope: :(

Penelope: oh btw, how’d it go with boy genius???

Ugh 

I flirted with him AGAIN 

Penelope: you’re kidding! 

Penelope: What did you say?

I can’t remember all of it but at some point I said his voice sounds like honey 

Penelope: OMG

Oh no it gets worse

He helped me take off my makeup and I said I wanted to kiss him. And THEN I pointed out how he stared at my lips and I said “just say you wanna kiss me” 

Penelope: oh girlie

Penelope: I think you have to throw in the towel 

Penelope: you love him

You stared at the words on the screen before your hands could even type a reply. Mentally fighting with yourself about the subject. 

No way

I can’t be in love with him

He’s my friend I can’t do that 

Penelope: I don’t think you have much of a choice  

You sighed and turned off your phone. As you reached for the aspirin bottle, you prayed you wouldn’t do something stupid like this ever again 

You were wrong. 

______________________________________

By the fourth time it happened, almost a month had passed since you asked him to pick you up. 

To celebrate the success of a case, his coworkers and friends wanted to go out for some down time. He thanked them for the invitation but kindly rejected it saying he had previous plans to attend some film festival. In reality, he had been on the fence about attending the film festival and ended up spending the evening at home. 

As much as he wanted an excuse to spend time with you, he couldn’t go through another evening of you flirting with him. 

Normally, it’d be his dream to have you flirt with him and call him sweet names. To hear how much you liked his voice, his eyes, and the way his brilliant mind worked. But the more it occurred, the more confused he felt.

At first, he assumed you were just a flirtatious drunk and there was no meaning behind your advances. But as time went on, he saw your actions and affectionate words had so much desire, so much longing that he started to suspect they were based on real feelings. 

Yet, it was only reserved for the version of you that had multiple drinks running through your system. 

He’d almost given up on asking you how you felt. Almost. 

Something that gave him a glimmer of hope was a voicemail he received. 

In an effort to actually get some sleep, he took a late night shower. When he returned to his bedroom, he found his cell phone had received a voicemail. He checked and saw he missed a call from the very person he was anxiously avoiding. 

With new clean pajamas on, he grabbed his phone and sat down on his bed ready for the possible plea for him to pick you up. He clicked the message and lifted the phone to his ear. 

“Hi Spence! I wanted to talk but it looks like you’re busy,” your voice sounded sweet and bubbly. He deduced you might have already gone home at this point given the fact that this time there was no loud background music or voices.

“I missed you tonight. I wish you came with us. I know that isn’t always your favorite place to be, but I still kinda had hope. I love spending time with you. I don’t care if it’s at work or off the clock, it makes me so happy to see you.”

His heart felt warm from the way you talked about him. Your voice sounded giddy and occasionally you would slur your words. 

“It’s kinda silly but when we don’t have work or plans, I will literally count down the days until I get to see you again. Isn’t that silly? I spend like five or six days of my week with you and when I don’t see you, I’m thinking about when I’ll see you again.” 

Spencer found familiarity in what you were saying. For the last few weeks he found his thoughts were constantly revolving back to you. Whether intentionally or not. 

“I pretty much think about you all the time. It’s becoming a bit of a problem. I don’t mean you’re a problem! The problem is how much I like you. I’ve never liked someone as much as I like you.”

There was a brief pause in your message. He almost thought the voicemail was over until your voice returned softer than before. 

“I’m probably falling in love with you.” 

“And that’s really scary to think about because I don’t think I’ve ever been in love before. You’re different Spence, when I’m around you I feel-“ 

You were cut off by the time limit of the voicemail. Spencer stared at his phone screen with wide eyes. His heart was beating so fast it could’ve jumped out of his chest. 

He finally got an answer to the question that plagued his mind. You loved him back. 

You loved him. 

His whole body was filled with adrenaline. He almost grabbed his keys and drove over to you at that moment. But he knew he had to wait. He couldn’t have this conversation with you while you were still intoxicated and would probably fall asleep by the time he got there. 

Spencer on the other hand, could barely sleep. He was too busy on cloud 9 to come back down and let sleep overtake him. 

The next morning he was practically buzzing with excitement. He got up earlier than normal for work so he could stop by your apartment. 

He nervously knocked on your door. He kept fidgeting by fixing his tie and cardigan while he waited for you. 

When you did open the door he saw you were still in the process of getting ready. You had on dress pants and an old college t-shirt. 

You looked surprised to see him of course since he didn’t announce he was going to come over. “Spencer? What are you doing here?”

Suspicion started to creep its way into his mind. For now he ignored it and pushed on. 

“I thought we could commute to work together. I figured you would be hungover and not in the best mood to drive.” 

Your eyebrows raised and lips turned up. “That is so sweet of you,” you beamed. You opened the door wider, suggesting he was welcome. He followed and walked inside your apartment

“You’re absolutely right by the way. I feel like shit,” you groaned. “My head is killing me, I’m exhausted and I have this massive bruise on my leg.” You waved your hand over your right thigh indicating where the injury was. 

“I have no clue how I got it. I probably fell but I'm not sure. Most of last night is fuzzy, I barely even remember how I got home,” you joked with a chuckle.

The suspicion Spencer felt turned into a pit in his stomach. With furrowed brows he asked the million dollar question. “Do you remember calling me last night?”

You stared at the ground as you tried to shuffle through the vague images of the night before. “No I don’t. What did we talk about?” you asked innocently. 

His grip on the strap of his satchel tightened. “We didn’t. Talk. I couldn’t pick up the phone and didn’t realize you had called me until this morning. That’s why I wanted to stop by. To make sure you were okay.” He topped off his lie with a flat smile. 

”Thanks for checking up on me,” you sweetly replied, not yet aware of the internal mess he was experiencing. 

“It’s no problem,” his voice almost cracked.

“I need to finish getting dressed and brush my teeth but I’ll be ready to leave in like five minutes.” You speed walked back to your bedroom. 

It wasn’t until he heard the door close that he finally let the storm of emotions rip through him. His chest was getting tighter by the second. It felt like he was suffocating. 

You don’t remember. 

You told him you loved him and you don’t remember it at all. The best news he’d heard in months was a blip in your memory. Was late night drunk babbling. 

He felt so foolish. So stupid for thinking you might really reciprocate his feelings. 

One part of himself that was still holding onto hope tried to remember that “drunk words are sober thoughts.” But that’s not always true. 

He knew studies have shown intoxication can lead to someone misinterpreting their own thoughts or feelings. Leading to them impulsively expressing things that they don’t really believe. 

Unfortunately, the factual and heartbroken part of his brain was overwhelming compared to the sliver of hope he had left. 

“Alright, I’m good to go,” you snuck back into the living room. Your voice brought him back to the present. 

You grabbed your purse off the couch and walked towards the front door. As you put on your jacket you noticed the sudden change in Spencer’s demeanor. 

“Spence, you okay?”

”Yeah, I’m fine,” he nodded and answered with a light voice. But you could see right through it. His eyes gave it away. They looked so full of hurt. 

”Spencer-“

”I promise, I’m fine,” he interrupted. He offered you a fake smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He walked to your door and tightly held his bag. “We should go before we hit traffic.” 

You observed him for a few seconds longer than he liked. The profiler side of you wanted to pry but you knew it was a bad idea to push your friend. 

The drive to work was agonizingly quiet. It was odd for you two to barely speak when in close quarters. Instead, you both let the tension hang in the air, ignored and untouched. 

Spencer sat with his feelings for most of the drive. He didn’t want to be hopeful anymore. He didn’t want to be confused if it was real anymore. At this point, he just wanted to give up. 

Now, he’d have to keep a tight lid on his feelings for you. Leave it to fester and wear away at his heart. 

Like that would do any good though. He couldn’t stop loving you no matter how hard he tried. 

____________________________________

The following days felt like a dream to you. But not in a good way. 

It felt like one of those dreams where you know something is off, but can’t tell what it is. 

Spencer had been closed off ever since he picked you up for work. You couldn't wrap your head around why. He seemed so happy and eager when he arrived at your apartment that morning. 

That was the last time you saw him act normal around you. Now there was an underlying bitterness in the words he spoke. Everytime you tried to ask him if he was okay, whatever excuse he gave you left a sour taste in his mouth. 

You weren’t the only one to notice either. Everyone could sense the air go stale when you entered a room he was in. How his eyes no longer lingered on you. Or how it almost pained him to even look at you. 

His sudden change in behavior was starting to drive you insane. You were overthinking and overanalyzing every single interaction you had with him, leading up to that day in your apartment. Every move you made around him was calculated. You were terrified one wrong word or move would make him hate you. 

“He hates me.” 

“He doesn’t hate you,” Penelope swung around in her chair to face you. “I think it’s impossible for him to hate you.” 

You shook your head, “but still he won’t talk to me Pen. He’s always been so open with me and the last few days he’s been shutting me out. He hasn’t been weird around you guys at all.” 

She twirled a sparkly purple pen in her hands as she watched you sulk. “You said it started on Thursday last week?” 

“Yeah, the day after our last case.” 

Penelope sat back in her chair thinking. “Do you think the case bothered him? Could that be why he went home instead of going out with us?” 

“No, I don't think so. The next morning when he showed up at my apartment he was in a good mood. A great mood even,” you folded your arms in frustration. “But when I left the room and came back he looked like a sad puppy.” 

Penelope tapped her pen against her chin. “Why was he at your apartment before work?” 

“Apparently, I called him the night before but he didn’t pick up so he stopped by to check up on me and assumed I’d be hungover.” 

“Awe, that’s sweet,” she cooed before her confusion crossed her features. “Wait, you apparently called him? You’re not sure?” 

You cringed as you explained, “I don’t remember calling him. I was really drunk.” 

She tried to hide the amusement on her face but failed. “Why did you call him?” 

You stared at the floor trying to piece together what happened after you got home that night. “I remember missing him. I wanted to talk to him, but I’m not sure what about.” 

“It’d pay good money to hear whatever voicemail you must’ve left him,” she chuckled with a cheeky grin. 

“Right!” You started to chuckle with her until vague memories of talking on the phone came to light. Your face fell as your drunk declarations were pulled out of your long term memory. 

“Oh god,” you said barely above a whisper. 

Penelope filled with concern, “sweetie what’s wrong?” 

“I did leave him a voicemail. He must have listened to it while I was changing,” your eyes widened and anxiety started flowing through your veins. 

Before she could ask what you said in the message, you interrupted. “I have to go,” you alerted as you remembered Spencer already left the office. “I’ll text you later!” 

You practically ran back to the bullpen to grab your things and tell Hotch you were leaving for the night. 

The car ride to his apartment was agonizing. You gripped the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles turned white.

This was all your fault. He couldn’t stand to be around you and talk to you anymore because you drunkenly told him you loved him. 

You ruined your friendship. 

The least you could do was go to his apartment to try to make things right. Try to fix whatever you have broken. 

You couldn’t lose him. Not Spencer. Not the first man you ever actually truly wholeheartedly loved. Even if he didn’t love you back the same way. You’d rather live with the soul crushing pain of unrequited feelings, than lose one of the most important people in your life. 

The walk to his apartment was even worse than the drive to his building. With every step you took, your heart grew heavier. By the time you weakly knocked on his door, your eyes had started to water. 

When Spencer opened the door, his face fell with concern. 

“I remember,” you whispered before he could ask what was wrong. 

A look of realization dawned on him. He stepped to the side and opened the door wider, “come in.” 

You followed and stood awkwardly in his living room. You’d been here hundreds of times before. But now it feels different. Even though you were welcomed inside it still felt like he was miles away. 

“Spencer, I am so sorry.” 

“For what?” He already knows what you’re talking about, you can see it in his eyes. 

“The voicemail.” 

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You’re sorry for sending it?”

“Yes, no!” you stuttered fidgeting with your rings. “I meant what I said. Every bit of it. I just uh- I wish I had told you all of that when I was sober. Maybe I could’ve phrased it better. Not come off so strong.” 

“Why didn’t you?” he inquired, a hint of desperation in his voice.

He took a single step closer to you. “You could’ve told me.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed at him, “wait, you’re not mad about what I said?” 

He mirrored your confusion, “what do you mean?” 

“All week you’ve been acting weird. I thought you were mad or uncomfortable with me because I said I love you.”

Spencer raised his hand to his face as he realized. “I would never be mad at you for that.” His voice raised slightly in frustration, almost a wine, as he continued, “I was upset because by the time you sobered up, you forgot about it.” 

“Oh,” you whispered —if you could even call it that— under your breath. 

He lied. He listened to the message before he showed up, was going to ask about it, and you forgot like an idiot. 

“You only flirt with me or show interest in me when you're drunk. I couldn’t tell what was real or not,” his expression showed more pain as he spoke.

“Spencer, I promise I really do have feelings for you.”

His lips formed a flat line as he stared back at you. “Then why did you only show it when you were drunk?”

“Because I was scared!” your voice raised. You spoke with your hands as you got louder. “How do you tell your best friend you fell in love with them? You can’t! It just doesn't work. I thought I was going to lose you.”

“I’m in love with you.” 

You deadpanned at him, “Spencer, I’m being serious.” 

“So am I,” he said louder than you. 

The weight of his confession finally settled. Time stood still. The world stopped turning. The hands on the clock stopped ticking. 

His voice was quieter this time when he said it. He spoke in the gentlest tone you’d ever heard from him. Like the words dripped right from his arteries, carrying them away from his heart and to you. 

“I love you.” 

“You do?” 

You don’t know why you asked that. It seemed to be the only thing that could leave your mouth. How could you not believe him when he said those three words like that. Like it was his purpose. That he was put on this earth to love you and only you. 

The realization of what his confession meant started to dawn on you.

“That’s why you were at my apartment. So you could tell me. And I-“ 

You stared at the floor with wide guilty eyes and sat (more like fell) on his couch. The guilt started to creep into your blood. It started to crush your bones. 

“Oh I screwed up everything,” you buried your face in your hands. 

He sat down next to you, “no you didn’t.”

“Yes I did. You have every right to be mad at me.” 

”I'm not,” his hand landed on your back, his thumb slowly caressing you. 

You looked up at him, “really?”

“Yes.” 

You stared back at him, looking unconvinced. 

He surrendered and shrugged, “okay I was kind of crushed about it. But I know now that you really did mean it.” 

“I still hurt you,” you returned meekly. The tears started to return back to your eyes and you blinked them away. 

“I’m so sorry. What can I do to make it up to you?” 

His thumb stopped its movements on your back. With the same hand, he pushed back the hair that had fallen in your face. He looked into your eyes like he wanted to see all of you. See every little crack and crevice of your soul you tried to hide from him in fear of judgment, in fear of him running away. 

He could never run away from you. 

“Tell me everything you wished you could say when you were sober.” 

You sat up straighter and turned to fully face him. After taking a slow deep breath, you said what you’d wanted to say to him for months. 

No liquid courage. Just the pure, raw, unadulterated you. 

“Spencer, I’m in love with you. I couldn’t tell you when I was sober because I was afraid. I was in denial for so long. I tried to convince myself I wasn’t falling for you. And it’s not because I don’t want to have feelings for you. It’s the opposite. I love you so much it scares me.”

You started to play with your rings again. “I’ve never been in love before. I’ve never said it and been sure that I really meant it.”

“I mean it when I say it to you. I know I mean it because I want to spend as much time as I can with you. Doesn’t matter if it’s sitting quietly next to each other on the jet or dancing in a crowded bar. I know I mean it because I’d do anything for you. I’d listen to anything you want to ramble about. I’d drive you anywhere you wanted to go because I know you’re not the biggest fan of driving.” 

You swallowed down the lump you didn’t realize formed in your throat. 

“I always find myself crawling back to you when you’re not near.” 

It was only now you really noticed Spencer's expression. His eyes were soft and dilated so much there was barely any brown left in them. His waterline threatened to spill with tears. 

Before you could even dare to say anything else, he reached to the back of your neck and pulled you closer. His lips mixed with yours in a long awaited dance. 

The kiss wasn’t overwhelmed with passion. But also not too slow and careful. The only way you could describe it was perfect. 

It was perfect. 

He was perfect. 

Every aching moment of yearning and longing leading up to this. 

After kissing for what felt like forever —although you’re pretty sure you could kiss him for forever— you laid down on the couch with your head on his chest. Your arms wrapped tightly around him as if he could disappear at any moment. His one arm wrapped around your waist while the other was playing with your hair. 

“You can stay the night if you want,” he nonchalantly tried to offer without explicitly asking if you would stay over. 

“Do you think we’ll have time in the morning to stop by my apartment to get me fresh clothes?” 

“If not, you could borrow one of my sweaters.” 

You chuckled, “Imagine their faces when we show up to work together and with me very clearly wearing your clothes.” 

He smiled at the thought of you wearing his clothes to work. The image of you proudly showing off that he was yours. “Yeah I can imagine it.” 

[formulaonecrumbs]

we miss you 😕

dad!Lando Norris x mom!reader

summary: charlie, their 5yo son, didn’t want lando to leave for race week. though, he manages to sneakily message him from your phone

warnings: possibility of getting baby fever (i did)

A/N: i have such bad baby fever it’s crazy. i’ve literally wanted a kid since i was 12 so this fic is just feeding my delusions (when r they not) anyways i hope u enjoy! love u, sweethearts ❤️

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

the night before he left, charlie wouldn’t let go of his leg.

lando was standing in the hallway with his suitcase, trying to zip it up while charlie clung to him like a koala, arms tight around his thigh and face squished into the side of his leg.

“mate,” lando laughed, running a hand through his hair, “i need that leg. i kinda use it for walking.”

charlie didn’t budge. he mumbled something that sounded like don’t go into the fabric of lando’s sweatpants.

you were standing nearby with your arms crossed, trying not to melt at the sight. “he’s been like this all day,” you said softly. “he even asked if we could hide your passport.”

lando looked down at the little bundle of clinginess stuck to him and sighed. “charlie,” he said gently, crouching down. “come here, buddy.”

charlie let go just enough for lando to scoop him up and hold him close. he wrapped his arms around lando’s neck immediately, sniffing into his hoodie.

“i don’t want you to leave,” he mumbled. “i missed you all the christmas time and now you’re gonna be gone again.”

lando pressed a kiss into his curls. “i know. i missed you too. but i’m only going for a few days. i’ll call every night. and guess what?”

charlie blinked at him, lip wobbling.

“i’m gonna bring you back something super cool from the paddock. like… something very secret and race-car-ish.”

charlie considered this. “like a tire?”

lando grinned. “okay, maybe not that big. but something cooler.”

they stayed like that for a while. you were the one who eventually had to say, “lando, the car’s outside.”

he hugged you tightly at the door, whispered something about texting when he landed and to kiss charlie for him if he’s asleep by the time you get back inside.

but charlie wasn’t asleep. not really. you found him sitting on your bed with your phone in his lap and the most innocent expression ever.

“baby,” you said. “what are you doing?”

“nothing,” he said way too fast, quickly locking the screen and holding the phone out to you.

suspicious. but you didn’t think much of it.

it wasn’t until later, after you were in the kitchen and finally checking your phone, that you saw it.

today at 7:41 pm

hi dady

i miss u r u in the plane yet

how meny sleeps til u come home

can u tel the car go fast so u win n come bak

do u have snak

i am waring ur hoody mummie

said its to big but i like it

i put ur hat on my bear

read at 7:45 pm ✔︎✔︎

hey buddy

i’m on the plane now

i miss you so much already

you’re wearing my hoodie??

you’re the coolest kid ever. make sure mummy takes a picture, ok?

ok but she dosnt no i took her fone

pls dont tel her

your secret’s safe with me

but maybe give it back before she finds out

ok

also can we hav pankakes when u come home

pancakes and a race car story. deal?

read at 7:56 pm ✔︎✔︎

later that night (before you’d checked your phone), when you went to tuck charlie into bed, he was already curled up in lando’s hoodie with your phone under his pillow.

you sighed, smiling, and gently took it out.

you texted lando yourself before heading to bed.

today at 10:34 pm

charlie hijacked my phone

obviously

but he misses you. a lot.

we both do.

i miss you guys more than anything

already counting the sleeps

kiss him goodnight for me ♥︎ liked by you

and save me a spot in bed for when i’m back

♥︎ liked by you

read at 10:41 pm ✔︎✔︎

you held the phone to your chest for a second before turning off the light.

three more sleeps.

THE END :>

[oceantornadoo]

idiots doctors in love

dr. michael robinavitch x resident f!reader

smut. oblivious reader. down bad robby. jazz obssessions.

based on the vibe of the music robby was listening to in ep1 and 15, i headcanon he's a jazz man. SORRY NOT SORRY.

"what do you mean you can't go?"

you frown at dr. mohan, your pain-in-the-ass best R3 friend who's currently breaking your heart. "you're telling me you'd rather stay here than go out?" you gesture to the ER, workers fluttering around as day shift turns to night. out of the corner of your eye you catch a head of almost-silver hair and smirk. "so that's why you want to stay?" she finds the man in your line of sight and immediately shakes her head. samira unclips her clip, shakes her head, and reclips it -- something she never does in the ER. it's a sure sign of her crush on dr. abbot, even if she won't admit it.

"it's not even a crazy club, samira." you hook your arm through hers and drag her away from the board that she was scanning with a single-minded ferocity. "it's r&b night at this new jazz club. we can sit and still have fun! you don't even need to wear heels." she's already dragging you back to the board and shaking her head. "i came in late today. i need to finish my 12 hours." by late, she means the two hours she spent throwing up from food poisoning. even robby told her she could go home and here she is, staying. "fine. but you better text me, i expect you to leave here by 9pm sharp. no more than what you were supposed to work." you squeeze her arm and only let go when she smiles at you. what a liar. you know she'll work way into the night. "sure thing, mom. i'll text you what i eat and when i go to bed, too." she shoots back, smiling. you nudge her side before locating your water bottle and gathering yourself, mentally, to leave the chart board. "i expect nothing less. see you sunday!"

when you turn, your water bottle smacks into your attending.

"shit, i'm sorry." you look up and there he is, crow's feet crinkling as he smiles. rounded black eyeglasses compliment the black ipad he holds, likely updating someone's chart before you whacked his hand with your sturdy bottle. "what's that thing made of?" he lowers his head like he's examining the pink steel of your bottle, and it's hard not to feel giddy under his full attention. stupid, stupid crush.

"confidential weapon materials. it's indestructible." you grin as he shakes his head, clearly done with your antics. "get out of here, doctor. there's only room for so many dad jokes." you roll your eyes, untwisting the cap of your water bottle and drinking just so you can have a few more seconds with him before you really have to go. today was one of those days where you still feel human when you leave work -- no soul-crushing experiences. you're sure one will come on your sunday shift, but the rest of friday night and all of saturday scream freedom to you. a drop of water escapes your mouth and trails down from the corner of your lips to your chin. a lapse in control, something you usually have in spades, but never around robby. how embarrassing, not being able to drink water with more etiquette than a child-

a warm finger brushes the skin of your chin, wiping away the droplet.

you lock eyes. his are brown and a little out of it, his nose flaring and immediately condensing when he retracts his hand. he tucks it in his cargo pants and it's like you've imagined the whole thing.

must be ER-induced delirium.

"any weekend plans, robby?" absolute insane, to ask that question after you just displayed your lack-of-drinking skills. fortunately, all robby does is shake his head. his veiny hand swipes his glasses off his face and tucks them in the front chest pocket of his scrubs. unfortunately, the fluidity of it does a lot for you. must be the competency? "don't call me old, but the record store i like is having a sale on all their duke ellington records tomorrow. might stop by, pretend i have a life." he laughs in that self-deprecating way of his, like he's embarrassed to admit he's human and not just an attending.

your heart melts.

"i love jazz." you murmur, a little self-consciously, as you set your eyes on his stethoscope instead of his face. "i know." you pick your head up immediately, brows furrowed. when did you tell him that? "i mean, i heard you talking to dr. mohan." he clarifies. you nod, a kernel of hope growing when you realize he was eavesdropping. maybe this obsession is more than one-sided. maybe.

"you goin' to that thing you mentioned?" he asks, rolling his shoulders and looking away before looking back at you. "maybe. samira, i mean, dr. mohan can't go, so i might see if my roommate wants to go. she's really into rock though, like die-hard metal fan, so i'm not too sure if she'll want to..." you trail off, a bit saddened. you do want to go, and if it was daytime you would, it's just being alone at night in the city can still be scary. especially after a long shift, even if you're sober. your senses are dulled, worn out from all-day usage. the idea of a long bath and playing a favorite playlist sounds equally appealing and way less work.

"i'm free."

you gape at him, then quickly recover before he can notice how wide open your mouth is. "really?" he looks shocked at himself for even offering, so all he does at first is nod. robby looks off-kilter, far from the confident attending you've spent your last two years with. "you don't have anyone- i mean, any plans tonight? i don't want to take up too much of your time, it starts at 8:30 and it'll probably be at least an hour, maybe two." he barks out a laugh, swiping a hand down his face before answering. "no one's waiting on me. plus, i'm not that old, doctor. my bedtime is 12 anyway." he winks, recovered from whatever shock he was experiencing. you laugh, covering it with your hand before it becomes a full-force giggle. he's not even that funny, but he's just so endearing with those soulful brown eyes and terrible humor and warmth. on hour 12 of your shift, you simply can't take it.

"let me talk to dr. abbot and then i can walk out with you. it's kind of a speakesy so there's this password and this back door and," you realize you're waving your hands around, priming him for another water bottle attack, and quickly fix them to your sides, "and, i'll be right back. don't take another case or i'll go without you." his eyebrows crinkle a little at your mention of dr. abbot but you write it off as tiredness. he nods his affirmation and you bolt through the ER, desperate to finally get out of here.

"dr. abbot!" thankfully he's charting and not gut-deep in a poor patient. he looks up and nods you over, clearly expecting an interesting case. "i need you to do me a favor. dr. mohan is abandoning our jazz club plans to work her full shift and i need you to promise me she leaves here by 9pm. she already had food poisoning this morning, she does not need to work longer than necessary." he's smiling by the end of your demand, clearly amused than angry you're making demands. "you'll make a perfect chief resident, doctor. she won't be here past 9 or i'll walk her out myself." that's what you're hoping for, but you don't mention that. "sorry about your plans." he adds. you shrug, rocking back on your feet as you try not to give away your excitement. "it's okay. robby's coming, of all people."

an odd thing happens to the attending you thought was unflappable. he looks past your shoulder, clearly searching for robby, before quickly pulling back to look you up and down. his mouth opens slightly, then closes shut immediately. "fucking finally." he mutters under his breath, underestimating how good your hearing is. "sorry?" you ask, a little off guard. he shakes his head, resetting. "nothing. have a good night, doctor. have fun." when has he ever told you to have fun? you nod, extremely confused with whatever oddness has affected the Pitt attendings. you wish him a goodnight and beeline back to Robby, who's trying not to involve himself in two GSW's that just burst through the doors.

it's intimate, walking out with him. he holds the door for you but with his hand up high, making you almost duck under it to exit. you talk all the way to the parking lot, only realizing he doesn't even drive when you arrive at your car. you explain how to get into the club, the password being "April 29th" for the NYC Duke Ellington Day in 2009. he takes all of it in stride, nodding precisely at the right points like he's actually listening. "you need a ride home?" you offer, hoping he says no. this past hour has been too much of a whirlwind and you need a moment to contemplate, but the people pleaser in you demands hospitality. thankfully, he shakes his head. "i like walking home. not too far and clears the head." you nod, completely understanding. usually when you drive home, you keep the windows down and the music low to decompress. unsurprisingly, it's jazz or more modern r&b that clears your head.

"i'll see you there, then. text me if something comes up or you'll be late." you tack on, trying not to seem desperate. not to seem like this is a date, of course, which it is not. he's just being friendly, eavesdropping on your personal conversations and connecting over hobbies and offering his time outside of work when he could be, for one, sleeping. "i'll see you at 8:30, doctor."

-

you splurge for a cab, figuring the moment allows for it. plus, your feet ache from hours on your feet and the kitten heels you're wearing don't exactly help. after paying the fee, you step out onto the sidewalk and smooth out the creases in the dress you chose. it's the original outfit you were going to wear: a little black dress that hits above the knee paired with black heels that have bows on them, a small purse around your shoulder. except, you did your makeup instead of going bare face like you originally would've. it's armor to face multiple hours with the man you've been crushing on for months. sure, you've shared beer in parks and much-needed coffee on the roof, but nothing outside of the confines of work. nothing like how he looks now, waving at you awkwardly as he walks down the street in dark pants and a button-down paired with a jacket to stave off the chill. it shocks you for a second -- the first time you've seen him out of his scrubs. he comes to stand in front of you and beams a little, his cheeks pulling up. he's more relaxed without the weight of the ER on him and you yearn to see him like this a thousand times more.

"hi."

"hi."

you stare for a second before reminding yourself that you are not a teenager and can have adult conversations. except this is your boss, a fact you keep forgetting. "i honestly imagined you showing up in scrubs." you tease, gesturing at him to follow as you make your way to the entrance. he chuckles, a low tone that hits like a shower after a long shift, needed and soothing. "i like your dress, too, doctor." he replies. your skin heats at his compliment, glad you're not facing his direction. you wander through the side hallway that accompanies the front of the restaurant, pausing a little before the secret door. before you approach, you turn to him. "you don't have to call me doctor, robby." you remind him, tilting your head a little. he takes the moment to scan the length of your dress, the sheer tights that feed into your heels, before landing back on your face and saying your name. your first name.

it's the first time he's said it, you think. like a shock of epi to the veins, waking you up. his eyes darken and it must be a trick of the light, but you see his pupils expand. you grin shyly before turning and approaching the door. a gold-embossed slit in the door slides open and a pair of blue eyes blink at you. "password?" there's a sudden presence behind you as robby hovers, a touch away from your back. not the closest he's ever stood but you feel practically naked without your scrubs, like he's seeing your bare skin. "april 29th." you supply, clearing your throat as you remind yourself he's just being courteous.

the door swings open and you stifle a gasp. it's all mahagony wood and low lights, candles on every table with velvet-covered chairs and clinking bar glasses. an acoustic version of a leon bridges song plays as you make your way inside, robby only a step behind you. "isn't it pretty?" you turn your face up and there he is, staring down at you. "very pretty." he refers to the room, but his eyes stay on you, warm pools of chocolate in the lamplight. you find a table far enough away from the band where you can talk, even though your tongue is currently tied. robby murmurs something about getting drinks and you sit gladly, your feet straining from being put through even more walking. you set your purse on the table and close your eyes, letting your body finally relax as you take in the music. your head sways a little, the rhythm soothing you after another long-but-worth-it day in medicine.

"i wasn't sure what you wanted, so i got the specialty drink they were serving." he sets down what looks like a fancy dirty shirley with edible gold glitter swirling around. it catches the light and reminds you of the gold flecks in robby's eyes, illuminated by the candles. he sits down in the chair next to you, the table small enough for your knees to brush as you both face the stage. neither of you pulls away.

"they must have upcharged an extra $10 for the glitter." you take a sip and close your eyes, loving the fruitiness. a look left reveals his own drink, dark liquid in a glass tumbler. "part of the experience." he shrugs, nudging you with his knee. "plus, i know mohan wouldn't comp your drinks like i will." you giggle at that, keeping it at a low volume as the band continues. you take another sip for courage before putting the glass back down. "thank you, robby. for the drink and for coming." he takes a sip of his drink and sets it down. the table must be too small or his eyes really that bad, because he sets it so close to you that your knuckles brush. these accidental touches keep sending ill-advised sparks to your core, making you shift in your spot and press your thighs together.

when you gather the courage to look in his eyes, they seem to be on your thighs. a trick of the light, as they flick up and catch yours, no apology on his lips. "i wanted to-"

"hello everyone!" the saxophone player has the mic, greeting everyone with a bright smile. "thank you for coming to our little gathering tonight. it'll be a mix of jazz, r&b, and anything that sits right in the soul. we've got our singer coming on in about an hour but for now, enjoy the music." the bassist plucks a few strings and they start, launching into a louis armstrong song.

it's something close to peace that you feel. taking in the music silently, robby closes his eyes and leans back in his chair. you make small talk occasionally, learning more about him than you ever knew. how he used to live in chicago, how he's the older sibling of a much younger brother and sister off doing Great Things. you tell him about your favorite bagel spot that you stop by when you have the time and how sometimes, you think your roommate might hate you and not actually tolerate your late-night taco cravings. it's addicting, every smile he gives you, each one more endearing than the one before it. you like that he barely drinks, only sipping after a long conversation. you want to remember this, so you let your drink slowly lessen but don't ask for a second.

his knee stays against yours the whole time, a tender anchor to the moment.

after an hour, the singer graces the stage. her voice is raspy and low, perfect for the songs she picks. "these next few are perfect slow songs, in my opinion. and would you look at that, we've got some empty room on the dance floor." she launches into an etta james song about sundays and you can't help but gather your courage. "dance with me? if your feet aren't too tired, of course." you add, suddenly worried you overstepped. he shakes his head, stepping out of his seat and gesturing you forward. when you look back, you watch robby tuck your purse under his coat and your heart aches. just a little.

at first, you feel like a kid at her first dance. there's too much space between you, his hand so high on your back that it almost reaches your neck. it's hard to move together this far apart, so you take a deep breath and step closer. "this okay?" you whisper, face inches from his. he nods a little sharply, but steps closer until your cheek is flush to his chest. "it's perfect." you smile to yourself and lose yourself to the music.

as more people join the dance floor, robby pulls you snug to his chest. "having fun?" he asks, lips grazing your ear. his hand slides lower, still on the small of your back. it's the most you've ever touched him, felt the woodsy scent of his cologne and the hardness of his torso. "yeah." you mumble, drunk on the music and his presence. he seems to understand, tucking your head under his chin as you sway, his other hand tightening in yours as you grip his shoulder lightly. the singer croons about love and loss and you feel it, right under you.

after a few more songs, the band takes a break. when you pull back from robby, something has changed. he has to have felt this pull in your chest, the one tethered to your heart strings. "take a break with me?" you nod to the quiet hallway that leads to the bathrooms, perfect for a break from the crowd. he follows you loyally, hand hovering at your back as you walk down the hall. voices fall away until it's just you two in some alcove between the bar and the bathroom.

he puts his hands in his pockets and leans against the wall. you take a deep breath and one step forward.

"robby."

his eyes squint when you don't follow with a question and widen when he realizes what you're asking, or not asking.

robby swipes a hand down his face before it falls to his side, tapping the top of his thigh. "we can't." he reasons. your toes touch his shoes, shiny ones you didn't even imagine him owning. "says who?" you murmur, standing your ground. both of his hands are at his sides now, flexing and unflexing. if he wasn't wearing long-sleeves, you'd be tracing the veins. "the pittsburg medical board. gloria." he answers, not doing anything to move from where you stand. this time, it's him who straightens, bringing him closer to your heaving chest.

"i'm not going to tell them." you murmur. there's an instant sense of a mistake as he leans back into the wall. "it's not like that for me. it's- i'm not a casual person." the confession is more than you were hoping for, a long-forgotten dream that lay buried in your heart. "it's not like that for me either, robby. i really liked tonight. i want to do it again."

strong, capable hands cup your face. his thumbs swipe under your eyes, probably ruining your makeup, as he tilts you into his eyesight. "you have no fucking idea how long i've waited for this." he confirms, the tips of his fingers brushing your jaw. "really?" you plead, off-kilter from his sudden admission. "since you found me on that roof, still soaked in blood from two child GSW's." a year and a half ago. your heart pounds and you smile.

"can't deny you anything when you look like that." you're not entirely sure what he means -- when you're covered in blood or when you're in this dress? doesn't matter.

"won't you kiss me, then?"

and he does.

robby kisses like a man possessed. his hands on your face stay there, keeping you open even as you gasp into his mouth. it's not sloppy but toes the line as he keeps himself restrained, only allowing his tongue to peek out when you moan in delight. robby leaves little bites and licks with every sound you make, letting you melt into his arms with your arms around his shoulders.

"i don't want our first time to be tonight. i want to do it right." he demands into the wet heat of your mouth, covering the burn of his words with a solid kiss. you agree but still hitch your leg up around his waist as far as your dress will allow. "these fucking tights." he nips your jaw and you giggle, melding yourself further into him. "c'mere."

you lead him to a one room bathroom, locking the door behind you. instead of the perfectly good countertop, he corners you against the wall, hands sliding up and under your dress. "this okay?" he asks and you whine, pushing your hips further into his grasp. your dress gathers at your waist as he finds the band of your tights digging into your skin. "you gonna let me taste?" you nod, practically begging.

he yanks down your tights and you ignore the sure sound of them ripping, glad they were a sale purchase. "i'll buy you new ones." he promises your inner thighs, kissing gently upwards. with your demolished tights, you're able to swing one leg over his shoulder as he lowers himself onto his knees. you've been wet all night from his touches and it doesn't surprise you when he has to peel your lace underwear off, slick clinging in strings as he works them to the side.

"so wet for me. i know, baby, i know." he hums as you whine impatiently, moving forward until his words land on your empty cunt. he works you like an expert, splitting your folds open as he licks a stripe up and down. almost all the way down.

robby isn't like the college boys who treated this like a task. he lavishes you with kisses, small sucks to your clit that end when you start bucking. the tip of his tongue teases your hole but doesn't go in, seemlingly leaving it for another time. his nose, that strong nose you always catch yourself admiring, presses against your clit and you jolt from the pleasure of it. you fuck yourself a bit on it, encouraged by his moan that pulses through your core. the friction switches between his nose and his tongue and you can't get enough, that tell-tale pressure building in your lower stomach.

"robby, i'm close." you admit, gasping when he sucks your clit even harder. waves build and tense in your core as you chase the feeling, moving your hips without thought. "c'mon, honey. come." he mumbles, muffled by your thighs. like you do everyday in the ER, you follow his command, moaning as you tense and flutter around him. he guides you through it with sloppy licks until you're pushing him away, overstimulation creeping over your shoulders.

his beard is sopping with your slick, something he doesn't seem to care about as he emerges after fixing your underwear. deft fingers guide your feet out and into your heels as he fully frees you of the ripped tights, little brushes to your ankle bone going straight to your heart. it's only after he throws away your tights does he stand, eyes glittering.

you look down at his cock clearly straining against his trousers. when you reach for it, his hand stops you, stroking the soft skin of your wrist. "tonight's not about me." one part of you is disappointed but the other is dreadfully tired, needing rest after all of this excitement. "thank you, robby." you say, unsure of how to feel the silence. his hands grip your waist and he kisses your forehead before he pulls back, thumb swiping over your bitten lips. "call me michael, honey. you want to stay or you done for the night?" you shake your head instantly, exhaustion deep in your bones. "take me home, michael."

-

when you wake in the late morning, he's still in your bed. if he hadn't been, you would have thought last night was a jazz-induced dream. instead, he's murmuring to someone on the phone sternly. your eyes trace his bare chest down to his boxers, the same chest you fell asleep against last night. you lay a hand on his chest and he covers it with his own, seemingly done with his phone call. "who was that?" you ask, too curious to hold back. "HR." he grins. "haven't even asked me out properly and you're already calling HR." you grumble, inching closer until he gathers you in his arms, kissing the top of your nose.

"will you go out with me, doctor?"

-

writing this was a fever dream.

if you haven't seen noah wyle dressed up, i highly encourage you to.

[gothcsz]

Blocked and Begging | Javier Peña x F!Reader | ~3.1k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: You block Javier and he shows up at your doorstep.

Tags: angst, smut, fwb dynamic, drunk!javi, fuckboy!javi, modern!au i guess, pussy eating, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, creampie!, pussy pronouns, half-assed beta'd, untranslated spanish, no use of y/n, reader is afab and able-bodied, reader is a woman of color yet everyone is encouraged to read, no physical descriptions, sorry for any stray typos/grammatical mistakes, if i missed any other tags pls let me know okay, thanks!

A/N: i blame this anon i got for this, tbh. so thank you for doing all the heavy lifting, 'nonnie. much appreciated. there's not much i can say except i hate javier peña so much the only way to fix it is to fuck him! also @almostempty 's fuckboy joel def inspired javi's characterization in this so thank you for blessing us with that weds mwah love u! okay guys as always let me know what you think and thanks for reading 🖤

The first call came in at 2:12 AM. An unknown number, but you knew. 

You silenced it. Then again, 2:14. 2:17. 2:23. Again. Again. Again. Until the screen was so flooded with missed calls and increasingly misspelled messages, it looked like he was trying to break into your world through sheer persistence.

Baby Answer the phone I fucked up Please

Fuck him. He hasn’t been around or texted back in days, and now all of a sudden he’s blowing your phone up like you’re the one who disappeared. 

You wouldn’t have minded the silence, really, it was to be expected from a man like Javier. However, one of your friends had seen him out last night—messy, drunk, as affectionate as he is with you with some girl—practically fucking her on the dance floor.

When the video came in, you stared and stared until the knot in your throat wrung angry, jealous tears from your eyes. You blocked his number right then and there, throwing your phone across the couch, telling yourself you didn’t care.

You shouldn’t care. You aren’t together. You both made that clear. It’s supposed to be casual.

But it doesn’t feel casual, not with your stomach in knots and your heart twisting up and damn it, it’s really your fault for fooling yourself into thinking this is more than what it is.

You finally answer the phone at 3:06 AM. Your voice is like ice. “What?”

He sounds drunk. Words slurred, voice raspy like he’s been smoking, or yelling… or both. “I fucked up. I know, I know—Just let me come over. Let me see you—”

“Why? So you can lie to my face instead of over the phone?”

“I didn’t fuck her, baby, believe me. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

You hang up.

He can take that sweet-talking, liquor-soaked bullshit and feed it to someone else.

However, twenty minutes later, there’s insistent knocking at your front door. Like he knows you’re waiting.

You exhale hard, palms dragging over your face, and stomp to the door. When you look through the peephole, there he is—his drunk ass swaying slightly on your porch, one hand braced against the frame to keep him steady, the other casually on his hip.

It pisses you off, yet you still open the door. “Leave.”

He does the opposite, stepping inside as if you aren’t in the middle of a fucking argument, shutting the door behind him. Javier Peña never needs an invitation to make a mess.

“You have some fucking nerve—” You push at his chest, but he catches your wrists. 

“I know,” The smell of whiskey emitting from him has your nose wrinkling.

“No, you don’t.” You yank your wrists from his hold, trying to be preemptive by putting some distance between you both.

Being close to him is dangerous as hell, especially when you’re angry and hurt and jealous. “You ghost me for days and now you show up like some stray looking for scraps? What—did she not let you spend the night? Got bored fucking her and remembered I’m always dumb enough to answer?”

All your overthinking spills from your lips, grinding your teeth at the thought of him being with someone else before showing up here.

His face twists. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Bullshit.”

“I didn’t sleep with her—”

“Oh, fuck you, Javier. Don’t insult me. I saw you with your hand up her dress!”

He tuts under his breath, shaking his head like you’re the irrational one here and you hate how that makes you feel. “That doesn’t mean I fucked her.”

“Whatever. I shouldn’t care who you stick your dick in. We’re not together, right? So go ahead. Have your fun. Just don’t show up at my place acting like you give a shit about me when you can’t even be bothered to fucking call.”

“I do give a shit.”

He steps forward and you move back, spine stiff, feet landing near the edge of the dining room, t-shirt barely brushing the tops of your thighs. You’re aware of how exposed you are and how his eyes flick downward, just for a second. Your whole body betrays you when he looks at you like this.

“I’m sure you do.” You sass and his jaw twitches. 

“You want me on my fucking knees, crawling to you to show you that I’m being serious? Because I will.”

“Estás borracho, Javi. No seas ridículo.” Men are so nonsensical when it comes to trying to prove their innocence. 

You just stare as he kneels, his shoulders going slack, hands on the floor. His gaze never leaves yours as he crawls the short distance across your living room rug to where you are.

You say his name, half-warning, half-beg, swallowing roughly, your ass grazing against the edge of the dining room table.

He reaches you, reverently sliding his hands up your calves until his thumbs brush the backs of your knees. His breath is warm against the tops of your thighs as he presses his face to your stomach, kissing you through the cotton of the shirt, inhaling your scent.

“I’ve missed you.” His fingers disappear beneath the tee, calloused palms grazing the skin of your stomach before they trail past your ribs, cupping your breasts, squeezing softly. 

You both let out sighs of pleasure, his thumbs grazing your nipples until they peak for him. 

“You’re just saying that so you can fuck me.” As if you’re not going to let him.

Javi squeezes your tits roughly, making your back arch. “I mean it. Was dealing with some shit and got reckless…” He continues to knead your breasts, making you feel disoriented. “Don’t wanna fuck someone else when I have you…” He sounds truthful, but you don’t know if that’s because he means it or because he’s touching you like this and saying all the right things. “I wasn’t thinkin’, perdóname baby.”

One hand leaves your chest to drag down, knuckles brushing your belly as he hooks a finger under the waistband of your sleep shorts, toying with them.

He looks up at you with those stupid, brown glossy eyes. “Let me make it up to you.” 

Your hands grip the edge of the table and your whole body screams yes even as your mouth tries to say no.

You never learn.

“Okay.”

His breath is hot and shaky as he lifts the hem of your shirt, exposing your torso. You rid yourself of it, the cooler air nipping at your heated skin, his palm still on your tit while the other grips your hip. 

You gasp when his mustache scrapes against your skin, coarse and ticklish, making you shiver so hard your knees almost buckle.

His tongue draws lazy circles around your belly button, slow and sensual, dragging heat lower with every wet swirl. You want to stay angry—you try—but it’s so hard.

Then his fingers slowly hook onto the waistband of your shorts again, tugging slightly like he’s asking permission without speaking. He glances up at you, and when you don’t stop him, he tugs them down your thighs and lets them pool around your ankles.

You step out of them, entirely naked now.

Javi’s strong hands slide under your thighs and lift you onto the table. The wood is cool beneath you but his hands are hot. He spreads your legs obscenely, exposing you fully. The air kisses your folds and you twitch, cunt glistening only slightly due to your anger-thinned arousal.

He knows exactly what to do about it, starting by letting his fingers stroke through the coarse hairs at your mound, his pointer and middle fingers matching the V of your cunt, massaging your sensitive flesh and making you mewl, hips hovering off the table.

He starts slow.

A kiss to your outer lips then a long, dragging lick right up the seam of your pussy, tongue splitting your folds, collecting every bit of heat you haven’t admitted you’re building.

“Look at her,” he groans, lips brushing your pulsing clit. “Fuck, baby. She’s so sweet.” His voice drops a bit. “You think I’d want anyone else when this is mine?”

His tongue darts out again, flattening along your labia, slow and wet. You hiss through your teeth, falling flat on your back, unable to keep straight.

He does it again and again, not quite giving you what you want, but he’s only doing this to savor the blissful taste of your syrupy arousal building on his taste buds.

“Still mad at me?” he murmurs into your cunt, getting even more drunk between your legs.

You open your mouth to snap at him, to remind him why you’re pissed—but then his pouty lips wrap around your clit and he sucks, gentle but insistent, and your head tilts back with a helpless moan you can’t swallow.

“Jesus—Javi—”

“Let me hear you. Let me make it better.”

Your fingers find his thick and soft hair, tugging hard. He groans against you, lips humming at your clit, tongue circling and flicking with a skill that makes your thighs shake.

Wetness floods you, you can feel yourself opening, melting, helpless under the pressure of his talented mouth.

“Pussy tastes so fucking good,” he growls, voice muffled against your now soaking cunt. “Eres perfecta. I’d never find better.”

His hands grip your thighs, groping the supple skin, holding you in place as he sucks and slurps at your pussy. Messy, wet sounds fill the space.

You grit your teeth, trying to hold onto your anger. To remember how jealous you’d felt when you saw that video. How humiliated you were. How tired you are of being strung along by a man who only seems to remember how much he wants you after he’s already hurt you. How he knows exactly how to play you.

But God… his mouth. His cock. They’re too fucking good and outweight all the shitty things he puts you through. 

He eases two thick fingers inside your pussy and you cry out loudly, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Your walls clench around them instantly, pulsing with need as his fingers curl deep, finding that spot that makes your vision dot.

“Ohhh fuck, Javier—”

“Take ‘em so well, baby” he purrs, pumping into you slow and deep, his lips still making out with your clit between every sentence. “Let me have her. Let me love her. She deserves it. You deserve it.”

The squelch of his digits pumping into your soaked cunt is drowned out by the ringing in your ears and the hot wave of euphoria that seizes your whole body. Your skin tingles, toes curl, as your pussy clenches down hard, orgasming and fluttering around his fingers in messy, wet spasms. 

Javi comes up from between your legs, mustache wet and lips glistening. He reaches your breasts and palms them with greedy hands, squeezing them together as his tongue laves at one peak, then the other.

The attention to your chest has a needy, cracked whimper slipping from you and it makes him smirk against your skin.

He then hovers above you. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, despite him being fully clothed, the scent of sex and sweat and his cologne wrapped around you like a drug. He leans in for a kiss.

But you turn your head, letting his lips land on your cheek instead—a silent rejection that makes him growl low in his throat.

His hand—the same hand that was just buried knuckle-deep inside your pussy—grips your jaw tight, fingers slick as he forces you to look at him.

“Dame un beso,” he orders roughly.

You don’t get the chance to obey or protest.

He crashes his mouth against yours, lips hot and hungry, tongue sliding past your teeth in an instant. The taste is potent—his favorite whiskey and your own pussy, mixed and heavy on his tongue.

You whimper into him, your arms pinned between your bodies, lips held captive and bruised under the weight of his kiss.

Your hips swivel when you hear the clatter of his belt then feel the rasp of denim sliding down low enough to release himself.

He drags the head of his cock up your aching seam, circling your puffy clit with it. Javi taps it teasingly against your tender nub, smearing your own wetness, making you jolt.

Breaking the kiss, a thin trail of saliva bridges your lips to his. He keeps the grip on your jaw tight, blunt fingernails digging into the skin, making you wince slightly. His nose brushes yours, eyes locked, the rest of the world melting away.

And without a word, he pushes in.

Slow.

Thick.

Deep.

You can’t speak. Your mouth falls open, but no sound comes out. You just feel it—every inch of him forcing your walls to stretch until his balls kiss your ass and you’re stuffed to the brim with him.

“Mierda,” he groans, eyes fluttering. “You always look so fuckin’ pretty with this dick inside you.”

His thumb brushes your bottom lip, eyes softening for just a moment. Then he leans in and kisses you again—this time tender, sweet, like he’s trying to say something he can’t put into words.

“Now,” he murmurs, voice honeyed and dangerous, “you’re gonna watch me tear this pussy up.”

You barely register his grip shifting—the hand on your jaw moving to the back of your neck, pulling you upright, making sure your eyes are trained down to where you’re joined. Where his dick is slowly dragging out of you, glossy and thick, before he slams back in with a sound that punches all the air from your lungs.

“So fucking good for me, even when you’re pissed off at me. But you don’t really hate me, do you baby?”

Your whole body jolts against the table, your answer coming in the form of a gasp.

He fucks you slow at first, making sure you feel every devastating inch, the drag of his cock pulling against your walls, your cunt already dripping down his shaft.

Your pussy sings.

He sets a brutal rhythm, fucking into you hard and deep, making the table creak beneath you. Each time he drives in, your slick gushes around him, creamy and filthy, soaking the hairs at the base of his cock.

“Look at her,” he growls, keeping your neck craned so you can’t look away. “Look at how wet you are. You see that? That’s how bad you want me.”

You whimper, fingers digging into his arms for balance.

“Creamin’ on my cock like this—fuck, baby. This is why I come back. You’re why I come back.”

He slams into you again, making the whole table jerk forward.

“This pussy’s perfect. So warm. So tight. You were made for me, huh?”

You nod—frantic, trembling—tears in your eyes from how full you feel, from how right it feels.

“You gonna let me fuck you stupid?” he rasps. “Gonna let me ruin you?”

“Javi—”

“Say it. Tell me she’s mine. That you’re mine.”

“She’s yours,” you whimper, biting your lip, trying to hold on. “I’m yours.”

“Good girl,” he purrs, slamming into you so deep it makes you see double.

After a few more strokes, he lays you flat on the table, his hands gripping your hips with bruising intensity. He drags you toward him until your ass is right at the edge, your body completely at his mercy.

There’s no teasing this time. Just the relentless pace of his cock plunging into your pussy, the wet slap of skin on skin while he fucks this second orgasm out of you.

You're already so sensitive, your walls quivering, stretched to the limit and still greedy for more. He hits that pleasurable spot inside you over and over again, and you can’t help the helpless cries that tear from your throat.

He leans into it. Grinds deeper. Fucks harder.

“One more, shit, Let me feel you. I know you fuckin’ want it.” He pants, watching your face twist up, your body arching. 

The pressure builds fast and then you’re coming again, a white-hot burst that sets your skin aflame, jaw open in a silent moan as your cunt squeezes around him, sticky and pulsing.

He curses low and filthy in Spanish as he follows, slamming deep one last time and holding there, cock twitching inside you as his own orgasm overtakes him. His seed floods you in hot, lazy waves, filling you so full you can feel it leaking out around him even while he’s still inside.

Javi slumps forward with a ragged exhale, arms bracketing your body on either side. He doesn’t collapse, but he’s close.

His lips find yours again, slower this time, gentler—just the soft slide of his mouth against yours, the afterglow humming between you like static. Your fingers drift into his hair without thinking, stroking through the curly strands, feeling like you’re floating.

His brown eyes are soft when he opens them, catching the dim light of the room like warm honey. He looks beautiful like this—flushed, vulnerable, skin damp, chest still rising and falling against yours.

“Stay,” you whisper, your voice hoarse and raw from all the moaning and crying he’d coaxed out of you.

There’s a pause. He studies your face, his expression unreadable, answer delayed momentarily.

“No puedo,” he says at last, his bluntness almost cruel. “Gotta be up in a few hours.”

And just like that, the warmth in your chest snuffs out. Cold creeps in, sharp and fast, and you lay there stunned as the post-coital haze clears. Your jaw tightens. Your hand drops from his hair. He feels the shift in you instantly, watches the light drain from your eyes as he pulls away.

He tucks himself back in his jeans, does his belt with maddening casualness.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You snap, sitting up so fast it makes your head spin. You reach for your shirt and yank it on.

“You’re really gonna leave after this? After that?”

He shrugs, not looking the least bit apologetic. “Promised Pops I’d help him with the fence. You know how it is.”

You slide off the table with a grunt, snatching your shorts up from the floor and stepping into them. Your legs still tremble from the good fuck you just received, thighs squeezing together to keep his cum inside you. You try your best to ignore it. “All this just so you could get some pussy,” you spit. “Get the fuck out.”

He rolls his eyes, unfazed. “No seas así. Unblock me so I can call you tomorrow.”

He steps close again like it’s nothing, wraps a hand around your waist and tugs you in. You stiffen against him, glare up into his face, trying—desperately—to see through him. But you can’t. And that makes you want to scream.

“You really gonna call?” you ask, voice quiet but sharp, already hating how pathetic it sounds.

“Yes.”

You roll your tongue over your teeth, the taste of him still clinging to your mouth, your skin still tingling from his touch. You should know better. You do know better.

And yet—you believe him anyway.

i have a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

@auteurdelabre . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiamore . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @persephone-girl . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7 . @clubsoft . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @mysterious-moonstruck-musings . @almostfoxglove . @thundermartini . @pigeonmama . @piercethevic03 . @marisemonteiroo . @picketniffler . @getitoutofmymindwrites . @mandaloriankait . @bunniboo0015 . @kirsteng42 . @ivuravix . @joelmillerisapunk . @theestorm . @pasc4lfuzz . @manuymesut . @angiewatson .

[cameronsbabydoll]

I feel like puppy reader is the type to get angry at Rafe and be like “I’m never talking to you again!” And then five seconds later she’s off telling him about her day

“i’m not talking to you,” you announce, for the record.

rafe blinks. his voice is gruff. “yeah?”

you nod hard. “forever and ever.”

your lip trembles, just a little. “unless you ask me about the baby ducks near the marina…”

rafe exhales — and it’s not quite a laugh, but close. he leans against the porch railing like he’s exhausted.

“tell me about the ducks, pup.”

you light up. can’t help it. the blanket falls from your shoulders as you bounce forward, limping just slightly.

“there were five, rafe. five little ducklings and they were all waddling behind the mom like a little parade, but the last one kept falling behind and i swear it almost fell in the water! i was gonna save it but then this crab crawled out and i screamed and this old lady looked at me really weird but—”

you stop mid-sentence when he crouches down in front of you.

“what are you—”

he presses a soft kiss to your bandaged knee. just once.

and then your whole body crumbles in that familiar, helpless way — flopping down onto the porch beside him like the fight just left your bones.

“i was mad,” you mumble, resting your head against his shoulder.

“i know.”

“i still kinda am.”

“i know.”

[hunter-rodrigez]

After seeing a lot of Ai "art", mostly against my will, I think I finally figured out why, even in a vacuum without all the controversy around it, I don't particularly like Ai art.

Because it's fucking boring.

To be honest, I don't particularly like Rothko either, I am not saying it's "bad" art, I am just not all that interested in it... but every Rothko is still a hundred times more interesting than hitler's postcard ass paintings and every single piece of Ai "art" I've ever seen.

Ai "art" is always shit like like blandest porn possible or generic fucking "dark aesthetic" instragram ass pictures.

Just look at Hrdlicka's piece on the left. It's so interesting, is the darkness the shame that consumes the man? Is it the woman's reprehension towards the man? Is the red lamp supposed to imply that she's a prostitute?

Like, it was painted with intent behind the different elements. Intend that allows interpretation.

With Ai "art" it's the other way around, the ai spits something out and if the "artist" can be bothered they try to come up with meaning after the fact. Which never really work because there are tons of elements in the ai piece that have nothing to do with that made up meaning or straight up go against it.

Keith Haring's "Unfinished Painting" is the perfect example of this.

On the left, the original, deliberately unfinished to symbolise his life being cut short by aids which killed him a year later. The body language of the few figures we can see, seems to imply they're suffering, the jagged, white lines could symbolise pain or anger, or both.

On the Right, the "finished" version some dipshit did with ai. Even if you look past the whole finishing a deliberately unfinished painting part... the part the Ai did is just... meaningless scribbles. Even if it had been able to replicate the figures, it could never create something coherent with them. Because when you tell an Ai to paint someone who's angry and in pain... it will spit out a grumpy looking guy with a bandaged head or something.

my issue with the argument that "disliking ai art is inherently reactionary" is that it acts like pro-ai art people are somehow less reactionary on their views on art, when like the majority of defense's of ai art as like a higher form art are indistinguishable from the arguments people use to defend the art of like. hitler