#I’m just kidding they wouldn’t do that

[brenwritesss]

𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝'𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

⋆˚࿔Paige Bueckers x reader ❀˖°

Summary: You and Paige keep your promise to Azzi, steering clear of each other. What happens when you both fuck up?

Warnings: semi-sexual content ahead.

part 1

Your heavy breathing could be heard from miles outside your dorm while your hands rubbed down your forehead, clearing off the sweat. Your chest heaved and your legs flexed, spreading open the slightest bit as the girl beneath you rolled upwards, taking her own gasp of air and resting her hand on your thighs.

Things hadn’t been the same since that day in the locker room since you and Paige got caught by Azzi. You had spent the last month trying to make it up to the curly-haired girl as you kept your promise that you wouldn’t hang out with Paige alone. And fuck, it was harder than you thought it would be. And it seemed like to Paige, it was natural and the easiest thing she could ever do. She took ignoring you to a whole other level. First, she would only talk to you when Azzi or someone else was in the room. Then it progressed to fewer words exchanged between the two of you to her ignoring you completely. Always leaving the room when you entered, turning around and walking in the other direction when you passed in the halls. She even went so far as to block you on social media which in your opinion, was completely unnecessary.

“Same time tomorrow?” The girl in front of you asked, drawing you out from your thoughts. You met her in your communications class, bonding over your favorite shoe brands which ended up turning into a heated make out session in your dorm room. 

You take your hands off your face, leaning up to meet her eyes. “Yeah, yeah same time tomorrow.”

She flashed you a smirk, standing up and putting her jeans on. You watched her as she slipped her shirt on after, covering the exposed skin that you marked up just minutes before and the thought of Paige shot through your mind. 

You turn your head away. No. Stop thinking about her.

 After getting dressed, the girl picks up her phone and heads for the door. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you…” you barely mutter out, to distracted to even try and remember her name.

Not even remembering to put your clothes back on, you pick up your phone from your nightstand, checking to see what the time was. 10:20 p.m. 

Against your best judgement, you open up Paige’s text thread, practically a ghost town now that she wasn’t making an effort to talk to you anymore. But who were you kidding, the text thread had always been a ghost town since senior year. Releasing a sigh, you hit her contact photo, pulling up her contact information. You scroll all the way to the bottom until your thumb hovers over the block button.

God, this is so pathetic, you think to yourself. I’m over here doing this shit everyday just to get over my ex who probably hasn’t given me a single thought for over a month.

And that’s all it takes for you to hit the block button. Because you’d be damned if you let someone like Paige Bueckers get you in your feels, thinking about wanting her back in your bed. You’re not going to give her that satisfaction.

You text Azzi right after. I’m coming over, that ok?

You get a response in less than thirty seconds. Yeah, I’ll leave my door unlocked.

Since you and Paige got caught, things between you and Azzi were…not as good as it was before. But Azzi being Azzi, she was able to get mostly over it and things were mostly back to normal. Sleepovers every few days, always going out to eat when she wasn’t away for a game, random Target runs, and lots of tiktok drafts being made. The only times when things didn’t feel normal between you and Azzi were when Paige would walk into the room. Azzi would go from being the loudest in the room to being the most quiet. Not because she was uncomfortable but because she was watching the two of you, trying to see if there were any longing glances, or words mouthed between you. And she was definitely checking to see if either of you were on your phones for a bit too long at the same time. Obviously with Paige ignoring you, she didn’t have to worry about that.

You get up from bed, grabbing a fresh new pair of sweatpants and some other clothes to change into before you leave. You head into your bathroom, taking a quick shower before changing into the outfit you picked out. You opted for some sweats and an oversized shirt that you found at the bottom of your closet. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you fix your hair and brush your teeth before walking out of your bathroom to grab your phone and wallet.

When you walked out of your dorm, you were half expecting Paige to meet you on the other side as she would walk out from her own hook up. But that hasn’t happened at all since she stopped talking to you. It was better this way, anyway, because the last thing you wanted to see was her all disheveled and her hair a mess just like how yours was a few minutes ago, looking at you like she just got fucked. By someone else.

You make it to Azzi’s place in ten minutes, opening the door to see the curly-haired girl packing her bag for another away game.

“Where you going to this time?” you ask her as you plop down on her bed, messing up the organized pile of clothes she had sitting there.

Azzi shoots you a glare, swatting at your leg as she moves the now messy pile away from you. “Indiana to play Notre Dame.”

You scrunch your face. “Ew.”

“Let’s not talk about it,” Azzi tells you as she continues to pack.

You lean back on her bed, wrapping yourself up in her fuzzy pink blanket. The same blanket that Paige had a matching one in purple. “Right, sorry.”

Azzi holds one of her shirts in her hands when she looks up at you, tilting her head. “Hey, you still seeing that one girl?”

“Which one?”

Azzi pauses, looking at you with disbelief. “That’s actually nasty.”

“Hey, everyone deserves to have a little fun.”

Azzi laughs. “So, I was talking about the one I accidentally walked in on. The blonde one,” she pauses, “which by the way, I’m still traumatized.”

“The blonde one…” you trail off. Paige was the first blonde to pop into your head even though the only blonde girl that you have been hooking up with regularly was no where close to Paige. “Uh, Rachel?”

Azzi rolls her eyes at you. “Her name is Kathrine, dumbass. She’s in my accounting class.”

“Damn, I could have sworn it was Rachel.” You don’t dare to make eye contact with her because you knew she was giving you a look of disappointment, which from Azzi Fudd, was not a look anyone wanted to receive.

“Well for future reference,” she says, “it’s Kathrine.”

You don’t say anything for a couple minutes after that, debating on asking Azzi a very specific question. Curiosity got the better of you on this one. “Azzi, can I ask how Paige is doing?”

Azzi stops folding her clothes, turning to look at you and letting her shoulders relax. “Yeah,” she pauses. “She’s okay, Y/n. She’s in the gym a lot preparing for March.”

“That’s good.”

“Look,” Azzi sits down on the bed. “I appreciate you both keeping your promises and not seeing each other. It’s not that I don’t want you guys to interact at all, it’s just that I know you both. And I know how you both get with this stuff.”

“Ri–” you say as she cuts you off.

“And seeing you in the locker room…I could just tell that it was going to end badly. I mean, I love you both so much and I would hate to see either of you get hurt. Besides, with Paige being in her weird situation thing with that one girl she’s into, I don’t want to see you get caught up in that.” 

The look that Azzi gave you was so sincere that you could tell she meant every word she said. Azzi wasn’t in the wrong for keeping you both apart. She just wanted the best for both of you. You look up at Azzi, “I know. And I don’t blame you for anything at all. I agree, it would have ended badly.” As much as you wanted to disagree.

“Why did you break up with her in the first place?” The question shouldn’t have caught you as off guard as it did.

You shrug. “At the time, I thought it was the best decision considering we were both going to different schools. Long distance in high school is already hard enough. Long distance with a college basketball player would be even harder.”

“That’s understandable.” Azzi had to have been the most understanding person you have ever met. And you loved her for it. “Well when I said I hated the girl who broke her heart, I didn’t mean it.”

You tirelessly laugh. “I know Azzi.”

You wake up the next morning, still tired and craving coffee. After putting your shoes, you grab your phone and head for the door. The girl whose name Azzi reminded you was Kathrine, had left about a few hours prior, allowing you to get a few extra hours of sleep in. You open the door, not looking in front of you as you close it behind you. You walk into a tall body, making you stumble backwards.

“Paige,” you whisper, eyes wide as you flash her a shocked expression. Paige is standing in front you, walking out of the dorm that you haven’t seen her walk out of in over a month. She looked the same as she always did, blonde hair a mess, and the UConn patch over her clothing. She looks down at you, making eye contact for the first time in what felt like a decade. 

She didn’t say anything because she too was frozen in her place. You didn’t know what to say either because not only would you be breaking Azzi’s promise, but Paige was a stranger to you just like she had been for the past four years.

“Hi.” Was the only thing you could say because in a situation like this, what could you even say?

Paige eyes you up and down, drawing your body with her eyes until she met yours again. It didn’t even look like she was admiring you or missing you. Just complete shock. If you could even call whatever her expression is shocked. 

It felt like a matter of fours years had gone by between the two of you, either one not wanting to say anything. That was when you had to remind yourself that you’re both seniors in college not high school. “How are you?” you asked her, waiting to be met with no response yet again.

“Do I know you?” Her words shocked you more than seeing her out here in the hallway. And that is when you realized that you knew exactly how Paige felt that one time you had said the same words to her in the same spot. Paige shoves her hand in her pockets, turning to walk away.

You couldn’t even say anything as you watched her get further away and that’s when she turned back towards you, “you smell like sex by the way, I suggest you shower that off.”

Your dropped jaw turns into a grimace as you silently her off in your head. Paige Bueckers isn’t allowed to be pissed at you, not after she turned you into a memory and forgot you. And you were going to make her remember that.

Four days later and the team is back from Indiana as you find yourself standing in front of the door across the hall, preparing yourself to make what could quite possibly be the dumbest decision you have ever made. You sigh, knocking three times as you take a step back, part of you hoping she won’t answer the door.

About ten seconds later, a slightly shorter, brunette girl with brown eyes opens the door. “Hello?”

There was a part of you that flared with anger as you remember that this was the girl Paige had been seeing, sleeping with while you were right across the hall.

You fake a smile. “Hi, is Paige here?”

The girl in front of you raises her eyebrows, cocking her head to the side. “No, she’s not,” she pauses, “sorry, who are you?”

“Oh, sorry I’m Y/n. I’m supposed to be meeting Paige here? God, I hope I didn’t get the dorm number wrong,” you say as you fish your phone out of your pocket, pretending to look confused as you scroll on it.

“What? Why did Paige tell you to meet her here?”

By the look on her face, you could tell you were getting to her and that was exactly what you needed. “Paige and I have been…that’s not important. But she said that I should meet her here.”

She was sending you daggers with her eyes now. “What the fuck do you mean? Are you hooking up with Paige?”

You look at her, slightly shifting your footing. “Yeah…yeah we have.”

“How fucking long?”

“I mean I’m not counting but if I had to guess,” you say, making your voice a bit higher. “I’d say about a month maybe?”

“That fucking liar,” she whispers, rubbing a hand on her forehead. She looks at you again. “Well she’s not here and you can fuck off.” She slams the door in your face.

You turn back around and walk into your own dorm, the biggest fucking smile on your face.

It was another night out that Azzi had forced you to go to, although this time you had opted to meet her at Ted’s, needing to finish the last bit of your homework for the week. You didn’t know if Azzi had told Paige you were going, but if she did, then you needed to look your absolute best. The thought that ran through your head was if Paige found out you had ruined her relationship with whoever the bitch was across the hall, she’d say something about it. And that meant you needed to look drop dead fucking gorgeous because she couldn’t stay that mad at you and ignore you anymore, right?

Even with Azzi not letting you both speak to each other alone, she never said anything about in a group setting and you were determined to get more words out of Paige that weren’t ‘who are you?’.

You walked into Ted’s wearing a short black dress with your favorite sneakers because you never learned how to walk in heels and today did not feel like the day to start trying. Azzi glanced up from the group, eyeing you and waving you over. “Y/n, over here,” she said and waited for you to approach. “Wow, you look so hot.”

You laugh as she eyes you up and down, giving you an encouraging smile. “Not so bad yourself, Azzi Fudd.”

“Damn girl, who you tryna look this good for? It ain’t me right?” Aubrey joked, appearing beside you and handing you a drink. You gladly took it and downed about half of it right then and there. “Woah, easy you just got here.”

You turn to Aubrey, “I’m okay, trust.”

“Alright then,” Aubrey says, going back to converse with Ice and KK who waved at you before turning back to their TikTok live.

Azzi nudges you, eyeing the two girls on their phones. “You should go tell KK to do karaoke on live.”

“Is she any good?” you ask, turning to her.

“It’s definitely something,” she whispers, making sure that KK didn’t hear. Although that didn’t really work when you both heard a “girl boo, like you can do any better Miss Fudd.”

You let out a laugh as Azzi glared at KK. “I can be a professional singer if I wanted to. Can you say the same?”

Before they argued anymore, you hold up your glass. “I’m going to get another drink. Anyone want anything?”

Aubrey and Azzi both shake their heads, already having drinks in their hands as you nod and walk over to the bar. The bartender meets you at the counter, taking your order while you sit on one of the barstools, waiting. Someone sits next you although you don’t really pay attention because you’re too focused on Paige. Too focused on Paige to realize that she had come to sit right next to you.

“Tell me, do you usually get this jealous over someone? Or is it because I’m your ex?” Paige asks beside you, making you almost jump out of your seat. You turn to her, seeing her stool already swiveled towards you and she’s leaning her hand on her palm that rested on the bar counter.

Damn, did she look good.

You turn your own stool towards her, realizing that your plan had worked and you got her right where you wanted her. “I’m not jealous.”

Paige raises her eyebrow. “Really? So you just told the girl I’m seeing that we have been hooking up because what? Because you’re bored?”

You shrug. “Oh don’t worry, I’m sure you can find another girl.” The bartender hands you your drink which you gladly take a sip of, not looking away from her eyes once. “Maybe text one of the girls you fucked freshman year. From what I heard, you got around quite a bit didn’t you?”

“So you’re concerned about my sex life now? Do you–” she paused, looking over at the group to see if Azzi was looking, which she wasn’t. “Do you not remember that you broke up with me?”

You lean closer to her. “And did that kiss in the locker room not tell you that I made a mistake?”

Paige scoffs. “What changed your mind? Because senior year, I’m not good enough for you to stay, and now I’m good enough to fuck around with. What changed, huh?”

Your slight smirks drops when you realize that the look on her face wasn’t amusement, it was pain that she was trying to hide. That maybe she had been thinking about you this past month. Missing you like she had been the past four years. “It wasn’t like that.”

“I’m not talking about this anymore,” she said. “We made a promise to Azzi and we damn well are going to keep it. So stay out of my fucking love life Y/n because for once, it doesn’t revolve around you.”

And then she stands up swiftly, leaving you at the bar as she walks over to the team. You contemplated going back over to the group but didn’t want to raise any suspicion with Azzi. What were you doing? Were you wasting your time trying to get her attention? Probably. And what did this say about you? That you crave attention? That you want what you can’t have? Maybe it was all true.

How do you fix this? How do you make it right so that you both aren’t hurting anymore? 

You slowly walk back over to the group, forgetting your drink at the bar but nobody even noticed as you approached. Paige looked up at you, sitting beside Azzi and turning her head, not trying to make eye contact.

Azzi notices you, waving you over to her. “Come sit between Paige and I.”

Both you and Paige widen your eyes. Azzi wanting you to sit next to Paige. That’s…odd. Paige looks from Azzi to you and slightly shifts over, allowing you space to sit between them, which you reluctantly do.

Your right leg immediately presses up against Paige’s and even more memories flood back to you. All those times your body slumped against hers, when she’d spoon you in your bed; it was all coming back. You try to move more towards Azzi, not wanting to relive those moments all over again. But Paige, she knew you. Even after all these years, she still knew you.

So you weren’t as surprised as you should have been when she let her pinky finger graze your knee, rubbing it as a source of comfort because she knew you were in your head. You try not to look at her but even at that you fail and it makes you feel stupid. It makes you feel even more stupid when she doesn’t even turn her head your way, pretending you’re not even there yet her finger was still on your knee. And it was comforting for a while because it reminded you of the old Paige. The one you fell in love with in high school. It also reminded you of her and that girl across the hall. Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?

You use your hand to shove her finger off of you, causing Paige to look at you for the first time since she touched you. You were over doing this to yourself. You were better than this. Nobody else noticed the movement you just made besides Paige and that was all that really mattered, right?

“I’m getting a drink,” Paige muttered to the rest of the group before getting up abruptly from the table and walking over to the bar. It was clear you had struck a nerve but had she not been doing that since the first time you saw her outside the bar?

It made you sick to your stomach, thinking about this whole situation over and over in your head for the past month. And ten minutes later, Paige wasn’t back from the bar and damn did you really need to take a piss. So you excused yourself, getting up and trying to find your way to the bathroom.

You turn down a hallway, the loud music growing quieter as you pushed the door open. Your breathing stopped and you felt your heart physically drop when you saw Paige pushing a girl against the bathroom wall by the sink, shoving her tongue down her throat. And it wasn’t just any girl. It was Kathrine, the girl who was just in your bed that morning.

“Leave me the fuck alone, Paige,” you say as she follows you out of the bar and into the street. And of course to your luck, it was raining. Hard. The sudden cold droplets against your skin made you shiver. But not nearly as bad as you felt when you saw Paige and Kathrine in that bathroom.

“Can you give me a damn second please?” Paige shouts after you. She catches up to you and grabs your arm, yanking you back around to face her. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“Let me go.” You said sternly, trying to loosen yourself from her grip but it was no use.

Paige shook her head. “You fuck up my relationship, you shove my hand away, you won’t leave me alone, and now you get mad because I was making out with someone else? When will you realize that I’m not the problem here?”

“I’ve been hooking up with that girl for the past month, dumbass.”

Paige’s jaw drops slightly and her grip on you slowly loosens. “First, I didn’t know. Second, why are you so pissed about it?”

“You just go and fuck anything with a heartbeat, don’t you?” You ask her, wiggling your arm free from her hand.

“Fuck you,” she grits through her teeth. “This would have never happened if you didn’t do what you did senior year.”

“Why did it hurt you that fucking badly? We were kids, Paige.”

Paige glared at you, reaching for your waist to steady you. “Because I was fucking in love with you, Y/n.”

You stop, the only movement coming from the shivers as a result of the rain. She was in love with you and she never told you. And you never told her. “What the fuck.”

“So yes, I hooked up with girls to get over you. And now that I finally am, you come walking back into my life for no goddamn reason and it makes me feel like shit. And I’m done trying to tiptoe around you like your some fragile thing that can’t be broken because the truth is, you’re a fucking bitch. You’re rude and you’re selfish and you’re ignorant.”

You couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. Did she really think all those things about you? “Do you really think that?”

“Yes,” she said with no hesitation and that hurt you anymore. “And I’m sorry to myself that I let myself fall in love with you. Because that was a form of torture on myself.”

And what could you even say to that? Paige Bueckers just admitted that she regretted falling in love with you. What more was there to that?

“You want me out of your life? Fine.” You turn around and begin walking in the opposite direction of the bar, just wanting nothing more than to go home. “For the record, I never regretted falling in love with you.”

You didn’t wait to see her reaction and she never called out to say anything else. You were done.

[urmum-lovesme]

Ok but toxic!dad!rafe where this don’t effect the children’s life but when it come to the mother of his kids he’s still very overprotective. I mean she is a MILF.

This is the best thing I've ever heard anon I hope both sides of your pillow are cold.

Toxic!Rafe as a dad?

Surprisingly present. 

His kid adores him, and in their eyes, he’s just their cool, protective father. He spoils them, takes them out on the yacht all the time, and he makes sure they have everything they could ever want. He told himself he would never be like Ward if he ever became a father, and he- for a change- was living up to his word.

But when it comes to their mom? That’s where the real problem is.

Because Rafe does not change when it comes to Y/N.

Y/N falling pregnant, certainly wasn't planned. It wasn’t supposed to happen. She was young, she had a future and more than anything, she wasn’t sure if she even wanted to stay with Rafe, let alone have a baby with him. She didn't tell Rafe right away. Not because she was hiding it, but because she knew- deep in her gut- that he wouldn’t react like a normal person. She needed time to think, to weigh her options, to figure out what she wanted before he got involved.

But Rafe found out anyway.

Y/N had been so incredibly careful, she didn't leave any trace of the positive pregnancy test in Tannyhill; but he just knew her too well, sensed that something was off when she stopped drinking.

“What?”

His voice was quiet at first, his brows furrowed, like he didn’t quite believe what he was hearing. But then the realisation hit. His blue eyes darkened, his jaw tightened, and he stepped closer, the room suddenly feeling too small. His voice was calm, but there was something dangerous underneath it.

“You were gonna tell me, right?”

“Rafe, I—I don’t know what I’m going to do yet—”

Wrong answer. His hand shot out, gripping her jaw, forcing her to look at him.

“The fuck do you mean, you don’t know?” His breath was hot against her face, his fingers digging into her skin.

“That’s my kid, Y/N.”

Her stomach churned, her heart hammering against her ribs.

“I just- Rafe, I need time to think—”

“No, you don’t.”

He cut her off, shaking his head like the idea itself was ridiculous, angrily running a hand through his messed up hair.

“You don’t need to think. It’s already decided.”

She tried to take a step back, but his grip tightened, his other hand settling on her waist, firmly keeping her closer to him.

“We’re having this baby.”

Her breath caught in her throat as the words passed his lips, tears stinging her eyes before she could stop the feeling.

“I don’t- Rafe, this is my choice—”

His fingers pressed harder, his face inches from hers.

“No, it’s ours.”

Even now when they have a child together, he still watches her like a hawk. Still gets unreasonably possessive when she dresses a certain way, still makes a scene when he catches another man looking at her for a second too long. And she knows better than to fight him on it- most of the time.

It’s a summer afternoon, and she’s lounging by the pool, drink in hand, wearing a bikini that makes Rafe’s jaw clench. The sun was high, casting a golden glow over her as she adjusted the thin strap of her bikini top. It was tiny- too fucking tiny. The black fabric barely covered her tits, which, thanks to breastfeeding, were even fuller now, spilling slightly over the edges. His jaw clenched as his gaze dragged down, taking in the way the strings hugged her hips, digging into soft, newly gained curves that had him gripping the bottle in his hand just a little harder.

His friends are over, and while they’re talking, his eyes keep flicking toward her, watching the way the fabric clings to her curves. And then- Topper nudges him, nodding toward one of the new neighbours talking to her.

Rafe’s face goes dark.

She’s laughing at something the guy said, totally unaware of the way Rafe’s grip tightens around his beer bottle. He doesn’t make a scene- not yet- but when the guy finally walks away, Rafe strides over, towering over her as she peers up from her sun bed. His voice is deceptively smooth, but she knows that tone.

"Having fun, baby?"

"Yes."

His fingers skim her thigh, tracing the edge of her bikini bottoms.

"You looked like you were having a little too much fun."

She sighs, pushing her sunglasses up to rest on her head, she had a feeling she knew exactly where this was going.

"Seriously?"

"Dead serious." He leans down, voice dropping.

"Go inside and cover up."

She scoffs, shifting to sit up, the towel underneath her crumpling slightly as she moved,

"It’s our backyard and it's a pool party-."

"-I don’t give a fuck."

"Rafe, you’re being ridiculous."

"Yeah?" His grip tightens on her thigh.

"Then why’s he looking at you like he wants to fuck you?"

Her stomach flips.

"Stop," she hisses, even as heat creeps up her neck. But Rafe just smirks, leaning in so only she can hear.

"Maybe I should remind you who you belong to, huh?"

Her breath catches.

And the way he says it? The way his hand tightens on her thigh, just enough to send a warning? It sends a shiver down her spine, even as she glares at him. Because she knows- if she doesn’t listen now, he’ll make her.

Somehow, their kid never see this side of Rafe, he makes sure of it.

To them, their dad is just protective, he just 'cares about mommy so much!'. They never see the way their mother bites her lip in frustration when Rafe pulls her away from conversations. They never see the bruises he leaves- not always from violence, but from gripping her too tight, kissing her too hard. They don’t hear the way she argues in hushed tones behind closed doors, or the way she eventually gives in and melts into him anyway.

Because as much as she hates his jealousy and his control, she loves him too much to walk away.

He is the father of her child after all

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY MONTHLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

The fics I’ve read and enjoyed for the month of January. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

DC

Our Bodies & Other Fine Machines by SilverSkiesAtMidnight

He has never argued with a punishment, not since he was a toddler, if then. Surely she’ll listen, surely she’ll see this is too harsh, that he wouldn’t be disrespecting her like this if he was simply sulking over not getting his way. He needs that food, needs to be able to eat enough if he wants to be Robin.

He’s been hungry before, but back then, it never mattered if he was a little weak or dizzy. It never risked his life or the life of his partner when he was a kid.

She turns, sighing softly and pursing her lips. She reaches out to pat his cheek, and for a moment his heart soars hopefully, and he barely restrains himself from leaning into the rare bit of contact and soaking up his mother’s touch. “Oh, Timothy,” she tuts. “This is for the best. And honestly, I think it’s wise for you to cut down a bit on the snacks. I’d hate to have to listen to anyone tittering at the next gala that you’re getting chubby.”

And without another backwards glance, she turns and heads upstairs, leaving Tim alone and frozen at the bottom of the steps.

Day 6 - TOUCH AND GO bruises | touch starved | hunger

Screaming In The Dark (While We All Play Our Part) by WakingNightmares

The boy makes a choked off noise, but slowly, with trembling hands, he pulls the hood of his hoodie down. “I… I… I’m… Robin.”

Immediately, Oliver steps back, pulling the knife out of his bathrobe pocket.

Robin. There’s no way this boy is Robin. Logically, Oliver knows that ‘Robin’, protege to the greatest serial killer in American history, is young, but there’s been sightings of the boy for over a decade. The young man standing in front of him is Roy’s age. Robin, with over thirty suspected kills of his own, can’t be this scared, frightened looking thing standing in front of him.

Dick's kept his promise, and finally escaped with his brothers. Now he just has to figure out what comes next.

Cats and Communication by InkpotSprite

Damian wants to befriend Tim, but after their difficult start, Tim is more guarded than ever.

Then Dick says something that changes everything.

"Treat him like an abused cat."

And Damian does.

Clone Wars

one step back and to the left by sithlordbinks

Cody’s mouth is dry, words stuck in his mind. Which perhaps is a good thing considering in response to I think I may have you, all Cody’s brain is providing him is please do.

And it’s then, Cody realizes, that with the most inconvenient, embarrassing, unprofessional timing ever, he’s hard.

Kriff. Fucking kriff.

or: cody thinks he's doing Real Great at the friends with benefits thing with his general. spoiler: he is not…and somehow this saves the entire galaxy

The Hunger Games

17 Last Words from Hunger Games Tributes That Are STILL Echoing In Our Heads. Yes, Still. by ghostwriterofthemachine

It’s the most wonderful time of the year! We can’t wait until we can say Happy Hunger Games in earnest (only another month!), but in the meantime, we are celebrating the best moment of Games from years past. Make sure you also check out our list of the most iconic final showdowns and our favorite post-victory moments. What’s on the plate for today? Glad you asked! The Games are all about triumph, but they’re also all about tragedy (which makes those victories even sweeter). Today, we’re looking at 17 final moments from Tributes that we are still thinking about. To make it harder for ourselves, we could only pick one from each Games (so if your favorite didn’t make the cut, that could be why!). Some made us scream, some made us cry, and a few even made us laugh (you’ll see!). Read on! 

A listicle from Capitol Buzzfeed.

SVSSS

FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: On My Time as a Student Under Shen Qingqiu by Margo_Kim

On the desk in between Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu was a printout of the email. Shen Qingqiu refused to look at it. If he tried very hard, he could pretend it wasn’t there. When the email had hit his inbox this morning, Shen Qingqiu had read it and reread enough to have it memorized, as he tried to comprehend the meaning of these words arranged in this order. The second that comprehension dawned upon him, he’d deleted the email then promptly tried to forget everything about it.

He wasn’t being very successful on that front.

The message, written with the extraordinary eloquence that Shen Qingqiu knew Luo Binghe was capable of, had been sent en masse to the entire faculty and student body. It stated two main points. Firstly, that Luo Binghe attested that Shen Qingqiu had never slept with, assaulted, molested, groomed, or was in any way inappropriate to him during his time at Cang Qiong Academy (thanks for the endorsement, Binghe!!). Secondly, that Luo Binghe was announcing this because he intended to marry Shen Qingqiu and did not want even the whisper of false impropriety to stain his Shizun’s name. 

Original Works

Inheritance by Juna_R

Rulin discovers the house his cousin had left him came with three magical “dependants”. And they haven’t been fed since the day of the funeral.

[cloudyluun]

Indigo

Summary: Famous singers Y/N and Harry Styles were once inseparable—until they weren’t. Their love was a wildfire: beautiful, reckless, impossible to contain. But when the flames died down, all that was left was ashes and silence.

A year later, they find themselves on the same stage, under the same lights, in front of the entire world. Y/N has a song to sing—a song about him. A song about what could have been, what wasn’t, and what will never be.

And for the first time since she walked away, Harry has no choice but to listen. Based on this request.

A/N: Oh, you wanted pain? You wanted heartbreak, regret, emotional devastation? Say. Less. 😈

This is for the angst lovers. The ones who thrive off right person/wrong time. The ones who scream “JUST COMMUNICATE” at fictional characters but also eat up every miscommunication trope like it’s their last meal.

You must listen to Indigo while reading. Like, I’m not even kidding. Play it, stare at the ceiling dramatically, and let the suffering consume you. 💔✨

Also, if you’re mad at me after this… fair. But don’t act like you didn’t ask for it. 😘

Word Count: 4,4k

Warnings:

Angst. Like, an unbearable amount.

Famous exes who never got closure.

Emotional damage. (Both theirs and yours.)

Regret, heartbreak, longing.

No happy ending. (Yes, I’m serious. No last-minute fix. Just vibes and suffering.)

Mentions of fame, media speculation, public scrutiny.

Lyrics used as emotional weapons.

Read at your own risk. Prepare to feel things. 😈

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

The air was thick with the scent of hairspray, expensive perfume, and anticipation. That electric kind, the kind that settled heavy in your chest, thick in your throat, pressing into the spaces between your ribs.

The kind you had no choice but to swallow down.

A makeup artist dabbed concealer under your eyes, but it wouldn’t do much. Not really. The exhaustion wasn’t just skin deep, it had settled in your bones, wrapped itself around your body like a second skin. You weren’t sure if it was from the jet lag, the rehearsals, the weight of tonight, or a combination of all three.

Maybe you should have said no.

But how could you? This was the biggest night in music, and turning it down would have been like signing a confession letter that you weren’t over it, over him.

No. You weren’t giving them that narrative.

Even if every fiber of your being was screaming at you to run.

You were perched in a chair in the backstage dressing area, surrounded by the hum of the industry’s elite—stylists, managers, artists, publicists all fluttering around like moths to a flame. Everyone had a role to play, a script to follow. Yours was simple.

Smile. Walk the carpet. Perform. Leave.

And, most importantly, ignore Harry Styles.

Which, under normal circumstances, was easy.

But tonight? Tonight, it was impossible.

Because he was here.

And he was everywhere.

He was on the giant posters lining the walls of the venue. He was in the conversations drifting past you in hushed excitement. He was in the setlist, just two performances after yours.

And now—now, he was right there.

You felt him before you saw him.

A shift in the air. A current of static crawling across your skin.

And then, as if the universe had no regard for your well-being, someone moved just enough to give you a clear view across the dressing area, and there he was.

Harry.

Your breath hitched before you could stop it.

He looked different. Not in the obvious ways, he was still devastatingly Harry. Same green eyes, same sharp jawline, same damn hands in his pockets stance that had driven you insane for years.

But he wasn’t the same.

Maybe it was the way his mouth was set, not quite a frown but far from a smile. Maybe it was the way his curls were shorter than the last time you saw him. Maybe it was in his posture—tense, coiled like a wire stretched too thin.

Or maybe it was just the way he looked at you.

Because he did look at you.

Not long, not obviously, not in a way anyone else would catch.

But enough.

Enough for a flicker of something unreadable to pass through his expression. Enough for a memory—a thousand memories—to spark between you in the space of a heartbeat.

And then just as quickly as it happened, he looked away.

You exhaled. Slowly. Carefully. Your pulse pounded in your ears.

"Are you nervous?"

You blinked, the voice pulling you back to reality. Your stylist, pinning the final touch to your outfit, watching you with knowing eyes.

You forced a small, practiced smile. The kind you’d perfected in interviews. "No."

The lie tasted like metal on your tongue.

She smirked, but didn’t push.

"Your set is after intermission," she reminded you, standing back to check her work. "Then Harry’s is right after yours. So don’t disappear, okay? No sneaking off."

You hummed noncommittally, but you weren’t sure you believed yourself.

"By the way"—she glanced at the seating chart displayed on her phone—"looks like he’s sitting frontrow."

A knot formed in your stomach.

Front row. Direct line of sight.

You swallowed hard, but the lump in your throat refused to go away.

You shouldn’t care. You should be indifferent, aloof, unbothered.

But you weren’t.

And you knew why.

You knew what was coming.

Because tonight—tonight, he was going to hear it.

Your song.

Your confession.

Your heartbreak, wrapped in melody and laid bare for the world.

And for the first time since you walked away from him, Harry Styles was going to know exactly what he did to you. 

But would he?

Would he truly understand?

Or would he just sit there, front row, watching you like you were nothing more than another performance—another artist on the lineup, another song that would trend for a week before fading into the noise of everything else?

Would he even realize that every note, every lyric, was a wound you never let heal?

You didn’t know.

But you knew this: once upon a time, you were everything.

It had started the way most things in the industry did—slowly, then all at once.

Banter in interviews. Side glances during afterparties. His name appearing in your text messages more often than it should.

Harry was easy to be around. He made you laugh in moments that didn’t call for it, made you feel weightless in a world that was always trying to pull you under.

The first time you met, you had rolled your eyes at something he said—something cocky, something ridiculous.

"You always this charming?" you had quipped.

He had grinned. "Wouldn’t you like to know?"

You were magnetic, drawn together in ways that felt too good, too right, too fucking inevitable.

It was easy. Until it wasn’t.

Because love with him? Love with him was never quiet.

God, the highs were blinding.

Late-night studio sessions that bled into sunrise, your laughter echoing through dimly lit recording booths. Harry sprawled out on the couch, guitar resting on his chest, humming unfinished melodies between sips of whiskey.

"Sing it again," he would say, eyes half-lidded, voice thick with sleep.

And you would.

Because you’d sing anything for him.

The first time he kissed you, it was backstage at an award show. He had just won Album of the Year, and you had thrown your arms around his neck, whispering something against his skin that neither of you would remember.

He kissed you like he had been waiting his whole life to do it.

And from that moment on, you were his.

But Harry was never just yours.

And maybe that was the problem.

It was easy to pretend it wasn’t coming apart.

Even when the fights started. Even when the space between you stretched too thin, pulled too tight, ready to snap.

It started with late nights that turned into early mornings alone.

It started with unanswered texts, with Harry missing dinner plans, with half-assed apologies that never quite felt whole.

"You can’t keep doing this," you had said one night, exhaustion weighing down every word.

He had sighed, running a hand through his curls. "I know, love. Just—just one more session. I’ll be home soon."

He never was.

The tabloids didn’t help. The endless speculation, the headlines dissecting your every move, turning your love into a spectacle.

Some nights, you would see a photo of him leaving a club, laughing with someone who wasn’t you and you would wonder if he ever felt as alone as you did.

But the worst part?

The worst part was that he never noticed.

He never saw that you were slipping through his fingers, little by little, night after night, until there was barely anything left to hold onto.

You had asked him to fight for you.

You had stood in the doorway of the home you were supposed to share, your suitcase half-zipped, your heart half-broken.

"Tell me I’m wrong," you had whispered. "Tell me I’m overreacting."

Harry had stood there, hands in his pockets, jaw clenched, the weight of the moment pressing down on him.

"You’re not wrong," he had admitted.

It was the first time in your entire relationship that he hadn’t tried to charm his way out of an argument. That he hadn’t begged you to stay.

And somehow, that was worse.

"Then fight for me," you had pleaded, voice shaking. "Tell me to stay, Harry."

His throat bobbed. His fingers twitched.

But he didn’t say it.

Not in the way you needed.

Not in the way that mattered.

"If you walk away now," you had told him, heart pounding, voice breaking, eyes burning, "I won’t wait for you."

Silence.

Long. Painful.

And then, the worst fucking words you had ever heard.

"Maybe you shouldn’t."

And just like that, you were done.

For the first time, he didn’t stop you.

The weight of the memory settled heavy in your chest, pressing against your ribs.

You had spent so long convincing yourself that leaving had been the right choice. That it had been necessary.

And maybe it had.

But tonight you were about to rip that wound open all over again.

Because the truth was, Harry might not have fought for you then.

But tonight, when the stage lights flickered to life and the first chords of Indigo filled the arena—

He would have no choice but to listen.

--

The air in the venue shifted the second the first note rang out.

A single piano chord, haunting and slow, echoed through the arena, the kind of sound that curled around the ribcage and settled deep. The kind of sound that made everything else go quiet.

You stepped forward.

The crowd roared, thousands of voices screaming your name, but it all felt distant like white noise beneath the weight pressing against your chest.

Because none of them knew.

None of them understood what this song really was.

But he did.

The camera cut to the front row, where Harry Styles sat frozen.

For the first time that night, his expression wasn’t carefully curated charm. It wasn’t polite, or unreadable, or distant.

It was wrecked.

Jaw tight. Knuckles white where his hands gripped his thighs.

His lips barely parted, as if he had just remembered how to breathe.

He knew.

You inhaled, eyes fluttering shut for half a second before you parted your lips—

And you sang.

"And I know you're worried at night / I won't find my way..."

The words fell from your mouth like something fragile, something breaking apart mid-air.

The audience sighed in unison, as if they could feel it, too.

But Harry—Harry looked like the breath had been punched from his lungs.

Because he knew exactly where those lines had come from.

You had always been terrified of being alone.

The kind of alone that didn’t just mean an empty house or a quiet room. The kind that crept into your bones even when you were surrounded by people.

He had known that.

And for a while, he had promised—sworn—that you’d never have to feel that way again.

"You’re alright, love," he had murmured once, voice thick with sleep, his arm draped over your waist. "You’ll always be alright. I’ve got you."

You had believed him.

Maybe that was the cruelest part.

Because when you needed him most, he hadn’t been there.

Your voice didn’t waver.

Not yet.

You kept singing, pushing through, letting the melody wrap around the memories like silk.

"My head says I should've never left / And then my feet will soon lead to my death..."

Harry’s throat bobbed.

His fingers twitched against his knee, like he was fighting the urge to move, to do something.

But he didn’t.

Because that was the thing about Harry, he was always just a second too late.

You had waited.

You had stood in that doorway, your suitcase by your side, waiting for him to tell you not to go.

You had needed him to give you something— anything.

But he had just stared at you, eyes stormy, fists clenched at his sides.

"I can’t—" he had started, voice thick, torn between emotion and exhaustion.

"You won’t," you had corrected.

And he hadn’t argued.

That had been the worst part.

The chorus climbed higher, each note sharper than the last.

"I used to shine bright like gold / Now I'm all indigo."

It echoed. Reverberated.

The crowd swayed, entranced by the weight of it.

But Harry looked like he was drowning.

His lips pressed together, his jaw clenched so tight you thought he might break his teeth.

Because he understood it now.

You hadn’t just left.

You had lost yourself.

And he had been the one to turn you blue.

"You don’t get it," you had whispered one night, voice raw, your hands balled into fists at your sides.

Harry had sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Then tell me, love. Tell me what you need."

You had swallowed down the lump in your throat.

"I need you to choose me."

Something flickered across his expression. Something sharp.

"That's not fair," he had murmured.

Your breath had caught.

And maybe that was when you knew.

Maybe that was when you realized you would never come first.

The song swelled.

Your voice cracked on the next lyric, but you pushed through, letting the tremor in your voice become part of the story.

"I think it’s time that I went home."

The moment shattered something.

A slow, invisible break, one only the two of you could feel.

Because this was it.

This was your closure.

Your goodbye.

And Harry knew it.

His hand finally moved—just barely—fingers twitching, shifting toward where his ring should have been.

But it wasn’t there.

Because he had taken it off.

Because he had let you slip through his fingers.

And now—now, all he could do was watch.

The last chord faded, soft, lingering.

The arena was silent. For just a moment.

Then the crowd erupted.

A standing ovation. Cheers. Flashes of camera lights.

And through it all, you lifted your eyes toward the front row.

Your gaze locked onto Harry’s.

He was still staring.

Still frozen.

Still reeling.

And for the first time in years, he looked at you the way he had always meant to.

Like he finally understood.

Like he finally saw you.

Your chest ached.

Because you should have felt victorious. Powerful.

But all you felt was tired.

So you looked away first.

And then, without another glance, you walked off the stage.

The applause followed you down the hall, echoing off the walls, loud, deafening, hollow.

Your breath was uneven. Your fingers trembled. The adrenaline still buzzed beneath your skin, but it wasn’t the high people always talked about. It wasn’t the euphoric rush of a perfect performance.

It was exhaustion.

It was the weight of him still pressing against your ribs, suffocating, drowning you in a sea of memories you had spent so long trying to escape.

You kept walking. Past the stagehands, the producers, the people offering breathless congratulations you barely registered.

All you wanted was to get to your dressing room. To lock the door. To close your eyes.

To forget how he looked at you.

But of course, the universe didn’t believe in mercy.

Because the second you turned the corner—

Harry was there.

He was waiting.

Leaning against the wall, one foot crossed over the other, hands still shoved into his pockets like he hadn’t spent the last fifteen minutes coming undone.

Like he hadn’t just sat there, front row, watching you bleed your heartbreak into a song.

But you knew better.

You saw it in the way his chest rose and fell a little too quickly. In the way his jaw was still tight, his fingers flexing at his sides like he had no idea what to do with them.

In the way his eyes found yours immediately, unflinching, unreadable.

You exhaled slowly. Braced yourself.

Then—silence.

The kind that was too heavy. The kind that made your throat tighten, your pulse hammer against your ribs.

Because what was there left to say?

You almost turned away. Almost walked past him, because this wasn’t a conversation you needed to have.

But before you could take a single step, his voice—hoarse, quiet—stopped you in your tracks.

"Was that song for me?"

You hesitated.

Not because you didn’t know the answer.

But because the answer wouldn’t change anything.

And still you looked at him.

Met his gaze, even as something sharp twisted in your stomach, even as his green eyes flickered with something dangerously close to regret.

"It was for me," you said finally, your voice even. Careful. True.

A flicker of something crossed his face.

Something that almost looked like pain.

Another silence.

Thick. Suffocating. Unforgiving.

Neither of you moved.

Neither of you broke.

And maybe that was the problem—you had always been two people too stubborn to bend, too proud to reach for each other first.

Harry swallowed. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

You knew what was coming before he said it.

"I should have stopped you."

It wasn’t an apology.

It wasn’t a plea.

It was just the truth.

Your chest ached. A deep, familiar ache.

One you had buried. One you had ignored. One that had been waiting for the moment to resurface.

"Yeah."

Your lips tilted, just slightly. A sad, barely-there smile. The kind people gave when they already knew how the story ended.

"But you didn’t."

The words hung between you, suspended in time.

His shoulders tensed. His fingers twitched.

But he didn’t argue.

Because he couldn’t.

Because this was where you had always been leading.

Not to some grand reconciliation.

Not to some last-minute, dramatic love confession that would undo all the damage, erase all the nights spent apart, rewrite the ending to something less tragic.

No.

This was closure.

And that was the cruelest part of all.

You stepped back first.

A breath. A beat. A quiet kind of surrender.

Then, softly—"Goodbye, Harry."

His lips parted. His chest rose, fell. Like he wanted to stop you.

Like he wanted to change his mind.

Like he wanted to say all the things he never did.

But he didn’t.

And you—you didn’t wait.

You turned.

And this time, he let you go.

The door closed behind you with a quiet click.

That was it.

No last-minute chase. No fingers wrapping around your wrist to pull you back. No whispered stay.

Just silence.

Harry stood there for a long time, his hands still shoved deep in his pockets, his jaw tight, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.

You were gone.

And this time, you weren’t coming back.

--

The performance was already going viral before you even made it back to your hotel room.

Within minutes, Twitter had been set on fire.

#Y/NIndigoLive was trending worldwide.

“Indigo isn’t just a song. It’s a confession.”

“Y/N’s voice breaking on ‘I think it’s time that I went home’ absolutely ruined me.”

“Harry’s face during the performance… yeah, that man is NOT okay.”

The side-by-side clips were everywhere.

Your voice, raw and aching.

Harry, sitting in the front row, completely still.

One video had racked up a million views in less than an hour. A slow-motion zoom-in of his fingers twitching against his knee, his jaw tightening when you sang:

"I used to shine bright like gold / Now I’m all indigo."

"Is he crying???" one tweet read.

Another: “No but the way his throat bobbed like he was trying not to break down???? HELP????”

Even worse—someone had caught the backstage moment.

The footage was shaky, taken from down the hall, but it was clear enough.

The way he stood there, waiting for you. The way you faced him, expression unreadable. The way he stepped forward, hesitated—like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

And then—the way you walked away.

"The way she says goodbye but never looks back… they’re actually killing me."

"I feel SICK watching this. He just LET HER GO???"

Somewhere, someone had already slowed it down. Had already looped the footage to overlap with the most devastating part of your song.

"I should have stopped you." "Yeah." "But you didn’t."

And in the final frame—Harry still standing there. Frozen.

Watching you leave.

--

He saw the clips. The headlines. The frantic speculation.

He saw his own face in the screenshots—the way he had looked at you like you were slipping through his fingers all over again.

His phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.

Jeff: Are you okay? Call me.

Mitch: You good, mate?

His sister. His mum. His friends.

Everyone had something to say.

But Harry had nothing.

He sat in the dim glow of his hotel room, his phone heavy in his palm, the screen reflecting back everything he already knew.

He had spent a year trying to move forward, trying to not think about it. Trying to convince himself that what happened had been inevitable.

That he had made peace with it.

But watching you on that stage—watching you sing the words you never got to say—it was like watching a mirror shatter, every carefully placed piece falling apart in real time.

His thumb hovered over your name in his contacts.

He could call.

He could text.

He could type something—anything.

But what would he even say?

That he was sorry? That he had been wrong?

That he should have fought for you, should have chased after you, should have never let you leave in the first place?

Would it even matter now?

Or was he too late?

The cursor blinked in the empty message box.

He exhaled.

And then—slowly, painfully, deliberately—he locked his phone and set it face-down on the nightstand.

He didn’t type the message.

He didn’t send it.

Because the truth was—

He could have stopped you.

But he didn’t.

And now, it was too late.

--

The next morning, the tabloids were relentless.

Every article dissected the performance, the song, the moment.

“Indigo: A Song of Regret, or a Final Goodbye?”

“Harry Styles Watches Y/N’s Performance Like a Man Who Knows He Messed Up.”

“A Love Story Left Unfinished.”

But you didn’t read them.

You didn’t check Twitter.

You didn’t answer your phone.

You just packed your bags, slipped on your sunglasses, and left the hotel without looking back.

Harry was somewhere in that same building.

Maybe he was awake, scrolling through the same headlines. Maybe he was still in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying your voice in his head.

Maybe he was standing at his window, watching the city move below him.

But it didn’t matter.

Because you weren’t going to see him again.

You stepped into the car, pulling the door shut behind you.

And as the driver pulled away, you let your head fall back against the seat, eyes fluttering shut, the last line of the song still ringing in your ears.

"I used to shine bright like gold. Now I’m all indigo."

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like ❤️‍🔥

taglist:

@oscahpastry

@mema10

@angelbabyyy99

@iloveharrystyles04

@cinemharry

@drwho06

@donutsandpalmtrees

@panini

@mads3502

@imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa

@one-sweet-gubler

@rizosrizos26

@ciriceimpera

@everyscarisahealingplace

@hello-heyhi

@sexymfharriet

@lizsogolden

@hannah9921

@chicabonitasblog

@huhidontknowstuff

@berrywoods1245

@jennovaaa

@angeldavis777

@prettygurl-2009

@almostcontentcreator

@run-for-the-hills

@maudie-duan

@dipmeinhoneyh

[notlongtolove]

little hearts everywhere

it’s cowardly to run, maybe. but spencer has never made you feel like anything less than whole, anything less than loved. so, he shields you like it’s second nature. he doesn’t care where you have to go to feel safe. he’d follow you to the ends of the earth if you needed him to.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: hurt comfort

content: established relationship spencer helps reader deal with a panic attack and comforts her after

word count: 2.2k

note: based on this ask! i havent had any personal experience with panic attacks (at least not recent enough for me to remember what they are like vividly) so i really tried to research and read up on them to portray them accurately. if anyone has any notes or edits you think this fic may need please feel free to let me know!!

a line: The tear-tracked cheeks, the too-quick, too-shallow breaths—Spencer doesn’t think. He runs.

From where Spencer’s standing, it’s not so much a hug as it is you barreling out of the house and crashing into the first solid presence you can find. JJ barely has time to brace before you crash into her, her arms tight around your shaking frame.

That alone is enough to make Hotch raise an eyebrow and to make Spencer’s stomach drop. You don’t run. You don’t break. The only time you ever fight restraint is when Spencer insists on triple-checking your vest.

Hotch presses a finger to his earpiece, listens for half a second before nodding sharply in Spencer’s direction. That’s all it takes—They know. Morgan has the unsub, Prentiss has the kid, JJ has the parents. 

Spencer has you.

He’s already moving before he has time to think about it. He weaves his way through the sea of people, through the wailing sirens. 

You all get shaken up in the field. Comes with the job. But the way you collapsed into JJ like your legs just gave out beneath you—No, that’s something else altogether, though Spencer’s not quite sure what. 

Then he sees you shove away from JJ, like you can’t stand to be touched, and that’s when he knows. The tear-tracked cheeks, the too-quick, too-shallow breaths—Spencer doesn’t think. He runs.

“Fine—I’m fine. Go!” he hears you say through haggard breaths. JJ hesitates, torn between ushering the parents away from the crime scene and staying with you. But Spencer gives her the smallest nod to follow your lead. It’s better this way. The parents don’t need to see one of their rescuers unravelling. They’re already frazzled enough. 

Once JJ steps away, Spencer barely has a second to open his mouth before you cut him off. 

“Don’t.”

One word. A simple one. It’s been your cornerstone—for the job, for the entirety of your relationship, for him.

“Don’t,” you say when he comments on your caffeine intake.

“Don’t,” you say when he reaches out mid-shootout to pull you back—Hotch had taken your side on that one. That’s a danger to both of you, Reid.

“Don’t,” you say when he comes looking for you after you linger too long in a victim’s room, usually children, devastatingly stuck on the minute details of their lives.

It’s not that you don’t appreciate it. You just won’t be coddled. You refuse to be the subject of anyone’s soft concern, not when you’ve worked so hard to be taken seriously. You’re already the only one who can turn the team’s resident genius into mush with a single smile—you don’t need any more remarks about that, either.

Spencer understands. So when you say don’t, he doesn’t argue. But he doesn't step back, he doesn't even turn away. He stays beside you, hovering like a helicopter, yes, but doesn't move to do anything else. There are things he could do, things he wants to do, but not here. You wouldn’t let him, anyway.

Still, for all the ways you unmake him, Spencer unravels you, too. And knowing that the rest of the team is tangled in the aftermath of the arrest, you let yourself take the only reprieve you’ll allow your hurting self—Him.

“I—chest feels tight—can’t—hard to breathe,” you manage, still hunched forward, half from the weight of it, half so he won’t see the tears streaking hot down your cheeks. When Spencer softens and says, “breathe with me, baby. In for four, okay?” in the loving way of his, you know he sees your tears either way. 

You nod, barely, and Spencer thinks, for a fleeting second, that you’ve got a handle on it. That he’s got a handle on it.

Until your whole body tenses, and suddenly, you’re shooting upright, eyes wide and wrong. Your breath stutters into something sharp. “Can’t—” You’re shaking your head and clutching at your chest, fingers twisting into the fabric of your vest. 

“I—my chest hurts—it hurts, I—Get it off, get it off, please, take it off—”

Spencer’s already looking around, scanning the scene, mind racing. The unsub is in custody, shoved into the back of a patrol car, but Hotch hasn’t called a close on the case just yet. The scene is still active, officers moving, clearing the last corners, securing evidence. There’s protocol to follow. The unsub could—

But then he hears you. Really hears you.

The way your voice shakes, the way your fingers claw desperately at the straps of your vest, nails scraping against the buckles.

“Please, baby, I—please—”

That’s all it takes.

Spencer doesn’t think about the statistics. Doesn’t think about the 5.1% of criminals who manage to escape police custody, the 2.7% who do it even in handcuffs. 

He just moves.

“I’ve got you, baby, I’m getting it off, I—I’ve got you—” he promises, hands already working the straps, unfastening them as quickly as he can. His fingers tremble, fumbling in his rush, in his concern for you, but he gets it, yanking the vest free and tossing it to the ground. “Okay, baby, it’s off, it’s off—breathe for me, sweetheart, can you try—”

You stumble forward a few steps, your breath coming in a little too fast, a little too sharp. The pressure is gone, but the panic isn’t. Not yet. You can feel it still crawling under your skin, weaving its way between your ribs, coiling around your collarbones, clenching hard around your throat. Your body is caught between fight and flight, and flight wins.

You turn away from the flashing lights and move—quick, desperate—until there’s something solid between you and the rest of the world. A hedge at the end of the road. It’s not much, but it’s away. Spencer follows close behind, swiping a bottle of water from a paramedic’s open kit, keeping pace without crowding you. 

When you find a patch of shade that feels like solace enough, he automatically steps in front of you and places himself between you and the rest of the crime scene. 

It’s cowardly to run, maybe. But Spencer has never made you feel like anything less than whole, anything less than loved. So, he shields you like it’s second nature. He doesn’t care where you have to go to feel safe. He’d follow you to the ends of the earth if you needed him to. He’ll stand guard. He’ll be whatever you need.

“Baby.”

You hold a hand out to stop him before you even realise what you’re doing. He hasn’t even tried to touch you, hasn’t overstepped at all but—God, you don’t know why you did that. You can’t breathe, let alone think. Everything is too much. Your skin feels wrong, your limbs are locked up, your pulse is beating frantically in your ears.

“Why—what’s happening to me?” Your question comes out small and tight. It’s painfully timid and nothing like what you usually sound like. You look up at him through wet lashes and his expression—so full of aching concern—You could sink into him. You would, if you weren’t being held hostage by your own damn body.

“You’re having a panic attack, sweetheart,” Spencer says gently, “we need to slow down your breathing. Do you think you can try that for me?”

“I—I—” You nod, unconvincing, then try again. “Okay. Okay, I’ll try.”

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs. His voice holds something tender, something endless, something just for you. “Can I rub your back? Do you think that would help?”

Even now, he asks. He never assumes, never takes, never crosses a line without making sure it’s one you’re okay with him stepping over. Always the gentleman, Spencer Reid.

“I don’t—” You swallow hard. “Yeah. Yes. Please.”

Spencer’s hand is warm when it finds your back, tracing slow, sweeping passes. The other hand lifts to his vest, unbuckling it in practised motions, letting it fall to the pavement with a dull thud. And then—just as carefully—he pulls you in, lets you collapse against him, cradling your head to his chest.

“You feel my heart, baby?” he asks after some time. Spencer’s chin rests against the top of your head, one hand splayed against your back, the other smoothing over your hair. He feels you nod faintly, where your cheek is pressed to the fabric of his shirt. 

“It’s beating just for you, sweet girl,” he says again, fingers tracing slow patterns between your shoulder blades. “Let’s try to match it, okay?” 

Another nod, this one a little stronger.

Your eyes are shut, from what Spencer can see. He slows the strokes along your back and starts counting—instinct, habit.

You both stay like that for as long as he thinks you need to. Him, cradling and counting until he settles on approximately 120 beats per minute. Not quite where he wants it to be, but Spencer Reid has never been impatient with you. He knows progress when he sees it.

When he hears movement behind him, he glances back just in time to catch Morgan watching, concerned. Spencer shakes his head—not now—and that’s all Morgan needs before he disappears back into the fray. Spencer turns his attention back to you.

“Feeling better, baby? You want some water? I think it’ll help.”

You would roll your eyes if you had the energy for it. Typical Spencer Reid. The illusion of choice. You huff against him slightly, reluctant to shift from the comfort of his embrace as he hands you the bottle, already uncapped.

“That’s good, sweetheart. There we go.” 

You sniffle into his chest after a few weak sips. You hadn’t even realised how dry your throat was.

“Let's go home yeah?” Spencer murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to your head while he still has you in his arms. You manage a sluggish hum of agreement. 

The rest of the case is a blur. You keep your head down, press your lips into a thin line when concerned glances are thrown your way. Try to steel your voice when you assure Hotch you’re fine to help with the case file. He assigns it to Emily anyway. Spencer keeps his hand firm against the small of your back the whole time. Nobody says anything about it, and you don’t pull away.

On the way home, you keep his hand in your lap. Sometimes intertwining fingers, sometimes giving it a light squeeze. Spencer likes the way you trace the little hearts on his palm the most though. You’re looking out the window for most of the ride, he’s certain you don't even realise you're doing it.

The cushions swallow you whole when you get home, barely making it to the couch before exhaustion drags you under. You don’t even realise Spencer had slipped into the bathroom until he returns minutes later, sleeves rolled up, towel slung over his shoulder. “Ran you a bath, honey.”

He kneels in front of you, hands moving—boots first, then socks. When he reaches for the buttons of your sweat-slicked shirt, there’s nothing clinical about it, nothing but tenderness. He peels back the fabric, undoes your pants with the same gentle efficiency, and you could cry from the softness of it. 

The word love just doesn't do Spencer Reid justice. The way he loves you—It’s utter devotion, raw and unfiltered. 

You whimper when he sets you down in the bathroom. You don't want to be alone right now. 

Does he still think you want that? That you need space?

You don’t.

Your fingers clutch weakly at his shirt, and Spencer stills instantly.

“Stay?”

His expression softens, surprise flickering for only a second before he nods. “Of course, baby. Anything you want.”

Then he undresses, too. You watch as he steps into the water first, sinking down against the porcelain, testing the temperature before looking up at you again.

“Cold?” you ask meekly. 

He shakes his head, watching you with that same quiet, unwavering adoration in his eyes. “S’perfect. Just like you,” he says, offering you a hand. You step in, easing down until you’re tucked against his chest, his arms circling you. They make you feel safe in a way you hadn’t all day.

His hand moves in slow, soothing circles along your legs. You have them tucked tight to your chest—not for space, though that's what you hope Spencer assumes. In actuality, you’re still unraveling from the aftermath, still trying to convince your body that the danger has passed. 

Spencer starts tracing patterns on the knobs of your knees that you can’t quite decipher—Absentminded, maybe. Intentional, always.

“That was scary,” you admit after a long moment. “I was scared.”

Spencer leans forward slightly to press a lingering kiss to your temple. He tries not to let it show how pained he is from the fragility in your tone. You feel him sigh before he speaks. 

“Mmhmm,” he murmurs, “It was, wasn’t it? I was scared too,” he says, lips grazing your damp skin. “But you did so well for me.” 

He presses another kiss to the shell of your ear. “So proud of you,” he breathes. “My brave girl.”

You exhale, shakier than you’d like, and lean back into him, eyes slipping shut. Melt is the word. You finally let yourself take it all in. The rise and fall of his chest against your back, the soft sloshing of the water around the both of you, the fingertips kissing your skin in small designs. 

That’s when you feel it.

Little hearts, pressed in careful patterns against the slope of your thigh, the slant of your calf, the curve of your hip. 

Little hearts everywhere he can touch, little hearts everywhere you can feel. 

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments or reblogs are very much appreciated!

[funlovingfuzzball]

No kidding! I again wish to remind you (general) of my own personal experience with that.

Guinea pigs are a highly social species

Guinea pigs have very complex communication

My guinea pig Mousse hadn’t seen another pig from when she was a few weeks to almost five years old

We got her in November and only now does she seem to grasp some amount of what my other piggy, Luna, tries to say

Her first *week* at home she was bonkers terrified of Luna

She didn’t know how to tell Luna to back off, so Luna didn’t figure this out until the end of that week

Since she didn’t know what to do, she’d just scream at the top of her lungs every time Luna got near

Luna was literally just trying to cuddle, and then was even more inclined to do so once she learned Mousse was scared of something

We had to mediate because Mousse only knew how to communicate with us, so we would then repeat it to Luna in whatever mix of piggy language and human body language she could make sense of

If they were in the wild (pretend the most recent wild ancestors of guinea pigs still exist for the moment), Mousse would absolutely have died because piggies search for things and tell each other what they find and what is safe, and she wouldn’t know what they meant

She’s still a guinea pig, lmao

Also they’re great friends now but if they were in the wild she would not have had this long to make it work and also Luna would have left before now

I’ve gone into this more eloquently on another post, but I’m super tired, so for today you get bullet points. Just, yeah, instincts only get you so far, learning things is kinda necessary to survival.

- Miriam

I find it funny that some anti-therians say stuff like “well, you can’t be an animal, because if I put you out in the woods right now you wouldn’t be able to survive!!” Like… yeah. If you take a fox and force it to live in a house with humans for its whole life, it won’t be able to survive in the wild. That doesn’t make it not a fox???

[rafesangelita]

♡ when pope doesn’t want to hit you during sex..

warnings: oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, slight dirty talk, angst, finger sucking, mentions of past sexual encounters, reassurance and comfort, brief description of reader being treated poorly, overstimulation, soft sex, praise, reader cries, pope is so gentle and sweet ૮ . . ྀིა⁩

a/n: highly recommend reading bitchy!pogue!reader’s lore if you haven’t already so you could get a better understanding of her <3 this was slightly inspired by the ending of ‘anora’

wc: 1.3k

“pope, pope, pope—” you sounded like a broken record, the man’s name falling off of your lips like a mantra. working his tongue in skillful cirlces around your clit, you shuddered as his grip around your thighs tightened, arching your back off of his sheets with a cry. you didn’t think he had it in him. pope had effortlessly made you scream and cry in overstimulation for the past twenty minutes, your brain fuzzy and vision hazy as he pushed you over the edge time and time again.

“how are you so good at that?” you couldn’t help but ask as pope licked the remnants of you off of his lips, your eyes running down his shirtless form. “well i took a lot of anatomy classes for science and stuff, you know? bodily functions are kinda my thing. jj also might’ve given me some pointers..” you laughed, your chest rising and falling as you basked in your post-orgasm bliss. pope looked up at you sheepishly, sorta in disbelief that he had you of all people here in his room.

deciding to put his shirt back on, pope froze once you pulled at his arm. “what are you doing?” your brows knitted together in confusion when you saw him looking around like you two were finished. “i uhm— i didn’t want to assume that you wanted to have like full on sex, so i was just gonna let you get dressed whenever you felt ready.” you laid there dumbfounded. no guy has ever been this considerate. “are you kidding? i’m not leaving you high and dry..”

pope swallowed thickly when your hand trailed down his frontside, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you palmed him through his shorts. “did jj give also give you pointers on how to fuck?” pope shook his head, allowing you to pull him down between your legs. he was rock hard in his boxers and he was still making it all about you. “you got this hard just by tasting me?” your voice was sugary sweet and pope swore he could blow his load right then and there when he felt your fingers working him out of the restraints of his underwear.

“yes,” he nodded, deciding to help you out when one of the charms from your nails got caught in his zipper, “you tasted so good, and you’re also just really, really pretty.” he stammered, the nervous look on his face making you giggle. ‘pretty’ the word was so wholesome, you hadn’t been called that in ages. you were so used to the terms ‘hot’, ‘sexy’, even ‘sinful’, but pretty? you couldn’t decide if you liked the way your heart fluttered in your chest when you heard it.

you shook off the weird feeling that came over you, instead distracting yourself by taking pope’s hand and wrapping your lips around his thumb. “oh, wow! that’s—” pope had never seen such an erotic sight before in his life. not even in the weird porn jj would flash him out of no where. pope could sense a slight energy shift, but ultimately decided that he was just mentally psyching himself out cause he couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

once he was prodding at your entrance, you and pope shared a knowing look before he pushed into you, a muffled moan tumbling from your mouth as he groaned, screwing his eyes shut at the sheer feeling of you being wrapped around him. you felt better than what he could’ve ever imagined. warm, wet, and gripping him like a fucking vice. he cursed to himself, hoping, pleading, that he wouldn’t finish quick and make a fool out of himself.

you were already a mess when his head was between your thighs, but feeling him inside you was a totally different thing. he knew exactly how to angle his hips so he could hit that spot that made you see stars behind closed eyes. he was slow and calculated, unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. the realization had you feeling exposed and slightly embarrassed.

why wasn’t he being rough?

why wasn’t he being selfish?

why wasn’t he using you purely for his own pleasure?

pope leaned down and started leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck, taking his hand and intertwining his fingers with your own. “you feel amazing,” he praised, “just perfect.” you blinked, your breath quickening as his lips found their way to yours. your brain wanted you to push him away and tell him that kissing on the lips was too intimate, but your heart had you giving in and kissing him back.

it wasn’t until you and pope were lost in each other’s orbit and his nose was nudging yours ever so gently that you panicked and turned your head away from him. you were losing control, and you needed to get behind the steering wheel fast. ripping your hand from his, you grabbed his shoulders and flipped you two over so you were on top. pope looked surprised, the sudden change in position throwing him for a loop. you reached back, lining him up with your entrance before sinking back down onto his length.

pope let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, his hands flying out to rest in the curve where your thighs and your hips met. you started up a steady pace, the man underneath you shamelessly grunting and moaning as you rode him with ease. you refused to look at him or meet his eyes, partly because you were terrified of seeing what you couldn’t handle right now; and that was the gaze of a man who wasn’t viewing you as some kind of sex object, but as an actual living being with emotions and thoughts and aspirations of your own.

pope knew what you did for work but it didn’t bother him. he was concerned about your safety more than anything. your fears came true when pope ran his fingers across your flesh, the look on his face saying it all. he wasn’t just admiring your body, he was cherishing it. every curve, every detail, he was engraving every single thing into his brain in hopes that he wouldn’t have to rely on his memory of you to be the only time he’ll ever see you like this.

you couldn’t take it anymore. you needed to prove that pope was exactly like everyone else. “hit me,” you moaned, grabbing his hand and placing it on your cheek, “please, i want you to do it.” pope felt his heart drop to his stomach, his face twisting in confusion. “hit you? why would i do that?” he stopped you, sitting up against the headboard while you avoided his heated stare. “why wouldn’t you?” you scoffed, “it’s like every guy’s wet dream.”

“it’s not mine.”

that’s exactly what you were afraid to hear. of course pope wasn’t some sick individual who got off on hitting girls and inflicting pain on them— words included. “please, just do it. choke me, pull my hair, anything— i want it.” with his palm still on your cheek, he cradled your face, forcing you to meet his eyes. “no, you don’t.” he whispered, stroking your skin with the utmost care.

him being gentle hurt you more than any man who threw you around with no regard ever did. you didn’t know no other way, you didn’t know what it was like to be put first. nor did you know how to outwardly express your appreciation or vulnerability without having to give something away. you stared at him, your resolve crumbling as you cried into his chest, his arms enveloping you immediately. you cried until you couldn’t anymore, all while pope was still nestled inside of you.

he didn’t say a word as he held you tightly, your tears dripping down onto his skin as he rubbed soothing circles into your back. pope already knew what was wrong, his ability to read you and see right through you was uncanny. “no one can hurt you anymore,” he stated, “not in here. not when you’re with me.”

[sturniololuvz]

Can you do a fic where Y/N gets into a fight with Nick and Nick ends up getting physical by pushing her and she falls hard but they make up in the Jed

okkkk. Wait because why is this low-key my new favorite fic!!!!



“You Went Too Far.”

Sturniolos x sister

“You’re so fucking selfish, Nick!” Y/N shouted, her voice shaking with anger.

Nick scoffed, his own frustration boiling over. “Oh, I’m selfish? That’s fucking rich coming from you!”

They stood in the middle of the living room, faces flushed with anger, words being thrown back and forth like knives.

Chris and Matt sat on the couch, their expressions tense. They had been trying to ignore the argument at first, assuming it would blow over like it usually did. But this time?

It felt different.

“You act like the whole world revolves around you!” Nick continued, his hands flying up in frustration. “Like no one else’s feelings fucking matter but yours!”

Y/N’s face twisted with disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me, Nick?! I do everything for this family, and you have the audacity to say that?”

Nick let out a dry laugh. “Oh, yeah? Like what, Y/N? What exactly do you do that’s so goddamn special?”

That was it. That was the breaking point.

Y/N’s hands curled into fists at her sides. Her voice cracked as she snapped, “I’ve been there for you when no one else was! When you were at your lowest, when you needed someone, I was there for you, Nick! But now, suddenly, I’m just some selfish bitch to you?”

Nick’s face fell for a brief second, but his pride wouldn’t let him back down. “You’re twisting my words,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Y/N laughed bitterly, tears welling in her eyes. “No, I’m not. That’s exactly what you said.”

Chris and Matt both exchanged glances, sensing that things were getting out of hand.

“Alright, both of you need to chill the fuck out—” Chris started, standing up.

“Shut up, Chris!” Nick and Y/N both snapped at the same time.

Chris put his hands up in surrender, muttering, “Jesus Christ.”

Y/N turned back to Nick, her voice trembling with rage. “You treat me like I don’t fucking matter. Like I’m just a punching bag for when you’re pissed off. I’m so fucking tired of it.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Here we go with the dramatics.”

Y/N’s lip quivered, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “You’re such an asshole,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Nick took a step forward. “And you’re such a—”

Before he could finish, Y/N pushed his shoulder, shoving him back slightly. “Go ahead, Nick. Say it.”

Nick snapped.

He pushed her back.

Hard.

Y/N stumbled, her foot catching on the edge of the coffee table, and before anyone could react, she crashed to the floor with a loud thud.

A sharp cry escaped her lips as she hit the ground, her arm slamming against the hardwood.

For a moment, the entire room was silent.

Nick’s breath caught in his throat. His heart stopped.

Chris and Matt jumped up immediately.

“Y/N!” Matt shouted, kneeling down next to her.

Chris shoved Nick back. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Y/N curled into herself, her body shaking as she clutched her arm. Tears streamed down her face, her quiet sniffles turning into full-on sobs.

Nick felt like he was going to be sick.

“Y/N, I—” His voice cracked as he stepped toward her.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” she choked out, recoiling from him.

Nick’s heart shattered into a million pieces.

Chris crouched beside her, his voice softer now. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. Let me see your arm.”

Y/N shook her head furiously. “It hurts,” she whimpered.

Matt gently reached for her hand. “We’ll get you some ice, okay?”

Nick felt tears sting his own eyes. He had never, ever seen her cry like that before.

And it was because of him.

Chris shot Nick the nastiest glare he had ever seen. “Get the fuck away from her,” he spat.

Nick staggered backward, his chest heaving. He wanted to fix this. He wanted to rewind time and take it all back.

But it was too late.

—

An hour passed before Y/N came out of her room.

Nick was still sitting on the couch, his head in his hands. Chris and Matt were in the kitchen, their voices hushed.

Y/N walked in, an ice pack pressed against her arm. Her eyes were puffy from crying.

Nick immediately stood up. “Y/N, I—”

“Save it,” she muttered.

Nick swallowed hard. “Please, just let me explain—”

Y/N let out a hollow laugh. “Explain what, Nick? That you pushed me? That you made me feel like complete shit and then knocked me on my ass? What’s there to explain?”

Nick’s throat tightened. “I didn’t mean to—”

Y/N scoffed. “Yeah? Well, you did.”

Nick felt like he was about to break down. “I swear to God, Y/N, I—I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Y/N looked at him, really looked at him. She saw the way his hands were shaking, the way his eyes were red-rimmed like he had been holding back tears.

“You did hurt me,” she whispered.

Nick squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling sharply. “I know.”

Silence stretched between them.

“I would never forgive myself if this ruined us,” Nick admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t know if I can just forget it, Nick.”

Nick nodded. “I don’t expect you to.”

More silence.

Finally, Y/N held out her pinky.

Nick stared at it for a second, confused.

She swallowed hard. “Promise me you’ll never ever put your hands on me like that again.”

Nick’s lip trembled. He wrapped his pinky around hers without hesitation.

“I swear.”

[prettyangellllll]

Drunk call

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader x Barry

Warnings: Mild swearing, alcohol consumption, drunk Rafe being the sweetest, lots of fluff, Barry third-wheeling, FaceTime romance, slight clinginess from Rafe.

Summary: Rafe is having a boys’ night with Barry, drinking and messing around like usual. But after a few drinks, he starts missing his girlfriend way too much. Drunk and hopelessly in love, he calls her in the middle of the night just to see her face, much to Barry’s amusement. What starts as a simple video call turns into Rafe begging her to come over, showering her in sweet, slurred compliments, and proving that even in his drunken haze, she’s the only thing on his mind.

also barry is being the cutest eveeer

------

It was almost 2 AM when your phone buzzed against the nightstand, the sound making you stir from your half-asleep state. You groaned softly, blinking against the dim glow of your bedroom, before reaching for it. The screen lit up with a familiar name.

Rafe Cameron.

You sighed, rubbing your eyes as you picked up the call. The second the video connected, you were met with Rafe’s face, slightly flushed, hair messy, and a dopey grin stretching across his lips. His blue eyes were heavy-lidded, but the second he saw you, they lit up like fireworks.

“There she is,” he slurred happily, holding the phone too close to his face before pulling it back. “Hi, baby.”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. “Rafe, are you drunk?”

Barry’s voice rang out in the background before Rafe could answer. “Oh, he’s wasted.”

Rafe ignored him, his entire focus locked on you. “M’not wasted. Just a little… buzzed.” His head swayed slightly, and you could tell he was lying.

“Rafe.”

“Okay, maybe a lot buzzed,” he admitted with a laugh, tilting his head dramatically. “But, babe, listen. I miss you so much.”

Your heart melted instantly. “You do?”

“Duh,” he scoffed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m tryin’ to have fun, but I keep thinking about you. You should be here. Should be cuddlin’ me.”

Barry snorted in the background. “He hasn’t shut up about you for the past hour.”

Rafe shot him a glare. “Shut up, Barry.” Then, he turned back to you, pouting. “Baby, you left me all alone.”

You giggled. “You’re literally with Barry.”

“But it’s not the same,” he whined, flopping back against the couch. “Barry doesn’t smell as good as you. Barry doesn’t give me kisses. Barry doesn’t—”

“Okay, we get it, bro,” Barry interrupted, shaking his head. “I ain’t your girl, and I ain’t tryna be.”

Rafe rolled his eyes dramatically, then focused back on you, lower lip jutting out. “Come over,” he pleaded.

You shook your head. “You’re drunk, Rafe.”

“So?” He blinked. “I still love you when I’m drunk.” His voice was soft, almost vulnerable. “Love you even more, actually.”

Your stomach flipped, warmth spreading through your chest. “You’re cute when you’re like this.”

“I’m always cute,” he corrected, grinning lazily. “But you’re the cutest. Prettiest. Sweetest. The bestest girlfriend in the whole world.”

Barry made a gagging noise in the background. “Christ, I need another drink.”

Rafe ignored him, too busy staring at you through the screen like you were the only thing that mattered. “Baby, please come over,” he whispered, eyes practically begging. “Wanna hold you.”

You bit your lip, debating. It was late, but Rafe wasn’t going to let this go. And honestly? You missed him too.

“I’ll think about it,” you teased.

Rafe gasped dramatically. “No, don’t think. Just do.”

Barry laughed. “This is the neediest I’ve ever seen you, man.”

Rafe huffed. “You wouldn’t get it, Barry. You’ve never been in love.”

Barry raised a brow. “And you have?”

Rafe didn’t even hesitate. His gaze softened as he looked at you. “Yeah. I have.”

Your breath hitched. He was drunk, but you knew it was the truth. The raw honesty in his voice made your heart flutter.

“Fine,” you sighed, rolling out of bed. “I’ll come over.”

Rafe cheered like a little kid, grinning ear to ear. “Yes! Best girlfriend ever!”

Barry just shook his head. “Y’all are disgusting.”

But you didn’t care. Because even through the screen, you could see the way Rafe looked at you—like you were the only person in the world.

[landopoet]

playgrounds and playdates.

pairing single dad!lando x single mum!reader

synopsis in which meeting a single dad and his son turns your whole life upside down.

author’s note this story has taken me so long to write and i’m so sorry for that!! as always, thank you to @clovermoters for the constant help, support and encouragement. i love you all, hope you enjoy <3

♯

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟearly spring, march 13th

the green canopy of the trees held back most of the sunlight and the last drops of warmth you’d soak up before fully submerging yourselves in the forest. 

your little one, a three year old girl named stevie, was happily running along the track, her youthful laughter echoing through the silent forest. it just became warm enough to finally go on walks again and visit her favourite place. 

though, the girl had many favourite places. if you’d ask stevie, she’d name at least four before finally deciding on the playground. 

“mum, look!” stevie beamed, her tiny finger pointing towards the end of her path and the playground that came into view the farther she ran. 

you smiled at her, not needing to walk too fast to keep up with her pace. “i see, sweetheart. you wanna swing?” 

“nuh uh,” the girl shook her head, stopping in her steps to look up at you. “sandbox.” 

“ah, how could i forget,” you nodded in approval and your little girl took off running again. “don’t eat the sand, angel.” you warn as soon as you two make it to the sand pit. there’s already some toys there but pull out the pink sand toy set from your bag and hand it to stevie. 

as the little girl plays, you watch and wonder how you got so lucky with stevie, as she was already so independent for her age. she was smart, resilient, empathetic and everything you wouldn’t expect a three year old to be. 

you wanted her to remember her childhood as best as possible, so you made a scrapbook— called it ‘stevie’s adventures’— and marked down bits and pieces of her life. so far, you’ve added the hospital bracelet you wore during labour and some of her infant stuff, like socks, a few onesies and even a few binkies. 

you decide to snap a picture of her in the sandbox, now playing with a blond, curly-haired boy who couldn’t have been much older than her. taking a picture of a stranger's child would go against everything you’ve been doing to protect stevie’s personal life from online creeps, so you look around to try and find whoever’s responsible for the kid. 

the only other adult person on this playground is standing a few steps away from your bench, navy sweatered arms crossed across his chest, white cap adorning his curly haired head. he looks intimidating and cold, like he’d shatter you with just a glance. 

eventually, you muster up the courage to speak to him. “uhm, excuse me?” 

the man turns to you like he was expecting you to speak to him, moustached lips turning into a welcoming smile. “what’s up?” 

“is that your child in the sandbox?” you point to the boy, although you could already tell they were related— the subtle curls sticking out from under his cap matched the boys’ ones perfectly. the man nods, a little confused. “okay so this is really random, but i like to take pictures of moments in my daughter’s life and i was wondering if you’re okay with your son being in it?”

the stranger seems to let out a sigh of relief, a little less anxious about your line of questioning. “yeah, that’s fine.” 

you give him a slight nod accompanied by a small smile. he watches as you pull out your camera, bring it up to your eye and get your perfect shot before putting it back into your bag. when your eyes flicker back towards him, he hesitantly extends a hand. “i’m lando.”

you blink at him twice before getting up and shaking his hand. “nice to meet you, lando. i’m y/n.”

he lingers for a moment, just watching you when you turn your attention back to the kids in the sandbox. the little boy is sharing his dinosaur bucket with stevie and she’s shovelling sand into it, babbling on about something you can’t hear. 

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟmarch 27th

“stevie!”

your head whips towards the source of the sound, coming from a young boy. it takes you a few seconds before you notice his dad and both of you smile at each other. 

stevie runs up to the boy and gives him a tight squeeze. “theo!” 

over the past two weeks, you had come to the park a few times and met lando, and his son theo, there each time. not on purpose, it’s just that your park schedules just seemed to match up. 

stevie became very fond of theo over such a short time and it warms your heart to see her beaming face as they play tag around the swing set.

“is your kid a picky eater?” lando suddenly asks, trying to break the unnecessarily awkward silence. “theo doesn’t eat carrots, all of a sudden. used to be his favourite snack until literally this morning.” 

you try to hide your laughter when lando pinches the bridge of his nose, jokingly frustrated with his son. “stevie doesn’t eat the crust on bread or broccoli stems.” 

“theo would agree with her about the importance of crustless bread in their diet,” lando hums, nodding at your answer. “sometimes i wonder if he’s even my kid, ‘cause his taste in food is so different.” 

“he’s the spitting image of you, lando, i figured he was yours before we even spoke.” you roll your eyes, playfully. “and i don’t think taste in anything is genetic. at least i hope not. god forbid stevie goes through the awkward teenage phase of wearing strictly skinny jeans and band tees.” 

lando chuckles. “yeah, i couldn’t see teenage theo rocking straight and damaged hair.” 

“did you straighten it?” you tilt your head to the side, curious as to why anyone would want to get rid of their curls. 

“used to,” he nods. “met theo’s mum and she taught me the proper techniques and products to use to get my hair healthy and curly again.” 

ah, theo’s mum. you had wondered if lando had a partner. not for any particular reason, it was just because you only ever saw him at the park with theo and never the boys mum.

“mum!” stevie runs up to you, out of breath. “thirsty.”

your daughter wasn’t a fan of using many words in her sentences and, at first, you had begun to worry about it, but after many doctors visits, they confirmed that it was just a quirk she had adopted.

you open your bag and take out her water bottle. stevie basically rips it out of your hands, urgent to get as many gulps down as she can before she continues to play tag with theo. 

the boy was stood by his dad, hugging him around the waist as lando pushed theo’s curls out of his face. “you tired yet?” he asks, already knowing the answer. 

“nuh uh,” theo shakes his head, instantly. “i like playing with stevie.” 

“i know you do, bud, but we have to make dinner. you said you’d help me make that cheesy pasta you like.” lando raises his brows a few times, trying to pique his son's interest.

theo sighs. “i know. could stevie come over someday, then?” 

lando’s eyes flicker up to yours, “could she? i host the best tea parties in town.” 

you turn your head back to stevie when an excited gasp leaves her lips. “tea party?” she practically squeals as she repeats what lando said. “mum, can we go? please, please, please!” 

the expectant look on stevie, theo, and even lando’s, faces makes you laugh. “i don’t see why not.” 

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟapril 4th

“and would the princess like some biscuits with her tea?” lando asked, clad in grey sweatpants, white shirt… and a superman cape. apparently this tea party turned into a costume party, and you didn’t get the memo.

your daughter giggled before tipping her head and lifting up the sides of her cinderella dress. “yes, please.”

theo sat between them, happily smiling at the exchange between lando and stevie. “i want some too, dad!”

“biscuits for batman and cinderella coming right up!” he smiles at them before looking at you and nodding his head as an urge for you to get up. you follow him into the kitchen. 

“had no idea you were superman, i feel like i should bow down to my hero or something,” you smile over the rim of your cup. 

“nah, it’s a sidegig.” lando shrugs, nonchalantly, as he pulls out a few different types of biscuits from a cupboard. “is stevie allergic to anything?” 

“nope,” you shake your head. “but she likes to say she’s allergic to cucumber peel.” 

“ah, the famous excuse for not eating food they don’t like. been there. theo was trying to convince me that he was allergic to tomatoes until i told him what ketchup was made from.” lando laughed. 

you smile at how fondly he speaks of theo. “where’s theo’s mum?” you suddenly blurt, eyes wide as you cover your mouth. “sorry, that’s such a personal question, i didn’t mean to.”

“well, you were clearly curious about it.” lando looks at you. “and that’s okay. but i’d rather talk about something else.” 

“yes, sorry.” you nod. “what do you do for work?”

“i work at a karting place. i own it, actually.” lando spreads the biscuits out nicely onto a platter, adding a few cut up fruits from the fridge to make somewhat of a charcuterie board. 

“oh, so that’s why you can afford karting for theo,” you hum, before taking a sip of your coffee, remembering one of the first conversations you had about your children’s hobbies. stevie likes to draw and play pretend, meanwhile theo finds joy in racing. 

“that and his godfather being an F1 driver,” lando smiles fondly, eyes darting up to yours for a brief second before he goes back to assembling the snack board. “i used to race, too, before theo.” 

“do you miss it?” you watch him closely, noticing the slight wince in his face. 

eventually, he shrugs. “sometimes. other times, i realise how little energy fatherhood takes out of me compared to sitting in a small, hot space for hours at a time.” 

“mm,” you hum again, nodding. you can’t really imagine anything harder than motherhood. “but that’s cars versus raising and nourishing a whole other human and personality.”

“yeah, true.” he agrees. “i guess i just got lucky with theo.”

“or he got lucky with you.” you and lando share a glance that lasts a little too long and seems a little too fond for just acquainted parents. you clear your throat and look away, instead choosing to watch whatever’s left in your mostly empty cup.

࿐ ࿔*:･ may 23rd

after a few more weeks of playdates at each other’s houses, theo saw it fit to include stevie in one of his favourite things in the world— karting.

the young boy pestered his father endlessly, using his puppy eyes technique to get what he wanted. “please?” he asked, dragging out the last syllable of the word to be a little more annoying and convincing.

“i’m sorry, bud. i don’t think she’ll like karting.” lando watched his sons face turn from hopeful to frustrated. the little boy crossed his arms over his chest, turning himself away from lando and facing the nearest wall to their couch. 

“i won’t go if she’s not there.” 

the simple yet strongly made statement forced lando to hold back a snort. “fine, i’ll call and see if she’d like to come. but i’m not promising anything.”

when friday afternoon rolled around, lando was delighted— and relieved— to see you and stevie making your way over to where he and theo were waiting. 

“dad, it’s stevie!” theo’s face lit up as stevie ran over to them. “hi!”

“hi, theo!” stevie smiled and hugged him. she waved at lando. “hey, dude!” 

“stevie, what did i tell you about calling people dude?” you say and playfully roll your eyes before looking at lando. “she randomly picked it up from who knows where and now everyone is dude.” 

lando chuckles. “that’s funny, dude.” he looks down at stevie with an excited grin. “you ready to race?” 

“heck yeah, dude.” stevie giggles and balls her hand into a fist, bumping it with lando’s. her hazel eyes look intensely at his open palm when he offers her a hand, confused as for whether or not he’s safe to walk with.

stevie’s seen and spent time with lando multiple times now, but everytime she did, you were there. in this moment, she was stood alone next to theo and lando, and even though you were only a few steps behind her, she felt like she was all by herself.

she turns her blonde head of hair towards you, eyes glancing up to look at yours. she was looking for any sign of disapproval or worry, but instead she saw you nodding your head encouragingly. “you need to get your helmet on, baby. lando will help you and then you can meet me back here, okay?”

stevie bites her lip with a glint of worry in her eye, but swiftly turns around and places her tiny palm in lando’s. lando gives you a small smile and the three of them make their way into the building. 

stevie’s worries seem to lessen the more lando jokes around with her. first, he puts his balaclava on backwards, making both the kids laugh at how goofy he looked while flailing his arms around in the air. secondly, he tries to put on a helmet too small, which again results in a fit of giggles from theo and stevie. eventually, when he finds the perfect size helmet for stevie, he gets theo’s one— obviously designed with his favourite animated characters and colours— and leads the kids outside. 

you watch as stevie runs to you, looking like a bobble-head because of how huge the helmet seemed. “woah, look at you.” you gasp as you squat down to be her height. “you scared?” 

“nuh uh,” stevie shakes her head. “lando said i’m a rockstar and i’ll do great.” 

your heart swells a bit. just as you’re about to speak, theo runs up to you both. “sorry, but my dad asked to bring stevie over to get her ready. he said you can go make coffee inside, though!” 

“thank you, theo,” you smile softly and get up, watching as the two kids run towards lando with their hands held. 

while you navigate through the building and try to find a place where you can secretly watch stevie and theo racing, lando explains how everything works to stevie. 

“okay, so,” he places a hand atop her left foot, “you’ll have to push this foot forward to move, and this one,” he places the same hand on her other foot, “to slow down and stop. okay?” 

“just like a car?” stevie tilts her head to the side, her interest piqued despite her never even seeing how a kart drives. 

lando smiles and nods. “just like a car. if you get scared, you can slow down and stop, and i’ll run over to help you. you can go as slow as you’d like but don’t go too fast, you could hurt yourself or get dizzy.” 

“okay, dude,” stevie nods, trying her best to retain as much of the information as she could. her eyes follow lando as he walks over towards theo’s kart, the two talking about something that made theo laugh. 

you watch from inside the building, worried eyes following lando’s every move. when he starts up stevie’s kart, you can briefly feel your heart stop beating. you’ve never been so scared for her, and even though lando assured you there’s no way she could hurt herself, you’re not sure if you could forgive yourself in the case of an accident. 

lando finds you holding a hand over your chest as you watched the two kids drive around the track. “hey,” he said, calmly, trying his best not to startle you. 

you gave him a weak smile. “hi. was she nervous?” 

“a little, but that’s normal.” he walked up and stood next to you, before placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “i explained to her how it works. she’s a smart kid and a fast learner.” 

“yeah,” you nodded. “what if something goes wrong?” 

“it won’t.” his voice was calm as you leaned into his touch, his arm sneaking down your back and around your waist to pull you into a side-hug. “i asked theo to let her pass him a few times so she gets the full experience of karting. maybe you’ll have a little racer on your hands.” 

your head subconsciously lays on his shoulder as your crossed arms stay firm against your chest. “yeah, don’t think i’d be able to afford it, but i guess her and theo would get to have more playdates.” 

“i’d help you,” he hummed, his own head resting atop of yours. “i mean, the competitions would probably cost a bit but i’d provide her with a kart and helmet. max would also love to pitch in.” 

“don’t be silly,” you laughed a little. “she already does ballet in the mornings.” 

“who said she can’t be a ballerina and a racer at the same time? she’d be the coolest kid on the planet if so,” he softly smiles, eyes looking down at your focused face. “besides, i’d get to spend a little more time with her mum.” 

“mhm,” you bit back a wider smile. “who says you can’t do that regardless?” 

lando’s heart skips a beat when you turn your head to look at him, only then realising how close you two actually were— his nose brushed yours when you raised your head and his breath fanned your face. he felt his stomach drop and he froze before finally giving in. 

just as you felt his lips inch closer to yours, an employee of his knocked on the doorframe to the room. “one of the kiddos stopped in the middle of the track and she’s asking for lando.” 

the curly-haired man jolts away from you, as if he was caught doing something he shouldn’t have been and turns around to awkwardly say, “uh, okay, i’ll go and, uhm, check.” 

you can’t help but shake your head with a small laugh as you watched the man leave the room at record speed. 

meanwhile, lando was trying to keep his composure in front of the kids. he’s sure they’d blab to you if they noticed him smiling like an idiot. “everything okay, kiddo?” he kneeled in front of stevie’s kart. 

stevie tries to pull the helmet off, but the buckle keeps it tightly situated on her small head. lando helps her unbuckle it and pulls the helmet off, watching as she takes off the bright pink balaclava— her choice— and sighs. “i’m hungry.” 

lando snorts at how random her request seemed. “alright, let’s go get theo and ask your mum if she’d like to join us for dinner, yeah?” 

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

“no, stevie, we don’t throw the food.” 

the little girl halted her movements, her hand in the air as her eyes focused on yours. she had a fist full of vegetables, ones that she clearly wasn’t enjoying, and was getting ready to throw on the floor and an evil glint in her eye. instead of doing as she first intended, she opened her fingers and the vegetables fell all over the table, a few of them landing in lando’s lap.

“sorry, sometimes she just-” you were already making up excuses for your daughter’s childish behaviour when lando cut you off.

“it’s okay, she’s probably overstimulated from an eventful day. it happens.” he shrugs as he picks the peas off from his lap. “y’know, theo threw up on me once after karting, which is why he refuses to eat before he goes on track anymore.”

you stifle a laugh before sitting back up from collecting the vegetables that fell to the floor. stevie was in active conversation with theo and seemed to have forgotten about the vegetables. a few minutes pass before lando speaks again.

“thank you,” he notices the confusion in the tilt of your head. “for coming. it means a lot to theo and, well, to me.” 

the sincerity in his voice made all the blood in your body rush to your cheeks, tinting them the gentlest shade of maroon that lando didn’t miss. “no worries, we’re happy to join you anytime.” 

lando ignores the feelings brewing in his chest and continues eating. you follow his lead and all four of you were done eating in another half hour. 

the waiter came to your table and before you could even ask to split the bill, lando was handing hera a few paper bills and she had scurried off to get his change. 

“weren’t we going to split?” you ask, a little confused. 

lando shrugged. “it’s on me, don’t worry about it.” 

you had already felt bad that he didn’t accept your money for the karting that day, or the ice cream he had bought for stevie a week or so ago, but dinner? you felt the guilt bubble in your stomach growing. “lando, it’s not fair on yo-“ 

“can you just accept that you don’t have to do everything by yourself?” he reasons. “i asked you to come to karting, i paid for it, same with dinner and that extra hour at the park so the kiddos could get ice cream from the ice cream truck. i did it because i want to and i don’t expect anything in return.”

when you look up at him, your expression clearly less upset than before, he decides to crack a joke. “except for maybe a kiss or two.” 

you roll your eyes and the waiter brings back his change just as you’re about to make a witty comeback. 

lando, being the gentleman that he is, offered to drive you both home and you couldn’t deny it after seeing how sleepy stevie had gotten. she fell asleep on the ride home and after lando pulled into the driveway of your small home, you got out to unbuckle her and carry her inside. 

theo waited patiently in the car, listening to a podcast about dinosaurs in his earbuds while lando walked you to your door. 

he smiled down at the sleeping stevie in your arms, bringing a hand up to gently caress her cheek with his finger. “we must’ve wore her out.” 

“she hadn’t had a nap today,” you looked down at your daughter. “pretty sure she’ll sleep through the night.” 

lando’s gaze had shifted to your face subconsciously and he didn’t realise how close you were getting when you looked back up at him. you pulled him in with a soft hold of his jaw, your lips gently pressing against his. 

lando’s hand came up to hold your cheek. the kiss lasted way longer than you intended, but you weren’t complaining. when you finally pulled away, breathless and pink, lando was speechless and in awe. “thank you for today.” 

you closed the door behind yourself, watching through the window of your living room as his car pulled out of your driveway. stevie covered her mouth with her small hand as she giggled. “ooo, mama kissed cool dude.”

a small gasp left your lips as you looked down at stevie. “you saw that?” she nodded her small head. “oh, god.” 

࿐ ࿔*:･ may 28th

you were making dinner in the kitchen when stevie yelled for you from the living room. 

“what is it?” you walk down the hall while wiping your hands on a dishrag. stevie points at the window, lando’s car coming into view when you step closer. “oh, what’s he doing here?” 

stevie watches from the window as you make your way outside to greet a disheveled lando and a smiley theo. 

“hey, everything okay?” you ask when the man finally looks up at you. “i didn’t know you were coming over, i would’ve doubled up on dinner.” 

“i’m not staying for long,” he says, hastily. you could tell he was stressed out and rushing somewhere. “could you watch theo for tonight?” 

“what?” you blink. 

“it’s max, he, uhm,” lando turns to theo and tells him to run inside to see what stevie was up to. when the young boy is out of earshot, lando continues. “max isn’t eating or sleeping. he’s had a bad race and the media’s giving him shit for it. i’m going to visit him and check up on him, and i’d usually bring theo but i don’t want him to see max like that.” 

“oh, god.” you place a hand on lando’s shoulder and he just pulls you into a tight hug. “i can’t imagine how stressed you are. you go take care of max, okay? theo will be okay with us.”  

“thank you so much,” lando pulls away and pecks your lips. “i’ll be back tomorrow evening.” 

and before you can even register that he just kissed you, he’s in his car and halfway down the neighbourhood.

when you make your way inside, the kiddos are on the floor in the living room, theo’s backpack open with half of the content spilled out. 

“would you like to have dinner with us, theo?” you ask the boy and he shakes his head, explaining that lando had given him his dinner before hastily packing his sleepover bag. but when you offered a snack of crackers and cheese, the boy happily agreed.

you turned on an animated film for the kids to watch as you did your washing up for the night before bed. a small smile creeped up on your face as you heard the two little humans giggling about something that only existed in their own world.

as the evening progressed and the kids grew more tired, you laid them both to bed. stevie had a second bed in her room as her cousin often comes visit during the summer, which ended up being perfect for a kid theo’s height. 

routinely, you were obligated to switch on the starry night light and read a story. theo requested a bedtime story about dinosaurs, meanwhile stevie wanted one about princesses, and you somehow managed to make both work.

once you heard the familiar tiny snores escape stevie’s lips, and when theo had turned to his side, you left the room and kept a small crevice of the door ajar. 

the next morning, you had already begun to prepare pancakes while dulcet sounds of jazz music filled your kitchen, when theo gently tugged on your apron. 

“you okay?” you kneeled down to his height and theo rubbed his tired eyes awake before pulling you into a hug. “oh.” 

“dad always gives me morning cuddles,” he explained, a certain sadness in his voice that broke your heart to hear. 

you picked the boy up in your arms and gently caressed his back. “you miss him, huh?” 

theo just nodded, nestling his head onto your shoulder as his arms laid draped over your biceps. “i knew you were as nice as dad said.” 

you can’t help but softly smile at his comment. “thank you, theo. he talks about me?” 

you knew it was wrong to ask a kid such a question, but the words had already escaped your mouth before you could catch them. 

“sometimes,” he hums, a yawn threatening to make its presence. “i think he likes you a lot.” 

“yeah? how so?” you poke his side as a tease. 

theo straightens up a bit, to see your face. “he gets shy when he talks about you to maxie and pietra. and he gets all red like you are right now.” 

you shake your head and tickle his face with the hair that flings around you both. “am not.”

“are too,” he giggles. 

you place him down on the ground and give him an encouraging tap on the back. “how about you go wake stevie up for pancakes?” 

“can you cut it into a pterodactyl?” 

 “can i cut it into a pterodactyl?” theo giggles when you scoff, displaying faux offence. “of course i can.”

the little boy runs back down the hallway and towards stevie’s room. your heart bursts a little when he calls out for your daughter.

“stevie! your mum’s making dinosaur pancakes!” 

࿐ ࿔*:･ june 10th

you expected your first date with lando to be somewhere fancy enough for you to wear a dress you bought while still pregnant with stevie. 

fortunately for both of you, lando offered a night in and you were far too big of a romcom lover to deny his request. 

“thank god you agreed to this,” lando slumps his shoulders when you pry open your front door. you take a second to admire his simple attire— a light blue zip up hoodie with matching sweatpants. 

you move to the side and open the door a little more to let him in. “thank god to max and pietra for agreeing to watch both the kids.” 

“oh, yeah, they’ve been begging me to bring both you and stevie over since the first time you four met.” he sets the bags of stuff down on the dining table. “i think pietra adores you a little.” 

“i hope she knows the feelings are mutual, she’s so cool.” you smile softly. 

“hey, she said the same about you!” lando laughs and when you come close enough, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into a hug from behind while unbagging. 

“i bought way too much ice cream but i didn’t know what flavour you liked best so i chose five that i hoped you liked.” he explains as he takes out the third box. “oh, and wine.” 

you lean back into his chest and turn your head just barely to place a kiss on his jawline. “thank you.”

lando’s heartbeat speeds up in a brief second and he hopes you can’t see the blush on his face. he quickly recollects himself and, without letting you go, brings both of you to your kitchen. of course, both of you being so close against one another means that you nearly trip and fall with every step you take. 

eventually, through many giggles and bumps into furniture, you two find yourselves in the living room, spoons and ice cream in hand. 

lando takes a seat on the sofa, arm draped over the back of it as an invitation for you to join him. once you pluck the remote off the coffee table and fetch a blanket for the two of you, lando feels you nestle against him.

“what’re we watching?” he asks, eyes focused on you instead of the screen. 

you shrug. “horror movie?” 

“no,” he sternly says. “i hate them. rom-com, please.”

you stifle a laugh and focus back on the television. after skimming through the films, the two of you choose notting hill and cozy up to watch it. 

about half an hour in, you notice lando’s heartbeat quicken underneath your cheek, but you decide to brush it off as nothing. eventually, he speaks up. 

“so, i’ve been thinking,” lando begins, his voice soft and cautious. his eyes search your face, looking for any sign that might stop him from saying what’s on his mind. but all he sees is the face he’s grown to love and that only urges him to continue.

you slightly sit up, a little worried by what he’s going to say. “about what?”

“us, our kids, you.” he reaches over to grab your hand in his. as his thumb gently caresses the back of your hand, his eyes rest on yours. “i love the way things are between us lately, and i like being around you and stevie, but i want to be more than just movie nights and playdates.” 

your heart skips a beat. “you mean… like, officially? you want to be together?” 

he nods with that same smile you’ve grown so fond of. “yeah, i mean, i know it’s a long-shot and it’s risky with our kids’ friendship and all, but theo already loves you and i’m sure stevie adores me,” he jokes and you playfully roll your eyes. “but it would make me the happiest man alive if you were my girlfriend.” 

“wow,” you’re speechless. “i didn’t think i’d actually hear you say that.”

“i’ve been overthinking it for days,” he laughs, anxiety riddled all across his face as he watches your expression. he can’t exactly read it and that makes him even more nervous. “not to pressure you or anything-“

“yes,” you cut him off, a wide grin on your face as he pulls you into a hug. “i’ve never been so giddy about someone before.”

“yeah?” he flashes you that same, wide grin before pulling you in for a kiss.

“oh gosh, we have to tell the kids,” you gasp with a hand gently pushing lando’s kissy face away. he furrows his brows, confused as for why he can’t kiss his girlfriend.

“theo knows,” lando shrugs. “i told him that i’d be asking you to be my girlfriend and at first asked if he’d be okay with that.”

“and what’d he say?” you lay your head in lando’s lap as he plays with your hair, a small smile on his face. 

“he asked if that means you’ll be able to stay around more, and then said that you make the best pancakes.”

“oh, did he tell you about the dinosaur pancakes?”

lando nods. “he asked me to make them the next morning and told me to take him to your house, because i didn’t get them right.”

a laugh escapes your lips. “you could’ve come over, you know? i would’ve been happy to serve theo some more dino pancakes, and maybe taught you how to make them.”

“yeah?” he leans down to place a kiss on your lips, hoping that this time you don’t push him away. and it’s quite the opposite actually, because he feels your hand on the back of his head, tugging gently at the curls cascading down his neck as you pull him in deeper.

despite having kissed you a couple times before, this kiss makes lando that much more excited to spend as much time with you as you and stevie were willing to grant him. 

and he’ll make sure it’s the most loved you two will ever feel. 

࿐ ࿔*:･ december 14th

“theo, watch your step.”

the young boy was carrying a box bigger than himself with stevie following right behind him, a smaller box of her stuff in hand. 

today was the day you were moving into your new home– a home you and stevie will be sharing with the two most important boys in your life– and you couldn’t be more excited. 

to some, it seemed like it all came too soon— the relationship, the moving in together, caring for each other’s child whenever the other needed it, but neither you nor lando cared what others thought. 

it was clear from the first few months of knowing you that lando would be head over heels in love with you. he didn’t care how quickly your lives entwined, instead he was excited to see what would grow from it.

you placed the last few boxes in the living room and stood in the doorframe to the dining room, watching as stevie and theo chased each other, their laughter echoing off of the walls. 

lando’s hands creep around your waist as he pulls you in from behind. he places a gentle kiss against your hairline, “welcome home, love.”

you turn around to face him, arms instinctively hugging his neck as your eyes well with tears. 

“welcome home to us.” 

࿐ ࿔*:･ two years later, june 26th

the sun peeked from behind the clouds, rays of light bouncing off of your face as the pinks, blues and oranges merged into a beautiful sunset above the water. 

it was one of the warmer days and lando decided to take you all out for a picnic on the beach. it wasn’t unusual for him to plan spontaneous activities, but still he was nervous you knew what he was up to. 

the velvet box sat tucked away in the bag of stuff he packed, his heartbeat quickening every time you dove into it to find something you needed. 

that’s where theo came in.

“y/n,” he called out just as your hand was reaching into the exact corner the box was located in. you turned your attention to the boy, sitting up straight. 

while theo was blowing your mind with his dinosaur facts, lando hastily stuck his hand into the bag and retrieved the ring box, immediately putting it into his pocket. when theo glanced back over to his dad, lando gave him a reassuring wink and the boy took off to play by the water with stevie, again. 

“oh, guess that’s all he wanted,” you shrugged before turning around to lando. “you didn’t pack any napkins?” 

“oh,” lando panicked. fuck, through all his meticulous planning with max and pietra, he forgot to pack the most important thing. how was he supposed to propose with his hands all messy? “uhm, no, must’ve forgot, sorry.”

you leaned over to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. “that’s alright, i’ll go splash around in the water with the kiddos and wash my hands then.” 

lando watched as you pulled yourself up and made your way towards the water, his heart pounding against his sternum. he took one last glance at the box that could make or break the future with you he had already planned out in his head, and followed your lead. 

once he was close enough, stevie ran up to him. “lando! the water is so warm, come feel it.” 

he couldn’t say no to the little girls pleading eyes and followed her as she dragged him to the water. he took that as one last chance to calm himself down and get it over with. 

lando was only nervous because it wasn’t just you he’s proposing to. stevie had become such an important part of his life that he’s afraid of ruining her perception of him if the proposal were to go wrong. and his mother already loved the girl, even after the handful of times they’ve met. 

so, anxiety was understandable in his case.

he watched stevie’s wide grin as she looked out at the water, and then behind herself to where her mum and theo were chatting. 

you had noticed lando’s behaviour change, ever since last night, but you figured it was something he’d bring up to you if he wanted to talk about it, so you haven’t paid much thought to it. 

lando’s made his to you, stevie’s small hand in his, and his other one on the box. his chest felt like it was getting smaller and smaller with each step he took towards you. the only thing that calmed him down was your smile while looking at them both. 

you watched as stevie let go and ran towards you, yet quickly swerved to find where theo was. your eyes followed her to see that she wouldn’t run into any trouble, and when you turned back around, you saw a nervous lando. “you okay?” you nervously laugh. “you’ve been weird all day today.” 

“there’s so many things i could say to you right now, but i think it’s better to save them for our vows.”

“vow- what?” you furrow your brows. that’s when he sinks down to one knee and you feel your eyes well up with tears.

he took a breath, a small smile adorning his face, and then the words you had dreamed of hearing, ever since you were a little girl, left his mouth.

“will you marry me?”

࿐ ࿔*:･ wedding day

you watched the on-going bustle of guests from the window of your lonesome dressing room.

the echoing sound of your heart pounding against your sternum was loud in your head as you tried to steady your breathing. this was actually, really happening. 

you felt your hands shake with how nervous you were, albeit having practiced your vows in the mirror for the past two months, and knowing that lando is truly the one you wish to spend the rest of your life with. 

your feet drag you across the hardwood floor of the dressing room, fingers nervously fiddling with one of the more textured parts of your dress. you could feel yourself getting more and more nervous as the clock on the wall ticked by, each second granting you a moment more of anxiety and stress. 

your head whips towards the door when a knock echoes through the empty room. “uhm, who is it?” 

the door pries open to reveal a curly head of hair with a hand over his eyes. “me, may i come in?” 

“what the hell, no?!” you exclaim, panicking. “it’s bad luck for the groom to see his bride before the ceremony, we talked about this.” 

despite your best efforts to verbally usher him out, lando makes his way inside and shuts the door behind him, his eyelashes resting atop his cheeks as the green of his irises stay hidden behind eyelids. 

“i know, i know,” he sighs in defeat. “but i just had to come see you before the ceremony. well, not see you, exactly, but just, be in your presence, i guess.” 

you drop your arms by your sides, sulking a little. “i’m so nervous, lan,” lando could hear your pout and it made him smile. 

“i know, me too,” he makes his way over to where he thinks you are and reaches a hand out to find the cusp of your waist. he can feel the fabric of the dress as it sits atop your skin, a smirk forming on his lips. “feels pretty.”

“hey, no!” you swat his hand away. “i’ll run away from the wedding if you do that again.”

“oh, c’mon,” he defends, smiling underneath his palm. his eyes were still shut and his left hand covered them tightly, not a single space left between his fingers to ensure that he couldn’t get even a glance. “i don’t even get a feel?” 

“not even a feel,” you cross your arms over your chest and realised he can’t see your sassiness like he usually would. “i just crossed my arms, by the way.”

“i know,” lando shrugs. “i also know you’ve been staring out the window and ogling at people like a psycho.”

you furrow your brows, “how’d you know that?”

“cause i know you.” 

a shiver runs down your spine and you can’t help but blush at what lando says, even after close to three years of being together. “what did you really come here for?”

“a good luck kiss?” he asks, so soft and hopeful, that it makes you give in. lando feels your hands gently guiding his face down towards yours, before your lips softly rest against his. he, of course, tries to kiss you like usual– aggressive, long and sweet. 

yet you pull away before he can even think of pulling you in by the chin. “the better kiss is for the ceremony, babe,”

he sighs and drops his shoulders, his head dropping as he displays faux disappointment. “fine, whatever. saying you hate me would hurt less.”

“yeah, because i hate you so much that both me and my daughter are taking your last name,” you roll your eyes. 

“our daughter,” his voice is stern when he corrects you. lando hears a noise outside the door, suddenly alert and tense. “i think it’s almost time.”

you take one last peek out the window and notice everyone in their seats. “oh, god, yeah. go, you can’t be seen here.”

“alright, love you, see you out there” he turns around and reaches for the door. “pretend i winked at you when i said ‘see you out there’, cause i couldn’t actually wink an-“

“lando, go!” you step closer to him, your dress whispering beneath you as your hands gently urge him to leave. 

“one more kiss?” he suddenly turns back around and you roll your eyes. 

“you’re impossible,” you cup his face again.

“so i’ve been told,” he smirks against your lips. “and yet you’re marrying me, mrs. norris.”

“i wouldn’t have it any other way,” you place another peck against his pursed lips before the door shuts in front of you, and you’re left alone with your thoughts, again. 

you stand there for a moment, heart racing and palms sweating, yet still you were feeling more certain than ever that this was the best decision you ever could’ve made.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

the ceremony has long passed and now you are in the middle of the dance floor, your hands held with theo. 

the young boy expressed that he didn’t want to dance anymore, so you brought him to the table where his plate sits. on it, of course, are the dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets you and lando specifically requested for theo to have. 

your kids were now six and five, both very unique and yet somehow very similar. 

theodore maxwell norris was a smart boy, interested in pretty much anything to do with dinosaurs, space or monster trucks. he requested to spend his sixth birthday at a museum, which stevie was absolutely thrilled with. the two young children had always known how to entertain each other, ever since they met. 

stephanie jane norris, albeit a year younger than theo, was also quite smart for her age. she found interest in princesses, nature and most recently, karting. she accompanied theo to multiple of his races and took part in some practice laps, and found that it’s actually more fun than she remembered. 

your eyes caught a glimpse of lando as he danced with stevie on the dance floor, the little girl actively shaking her head to a rock song and lando laughing at her with max. the girl then grabbed both of them by the hand and started dancing in a circle, in turn bringing a smile to your face. 

“y/n?” theo poked your arm to catch your attention. you look down at him as he’s sat on the chair, eyes glaring up to yours. “do i have to call you mum now?” 

you kneel down to be his height and place a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “you don’t have to do anything you don’t feel comfortable with.” 

the little boy just shrugs before taking another chicken nugget off of his plate, “okay, mum.”

you felt your heart swell and eyes well with tears at the fact that he so casually called you mum. you had imagined that it’d take at least a few more years of getting more comfortable with you for that to happen, but the boy saw no reason not to call you that. stevie called lando dad, anyway, so it only seemed fair in his eyes.

what theodore failed to realise was that, without even knowing it, he managed to make extra room in your heart and build a pillow fort there, in which he and stevie resided. you had convinced yourself that stevie would be your only true love in this world, that you didn’t need to meet anyone or have more kids.

it’s funny how a man and his son could waltz their way into your life, and turn it around for the better. 

theo felt you place a gentle kiss to his head before you excused yourself to go dance with his dad. in the meanwhile, stevie had made her way behind theo and scared him. 

“don’t do that, stevie,” theodore warns before picking up his apple juice box and taking a few gulps. 

the girl shifts her weight from her heels to her toes. “sorry, theo. do you want to dance?” 

“can i be a dancing t-rex?” he asked, an eyebrow rising with curiosity. 

stevie giggled. “only if i can be your sister t-rex. let’s go!”  

he watched as you ran back towards the dance floor, his face still evidently confused as he mumbled to himself, “i thought she already was my sister?” 

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟinterview about max fewtrell’s wdc

“theo! daddy’s on tv!” stevie’s voice echoed through the living room and theo came rushing in with a bowl of popcorn, as if the interview was some sort of movie.

you were sandwiched between the two kids, the bowl strategically placed in your lap so they don’t have to strain too much to get their snack. 

the television screen showed a clear shot of lando and max chatting, lando’s arm wrapped around his best friend’s shoulders as he congratulated him again. 

the interviewer— theo had informed you that he was a retired formula one driver, nico rosberg— invited them in to chat and all three of you eagerly watched, waiting for them to start talking. 

“lando! what a pleasant surprise to see you here,” his german, or maybe british, accent echoed in the living room. “haven’t seen you here since you left the sport.”

“yeah, y’know,” lando flashed his wide, toothy grin, “life had other plans.” 

“yeah?” nico tilted his head to the side. “how’s your family? your son doing okay?”

lando pointed at the camera next to them. “they’re watching from our home back in england,” he turns his face towards the lens and waves at it. “hi guys.”

stevie and theo eagerly wave back. “hi dad!” they say, in unison, before breaking into a fit of giggles. 

lando continued talking about personal matters, trying his best not to get too into it. he knew how the media was, and you had already had some encounters with less than pleasant fans. 

finally, as nico was ready to wrap up the interview, he asked lando if there was anything he missed from his racing days. 

“honestly? no.” he shrugged. “i think quitting opened up a plethora of new opportunities for me, including growing my own little family. my wife and i are blessed to have each other and raise our daughter and sons.”

“sons?” nico furrows his brows. he lowers the microphone away from their faces and leans in cautiously. “i thought you had only theo?” 

theo looks up at you. “you’re pregnant?” 

“i’m going to have another brother? awesome!” stevie jumped up on the couch, and your fingers found the bridge of your nose to pinch, in search of any comfort. 

lando panicked. “i, uhm, max did great. he’s much stronger and tougher than he lets on, and maybe we should let the champion talk, yeah?” he blurted out all in one breath as he grabbed max by the shoulders and pulled him towards nico. max shook his head with confusion before turning towards the interviewer. 

little did he know his best friend just announced your pregnancy to the entire world. 

࿐ ࿔*:･ mother’s day

“mum!” 

you heard their fragile little voices from behind your closed bedroom door and tried your best to sit up, your pregnant belly making it that much harder to function. 

you’ve been on bedrest for the past week, and it’s been absolutely amazing getting to rest, but so boring. what does one do when forced to stay in bed all day? 

stevie and theo knew the answer.

“could we make mother’s day cards for mum?” theo asked lando over breakfast, just as he was making your oatmeal with berries.

the curly-haired man shrugged. “sure, but you only have until tomorrow morning.”

“ooh! and can we get her heart balloons and flowers?” stevie muffled, as she finished up the last bites of her pancake.  

“we don’t speak with our mouths full, love,” lando warns. “but yes, we can also get her balloons and flowers. you guys think she’ll like that?” 

“and a kiss from dad,” stevie giggled before hopping off her chair and making her way to the dish washer. lando shook his head with a laugh. 

in the very crack of morning, while all of you were sound asleep, lando had gone to the grocery store to buy all the necessities— red roses, self care items, some sweets and, of course, heart balloons, as per stevie’s instructions. 

when the kiddos woke up and when lando had made sure you were awake as well, they made their way to the master bedroom. 

their small hands knocked a rhythm onto the door before they heard your silent “come in!” 

your face lit up with a smile when your three favourite people made their way into the bedroom. “happy mother’s day!” the three of them smiled at you and lando pouted when he saw your eyes well with tears.

you soundlessly said “hormones” before stretching your arms out to bring both of your little loves into a hug.  

stevie presented you her card first. “it’s us! and we’re on an air balloon. and that’s baby.” 

she pointed her little fingers at the five figures on the page— you were holding hands with lando and next to you stood your three children. the newborn baby was in a stroller, which you took as a sign that stevie hopes your son will be here soon. 

next it was theo’s turn. he gave you the card without saying anything, instead offering you another hug when tears spilled down your cheeks as you read it. stars live in space and also in you! happy mother’s day. scribbled in the cutest six year old writing you’ve ever read. 

lando later explained that theo had watched a video about there, supposedly, being stardust in everyone’s blood, which made you even more emotional.

“thank you, my loves,” you hugged them all once again before lando made his way over to give you a kiss and the flowers. 

“thank you for being the best wife and mother to my kids that i could have asked for.”

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟwhere it all began.

baby noises and giggles fill your living room as you try to set up the camera to the best of your abilities. 

“theo, honey, could you hold henry more towards the middle?” you ask as you press your eye to the viewfinder eyepiece to check what the photo would look like. 

stevie sat on the left side of the sofa, an empty space left on the edge for you, as your newest addition— a six month old boy named henry parker norris— was snuggled between her and theo, with lando on the far right edge. 

“babe, just set it to video and come sit,” lando said, a little annoyed by how long the whole process is taking. “henry’s getting fussy.” 

“he’s okay, lan,” you roll your eyes. “and this is going in stevie’s scrapbook, so it needs to be perfect.”

it’s a few more minutes before you finally sit down and wait for ten seconds before you hear the click of your camera. after close inspection, you realise that stevie was making a weird face, lando was mid-blink, your hair looked a mess and theo was looking at henry. 

a sigh of defeat escapes your lips right as your front door opens and in comes pietra. “oh my god, thank god you’re here.” you exclaim, as if you hadn’t invited her for coffee, and she looks at you with a confused smile. “can you help with family photos?” 

she nodded and, without hesitation, followed you back to the living room. pietra stood behind the camera on the not-so-stable tripod and ordered you all around before snapping a few pictures. her logic was that if you take enough pictures in a set amount of time, at least a few of them are going to turn out good. 

and, after inspecting the pictures closely once more and deciding that they’re better than just good, you give her a hug and slump into it. “thank you, i was beginning to lose hope of making her a good scrapbook spread for her birthday.” 

pietra laughed. “she’s lucky to have such a hard-working mum, so i doubt she’d mind. but i’m happy to help!” 

after giving him the green light, lando helped the kids change and took care of henry’s feeding and diaper before packing them all up for a walk. “we’ll go make dinner while you two take my little man on a walk, sound good?”

you nodded and gave him a soft peck, and pietra followed you out to the front yard. both of you watched as lando, stevie and theo walked towards the car, on their way to the grocery store, while little henry waited for you, snug in his stroller. 

“i never imagined it,” pietra started. “lando being a dad to more than just theo, i mean. it suits him.” 

“yeah?” you turn your head towards her, a small and proud smile on your face as your fingers softly wrapped around the handle of the stroller. “i never imagined finding anyone else as important as stevie was to me. like i didn’t know my heart could expand enough to fit more than just her in there, y’know.” 

“yeah,” she nodded, following you as you made your way towards one of your favourite places in the world. “i mean, i guess that makes sense since you were each other’s biggest love for three years.”

“yeah, but now she’s a lot more loving to lando than me” a laugh leaves your lips. the chilly spring air caressed your cheeks as you pushed the beige coloured stroller. your little newborn lay peacefully in it, little eyes curiously wandering around. 

he was barely six and a half months old, but already so attentive, responsive and curious, and looked just like stevie when she was this age. he was a peaceful baby so far— not much fussing during the day and he slept well at nights. on the few occasions that he didn’t, lando would be up in a flash to take care of your little henry’s needs.

it was endearing to watch him explore fatherhood with three kids now, as opposed to when it was just him and theo. you admired how sweet he was with stevie while explaining why he does what he does when changing diapers or fixing bottles, or how he intently listened to theo’s explanation on how to properly burp a baby. 

“is this the place?” pietra nudged her chin at the playground that’s slowly coming more into view. it’s a little more worn now– the paint had chipped off the bars where theo used to pretend he was a monkey on, and the slide had little divots, yet it used to be smooth and barely worn out when stevie used to insist on taking it backwards, with her belly to the metal.

it brought back some nostalgia to when you first met lando. it was on the very same bench that pietra was sitting on right now. you watched the playground with a small smile on your lips, a tear threatening to spill from your eye.

henry fussed in the stroller and immediately calmed down when you placed a gentle hand on his tummy to steady him. “we’re at the playground. you’ll get to play here with your brother and sister when you’re a little older.”

pietra silently watched as you picked him up and gently laid his cheek to rest on yours, his little eyes adjusting to the light around him. henry looked around, the plethora of colours elicited a few excited ooh’s from his little body. “this is where i met your dada,” you smiled at henry. 

henry cooed as you pointed to things at the playground and explained each ones significance. you knew he didn’t understand it yet, but you were willing to tell him the story over and over again. it was the biggest twist of fate you had ever experienced– that very morning, stevie had begged you to finally take a walk since it had been too cold for months now, and you agreed.

if you had been just a little more careful and told her to wait another day, week or month, chances are you wouldn’t be holding your baby while your husband made dinner at home with your other two kids. 

pietra perked up when you walked over to her and she immediately extended her hands to take henry from you. “come to auntie p,” she baby talked as you handed her your son. “he has a nose just like lando’s.”

“he has the neck strength like lando’s, too.” you sit down beside her and closely watch as she gently bounced henry on her knees. just then, you blurted something that had been on your mind for a while. “do you think it’s weird that lando and i are together?”

“excuse me?” she turns to you with a confused face. “why would anyone think that?”

“i don’t know, i mean, like…” you take a second to collect your thoughts. it was starting to sound like you were regretting this life, meanwhile it was the complete opposite. “like the way we met, it was random.”

“it’s not random, love,” pietra rolls her eyes. “it’s something called fate.”

henry let out a happy noise at your question, his tiny fingers reaching out to poke at pietra’s face. “you agree, huh, lil’ man?” she asks as he pushes his whole hand to her cheek, and you can’t help but laugh at the unfolding scene in front of you.

after a few moments, when henry was back in his stroller and you two were on your way back home, you looked back to the area behind you with a sentimental look in your eye. “who knew playgrounds and playdates would bring me the loveliest life i could’ve imagined?”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

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[seokmn]

✎ᝰDEAR DIARY PT.2 .ᐟ⋆⑅˚₊

pairing: jaehyun x gn!reader wc: 1.5k words warning: none! lua's note: a few people asked for part two so here it is ^^ hope u enjoy! in case you didn’t read, part one is here

“boy, you do something to me”

“Hey, Y/N,” Jeahyun took you by the hand, preventing you from walking around the mall. You looked back at his warm hand holding yours and then at his face, a small smile on his lips as his eyes were focused on somewhere else. “Do you want to drink something?”

Before you could answer, he started to walk towards the kiosk, his hand still holding yours. “How silly of me to ask, you always want something to drink.”

“That’s not true…” You mumbled, knowing he was damn right about that.

“Hello! I’d like to order two pink lemonades, one with ice and the other without, please.”

You felt your heart beat faster than ever. It was such a trivial thing, but the thought of Jaehyun not even having to ask you what you would want to drink because he knows damn too well your favorite drink made you feel flustered. You didn’t want to show him that, you wanted him to think that you found that annoying, however, you knew that if he looked at you for too long he would have you all figured out.

The attendant nodded with a small smile on her face and turned her back to prepare his order.

“Ya,” you hit Jaehyun’s chest. “Why didn’t you ask me what I wanted to order? I didn’t say I wanted a pink lemonade”

“You didn’t have to, I know you love the pink lemonade from this place, with lots of ice cubes. Plus, if I let you choose the kiosk and the drink, where and what would you order?”

You scoffed and crossed your arms in front of your chest, not being able to give him an answer that he wouldn’t expect to his question. “Whatever, you could’ve at least asked me.”

“If you didn’t want the pink lemonade you could just tell me and I would ask for another drink. Then you would have the drink you wanted and the pink lemonade for later.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you took the drink from the attendant’s hand once she was finished, smiled and thanked her for her work. You waited for Jaehyun to do the same and pay her. “Anyways, thanks for the drink. I’m paying for the popcorn, just so you know.”

“Whatever you say, princess,” Jaehyun took a sip of his drink and looked away with a fake innocent smile when you shot a glare at him.

You didn’t understand why Jaehyun was acting like that. Sure, he always teased you, but not like that. Never like that.

The worst part was that you couldn’t even let him know how flustered you were getting. You had to put on a show and pretend to be annoyed, but you didn’t know for how long you’d be able to keep going with the facade.

As you got inside the movie theater and sat on your seats, Jaehyun saw the way you were holding the pink lemonade’s cup with your jacket covering your palm because of how cold it was, he scoffed and took the drink from you.

“Seriously,” he placed a hand on his pocket and took a napkin out of it, wrapping it around the cup and handing it back to you. “Are you a kid or what?”

“Shush, it’s not my fault that it’s too cold. You’re the one who asked the lady to put ice on it!”

“Yeah, because you always drink with ice, if I had asked without you'd have complained. Now keep quiet because the movie will start soon and I don’t want people telling us to shut up.”

Jaehyun was holding the popcorn bucket, but he leaned it towards your direction so it would be easier for you to grab them.

You couldn’t even enjoy the movie properly, you were always glancing at Jaehyun, and most of the time you found him already looking at him, but he would immediately look back at the huge screen.

You were wondering if you were going insane or if Jaehyun was really acting strangely. He was way too excited about watching that movie, why was he paying attention to you instead of to the movie?

You shrugged the thought off and tried to pay attention to the movie, only to fail miserably when you felt his arm slowly making its way to your shoulder. Your internal reaction was to freak out in your mind, but your body leaned forward to make room for his arm to rest around your shoulder without you even realizing. You only realized when you felt the warmth of his arm behind your neck.

Jaehyun had to look away to hide his shiny grin when you let him place his arm around your shoulder. Okay, Jaehyun, keep casual. You got this.

He took a deep breath and whispered to your ear. “The movie is good, isn’t it?”

You hummed in approval, but it looked more like a whimper because of how much you were freaking out. The feeling of him being so close was amazing, but it was also making your heart beat so fast and loud that you were scared of him being able to listen to your heartbeat.

Once the movie was over, Jaehyun was looking at you intensely. “So, what did you think? Y’know, about the movie.” He let out a fake cough and reluctantly brought his arm back to his side. His arm was numb from the lack of blood circulating, but he didn’t want to break the closeness during the movie.

“It was good,” you nodded. “Very interesting.”

“Agree…”

“We should go outside, soon enough my dad will be here to pick me up.”

“Your dad? Why?” Jaehyun tried to hide his disappointment, he clearly wanted to walk you home, to spend more time with you.

“I told him I was going to watch a movie with you and he asked me if I wanted to pick me up after work.”

“Ah… I see,” he sighed. “Okay, let’s go outside.”

As you were waiting for your dad to appear, the silence between you and Jaehyun was loud. You were both taking glances at each other and then looking away when your eyes met each other’s.

Finally, Jaehyun cleared his throat and turned his body towards you. “Hey, do you remember that event that Sungho talked about?”

“The event for couples?”

“It’s not only for couples, Y/N,” Jaehyun rolled his eyes. “And yes, this event.”

“Well, it’s a romantic event, so it’s only for cou-“

“Do you wanna go with me?” Jaehyun cut you off.

Your eyes widened as you looked at him in pure surprise. “What?”

“You heard me, don’t make me repeat again, please,” He spoke quietly as he looked down to the ground and kicked a few tiny rocks. “So, what do you say?”

“But- We are not a couple.”

“Ya! I told you it’s not only for couples!” Jaehyun raised his voice a little bit in frustration while his lips curled into a pout. “People who are getting to know each other go to that event too!”

“But we have known each other since always, tho.”

Jaehyun looked at you in disbelief. Are they rejecting me or are they just stupid?

“Y/N, I’m asking you out on a date, I want to get to know you romantically speaking.”

“Oh,” you placed your hand on your chest for a few seconds, thinking your heart would explode. You wanted to scream ‘Yes!’ and hug him, but your voice didn’t come out and you felt your body froze.

Jaehyun kept looking at you, waiting for your response, his expectations that you would accept going on a date with him dying more and more as the seconds passed and you kept quiet.

You heard a familiar car horn and only your eyes moved to take a glance at the street, where you found your dad’s car parked to the side, waiting for you to get inside it. The sight of your dad made your body finally start to work again.

“M-my dad’s here.”

“I can see that.” Jaehyun gave you a small smile with a hint of sadness. He was so sure that you had already declined his offer to go to that event with you.

“B-bye,” you rushed to your dad’s car without looking back until your hands found the car handle. “Jaehyun?”

He placed his hands inside his pocket and raised his eyebrows for milliseconds to show you that he was listening.

“About the event, let’s go. I’m sure it’ll be fun.” You tried to hold back your smile, and Jaehyun did the same, but both of you failed more than miserably.

“It’ll be fun. See you at school.” He waved at you and at your dad before walking away.

On the way home you were blushing all the time while hiding your face to not let your dad see your goofy smile and red cheeks and start making teasing questions.

On the other hand, Jaehyun was walking back home while humming your favorite song, a song that soon became his favorite song as well, his smile also never leaving his face.

He had two things in his mind: about how he needed to make your first date memorable and amazing and how you would write a whole essay about this day in your diary.

[xanneeeyyyy]

A Taste of His Own Medicine

⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒ ⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo x F!Reader

Synopsis: When Katsuki brings you home to meet his parents, what was supposed to be a simple introduction turns into an all-out battle of wits, insults, and dominance, leaving him utterly defeated as his own mother chooses you over him.

⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒ ⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹

Katsuki Bakugou had faced a lot of dangerous situations in his life—villains, explosions, life-or-death battles. But nothing, absolutely nothing, prepared him for the moment he brought you home to meet his parents.

“Listen, my old hag’s annoying as hell, so don’t let her get to you,” he muttered, gripping your hand as you both stood at the doorstep.

You gave him a look. “Katsuki, she’s your mother.”

“Yeah, and?”

Before you could scold him, the door slammed open.

“TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH, YOU DAMN BRAT!” Mitsuki Bakugou stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, scowling at her son like he’d just committed the greatest sin of all time. “WHAT, YOU FORGOT WHERE YOUR OWN HOUSE WAS?!”

Katsuki clicked his tongue. “MAYBE IF YOU WEREN’T ALWAYS YELLING, I WOULDN’T HAVE TO THINK TWICE ABOUT COMING HOME, YOU OLD HAG!”

SMACK!

The entire house went silent.

Your hand was now firmly planted on the back of Katsuki’s head. He stumbled forward, eyes wide in pure betrayal, whipping around to face you.

“WHAT THE HELL, WOMAN?!”

You crossed your arms, glaring at him. “That’s your mother, you fucker! Show some damn respect!”

“THE HELL DID YOU JUST CALL ME?!”

Mitsuki’s jaw dropped, then—

“PFTTTT—HAHAHAHAHA!” She threw her head back, cackling like she had just won the lottery. “OH MY GOD, I LOVE HER!”

“LIKE HELL YOU DO!” Katsuki barked, rubbing the back of his head. “SHE JUST ASSAULTED ME!”

“You deserved it, you disrespectful gremlin!” you shot back. “Seriously, what kind of son yells at his mom like that?”

“I’VE BEEN YELLING AT HER FOR YEARS, AND NOW YOU GOT A DAMN PROBLEM WITH IT?!”

“Yes, because I have manners! Something you apparently lack!”

Mitsuki wiped away a tear from laughing so hard. “Ohhh, she’s perfect! You’re officially approved, sweetheart. You are absolutely going to be my daughter-in-law.”

You grinned back. “Happy to be here, Mom.”

Katsuki let out a primal scream. “I’M STILL YOUR SON! HOW THE HELL ARE YOU PICKING HER OVER ME?!” Mitsuki shrugged. “Because she’s not a little brat.” Katsuki choked. “THE HELL YOU JUST SAY?!”

“You heard me, brat.” Mitsuki grinned at you. “I’ve been waiting YEARS for someone to smack some sense into this idiot. Welcome to the family.”

You smirked at Katsuki. “See? Your mom likes me more than you.”

Katsuki’s eye twitched. “LIKE HELL SHE DOES!”

“Like hell I don’t!” Mitsuki shot back.

“I’M YOUR ACTUAL KID, YOU OLD HAG!”

“AND SHE’S BETTER THAN YOU!”

“LIKE HELL SHE IS!”

“I BROUGHT YOU INTO THIS WORLD AND GRACED YOU WITH MY GENES—DON’T MAKE ME SHOVE YOU BACK UP MY VAGINA!”

Masaru spit out his tea.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FU—?!” Katsuki turned horrified. “WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU EVEN SAY THAT?! HAVE SOME FUCKING MANNERS!”

You choked on your drink. “OH MY GOD.”

Mitsuki grinned. “YOU WANNA ACT LIKE A LITTLE SHIT, I’LL SEND YOU BACK TO WHERE YOU CAME FROM.”

⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒ ⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹

He was losing his mind now.

This was supposed to be a simple introduction. Bring you home, let you meet his parents, and get the hell out before anything too embarrassing happened. But no. Instead, you and his traitor of a mother had become best friends within minutes, and somehow, the two of you were teaming up against him. “This is mutiny,” he muttered under his breath, arms crossed as he glared at the two of you laughing like old friends. Masaru sipped his tea quietly, already accepting that this night belonged to chaos.

“Alright, listen up,” he grumbled, arms crossed as he stood at the head of the table. “I officially brought her here to introduce her to you, so stop running your damn mouths for a second.”

Mitsuki snorted. “What, so we weren’t already introduced when she smacked you upside the head?” You smirked. “Pretty sure that was the best introduction I could’ve made.”

Katsuki shot you a glare. “The hell is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means you deserved it,” you replied sweetly.

Mitsuki cackled. “She’s got a good head on her shoulders. Unlike you.”

Katsuki groaned. “Tch. Whatever.” He sighed, resigned to his fate. “Fine. This is my girlfriend, (Y/N).”

Masaru smiled warmly. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. You seem like a wonderful young lady.” Mitsuki grinned. “A smart young lady, too. I like this one.”

Katsuki clicked his tongue. “Yeah, yeah, whatever—can we eat now, old hag?”

SMACK!

For the second time that night, your hand connected with the back of his head. Katsuki whipped around, eyes blazing. “THAT’S THE SECOND FUCKING TIME PRINCESS,”

You planted your hands on your hips. “What do you think, Katsuki? You will not call your mom like that while I’m here!”

“She doesn’t care—”

“I CARE!” you snapped.

Mitsuki threw her head back in laughter. “Oh, this is hilarious,” Masaru sighed. “We did try to raise him with manners…”

You crossed your arms. “Now, say it properly.” Katsuki scowled. “Like hell I will.”

“Oh, yes you will,” you countered. “Now, repeat after me: Can we eat now, Moomm~~?”

Katsuki twitched. “No.” You smirked, tapping your fingers on the table. “Alright then, let’s break it down,” You lifted a finger. “M.”

Mitsuki gasped dramatically. “Oh my god, she’s spelling it out for him,” Masaru chuckled behind his tea. Katsuki’s eye twitched. “Don’t you dare—”

You lifted a second finger. “O.”

Katsuki growled. “I swear to fucking god—”

A third finger. “M.”

Mitsuki was shaking from laughter. “THE DISRESPECT! HE’S BEING TAUGHT LIKE A DAMN TODDLER!”

Katsuki turned to his father, seething. “ARE YOU JUST GONNA SIT THERE AND LET THIS HAPPEN?!”

Masaru gave him a helpless smile. “Well… you really should call your mom properly, son.”

Katsuki nearly flipped the table. You leaned closer, lips barely an inch from his ear. “C’mon, Katsuki~. Say it properly,

or… I’LL. REPEAT. IT”

Katsuki gritted his teeth. His body shook with barely contained rage. Finally, through pure suffering, he muttered—

“…Can we eat now,

…Mom.”

The room went silent.

Then—

Mitsuki slammed her hand on the table and howled. Masaru sighed in relief.

You? You just grinned and reached up to press a quick, soft kiss on Katsuki’s lips.

Instant shutdown.

Katsuki turned beet red as he stood frozen in place. You patted his cheek. “Good boy,”

Mitsuki was wheezing at this point. “HOLY SHIT—HE LOOKS LIKE HIS BRAIN JUST SHORT CIRCUITED!” Masaru chuckled. “Well, at least she knows how to calm him down.”

Katsuki snapped out of it and pointed at his mom. “YOU’RE NEVER SPEAKING OF THIS AGAIN,” Mitsuki wiped away a tear. “Like hell I won’t. I’m calling your aunt about this.”

“LIKE HELL YOU ARE!”

As Katsuki and his mom bickered, you just sipped your tea, completely at peace.

Yeah. You were definitely part of this family now.

⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒ ⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹

A/N: I hope you enjoy this new piece! Let me know your thoughts in the comments. Also, thank you for all the love and support—it truly warms my heart to see you reading my work.

© 2025 CODE:BKXY — All rights reserved. Please don't post my work as your own on any other sites.

[ikkyfics]

the nanny

Kit Walker x f!reader

Summary: "Hi. You came for the ad?" His voice was raspy, slightly surprised. He ran a hand through his hair, as if realizing too late that it was disheveled. You nodded, not fully trusting your voice. "Yes—I… I saw the ad and... I’m interested in the job." Kit took a step back and opened the door wider. "Come in. We can talk better."

Warnings: no use of y/n, dad!kit, nanny!reader, fluffy, no briarcliff

A/N: It's been so, sooo long since I wrote about the kit, so I decided to do something cute, the poor man deserves some happiness (just look at that face, he's basically husband material)

The paper between your fingers was crumpled at the edges from being held so many times. You read the ad once more, as if the words would suddenly change:

Looking for someone to care for two children and help with the house. Immediate work. Interested parties, please come to the address below.

Simple, direct, and with a certain implicit desperation. It was your best chance. You had been in town for just a few days and needed a job, a roof over your head, some stability.

The house was small, modest, but cozy. The front lawn was a bit overgrown, and a tipped-over tricycle near the porch indicated it was indeed a home with children. You took a deep breath before knocking on the door, your heart racing.

The steps on the other side were quick, and when the door opened, you found yourself facing him.

Kit Walker.

The name was in the ad, but you didn’t expect him to be... like this. Brown, messy hair, eyes the same color, deep and somewhat tired, as if carrying more than a man his age should. He looked a few years older than you, yet young enough to be the father of two small children.

"Hi. You came for the ad?" His voice was raspy, slightly surprised. He ran a hand through his hair, as if realizing too late that it was disheveled.

You nodded, not fully trusting your voice.

"Yes—I… I saw the ad and... I’m interested in the job."

Kit took a step back and opened the door wider. "Come in. We can talk better."

You entered, smelling the warmth of wood and coffee, mixed with the unmistakable scent of a house with children: crayons, cookies, and a faint trace of baby cologne.

The living room was simple, with old furniture but well cared for. There were toys scattered here and there, a small blanket thrown over the couch, and some kids' drawings pinned to the wall.

"Well, I don’t want to make this formal or anything," Kit scratched the back of his neck, looking a bit uncomfortable. "To be honest, I need someone as soon as possible. I work all day, and I can’t keep up with everything on my own. The idea is for you to be with the kids, help with the house... those kinds of things."

You nodded. "I can do that."

Kit studied your face for a moment, as if looking for something beyond your answer.

"Do you have experience with children?"

"Not professionally..." You hesitated. "But I’ve taken care of my cousins when they were little. I like kids."

Kit nodded slowly, as if considering your answer, but his gaze was still sharp, evaluating you in a way that made your heart race. He seemed like someone who wanted to trust, needed to trust, but didn’t give that trust easily.

"It’s a full-time job," He crossed his arms, the thin fabric of his shirt stretching slightly across his broad shoulders. "You’d need to be here all day, sometimes at night, depending on my schedule. I work a lot."

You nodded, trying to seem as confident as possible. "That wouldn’t be a problem."

"Good. Because they need stability," Kit rubbed his chin, briefly looking away. "It’s already been hard enough for them."

There was something heavy behind those words, something he didn’t say, but that lingered in the air between you. You wondered what exactly had happened, but didn’t dare to ask.

Kit cleared his throat, refocusing on the conversation. "Can you cook?"

The question came without warning, and you blinked, a little surprised. "Yes. Quite well, actually."

A shadow of relief passed over his face. "Great. I get by, but..." He made a vague gesture, as if already used to eating poorly. "It’d be nice if they could have real food, you know? Not just sandwiches and instant noodles."

You smiled faintly. "I can take care of that."

Kit opened his mouth to say something, but then hesitated, shifting his weight. You noticed how tense he seemed, as if about to ask a question he didn’t know whether he should.

"Can I ask you something?" He narrowed his eyes, curious. "Are you married?"

The question caught you so off guard that it took an extra second to respond. "What? No! No, I’m not married."

Kit relaxed almost imperceptibly, and you couldn’t tell if it was because the answer relieved him or if he just didn’t want to get into trouble. "Sorry. I just... don’t want to hire someone with a jealous husband showing up at my door afterward."

You let out a short laugh, more out of nervousness than anything. "You don’t need to worry about that. No jealous husbands. No husbands, period."

Kit gave a half-smile, but quickly looked away, and it was at that moment that a fleeting thought crossed your mind.

It was sad that a man like him didn’t have a wife.

The thought came as a reflex, and you quickly pushed it away, as if you’d done something wrong. It wasn’t your business. But still... he seemed like someone who deserved it. Someone who loved deeply, who would do anything for those he cared about. A man like him shouldn’t be alone.

Before you could get lost in that thought, a sound echoed through the hallway—small footsteps, followed by excited laughter. Kit didn’t even need to turn around to know what was coming, and the smile that appeared on his lips was so immediate and genuine that something warm spread in your chest.

"DAAAAD!"

Two children appeared in the room, running without hesitation toward Kit. He bent down instantly, opening his arms to receive them. The first to arrive was a boy with light hair and bright brown eyes, who threw himself into his father’s arms with the force of a rocket. Right behind him, a little girl with dark skin and soft curls stopped beside them, eyeing you with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

Kit laughed, running his hands through the boy’s hair before turning to his daughter. "Hey, hey, calm down. You don’t even know her yet."

The two turned to look at you, and you felt as if you were being assessed.

"Who is she?" The little girl asked, her voice small but firm.

"She came for the ad," Kit explained, adjusting Thomas in his lap. "She might take care of you guys while I work."

"Can she tell stories?" Thomas tilted his head, his eyes shining with expectation.

"I can," you answered, smiling.

"Better than Dada?"

Kit scoffed, indignant. "Hey! I’m great at it!"

Thomas looked at his sister, clearly waiting for her opinion. Julia crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at you before asking, "Can you make pancakes?"

You laughed, crouching down a little to be on her level. "With chocolate chips and strawberry syrup."

Her expression shifted slightly, as if considering your answer. Then she looked at Kit and then back at you, still evaluating.

Kit watched the interaction with a playful gleam in his eyes, as if enjoying seeing how you handled the two.

Finally, Julia nodded, crossing her arms. "I think you can stay."

Thomas agreed with an enthusiastic nod, and Kit let out a low laugh, shaking his head.

"Looks like you passed the test."

[stargazedwinchester]

ִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `love letters, sam winchester

Summary: You keep finding love notes from a not so anonymous sender. Word Count: 836

For the past week or so, you keep finding tiny, folded pieces of paper shoved through the vents of your locker. You can never figure out who it is, because every time it’s almost as if it’s posted before the school day ends.

You have tried endlessly to catch the culprit - sitting close to your locker during lunch, hanging out in the main quad, eyeing every student that walked past your locker. Nothing seemed to work.

Today, you have to stay behind to catch up with your lecturer. You’re not falling behind, but by college law, you’re needed for a review to see how you’re doing. You’re standing beside the classroom door, each person given a time slot, and you’re up next. The door opens and Sam Winchester walks out. “Thank you.” He looks back at the lecturer before facing down toward the floor, then up at you. He holds the door open for you to enter the classroom. Sam’s a quiet kid, usually keeps to himself when he’s in class or out in the library on his laptop. You don’t know much about him, but you wouldn’t mind getting to know him.

He’s wearing a red Stanford sweater, the bagginess making him appear bulkier than he already is. His bangs cover his forehead and a smile forms on his face. You’ve had a few classes with him; he usually sits a few rows ahead of you whilst you find yourself favouring one of the back rows. His eyes tantalise with yours, the flecks of green and brown reflecting from the sunshine glittering on to his face. “Thanks.” You return, and he flashes a smirk at you. It almost feels like his eyes don’t leave your body as you enter the classroom.

After your meeting, you fallback to your locker, placing the notepad filled with notes from the meeting into your locker. There’s a fresh note rammed into the vent, folded up neatly. You unfold it and it reads:

“You looked cute today. I hope I see you around tomorrow.”

The messy handwriting made it hard to make out, but when you figured it out, it made your heart skip a beat. Who is this sending you notes?

You’re sitting outside for lunch - basking in the sun. You’re sitting on a blanket with a couple of friends. Birds are flying high above you, not a cloud to be seen. Trees rustle nearby with squirrels crowding together, gathering food.

Glancing over to your locker, you notice Sam is hanging around it. You quickly dismiss your friends to finally confront the culprit.

“So, it’s you!” You half yell, not wanting to cause a scene. “What the hell are you talking about?” Sam gets defensive, his eyes widening. “You’re the one putting the letters in my locker, aren’t you?”

“N-no! I swear to God it’s not me,” Sam stutters. He’s not helping himself. You breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank God I finally figured it out. It’s been bugging me for so long.” You take the letter from his hand, rapidly straightening it out. This time, it reads:

“You’re so pretty sitting in the sunshine. I wish I had the nerve to say something, but you make me nervous.”

It feels like all you’ve done is stare at the paper. Sam’s patiently waiting for an answer, clearly too scared to say anything to you. He stands there awkwardly, his hands stuffed in his pockets, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. You glance up at him, and his eyes double take, fleeting over your delicate features. “So it is you.” You confirm, and he shrugs. “Surprise.”

He avoids eye contact with you, looking anywhere but right at you. “You like me?”

“Yeah?”

“Why?”

“Why? Because you’re…” He scoffs, rubbing his face and turning around slightly, before turning back to face you. “You’re smart and you know exactly what you’re talking about. You’re kind, not afraid to stand up for yourself and others. And from what I see in front of me, you’re pretty cute.” He tightens his lips, looking at you as if he can’t believe the words that just fell out of his mouth. “And you know all of this… how?”

“I’m observant.”

“Fair enough.” You fold the note back up, placing it into your purse. You stare at him, waiting for an answer. He stares back. “What now?”

“You gonna take me out on a date or what?” You jab at him, half playfully. Sam looks take aback by your words, as if he never expected you to be so upfront. He stalls. “Uh… yeah, if that’s what you want?” Sam ruffles the hair on the back of his head. He looks at you bashfully; a childlike smile appears suddenly on his face. You place everything in your locker before locking it. “Don’t be silly. Any girl would want that.” You admit, and Sam smirks.

“Then let’s not waste time.” He fumbles in his pockets for his car keys. “I’ll drive.”

[annafayeink]

All I Ever Wanted

Summary: After weeks of late nights and playful banter, Lu and his project partner find themselves drinking a little too much on Valentine’s Day and spilling some unfiltered truths.

Warnings & tags: Friends to Lovers, Fluff, College AU, Mutual Pining, Drunken Confessions, Truth or Dare Gone Wrong (or Right?), STEM Nerds in Love, One-Sided Pining (but not really)

Wordcount: 11217 (it's a long one for me...)

Read on AO3

The hum of the computer lab had become their second heartbeat through weeks of late-night debugging sessions, endless energy drinks and heated debates over syntax errors.

Lu leaned back in his chair. The flickering glow of monitors cast a tired haze over his face as he stretched his arms over his head with a groan. “I swear, if I have to debug one more line of code, I’m gonna start throwing things,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes.

Across the table, his project partner smirked, barely glancing up from her screen. “That’s funny. I was just thinking about how much fun it would be to fix your broken code for the third time today.”

Lu scoffed, spinning in his chair to face her. “Excuse me, but my code is art."

She snorted. "Your code could be catching flames in a paper bag on someone’s porch, and you know it."

He laughed out loud, but exhaustion weighed on both of them. The project was nearly done, but the stress of perfecting it had left them both frayed at the edges.

“Alright, I think… I think that should do it,” she muttered, sitting back and running a hand down her face. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and the oversized hoodie she wore had slipped off one shoulder, revealing the strap of her tank top. “Run the test again.”

“You say that every time. You’re like an optimist with Stockholm Syndrome.”

She threw a crumpled candy wrapper at him. “Just do it.”

He smirked and hit the compile button. The two of them leaned in, watching the lines of code execute. A pause—then the program ran cleanly. No errors. No warnings. Just success.

For a moment, they just stared at the screen, the weight of weeks of sleep deprivation, stress, and too much caffeine finally culminating in this single, victorious moment.

Lu grinned. “Holy shit, we did it.”

“We did it!” she echoed, and then to his surprise, she flung herself at him, arms wrapping around his neck in an exuberant hug.

He caught her easily, laughing as he steadied them both. She smelled like vanilla and old books, and for a second, Lu had the ridiculous urge to close his eyes and just breathe her in. Instead, he let his hands settle briefly at her waist before she pulled back.

Then he shook his head, still grinning as he looked at her—really looked at her. The spark in her eyes, the way her nose scrunched slightly when she smiled too hard, the pure, unfiltered joy radiating from her. He felt something settle in his chest, warm and steady, and almost too easy to ignore—if he were the kind of guy who ignored things like this.

“This wouldn’t be possible without you, Pip.”

Her smile softened at the nickname, one he’d given her ages ago when she’d admitted, in passing, that she’d always loved Great Expectations as a kid. Something about underdogs, she’d said. Something about wanting to prove people wrong.

Now, she rolled her eyes but didn’t try to hide the way her lips twitched at the edges. “That’s a lie and you know it.”

“It’s not,” he said, nudging her shoulder with his. “You’re kind of a genius, you know that?”

She scoffed. “Oh, so now you think that? Not when I was sleep-deprived and rambling about recursive functions at 3 AM last week?”

“I mean, that was terrifying, but still impressive.”

“We deserve a break,” she declared, gathering her things. “And since it’s technically still Valentine’s Day…” She checked her phone. “Yeah, not midnight yet. We should celebrate.”

Lu arched a brow. “You wanna celebrate Valentine’s Day?”

“No, dummy.” She shoved her laptop into her bag. “I want to celebrate not wanting to throw myself off a bridge because of this project. Come on, let’s go get drinks. First round’s on me.”

He chuckled, shaking his head, but there was no way he was saying no to spending more time with her. Not when she was already pulling him to his feet, eyes bright with excitement.

“Alright, alright,” he said, letting himself be dragged toward the door. “But if you end up drunk and sobbing about your ex, I’m leaving you at the bar.”

She laughed. “Joke’s on you—I don’t have an ex to sob about.”

Lu paused, watching her for half a second longer than he should have.

Interesting.

They walked side by side through the nearly empty campus streets, the occasional couple passing them, hand in hand, lost in their own little Valentine’s Day world. Pip made a show of gagging at a particularly sappy-looking pair sharing a scarf, and Lu nudged her.

“What, jealous?”

Of that?” Pip made a face. “Please. That’s a level of codependency I aspire to avoid.”

Lu smirked. “Says the girl who texted me at 2 AM last week because she couldn’t decide if an array or a hash table was the better choice for our sorting algorithm.”

“That was important,” she said, pointing a gloved finger at him. “And you were awake, don’t even pretend you weren’t.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, because I knew you’d overthink it until sunrise otherwise.

She sighed dramatically. “See? This is why I keep you around. You know how to manage my spirals.”

Lu smiled fondly at her back as they turned the corner onto the main street where their favorite little bar was tucked between a bookstore and a laundromat. The neon Open sign glowed warmly against the dark, and the window was fogged up from the heat inside.

The bar was just off-campus, a warm little hole-in-the-wall that smelled like whiskey and old wood. It was quieter than usual, probably because everyone with actual Valentine’s Day plans had gone somewhere fancier.

They slid into a booth near the back, ordering beers to start. Then Pip tucked her hands into the pockets of her hoodie, shrugging with a sort of distant look in her eyes. “I just think some people get way too into Valentine’s Day. Like, it’s all manufactured romance, you know? What, you need an official day to be romantic? Either you love someone or you don’t.”

Lu arched a brow. “So what, if you ever fall in love, you’re gonna refuse to celebrate Valentine’s Day out of sheer principle?”

“Obviously.” She shot him a pointed look. “If my hypothetical future partner ever tries to do some over-the-top grand gesture on February fourteenth, I’ll just break up with them out of spite.”

Lu let out a low whistle. “Harsh.”

“Necessary,” she corrected. Then, after a pause, she added, “Though, I guess, if someone really knew me, they’d probably just take me for drinks and let me rant about AI ethics or something.”

Lu laughed. “Ah, yes, the way to your heart—alcohol and an existential crisis.”

“See? You get it.” She grinned at him. “Maybe you should be my Valentine.”

Lu gave a laugh, deciding against analysing why that idea just felt right.

“Okay, but for real,” she said, after their drinks arrived. “If you had a partner, what would you do?”

Lu glanced at her over his beer. “You mean for Valentine’s Day?”

Pip nodded. “Yeah. Say you actually had someone. What’s your move?”

He thought for a second, fidgeting with a peeling corner of the label on his bottle. “I don’t know. I feel like grand gestures are overrated. I’d want to do something that actually means something to them.”

“Like what?”

Lu shrugged. “Depends on the person. Maybe cook for them, or take them somewhere they’ve always wanted to go but never had the time. Or just… spend the day doing nothing together, but in a way that still feels like everything.”

Pip was quiet for a beat, then let out a laugh. “God, that’s disgustingly sweet.”

“You asked,” he pointed out with a shrug.

She took a sip of her beer, and suddenly her eyes lit up with an idea. “Okay, Lu, truth or dare?”

He huffed a laugh. “What are we, twelve?”

“Come on, it’s a classic. And since we don’t have exes to sob about, we might as well make the night interesting.”

He tilted his head, considering. “Fine. Truth."

Pip leaned back, swirling her drink as she considered her options. Then, with a small, mischievous smile, she asked, “What’s something you’ve never told anyone?”

Lu arched a brow, taking a slow sip of his beer. “Damn. You’re going straight for the deep cuts, huh?”

She shrugged. “We’ve been in the trenches together for months now. I think we’re past the what’s your favorite color phase.”

He tapped his fingers against his bottle, thinking. There were plenty of things he didn’t talk about—most of them too boring or too complicated for a casual drinking game. But then, without really meaning to, he found himself saying, “I almost dropped out last year.”

Pip’s brows lifted, her expression shifting from playful to surprised. “Wait. What?”

Lu exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I mean, I didn’t tell anyone, obviously. But I was seriously thinking about it. Everything felt like too much, you know? The pressure, the expectations, all the shit I thought I was supposed to be able to do but couldn’t. I started wondering if maybe I was just—” He made a vague gesture. “—burning time on something I’d never actually be good enough at.”

Pip didn’t say anything right away. She just watched him, her head tilted slightly, like she was seeing something new in him. Then she said, “What changed your mind?”

He let out a quiet chuckle, taking another sip of his beer. “You, actually.”

Pip’s eyes widened. “Me?”

“Yeah. You remember that night we pulled an all-nighter working on that neural net assignment? I was this close to just walking away from it all. But then you—” He shook his head, grinning at the memory. “You showed up with, like, three energy drinks, a bag of gummy bears, and a completely unhinged rant about how we were not going to let a buggy dataset ruin our futures.”

Pip laughed. “God, I barely remember that. I was so sleep-deprived I think I started speaking in binary at one point.”

“You did. And you know what? It was weirdly inspiring.” Lu smirked. “Somewhere between you threatening to ‘personally fight every faulty training model’ and the moment you fell asleep face-first on your laptop, I figured—yeah. Maybe I should stick around.”

She was quiet for a second, then softened. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah, well.” He shrugged, suddenly feeling a little exposed. “Not exactly my usual small talk.”

Her expression softened, something unreadable flickering behind her eyes. She took another sip of her drink, then pointed at him. “Well, now I feel like my question was too deep. I should’ve just asked what your go-to shower song is or something.”

“Oh, that’s easy. Careless Whisper by George Michael.”

She nearly choked on her beer. “What?”

He shrugged. “I like a little drama in my life.”

Pip burst out laughing, shaking her head. Then, after a beat, she nudged his foot under the table. “Hey, Lu?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really glad you stuck around.”

Something about the way she said it made his chest feel too small for his ribs. He swallowed, forcing himself to keep his tone light. “Yeah, yeah. You just didn’t want to do all the work yourself.”

“Obviously.” Pip rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

“Alright, your turn. Truth or dare?”

Pip tapped her nails softly against the neck of her bottle, considering. Then she lifted her chin, a lazy smirk curling at the edges of her lips. “Truth.”

Lu took a sip of his drink, thinking. There were plenty of things he could ask—light, teasing things. But the way she’d looked at him when he admitted almost dropping out was still sitting heavy in his chest. He wanted to ask something real.

So he set his glass down and asked, “What’s something you regret not doing?”

Pip hesitated. For the first time that night, she didn’t immediately have a comeback. Instead, she bit her lip, looking down at the condensation sliding down the side of her bottle.

Lu tilted his head. “Too deep?”

She let out a short laugh. “No, it’s just…” She exhaled, swirling her drink. “I think I regret not being braver about the things I want.”

Lu’s brows lifted slightly. “Like what?”

Pip’s fingers curled around her beer, but when she looked up at him, her gaze held something just out of his reach. “Like saying things when I should.”

Something in his chest tightened. He could feel it—the edge of something unspoken between them, something that had been there longer than either of them had probably wanted to admit.

But then, just as quickly, Pip rolled her shoulders back, shaking it off. She raised her drink in his direction. “But hey, that’s what alcohol is for, right? Liquid courage.”

Lu chuckled, but the moment wasn’t entirely gone. He could still feel it, humming beneath the surface.

“Your turn,” she said like she was in a hurry to change the subject.

He studied her for a second longer than he should have, trying to read the things she wasn’t saying. Then, deciding not to push—not yet, at least—he leaned back with a smirk. “Dare.”

Pip exhaled, looking relieved at the shift in topic. But then a slow grin took over her face, and she leaned in, eyes dancing with mischief. “Alright, Lu. I dare you to go up to the bartender and ask for a Valentine’s Special—without knowing what’s in it.”

Lu chuckled. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

“Oh, you’ll regret saying that,” she teased. “Now go. Let’s see if you can handle whatever monstrosity they serve you.”

He shook his head, pushing himself up from the booth. “If I end up drinking something pink and covered in whipped cream, I might throw up on you.”

She just grinned, watching him go. But as he crossed the room, she caught herself staring at his back a little too long, her fingers still absently tracing an abstract pattern on the condensation on the bottle.

God. She was in trouble.

They kept drinking, falling back into their usual rhythm—trading stories, daring each other to say ridiculous things to the bartender, laughing too loudly. The bar started to blur at the edges, warm and hazy. Pip’s laugh got looser, her touches lingered longer—fingers brushing against his wrist, knees touching under the table.

Pip wasn’t completely gone, but tipsy enough that she was a little too loose, a little too open. And she had a habit of getting sentimental when she drank—something Lu found stupidly endearing.

“Go on,” Lu said. “Which one?”

She hummed, tilting her head like she was having trouble making a decision. Then she flashed him a lazy grin. “Dare. But make it like… Something that would make future-you cringe when you think about it.”

He let out a low chuckle, swirling the last of his drink. “Alright. I dare you to tell me a secret.”

Pip narrowed her eyes. “That’s too easy.”

“Oh, I’m not done.” Lu leaned forward, his smirk turning sharper. “I dare you to tell me a secret… about me.”

Pip faltered.

She opened her mouth, then closed it, rolling her lips together like she was physically stopping words from spilling out.

Lu watched her, pulse ticking up just slightly. He hadn’t planned this to be a trap, but suddenly, it felt like one.

Pip let out a slow breath, tapping her nails against the rim of her glass. Then, carefully, she said, “You’re a lot more important to me than I let on.”

Lu didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Pip gave him a small, almost hesitant smile. “That count as a secret?”

He should laugh. Tease her. Turn this into something easy and light, the way they always did.

But he couldn’t.

Not when her words were still hanging in the air between them, too big, too real.

He swallowed. “Pip…”

“Wait.” She lifted a hand. “There’s a second part.”

Pip swirled her glass around as if she was trying to find the answer on the bottom. “Dare.”

“I dare you to tell me something you’d only say if you weren’t worried about what happens next.”

Pip blinked with heavy eyelids. This was a dangerous dare. But wasn’t it exactly what she was hoping for? 

Her fingers tightened slightly around her empty, and for a moment, she didn’t speak. The bar noise seemed to quiet around them, everything narrowing down to just her and him, the warm glow of the lights reflecting in her eyes.

Pip let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. Then she reacher for his drink and took a long sip, trying to gather her thoughts and get some of that much needed liquid courage.

“Alright,” she said, set the glass down in front of him again. Her voice was quieter now, almost thoughtful. “I think about you. More than I should.”

Lu stilled, as if the tiniest movement could shatter the moment.

Pip traced the rim of her coaster with her fingertip, not looking at him. “Like, when something good happens, you’re the first person I want to tell. And when something bad happens, I wonder if you’d make me laugh about it. And when I see something stupid—like a weird-looking pigeon or a meme so dumb it makes me lose brain cells—I think, Lu would get this.” She let out a quiet chuckle, finally meeting his gaze. “And I don’t know what that means, but it’s been happening for a while.”

Lu’s throat was dry. His fingers curled into fists beneath the table.

It took everything in him to keep his voice steady when he said, “That’s a pretty good answer.”

Pip smiled, just barely. “Yeah?”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping lower. “Yeah.”

Her breath hitched. Just a little.

And then, before he could think too hard about it, before he could do something reckless, Pip abruptly stood up.

“I need another drink.”

Lu blinked. “Pip—”

But she was already heading to the bar.

Lu let out a long breath, dragging a hand down his face. His heart was pounding, and not from the alcohol.

When she came back, Pip took a very long sip of her drink even before she sat down. Then she asked him something else in a lighthearted tone. 

But her eyes weren’t quite meeting his anymore.

Lu could see it—how she was trying to brush past what she’d just said, how she was treating it like some offhand joke. But her fingers were tapping against her glass, and her lips were pressed together like she was thinking too hard.

Pip had gone quiet. Not her usual, thinking-through-a-bug kind of quiet, but something else. Something heavier. She was staring at her drink like it held the answers to the universe, absentmindedly tracing patterns with her fingertip. Lu watched her, feeling the weight of whatever was about to happen settle in his chest.

He let it sit for a moment, waiting to see if she’d say something else.

She didn't. 

She just exhaled and kept playing, making sure the truths and dares turned playful for a while, like an entirely different conversation.

Somewhere between another round of drinks, another round of questions—some deep, some ridiculous, some only half-answered through laughter—Pip started leaning into him more. At first, it was casual. Her shoulder brushing against his when she laughed too hard. Her fingers catching his arm when she emphasized a point. But then her head dipped onto his shoulder, and instead of pulling away, she stayed there.

Lu went still.

He should move. He should say something.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he turned slightly, just enough to glance down at her. Pip, eyes half-lidded, hair falling over her cheek, looking content and maybe just a little drunk.

“You good, Pip?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

She hummed. “Mhm.”

“You wanna call it a night?”

She shook her head. “Not yet.”

Her fingers played absently with the hem of her sleeve, and for a moment, she was silent.

“You wanna stop playing?”

“No, no, we haven't embarrassed ourselves enough,” she slurred slightly, with a smirk. “Truth or dare?”

Lu, also feeling warm from the alcohol, smirked. “Truth.”

She squinted at him like she was trying to focus. “Would you ever—” She cut herself off, frowning. Then shook her head. “No. Wait. I don’t wanna ask that.”

Lu arched a brow. “You can’t start a question and not finish it.”

Pip groaned, dropping her head onto the table. “Ugh, I don’t know. My brain-to-mouth filter is completely broken right now.”

Lu chuckled, watching Pip war with herself, her forehead still pressed against the table. She let out a dramatic sigh, then lifted her head, squinting at him through slightly unfocused eyes.

“Okay, fine,” she mumbled, waving a hand in his general direction. “Would you ever… I mean, have you ever thought about…”

Lu leaned in slightly, resting his chin on his hand. “Thought about what?”

She let out a frustrated groan, scrunching up her face like she was trying to will the words out of her mouth. Then, suddenly, she blurted, “Would you ever date me?”

Suddenly it felt like there was not enough oxygen in the room. Lu took a deep breath, but it was shaky and didn't quite fill his lungs.

Pip immediately sucked in a breath, eyes widening. “Nope. Nope, that wasn’t—I mean, not that it’s a bad question, it’s just—”

Lu tilted his head, watching her completely spiral.

“Would I ever date you?” he repeated, pretending to consider it.

She groaned, covering her face with her hands. Then she peeked at him through her fingers, scowling.

Lu exhaled, leaning back against the booth. He swallowed, throat feeling like sandpaper. “You want an answer or not?”

Pip hesitated, then nodded once, slowly.

His smirk faded just slightly, and when he spoke, his voice was quieter. More certain. “Yeah. I’d date you.”

Pip blinked. She seemed to short-circuit for a second. Then she narrowed her eyes, suspicious. “Are you just saying that to mess with me?”

Lu shrugged. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

Pip just stared at him. Her mouth opened slightly, then shut again. Then—she grabbed her drink and downed about half of it.

Lu raised a brow. “Something you wanna say?”

She set the glass down a little harder than necessary. “No. I just—” She exhaled, shaking her head. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because!”

“That’s not an answer.”

Pip scowled at him—kinda. Her eyes were hazy, but searching. “Okay, but like—why?”

Lu frowned slightly. “Why what?”

“Why would you… you know.” She gestured vaguely between them. “Date me.”

Lu considered her for a moment. Then he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, and said, “Because you’re you.”

Pip inhaled sharply.

Lu shrugged, playing it off like his heart wasn’t suddenly racing. “You’re smart. You’re funny. And you make me feel like I actually know what the hell I’m doing—even when I don’t.” He met her gaze, steady and unflinching. “So, yeah. I’d date you.”

Pip was completely silent.

For a long, stretching moment, she just stared at him, her lips slightly parted, as if she’d forgotten how to speak. Lu couldn’t tell if she was about to laugh, call him a liar, or throw her drink in his face.

“…That’s not fair,” she finally muttered.

Lu smirked. “What’s not fair?”

She exhaled, shaking her head, staring at the table like it held the answers. “You. Saying stuff like that. Being like that.”

“Like what?”

Pip let out a short, breathy laugh, rubbing a hand over her face. Then, before she could stop herself, she said, “Like someone I can’t imagine my life without.”

Lu blinked.

Pip groaned, shaking her head. “God, I should not be drinking right now.”

Lu leaned in, curiosity sparking, his heart thrumming like it wanted to escape his chest. “What does that mean?”

Pip hesitated, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “It means—” She sighed, then looked up at him with a kind of tired fondness. “It means I like you, okay? I like… how you always act like nothing gets to you, but you care so much it’s ridiculous. I like that you always notice when I’m stressed before I even say anything. I like that you walk me home when we stay late at the lab and pretend it’s just because ‘you needed air.’”

Lu exhaled slowly, dizzy, heart hammering in his throat and ears and just everywhere.

But Pip wasn’t done.

“I like that you’re secretly the biggest softie,” she went on, her words getting a little looser, a little warmer, like the dam had finally broken. “Like when you always give the stray cat outside the library part of your sandwich, even though you pretend you don’t like cats.”

Lu huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “It’s not my fault, he just looks at me like that.”

Pip chuckled, looking down at her drink. “I like how you talk with your hands when you’re explaining something. And when you’re focusing really hard, you do a little pouty thing with your lips, it’s adorable.”

Lu just stared. He didn’t know if he was breathing.

Pip leaned forward slightly, propping her elbows on the table. “You remember last semester, when my laptop crashed the night before that huge deadline?”

He snorted. “Yeah. You were ready to fight God.”

She pointed at him. “Exactly. I was losing my mind. But you just—” She shook her head. “You showed up with your old laptop, somehow got my files recovered, and then you stayed up with me the whole night just to make sure I finished everything.”

Lu shrugged like it was nothing. “Well, yeah. What was I gonna do, not help?”

“That’s the thing,” Pip said softly. “You don’t even think about it. You just do things like that.”

Lu exhaled, breath ragged like he just ran a marathon, and shifted slightly in his seat. “I mean, you do the same for me.”

Pip sighed. “Yeah, I would do it for you. But you do it for anyone who needs it. You don't mind staying up all night helping people study or finish their projects. You bring them snacks and drinks. You never let anyone sit alone in the lab when they look stressed. ”

Lu was speechless, just staring at her with his mouth slightly opened in surprise.

“Or—” she gestured vaguely, her voice softer now, “—how you knew I was about to crash last semester and left a stupid energy drink in my locker with a note that just said ‘Don’t die, Pip.’”

His mind scrambled for a response but words failed him. He didn’t even remember doing that. Lu opened his mouth, then closed it, caught completely off guard.

Pip kept going, oblivious to the fact that she was absolutely wrecking him.

“Do you even know how stupidly likable you are? You’re just— You walk into a room and people like you. And..” She hesitated for a heartbeat. “And I like that you’re way too competitive about stupid things. Like Mario Kart. Or rock-paper-scissors.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, both at what she said and as a nervous reaction to her entire speech. “That’s called having integrity, Pip.”

She rolled her eyes but kept going. “I like the way you say my full name when you’re being serious.” She swallowed. “I like the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

His eyes widened at the revelation. Pip let the words sink in for a moment. Then she picked up her metaphorical shovel and kept digging the hole.

“Yeah, I really like your eyes. Which is annoying because when you look at me a certain way, my brain just turns into the blue screen of death, and—” She broke off, shaking her head. Then she let out a small, slightly tipsy laugh. “Also I really like your hands.”

Lu’s brain felt like a completely fried motherboard. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply, buying himself a second to think.

Pip smiled, just slightly. Like she wasn’t just putting all of this out there, months—maybe years—of pent up feelings she had hidden from him.

“You have, like, objectively nice hands,” she continued, frowning slightly like this was important information. “They’re big but not, like, weirdly big, and you do this thing where you crack your knuckles when you’re thinking and—”

“Pip,” Lu interrupted, his voice slightly strained.

She blinked up at him, like she hadn’t noticed she was rambling. “What?”

Lu exhaled, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You can’t just say all that.”

“Why not?”

“Because—” He hesitated, shaking his head. “Because it means something.”

Pip stared at him. Then, very softly, she whispered, “It does.”

Lu’s chest tightened.

Pip suddenly looked like she wanted to shrink into the floor. “I should shut up now.”

Lu huffed a breath, shaking his head. She was drunk. Really drunk. She probably didn’t even know what she was saying. “You should.”

But she didn’t. Instead, she let out a breath, barely above a whisper.

“You’re kind of the best person I know,” she murmured.

Lu blinked. “What?”

Pip glanced up at him, eyes a little too bright, a little too earnest. Vulnerable. “You’re a really good person, Lu.” And then, after a pause. “…You’re all I ever wanted." She looked down and shook her head. "I’m sorry I can’t say it sober.”

Silence.

The bar noise felt distant, like it wasn’t even real anymore. Just the sound of her breathing, unsteady, and little too fast.

Lu gripped his drink like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

She wasn’t laughing anymore.

She wasn’t playing anymore.

The words hung in the air between them, delicate and irreversible.

Then, as if realizing what she’d just said, Pip sucked in a sharp breath, eyes going wide, glassy and slightly unfocused. “Oh, shit,” she whispered.

Lu just stared at her.

Pip covered her mouth with both hands, looking absolutely horrified. “I should not have said that.”

Lu blinked, dazed, still processing the fact that she had said that.

Pip groaned, dropping her head onto the table. “Lu, forget what I said”

“Yeah, that’s not happening.”

Pip let out a pained noise.

Lu exhaled, scrubbing a hand down his face. His chest felt too tight, his mind spinning too fast. He should say something, acknowledge it, tell her—

No.

He couldn’t let himself answer. Not here. Not now. Not while she was like this.

He needed to think. He needed to get those drinks away from her and get her home.

Lu stood abruptly, tossing some cash onto the table. “Come on, drunkie. Let’s get you back before you start reciting poetry or something.”

Pip groaned, still face-down on the table.”I regret all my choices.”

Lu smirked, despite the storm raging in his chest. He bent down and grabbed her hand, tugging her up. “Come on, you need to get some rest.”

She groaned again but didn’t resist when he pulled her to her feet, steadying her with an arm around her shoulders.

And as they stepped out into the cold Valentine’s night, biting and sobering, Lu kept hearing it over and over again.

You’re all I ever wanted.

And fuck if that didn’t ruin him.

Pip shivered, wobbling only slightly before leaning into Lu’s side without thinking. He tightened his grip around her shoulders, steadying her as they made their way down the quiet street.

The city had started to wind down—most people already home, tucked away with their dates, their lovers, their Valentine’s plans.

Lu exhaled, his breath curling white in the air. His mind kept looping back to her words.

She probably wouldn’t even remember saying it. And maybe that was a good thing. Maybe he should pretend he didn’t hear it. But fuck, it was hard when she was right here, pressed against him, trusting him enough to lean her weight into him like he was something solid, something safe.

She let out a soft sigh, tilting her head against his shoulder. 

“You’re warm,” she murmured, burrowing against him. “Like a space heater.”

Lu huffed a quiet laugh. “From project partner to household appliance. Quite a step up!”

“Totally.” Her fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket, her cheek resting against his shoulder. 

Lu swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep his focus on the sidewalk ahead, on getting her home. Not on the way she felt pressed against him, or the way her voice had wrapped around those words in the bar—You’re all I ever wanted.

It wasn’t far to her dorm, but every step felt like both too much time to think and not nearly enough. Pip was quiet, her usual sharp wit dulled by the alcohol, but she was awake enough to hum under her breath as they walked, something soft and aimless, the way she sometimes did when she thought no one was paying attention.

But Lu always noticed.

When they reached her building, she fumbled in her bag for her keys, her movements slow and uncoordinated. Lu reached over, steadying her hand before she could drop them into the snow.

“Here,” he murmured, plucking them from her fingers. “I got it.”

She hummed in agreement, watching him through half-lidded eyes as he unlocked the door. “Such a gentleman.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He nudged her inside, following her up the stairs to her dorm.

Once inside, Pip immediately beelined for her bed, flopping onto it face-first with a dramatic groan.

Lu chuckled, closing the door behind him. “I see subtlety is dead.”

“Mmhmm,” she mumbled into the pillow.

Lu crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “So this is how you treat your personal chauffeur, huh? No thank you, no you’re my hero, Lu?”

She lifted a hand lazily and gave him a thumbs-up without lifting her head. “You’re my hero, Lu.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

He glanced around the small dorm. It was cluttered but in a way that felt lived-in—books stacked on her desk, a blanket draped haphazardly over her chair, half-finished notes scribbled on sticky pads. It smelled like her.

He sighed, crouching beside the bed to untie her boots. 

Pip let out a breathy chuckle. “Wow, I’m getting the royal treatment.”

Lu shook his head, pulling off one boot, then the other. “Don’t get used to it.”

“You always take care of me, Lu.”

His chest ached.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Always.”

She didn’t reply.

“C’mon, Pip, at least get under the covers.”

She let out a grumbling noise but didn’t protest when he pulled the blanket over her.

When he started to move away, she reached out blindly, catching his wrist. “Stay.”

Lu froze.

Pip’s fingers were warm, loose from the alcohol but still firm enough that he knew she meant it.

He swallowed. “Pip—”

“Just… stay,” she murmured. “For a little bit.”

Her gaze flickered over his face, lingering on his lips for a split second too long.

For one agonizing moment, he thought—maybe. But he couldn’t. He was kinda drunk. She was very drunk. Kissing, confessing hidden feelings, cuddling until morning pretending they were just cold—none of it was an option.

Lu exhaled through his nose, running a hand through his hair. He shouldn’t even stay. He should go. He should definitely go.

Instead, he let out a quiet sigh, picked up a spare pillow from her bed and settled onto the floor beside her bed, leaning against the frame.

Her fingers slid from his wrist to his hand, her grip easy and unthinking. Lu glanced down, watching their hands, her palm against his, their fingers brushing.

He should let go.

But he didn’t.

He let his thumb trace over her knuckles absently, grounding himself in the quiet darkness.

And as the room settled into soft breathing and silence, as Pip's fingers curled around his just slightly in sleep, Lu let his head tip back against the bed frame.

Just for tonight.

He could pretend.

 

Pip stirred with a soft groan, burying her face deeper into her pillow. The room was too bright, the warmth of sleep fading into the slow, creeping realization that her head felt too heavy.

Right. Drinking.

She exhaled, blinking blearily at her dorm ceiling, willing herself to piece together the night before. There had been drinks, laughter, Lu teasing her—

Her fingers twitched, brushing against something solid.

She frowned. Turned her head.

Lu was on the floor beside her bed, slumped against the frame, his breathing slow and even, his hand still loosely tangled with hers.

Pip’s heart stopped.

The pieces of the night were blurry, but this—this was new. Unexpected.

She stared at their joined hands, at the easy way their fingers fit together, like they’d done this a hundred times. A small thrill curled through her chest before panic squashed it.

What the hell happened last night?

Her brain scrambled, reaching for memories that felt just out of focus. The bar. The walk home. Him helping her inside.

She swallowed hard.

Suddenly everything sharpened. The warmth of his hand. The quiet in the room. The way Lu’s breathing shifted just slightly, like he was surfacing from sleep.

And then—his eyes fluttered open.

Pip stiffened.

Lu blinked, slow and groggy, squinting against the morning haze, before turning his head slightly. For a second he just looked at her, his gaze still heavy with sleep.

Then his lips curled, soft and lazy. “Morning, Pip.”

Her stomach flipped. 

She cleared her throat, shifting to sit up, head still a bit heavy. “Uh. Morning.”

Slowly, like he didn’t really want to do it, Lu released her hand. Then he stretched, wincing slightly as he rolled his shoulders. “Damn. I think my spine is permanently shaped like your bed frame now.”

Pip let out a breathy laugh, but it was weak. “What… uh. What are you doing here?”

He gave her a look. “You really don’t remember?”

Pip hesitated. “I remember drinking.”

Lu huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, no kidding.”

She rubbed her temples. “Did I… did I say anything stupid?”

For half a second, Lu didn’t answer. Then he smirked, tilting his head. “Define stupid.”

Pip groaned again, finally dropping her hands to look at Lu. There was something almost hesitant in the way she studied him. Like something was off.

“…Did I?” she asked, quieter this time.

Lu hesitated.

Because he could tell her. He could say yeah, Pip, you told me you loved me and wrecked my entire existence in three seconds flat.

Or—

“Nah,” he said instead, stretching his arms over his head, stomping all over the memories like he wanted to grind them into dust. “Just your usual brand of nonsense.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re lying.”

“Am I?”

“You do this thing with your face when you’re lying.”

His heart was starting to speed up. “Pip, I’m literally just existing.”

She groaned, rubbing at her temple again. “Whatever. I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

“That truck was three vodka sodas and a bunch of other bad decisions.”

She let out a quiet laugh, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Lu noticed, but didn’t mention it.

Pip yawned, pulling the blanket over one shoulder. “You didn’t have to stay, you know.”

“Yeah, well. Didn’t trust you not to roll off the bed and die.” He shrugged, trying to keep his voice light. “Plus, you asked me to.”

She blinked at him, something flickering across her face. “I did?”

“Yeah.” He smirked. “Clung to me like a baby koala, too.”

She groaned. “Great. Love that for me.”

Lu chuckled, but it sounded hollow even to his ears.

Pip didn’t remember. And she had no idea she was breaking his heart.

He exhaled slowly, still blinking sleep away from his eyes. His head was clearer now, last night’s haze dulled to a manageable ache, but his chest still felt tight, weighted by the words that kept replaying in his mind.

You’re all I ever wanted.

She had said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. No hesitation, no doubt. And now she didn’t even know she’d said it. 

Lu swallowed it all down. “You should eat something.” His voice was steady, but he was already pushing himself to his feet, removing himself from the situation before she could ask anything else. “I’ll grab you some water.”

And just like that, the moment passed.

But while Lu moved toward the tiny dorm kitchen, Pip frowned slightly, like she was trying to piece something together. Like some part of her knew something had happened, even if she didn’t remember it yet.

Pip sat on the bed, fingers idly rubbing against her palm, as if chasing the phantom feeling of Lu’s hand in hers.

He returned a moment later, setting a glass of water on her nightstand with a pointed look. “Drink slowly. If you throw up all over the place I am not cleaning it up.”  

She rolled her eyes but obeyed, taking small, careful sips. The cold water helped clear the fuzziness in her head, but the feeling in her chest—the vague, off sensation, like she was forgetting something important—remained.  

For a moment, she just watched Lu move around her room like he’d done this a hundred times before. Something about it felt too easy—like they had always existed in this quiet rhythm, like it wasn’t strange for him to be here, like the warmth still lingering in her hand wasn’t something she should be questioning.

But she was questioning it. Because something was definitely off.

She tried to focus, tried to sort through the messy blur of last night. Bits and pieces surfaced—laughing over drinks, teasing, a conversation about some girl Lu liked.

Her stomach twisted.

Right. That.

She barely noticed Lu setting an energy bar on the nightstand. “Love that you don’t seem to have any real food around here,” he said, casually, before going back to the kitchen.

Pip swallowed hard, watching him move around like nothing changed. Like he wasn’t acting different. Like he wasn’t avoiding looking at her for too long.

He was bracing himself for something. And that—more than anything—confirmed it. She had said something huge. And he heard it, remembered it, and was probably thinking about it.

Pip opened her mouth, then closed it again, her throat too tight. Then she set the water down. “Hey, Lu?”  

He looked at her with an unreadable expression. “Yeah?”  

She bit her lip. “I did say something stupid last night, didn’t I?”  

Lu stilled. It was subtle—so subtle. But Pip knew him well enough to see it. The slight pause. The careful, almost imperceptible shift in his expression.  

Pip’s stomach dipped.  

Then he exhaled, rolling his shoulders like he was brushing something off, before walking back to her.

“…Define stupid,” he said, echoing his words from earlier.

Pip narrowed her eyes. “You’re so full of shit.”

He had that infuriating smirk on his face again, like he was perfectly fine. Like nothing was wrong when she knew that wasn’t true. “You think I’m just gonna hand over blackmail material that easily?" He scoffed. "Please.”

Pip stared at him, searching his expression for something. A crack, a tell—anything. Because she knew there was something to find.

Lu didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. But he was still keeping his distance. And very deliberately avoiding a straight answer to her question. 

“I feel like… I forgot something important.” She forced a small, shaky breath, tilting her head, testing the waters. 

Lu let out an exaggerated sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. “Pip—”

“Lu,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt as she got up from the bed. “Tell me what I said last night. I’m serious.”.

Something flickered in his expression—hesitation, uncertainty. But then he forced a smile, leaning back against the wall next to her bed. “Well, let’s see. You said I’m warm, which is accurate—”

Pip narrowed her eyes. “And?”

“And you threatened to fight a snowman.”  

Pip snorted. “Okay, that tracks.”  

But she knew that wasn’t the whole truth.  

“Oh, and you confessed your undying love for me.” He crossed his arms and smiled at her, like none of this was a big deal. 

But Pip just froze.

Lu said it so casually, so playfully, like it was just another one of their jokes. She couldn’t quite tell if he was telling the truth or not.

Her heart stuttered. He’s joking, right? Instinct took over because deflecting was easier, and she let out a half-laugh, shaking her head. “I did not.”

His smile widened. “Oh no, you definitely did. Got down on one knee, proposed right there in the snow. Very dramatic.”  

She let out a breathy laugh, shoving his arm. “Shut up.”  

Lu grinned, but there was something careful behind his eyes. Something guarded. He let the moment stretch, like he was waiting for something.

Then he shrugged. “Nah, I’m messing with you.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, testing her reaction. “But you did ramble about how I have nice hands, which, honestly? The most unnecessarily intimate thing anyone has ever told me.”

Pip blinked. “I what?”  

“Oh yeah. Full monologue. Went on for a while.” He glanced at them like he was genuinely contemplating their appeal. “Not gonna lie, I was flattered.”  

Pip groaned, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes. “I hate myself.”  

Lu chuckled. “I thought it was sweet.”  

She peeked at him through her fingers. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”  

“Immensely.”  

Pip groaned again, but her mind was racing. Because she knew Lu. She could tell he was doing this on purpose, avoiding the real thing she had said.  

She saw it now. Lu wasn’t acknowledging it because he was protecting her—like he always did. He was giving her an out. Letting her brush it off so she wouldn’t have to deal with it.  

For a long moment, there was just silence—thick and heavy, wrapping around them like neither of them knew how to break it.  

Then there was more—hazy, warm, something heavier curling in her chest. Flashes of cold air, of Lu’s arm around her, steadying her as they walked. Of his voice, softer than usual, saying You can’t just say all that.

Of her saying—

Pip sucked in a breath.

You’re all I ever wanted.

The words crashed over her like a wave, and suddenly, she was too aware of everything—the way her heart was hammering, the way Lu had hesitated when she asked if she’d said anything dumb, the way her fingers could still feel his wrapped around them.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Pip didn’t move. Because suddenly, she knew.

Suddenly, she wasn’t just remembering saying it. She was remembering how it felt. And the way he had held her.

The way he had not said it back.

And that was enough to realize that she had said something really very real that changed everything. Something she had never let herself say out loud, even when it was clawing at the edges of her thoughts.

Whatever this was—whatever was sitting heavy between them, waiting to be named—wasn’t something she could brush off.

It had always been there. And for the first time, she wasn’t sure if she could pretend otherwise. It wasn’t something she could take back.

She swallowed hard, fingers twisting in the blanket on her lap. No. Maybe... she could let this slide. She could laugh it off. She could let him keep pretending, keep protecting her from words she’d already said.

Or—

Pip inhaled sharply. “Lu.”

His smirk faltered, just slightly. “Yeah?”

She looked at him, really holding his gaze. Her heart was a hammer in her chest, but she forced the words out. “I meant it.”

Lu’s breath hitched. For the first time since she woke up, he looked thrown. His lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

She inhaled deeply, gathering the courage that felt like a live wire beneath her skin, and just kept going because if she stopped now she’d never say it.

“I remember,” she admitted, voice quiet but firm. “I remember saying that, and I—” She exhaled, gripping the fabric in her lap. “I meant it, Lu.”

For a second, he just stared at her, like he couldn’t believe she had actually said that out loud.  

Lu flexed his fingers slightly like he was trying not to react, but she could see it. She knew that movement. It meant he was thinking too hard, feeling too hard.  

She bit her lip, her chest tightening. “You didn’t say anything back.”

His gaze flickered to the floor. 

Pip swallowed. “Was it because I was drunk?” She hesitated. “Or… because I’m not the girl you were talking about last night?”

Lu let out a breath—sharp, unsteady. His fingers twitched, his jaw tensed. He was still trying to hold something back.

Then, finally, finally, he ran a hand through his hair, looking away for half a second before muttering, “God, Pip.”

She waited.

Something broke in his expression—something raw, something wrecked.

“It was you.” His voice was rough, unsteady. “It’s always been you.” 

It felt like the floor was escaping from under her feet.

“I didn’t say anything back because you were drunk and I didn’t think you meant it,” he admitted, voice lower now, rougher, like the words were dragging out of him. “And because… I didn’t think I could handle it if I let myself believe it.”

Pip’s breath caught.

Lu shook his head, exhaling sharply, and looked at her like she was the only thing in the world. “I’m in love with you, Pip. I have been for—God, I don’t even know how long. But I never said anything because I genuinely didn’t think you’d feel the same way.” He hesitated. “I thought if I told you, I’d just lose you.”  

Pip felt something break open in her chest. Her pulse thundered like mad in her ears. “Why?”

He let out a small, breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Because of the way you talk about love and relationships. Like it’s something that happens to other people. Like it’s something you don’t care about.”

He paused, and Pip could see the way his chest rose and fell too quickly for someone who was just standing still.

“Because I’ve watched you go on a date with someone, get bored, and never text them back. I just… I figured if you wanted something like this, you would’ve already—”

Pip’s breath hitched. “Lu.”

He exhaled. “Yeah?”

She swallowed. “I didn’t want something like this with anyone else.” Pip let out a nervous laugh, running a shaky hand through her hair. “I mean, look at me. I am horrifically bad at feelings. And I avoided dating because no one ever felt right. And I told myself I wasn’t that kind of person, that I didn’t care about romance, but—” She exhaled. “Maybe I was just lying to myself. Because it wasn’t until you that I started wanting something real.”

Lu inhaled sharply, like he’d forgotten how to breathe properly. His expression had shifted entirely, something new burning behind his eyes.

Pip felt breathless. “And now I’m saying all of this, and I don’t know how to shut up, so if you’re—”

Lu surged forward and kissed her.

Pip gasped against his mouth, barely processing before she was kissing him back, her fingers gripping his shirt, dragging him closer, tilting her head to let him deepen it.

And Lu just melted into it.

His hands found her waist instantly, his lips parting against hers like he had been waiting for this—like he had spent a lifetime holding it back, not letting himself have this, not letting himself want this.  

But now she was right there. And she meant it.  

And Lu—Lu was so in love with her, he didn’t really know how to breathe anymore.  

It was slow and warm and perfect. Like every touch they had ever shared had led to this.

When they finally pulled back, neither of them moved for a second. Their breathing was uneven, their foreheads pressed together, hands still fisted in each other’s clothes. The moment stretched between them, enveloping them, shielding them from the world.

“I love you, Philippa,” he said, barely a whisper.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Lu exhaled, brushing his nose against hers. “And I am so fucking mad at myself for not telling you sooner.”

“Yeah,” she murmured, “you’re a real idiot.” Pip let out a breathless laugh, pressing a soft, almost disbelieving kiss to the corner of his mouth. And then, whispering right against his lips, “I love you too, Luigi.” 

Lu chuckled, tilting her chin up to kiss her again, slow and deep, fingers threading into her hair.

And this time—

There was no reason for them to hold anything back.

---

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[jaiel]

I rediscovered Shezow. So now I’m throwing her in Gotham because I want every character I love to meet the bat family.

Shezow in Gotham

Shezow has been fighting crime in Gotham and it’s pretty hard to miss because she literally wears bright pink. As well as the fact the muggers and minor villains have been complaining about a human sized Barbie doll with a laser sword. Jason finally runs into this mysterious Barbie doll on a roof top mid patrol.

“So you’re the one who’s been causing trouble and making the homeless kids suddenly wear hot pink.” He speaks up making his presence known behind her.

The teenage girl turns around. Her outfit is mostly pink with a little bit of white sprinkled in. A pink leopard print base layer, not cheetah because the demon brat lectured him on the difference between cheetah, leopard and jaguar print the last time he made a mistake. Dark pink skirt that matches her cape, utility belt, white go go boots that remind him of wonder woman’s, pink shirt with a white S, pink gloves and black hair white a hot pink streak. He wondered what her favorite color was? Maybe it’s green…

“Well if taking out some muggers and a few mafia members is trouble then I’m your girl.” She responds. Her voice is higher but it feels forced. “What do I call you? Red head?”

“At least we know you’re not color blind. Could’ve been mistaken with the amount of pink you’re wearing.” He jabs snd she sighs. “Names Red Hood.”

“Trust me dude. If I had a choice I wouldn’t be wearing all this pink.” Her reply sounded tired as if this had been a reoccurring conversation. Jason noticed she rubbed a ring on her finger as she said this.

“Are you part of the Star Sapphires?”

“Nah never heard of em? It sounds she-diculous honestly..”

“Yeah….so what’s your name again?” He said hoping Oracle was catching the audio and visuals from his helmet.

“Shezow. Nice to-“ She said as she cut off. Her neck snapping back to where she was previously had been looking. “Gotta go there’s a she-mergency.”

“A wha-“ he begins before the girl jumps off the roof in a ruffle of skirt and cap fabric. His comm then came to life.

-“How long do think it’s gonna take before Dick and Bruce get into a custody battle?” oracles voice beams into his ear.

“Dick has probably already felt this kids presence in the stupid joke force and Bruce has already filled out the adoption papers.” Jason said dryly.

“Okay…so nothing about Shezow is popping up in our systems…”

“Why can’t anything just be easy. Now we got a hot pink meta Barbie running through Gotham.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for her on the city cameras. As I run facial recognition for her in the system. Don’t tell Tim yet. I don’t need him stalking her yet. We just got him off five cups of coffee and back to bring an insomniac.”