#and i look forward to learning much more!

[cameronsprincess]

okok hot cocoa and a movie w rafe and his gf on a late night drive maybe after a fight?????? 🤗🤗🤗 u can make it smutty or angsty or fluffy

i’m honestly thinking all three, angsty smutty fluff😏🩷

CW: smut! 18+ only! bf!rafe, gf!reader, strong language, slight angst, piv sex, car sex, semi public sex, fluffy ending w soft!rafe<3

join the 5k celly here!

you lean your head against the window of your boyfriends truck, nothing but the low hum of the radio filling the tense silence that surrounds the two of you.

the night was going well, until it wasn’t. you and rafe argued a lot, but it had never reached the point it did tonight. the thoughts of all the harsh things you both spewed at one other makes your chest tighten.

you slowly lift your head from the window, chancing a glance at rafe. his body is tense, fingers gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white. you don’t miss the slight tick in his jaw, watching as he clenches and unclenches it, nostrils flaring as his eyes remain on the road, not bothering to even look your way for a second.

“rafe…” you whisper, shifting in your seat so you’re facing him completely.

his hard blue eyes glance at you for a second, quickly placing them back on the road before he speaks.

“what, y/n… i’m really not in the fucking mood to talk to you right now.”

you breathe out a sigh, rolling your eyes. “then why the fuck did we go on a drive, huh? if you can’t even fucking talk to me, what was the fucking point in this?”

his hands tighten around the steering wheel once more, a heavy sigh pushing from his chest.

“i needed to fucking clear my head, after you…” he pauses, trying to calm himself before continuing, “fuck, after you said some of the shit you did, throwing low blows about my relationship with my dad my way, telling me that i’m a fuck up, i needed to fucking get out of that house… you are the one who asked to come with me, i would’ve much preferred you stayed home.”

his words hit you hard, slapping you in the face and twisting tightly around your stomach. your face drops, a slight frown on your lips as tears begin to fill your eyes. you know you shouldn’t have thrown his strained relationship with his father in his face, using it as ammo in your ploy to hurt him, and you definitely shouldn’t have called him a fuck up, knowing full well he hears that enough from his father and a few others.

rafe wasn’t a fuck up— far from it actually— you were just so angry, the words spilled from your lips before you could even give them a second thought.

“rafe, i-” you begin, but his loud, booming voice rings through the air, cutting you off.

“just stop fucking talking! can you fucking do that, for once? just stop. fucking. talking,” he pauses, letting out a rough laugh, “i’m just gonna take you home, i can’t stand the sight of you right now, can’t stand your irritating fucking voice.”

you gasp, his words slicing right through your heart.

“fuck you, rafe! god, i’m trying to make things better, but you’re being a fucking dick! and you wonder why i said the shit i said earlier, it’s because you act like this! you’re a fucking child! learn to grow up and communicate.”

rafe slams on the breaks so hard you jolt forward, your palms slapping against the dash of the truck. you push back, eyes narrowed on him. “what the fuck, rafe! are you fucking crazy? fucking drive the truck, now!” you shout, hands shaking and breathing choppy.

he ignores you, simply pressing his foot on the gas and speeding down the road, his tires slightly screeching as he does. you press your back firmly against the seat, arms crossed over your chest as you watch dim street lights and dark outlines of the trees fly by.

rafe makes a sharp right turn, pulling his truck into an empty, dark parking lot. he places the truck in park, quickly killing the engine and tossing the keys to the floorboard. you run a hand down your face, a scoff leaving your lips.

“why the fuck are we here? take me the fuck home.”

he doesn’t answer, his silence slowly grating on your nerves.

“rafe! are you gonna say anythin-”

he cuts off your words, his hand reaching out and wrapping tightly around your throat. you wrap a hand around his wrist, trying to pry him off, but it’s no use. his fingers tighten around the expanse of your neck, pressing firmly into your pulse point. he gives a low hum, leaning his face in close to yours, his warm breath fanning across your face.

“god you’re fucking infuriating, such a fucking bitch sometimes,” he stops, his eyes flitting down to your lips, reveling in the way they’re slightly parted, loving the way your pulse beats rapidly against his fingers. his lips slightly brush against yours and you squeeze your thighs together. you need him, and you need him now. “what am i gonna do about that little fucking attitude of yours, hmm?”

your eyes find his, the normally bright and shining blue now dark. you inch your face closer to his the best you can, and it’s just enough to press your lips against his. rafe groans, releasing your throat, his hand gripping the back of your neck and pulling you further into him. his tongue shoves its way past the seam of your lips, tangling with yours perfectly.

you moan into his mouth, your fingers gripping at the soft fabric of his shirt and pushing him back. both of your heavy breathing fills the cramped space of his truck, your eyes darting across his face, “rafe…” you whisper, but he doesn’t let you say another word.

he fumbles with his belt, pulling it free from his jeans before popping the button and slowly guiding the zipper down. he removes the rough denim from his lower body, his boxers going with them. your mouth waters at the sight of his hard cock, his tip swollen and already dripping with his arousal. he reaches over the center console, hands gripping your hips tightly and yanking you into his lap.

a low groan escapes him when your covered core rubs across his length, making him twitch beneath you. his hands pull at the waistband of your cotton shorts and you lift your hips, allowing him to pull them down your legs. he tosses them into the passenger seat, one hand firmly gripping at your hip while the other fists his cock, jerking himself as he keeps eye contact with you.

“fuck me, rafe. please?”

the words barely leave your lips before he’s pushing the head into your drenched hole, bottoming out in seconds. you both groan in unison, the feel of his large cock stretching you and the way your pussy tightly grips his dick making all the anger from moments ago wash away.

rafe presses his lips against yours, his mouth devouring you as he holds onto your hips, keeping you still as he pounds himself inside you from below. the head of his cock repeatedly hits at that sweet spot inside you, your body shaking in his hold and sweet moans of pleasure falling past your lips.

“r-rafe.. oh, god.” you mumble against his lips.

he pulls back, hard blue eyes on yours as he continues to brutally fuck himself into you. your pussy pulsates around him, your clit throbbing. you remove his hands from your hips, running them up your sides and placing them up your shirt. he cups your breasts, squeezing at them harshly. you begin lifting your hips, slamming yourself back down on him, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“fuck, baby. ‘m so sorry, ‘m so fuckin’ sorry.”

you press your forehead against his, your lips beginning to slowly trail across his jaw and down to his neck. your teeth lightly nip at his sweat slick skin, loving the reaction it pulls from him.

“‘m sorry, too, rafe. i love you. fuuuck, i love you.”

your body trembles beneath his hold, rafe’s hands slowly and softly roaming your body, drinking in every bit of you with his hands. “i love you, too.”

the band snaps, your pussy clenching tightly around rafe’s cock, your orgasm rushing through you with a call of his name. rafe isn’t too far behind you, his dick twitching inside you. he shoves himself deep inside you, a raspy moan falling from him as he paints your inner walls white with his seed.

his body falls limp beneath you, his arms wrapped around your waist as you lie your head on his chest. his fingers begin to trace lazy shapes on your back, lips kissing softly at the space between your neck and shoulder.

you break the silence first, “i’m really sorry… i- i didn’t mean anything i said, i just-”

he lifts his head, cupping your face in his hands as he forces your eyes on his. “i know. i’m sorry too, i love you, y/n. i really fucking do.”

you smile down at him, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. he pulls his hands from your face, allowing you to rest your head on his chest again. you find comfort in the silence this time, the strong beat of his heart against your face making your insides warm.

tagging a few moots: @starkeysprincess @starkeysbabygirl @rafesthroatbaby @rafesangelita @rafeyscurtainbangs @drewsarms @drewsephrry @bloodibambiidoll @babygorewhore @nemesyaaa @httpsdrewstarkey @redhead1180 @rafeinterlude

[angelic--kitty]

𝖈𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖎𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖜𝖊𝖇

𝖋𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖉𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖗!𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖊𝖈𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖔

warnings: smut (mdni), wlw content, fem!reader x transfem!drider arlecchino, dark content, stalking, breeding, oviposition, fingering, you're her human pet ♡, collars, arachnophobia, size kink, tummy bulge, nipple play, arle uses her webs to tie you up

a/n: kinksgiving yippee lmao

𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖋𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖐𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗

she watches you curiously, tied up so prettily in her webs while you squirm around in a futile fashion. your eyes are so wide, desperate, frightened as you struggle, oblivious to the creature watching you.

she creeps forward through the shadows, easily maneuvering through her own webs as she steps just hard enough for you to feel the vibrations and freeze up.

she'd been watching you for quite some time in that little cottage you lived in at the edge of her woods. she planned this perfectly, setting out bait of berries and herbs she knew would draw you in, only to trap you in her sticky web.

it was almost adorable how easily you fell for it. clearly you needed her to keep you safe. little more than a sweet pet, too curious for your own good.

as she revealed herself to you, your eyes almost brightened, and she wondered if you knew she was watching you. perhaps you actually had been hoping she would snatch you up. from how your breath turned shaky, your struggling ceased, she realized you were intrigued.

how... sweet. yet so foolish.

she helped you out of the silky strands, instead cradling your smaller frame to her body, carrying you back to her den. you were so pliant, she already knew you'd make a wonderful mate, and, perhaps, an excellent mother.

you had such a pretty body, such a sweet little look in your eyes when you'd kneel for her, dressed in nothing more than a collar she made for you.

clothes? you didn't need those anymore, right? she kept you warm, ensuring you stuck close to her side, enjoying her body heat while she enjoyed your soft form pressed against her.

and, oh, you were just as soft on the inside as you were on the outside. even better were the sounds you produced when her fingers slid into your sweet little cunt. she learned your anatomy rather quickly, easing the prettiest sounds from your lips as she crooked her fingers into your sweet spot.

"there, there," she hummed, pulling yet another orgasm from you as you shook against her body, feeling her limbs wrapping around you.

"c-can't-" you whine for her, despite your hips still humping against her hand. "too much-"

"hush, human." she merely mumbles, holding you tighter, rubbing her palm into your clit as you squirm. "i must have you ready for me."

your head was fuzzy, but you had enough sense to listen. "ready for...what?"

she pushed her body up against you, letting you feel the hardness pressed up against your back.

oh.

the squeak she received had her twitching, fingers pumping in and out faster. "it's my mating season, pet. we've talked about this previously, yes?"

you dumbly nod, remembering how she'd given you a long lecture on taking and laying her eggs. though, at the time, you zoned out, merely picturing her inside of you.

"good." she praises you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as she slowly pulls her fingers out, savoring the slick you leaked onto them. she picks you up easily, moving you to face her, your pussy hovering over her cock.

it was pretty, but thick, making you whimper when the tip brushed your hole. you squeezed around nothing and she sighs, rubbing herself across your slick entrance. "you must relax, human."

"you're... too big." you admit softly, your voice both nervous and needy. and it has its intended effect, softening the seldom sweet woman as she leans in, pressing her chin atop your head.

"you can take it, i can assure you of that." she pushes the tip into you, hearing you softly moan, grabbing onto her biceps the further she slides in.

she's thick, stretching you out but filling you with a pleasant warmth that makes you feel even fuzzier as you pant, head falling forward and onto her shoulder. "ah-" you squeak, back arched as she pauses, letting you grow accustomed to half her length. "full..."

she nearly purrs, breasts brushing your own as she feels your perked nipples. "there is still more to take." she tells you, but she pauses at your soft noise of confusion. "i...suppose that can wait if you're not ready. there is always next time, hm?"

you nod eagerly, hips shifting on the half of her fitted inside you, already feeling a little bulge in your lower tummy. one of her limbs slides to tease your clit and press on the bulge, earning a cute little yelp from you.

she eases you up and down her cock, little more than a toy for her as she eases just a bit more of her length into you with every thrust. she grunts, feeling you squeezing around her, your slick dripping down her cock and giving the dark flesh the prettiest creamy ring.

just looking at it has her twitching in you, needing to cum inside of you to watch it drip out all the same.

she begins to give you the same lecture on her eggs, though from the way your eyes have gone glassy and the way you begin to beg for her cum, she figures it's lost on you.

her thumb slides to your clit, rubbing little circles until you cum around her like the good pet you are, giving her the perfect opportunity to fuck you deeper, pushing her eggs into you as your face scrunched up, hands gripping onto her while your nails leave indents into her skin.

she groans, clearly pent up from how thick her cum is inside of you, already dripping out of you as your back arches up, nipples at the perfect height for her tongue to flick out and tease them until they're swollen.

she keeps you on her cock, plugging you up and admiring the image of her eggs in your stomach. her hand brushes over them, picturing the perfect family you'll both have so soon... and how she can't wait to do it over and over again just to see you completely fucked out.

her beautiful little pet.

she kisses your forehead, climbing back into her web, keeping you snuggled against her body, plugged up nicely while you fall asleep, pleased and comfortable together.

[umgeorge]

Press con questions that weren't shown:

Q: (Jenna Fryer – Associated Press) George, were you guys blindsided by this or have any idea that it was coming or under consideration, that a change in Race Director was coming? GR: No, no idea whatsoever. So, yeah, as I said, it was a bit of a bit of surprise.

Q: (Luke Smith – The Athletic) George, has there been any response from the FIA or the FIA president to what the GPDA put out? GR: No. Not at the moment, which I'm a little bit surprised about, to be fair. But maybe there'll be something to come. Who knows?

Q: (Ben Hunt – Autosport) It's obviously very disappointing to learn from you that there's no transparency at all from the FIA. Was there any response about where the money's going from for all these fines and all that sort of stuff? Because that's another key element which we would quite like to know as well. GR: No, I think ultimately for us, when we were hearing from the FIA a couple of years ago, when it came to the Presidential elections, they were talking about transparency, talking about where the money is going to be reinvested into grassroots racing, which we're all in favour for. And of course, when it comes to some of these large fines, there's a number of drivers on the grid who can comfortably afford these fines. There's maybe some rookies on the grid that if they're handed a $1 million fine, you know, they can't afford this. But if we know where that's being sort of reinvested and if it's going into grassroots or into some training programs, then we get it. As I said, I think we just want the transparency and understanding of what was promised from the beginning.

Q: (Kevin Scheuren – Motorsport-total.com) A question to George as well on that topic. Isn't it a bad sign that you need to open up a social media account to make your voices heard as a collective? Because it sometimes seems, looking from the outside, that the individual, if the individual has an opinion on stuff, he faces repercussions. Now you have to work as a collective. Are you more or less a pawn in this game? Do you drivers feel sometimes more or less as a pawn in this game, not taken serious? GR: I think we've probably learned from the past that whenever we have spoken up, let's say internally, it hasn't gone anywhere. And as I said, as drivers, we only want the best for the sport. We want to improve it, especially on safety grounds, but whenever it comes to, you know, decisions in the race, we only want to help. And it's been a couple of years now that not much has changed when we have sort of given some views forward. And I guess we all wanted to show that we are collectively united. And maybe that will show how seriously we feel as a whole on the subject.

Q: (Andrew Benson – BBC Sport) George, it's been seven years since the GPDA had put out a public statement of this kind about something they were concerned about. What level of confidence do the drivers have in the leadership of the FIA at the moment? GR: I mean, I'm not too sure to be honest. We recognise everybody's working as hard as they can to do the best job possible. There is obviously a huge amount of change within the FIA quite regularly, so it's clearly not the most stable of places. And maybe that's why it's been a bit challenging to get some of the changes that we've wanted implemented. Of course, everyone has their own side to their own story. But as I said, I think if we feel that we're being listened to and some of the changes that we are experiencing, requesting, are implemented, because ultimately we're only doing it for the benefit of the sport, then maybe our confidence will increase. But yeah, I think there's a number of drivers who feel probably a bit fed up with the whole situation. And it only seems to be going in, to a degree, the wrong direction.

Q: (Jordan Bianchi – The Athletic) For all three drivers: you returned to Vegas this year. A year ago, there was a lot of hype and excitement about this race. I'm curious, now that you come back here for a second time, what's the atmosphere like that you guys have kind of experienced so far? Kevin, let's start with you.

GR: Yeah, I mean, it definitely feels strange, this Grand Prix, just living in the night. And like Kevin says, the atmosphere builds up during the course of the weekend. So, yeah, let's see how it goes.

Q: (Anna Cordera – Momentum Racing) George, I'd like to ask you, you've been racing with Lewis for almost three years. What do you think is going to be different now you being the veteran of the team racing with Kimi, regarding the development of the car? GR: Yeah, I mean, ultimately, for most F1 teams, you have near on 1,000 people who are working towards building these two cars, yet you only have two drivers driving it. So, I think, let's say, in Lewis, in my case, it was never that Lewis had a stronger voice. The team listened to us both equally because both of our opinions were extremely important. And the same going into next year. You know, Kimi's new. He's fresh. And I'm sure he's going to have a lot of great ideas to bring to the table. So, you know, I am the more experienced of the two, but we will both get equal voices the same way, and we will both equally contribute towards the development the same way as it was with Lewis and I.

Q: (Ian Parkes – New York Times) Sorry, another question to you, George. George, is it that difficult to try and get a sit-down face-to-face meeting with the President of the FIA to discuss all these issues, that you have to go down the route that you did with that message? GR: It's definitely not difficult to get a sit down, but I think getting things to change or getting promises upheld seems slightly more challenging. So, it's maybe the FIA or the president didn't recognise how seriously we all felt. So I think that's why over the course of 20 races this year and also even last year we spoke about a number of topics, all of the drivers, we all feel pretty similar. We all know what we want from the sport and the direction it's been heading and we probably feel that we want to do a small U-turn on a number of topics and just want to work together with the FIA on this. And that's just what we've felt has not been happening at all, at least directly from the President.

[n0vazsq]

Pretty Boy | LN4 x Reader

pairing . . . lando norris x gf!artist!reader

summary . . . While you're sketching a drawing of Lando, you notice that something's off with him. Then, you remind him that he's much more than what people think of him

request . . . no!

word count . . . 759

warnings . . . none! just one use of 'damn'

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . first lando fic!!! a bit short but i hope you guys like it <33

. . . The room smelled like salted caramel and the leather of the couch you were currently sitting on. Lando sat across from you, sat on the arm of the chair, one leg bouncing restlessly. The glow from his phone lit up his face every few seconds, softening the sharpness of his jawline, but it didn’t hold his attention for long. He set it down after scrolling aimlessly, leaning back with a sigh.

"You know," you started, stretching out your legs, "you really need to learn how to sit still. You’re stressing me out."

He flashed you that damn grin, the one he knew you hated for how effortlessly it made you forgive him for everything. "You sound like my engineer," he laughed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"Maybe I should be," you shot back, holding up the sketchpad in your lap. "You’re not exactly making this easy for me."

His eyes flicked to the page, and he tilted his head, squinting slightly. "That’s me?"

"Who else do you think I’ve been sketching this whole time? Your mum?"

Lando grinned, leaning in closer to get a better look. His hair was slightly messy, still damp from the shower he’d taken earlier, and you could smell the faint trace of his shampoo as he hovered over your shoulder. "Not bad," he said with mock seriousness, tapping his chin. "You almost got my nose right."

You turned your head, glaring playfully. "Almost? You’re lucky I even attempted that ski slope you call a nose."

He pretended to be offended, leaning back dramatically, a hand on his chest. "Ski slope? That’s rich coming from someone who-" He cut himself off, laughing at your raised eyebrow.

"Go on," you urged, smirking now.

"Nah," he said, still laughing as he settled back into the chair. "You’re not worth the fight."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Lando had this way of lighting up a room without even trying, of making you feel like the only person who mattered when he turned that adorable charm your way. It was infuriating, really.

But tonight, something about him seemed quieter. The usual spark in his eyes was dimmer, and the edges of his grin didn’t reach as far.

"What’s going on with you?" you asked, setting the sketchpad aside.

He shrugged, looking down at his hands, which were fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. "Nothing. Just thinking."

"About....?"

He hesitated, chewing on the inside of his cheek before finally meeting your gaze. "You ever feel like… I don’t know. Like people only see what they want to see when they look at you?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Where’s this coming from?"

He shrugged again, more defensively this time. "It’s just… I don’t know. Everyone’s always saying stuff, you know? About me. Pretty boy this, golden boy that. Like that’s all I am."

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. "You know that’s not true, right?"

"Isn’t it?" he countered, his voice softer now, more uncertain.

"My beloved Lando." You said his name like it was the answer to a question he didn’t want to ask. "You’re so much more than what people say. You’re brilliant, and kind, and funny, annoyingly so, actuall. You care about the people around you more than you probably should."

He didn’t say anything, just stared at you with this look that made your chest tighten.

"I don’t see some ‘pretty boy,’" you continued. "I see you. The real you. And if other people don’t, that’s their loss. But just saying, you are pretty."

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "You’re too good at this whole therapy talk thing, you know that?"

You smirked, leaning back against the couch again. "Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep your ego contained."

He laughed then, the sound breaking through the tension like sunlight through a cloud. And when he looked back at you, the spark in his eyes was there again, faint but unmistakable.

"Thanks," he said simply.

"For what?"

"For being here. For being… ," He took a deep breath, arms raising and falling, like he was trying to cut the air. "You.”

Your smile softened, and you shrugged. "Someone’s gotta put up with you."

He laughed again, shaking his head. "Lucky me, huh?"

And in the glow of the room, with the soft hum of the music in the background, you thought maybe you were the lucky one.

[thatone16216]

Kwon Jae-Sung x fem!Larusso!reader

What happens when the cocky, bad-boy captain of the Cobra Kai team meets Daniel Larusso's daughter?

*Notes, since Kwon is actually 20 apparently(?) reader is going to be 18. So, technically a year older than the rest of the team, Kwon will also not try to make Robby jealous, Yoon can do that

I thought I would have no problem keeping my promise to focus on the Sekai Tekai rather than on guys, even though I'm not even officially competing. I'm here as a backup fighter in case of any injuries, but I knew that all my focus went out the window with the arrival of the Cobra Kai team.

One look at that dangerous smirk and messy hair, and I was smitten.

He turned toward me, flashing me a smirk and wink, and I'm so distracted that I don't even register the fact that Tory is standing next to him until my sister, Sam, elbows me in the ribs. I turn in her direction, and she frowns at me. "He's the enemy," she hisses.

"Well, 'the enemy' is hot," I hiss back. I feel a soft smack on my head and notice my dad giving me a look. He shakes his head, and I sigh, crossing my arms and turning back to face the announcer.

I have the feeling he's on the "forbidden to breathe the same air as me" list. Good thing I have never listened to that list once in my eighteen years of life.

As we file out, I lock eyes once more with the Cobra Captain, and this time return his smirk.

I have the feeling he's going to make this tournament interesting...

~~~~~

As we wait in the lobby to check in, Devon and I chat until she focuses on something over my shoulder. "Captain Cobra is coming this way," she observes. I turn, despite my better judgement, and lock eyes with him as he makes his way to where the two of us are standing, leaving the rest of his team to taunt mine.

"Hi," I say, watching him approach. I wonder briefly if he's always smirking, because that's what he appears to be doing right this second. "Hey," he says back. He stops in front of me. "You must be, [Name]." My eyes narrow suspiciously and he raises his hands in a surrender pose as he chuckles. "Relax, I'm not stalking you. You and Robby are all Tory talks about. I've seen a million pictures of you. It's nice to finally meet the person I've heard so much about."

I nod, raising a brow at him. "So, am I going to learn your name or am I still supposed to call you 'Captain Cobra'? It's kind of a mouthful if I'm being honest." His smirk seems to turn into a slightly real smile, as he laughs. "I'm Kwon. Kwon Jae-Sung. Future Sekai Tekai champion." I nod, acting impressed. "I see. And what makes you so sure?" I ask him teasingly. He straightens up, eyes holding a real sense of pride as he gives me a cocky, though fully real, smile.

"I'm the best fighter here. I know it, my team knows it, everybody knows it. I fight mean and dirty, giving me an edge over my opponents." I study him closely as he talks about how he's the best. He truly believes what he is saying, and I actually kind of believe him as well. Tori told me about Master Kim when she was training at Cobra Kai, and after meeting her during the fight at the dojo, I believe that her students are put through the damn ringer. He doesn't seem the type to follow directions easily, though. More the opposite.

Before I can keep the conversation going, Devon taps my shoulder. "Incoming, sister," she whispers. I nod, turning back to Kwon. "I have to go. I'm sorry. Good luck, though!" I say, holding out my hand for him to shake. Kwon takes it. "I look forward to seeing you fight," he says back to me. Before I can tell him I'm just a backup, he's gone back to his team.

"What did he want?" Sam asks as she approaches, leveling a nasty look in his direction. I shrug, watching he and his team walk away. "Just to introduce himself. I guess Tory talks about me a lot," I say. Sam scoffs. "He's just trying to get in your head. Don't let him," she says. I roll my eyes. "I'm not even competing, so I don't know why he'd be trying to get in my head," I observe, hoping my sister would understand how stupid she's being. Her next sentence tells me everything I need to know about her current mindset. "You're my sister, though, and the daughter of one of our senseis. If he's in your head, it's to use you to get to us," she explains as though I'm dumb. I sigh as I follow her to our room.

She's changed a lot over the past two years, but at the same time, she hasn't changed a bit.

~~~~~

I roll my eyes with the rest of my team as the captains are coddled and treated like kings while the rest of us just stand around and watch. I notice one of them checking out Robby and narrow my eyes. She better not even think about making a move on my best friend's boyfriend. She'll be lucky if I kill her before Tory does.

I notice Kwon smiling at me instead of the camera as the picture is taken. When Tory leaves, he walks over to me. "Hey," he greets. Before I can respond, my sister marches over and drags me away. "Don't talk to her!" She snaps. I give Kwon an apologetic wave as I leave, him flashing a small smile in return.

I briefly wonder if he ever frowns, because he seems like the type of person to always be smiling. Even when he's angry. I then wonder briefly how hot he is when he's angry.

~~~~~

"You're a dumbass, Robby," I sigh, watching the Cobra Kais celebrate getting a new room. Robby says nothing, only turning around and leaving, and the rest of the team follows him. As I turn to leave, I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. I pull it out, seeing a text from an unknown number.

Unknown - It's Kwon. Tory gave me your number. I thought it would be easier to talk without getting interrupted this way.

I smile to myself, wondering if he actually enjoys talking to me.

[Name] - Yeah, this works. Especially because I've been told that you're only speaking with me to get in my head

Kwon - Well, you've figured me out. Tell me, is it working?

[Name] - Not really if I'm being honest. Besides, I'm just a backup anyway. If you want to get in anyone's head, it would be my sister's. She's team captain, after all

Kwon - It's hard to tell over text, but you seem disappointed.

I pause briefly reading that. Am I disappointed? I guess I am. Sam has always been the favorite. Even though I'm the oldest, I've never been the most behaved child. Especially not when I'd joined Cobra Kai behind my father's back. Sam has always been the perfect angel, and my parents, my father especially, have always shown their favoritism, even without realizing it. The captain's thing was no different, along with the team tryouts.

[Name] - if I'm being honest? a little

Kwon - If you want to talk, you could always come to my room tonight.

I pause, a smirk on my face as I text him back.

[Name] - this sounds suspiciously like a hookup offer?

Kwon - That wasn't really my intention.

I frown slightly in disappointment, hoping I didn't scare him off, when my phone buzzes again.

Kwon - I wouldn't object to it, though.

I laugh as I reply to him.

[Name] - I'll be there at 11:00. Keep it in your pants

~~~~~

Sneaking out was harder than I thought it would be. I feigned wanting to take a midnight stroll to get over my lack of sleep because my roommates were still up. Devon wouldn't judge me, given the fact that she realizes that a petty rivalry is stupid, but Sam would flip out and most likely tell our father if I snuck out to meet up with a boy. Especially the Cobra Kai captain.

I knock on the door, looking around wearily. I saw Robby walking around as well as I was leaving, and I prayed he didn't return too soon. As soon as Kwon opened the door, I stepped in, quickly closing it behind me. "Make yourself at home," he grumbles. I giggle. "I'm sorry, I just am trying to avoid my teammate who is also wandering around right this second." He laughs, and sits on one of the beds, while I set up camp on the other. I look at the mountain of pillows on his bed, noting that the bed I'm on has no pillows.

I smirk at them. "So, you like pillows?" I ask. He looks confused until he notices the mountain. "They're comfy," he defends. I laugh at him and lay on the bed, facing him on his. "Why'd you invite me here?" I question. He shrugs. "Just to talk. Why aren't you competing?" I shrug, turning away from him to look up at the ceiling. "I'm not good enough."

He scoffs. "I don't believe that." I shrug again. "It's true. I'm not good enough in my father's eyes, and neither is my brother. Sam is the golden child. That's why she's captain. She would have been captain whether or not Tory stayed on the team. I'm not competing because I had strep on the days of the tryouts for the team. As a consolation prize, I was allowed to come here as a replacement in case someone got hurt or sick." I roll my eyes. "It wouldn't have mattered anyway. When it comes to Sam, everyone seems to worship her. My parents only just started acknowledging my brother's existence, and for me, I've always been the sneaky disappointment."

I sit up, training my eyes outside the window. At Kwon's scoff of disbelief, I turn to him. "It's true. They're most disappointed in the fact that I had joined Cobra Kai, and that I chose to remain there during the 'Karate War'. I was there until Eli chose to leave, and I left too."

Kwon nods along to what I'm saying, and he's such a good listener that I find myself telling him even more of the story. "When I was in Cobra Kai, I was a different person. My dad had taught me and Sam Karate from a young age, but I liked the Cobra Kai style better. I thought the offense was more fun than the defense, and I started fighting that way. I also fought dirty. My dad also didn't like the amount of respect I had for his high school bully, so that was another reason he was disappointed in me. The biggest reason he was disappointed, though, was because I wasn't like Sam. I didn't follow hi directions mindlessly, I didn't make everyone's problems my business, and I, most importantly, didn't like the 'right guys'. The only guy I've ever dated was Eli, and that ended because we both knew that there was no way he'd ever be able to settle for anyone who wasn't Moon."

I stare at the city outside of Kwon's window, and I feel the bed move as he sits beside me. "I think that's stupid," he says. "You should be competing while you're here. Your entire team is training for this, yet you aren't able to even attempt to show people what you're made of. You should rejoin Cobra Kai. Master Kim would let you."

I laugh. "Thanks, but no thanks. I can't do that to my team, and I'd rather watch this tournament anyway. Besides, I can't cheer you on if I'm competing at the same time now, can I?"

~~~~~

The next morning, I quietly sneak back into the room. My sister is still asleep, but Devon comes out of the bathroom as I shut the door. "Where were you?" She asks. I glance over at my sister before pulling out my phone. I quickly type Kwon into a text before showing it to her. She raises a brow, and I quickly shake my head. "Not like that," I quickly reassure her. She laughs. "Relax. I was just going to say you're moving a little fast is all," she tells me. I smile at her before my sister stirring distracts us.

"Good morning, guys," she says, yawning. We return our good mornings as we begin to get ready for the day. As Sam gets in the shower, my phone buzzes. I smile as I read Kwon's text.

Kwon - We should get together again tonight.

Devon shoots me a look as I smile at the text. "Moving a little fast, are we?" she snarks. I stick my tongue out as I throw a pillow at her. "Shut up," I say. She laughs as she dodges the pillow. "Have him actually take you out today or something," she suggests. "I'll vouch for you." I nod. "Okay," I decide.

[Name] - How opposed are you to missing practice today?

Kwon - Depends on the reason?

[Name] - I'm bored. I don't want to watch my team practice

Kwon - I don't know. What's in it for me?

[Name] - Theres a beach we could spar on?

Kwon - 10:00?

[Name] - Sounds good

~~~~~

The first time we got together went so well that we've decided to do it every day. Early in the morning, we get together and train, whether it be a sparring session, jog, or weightlifting at a gym, we've been getting together regularly. Today, it's sparring on the beach again. Most days it only lasts about two hours, but today we both have the day off, so we'll be spending it together.

I adjust the workout clothes I'm wearing. I'm in shorts and a (tank/crop) top because I thought it would be warmer today, but right now, near the water, I'm freezing. I settled on my cutest outfit, mostly to impress Kwon. I hear a voice call out to me and I turn and smile as he approaches. "Ready?" he asks me. I nod, and he pulls off his jacket, revealing a rather tight compression shirt with his sweats. I try, and fail, not to stare too hard at the abs I see through the shirt.

As soon as we bow to each other, he runs at me, forcing me to block and dodge his attacks. I back away from him as he relentlessly moves forward, kicking and punching everywhere he could. As I defend, I watch his movements carefully. Every fighter has a flaw in their movements. It could be a past injury, a small habit they never trained away, or, in Kwon's case, a false sense of security. He keeps his arms lower than he should. Not by much, but enough for someone who knows what they're doing to pick up on it. He focuses his efforts more on throwing fast and powerful combinations than he does on his defenses, because he's confident in his speed. While his speed is impressive, he's still open to an attack.

I use this against him, dodging his next kick and aiming a punch at his exposed liver. I'm not going to actually hit it that hard, due to the fact that it can cause permanent damage, but I do hit it hard enough for him to stop. He falls to the ground, in pain and gasping for breath, and I quickly run over to him. "Are you okay?" I ask him, helping him sit up. He laughs, breathlessly. "Yeah, just winded."

The two of us sit and chat, watching the waves crash on the beach for the rest of the day. As night approaches, I shiver, getting slightly chilly. Kwon notices, wrapping his jacket around my shoulders and shifts closer to me, making me warmer. "So, should we consider this our first date?" Kwon asks as we watch the sun setting. I look at him and he's already looking at me. "We've barely known each other a week?" I respond. He shrugs, leaning back. "And?" He questions, staring up at me. I scoff. "We barely know anything about each other!" I protest, trying not to smile. He's squinting up at me and crinkling his nose while doing so, and I have to look away to avoid giving in.

"Tory would tell me about you and Robby all the time, and she showed me a lot of pictures of you. Everything you've told me, like your favorite color and favorite TV show, Tory has talked about. I know all of the surface level stuff about you, like the fact that you hate coconut and people have to hide M&M's from you because otherwise you won't stop eating them. You sounded so interesting that I couldn't not talk to you that first day here. After that, I couldn't stop thinking about you. Your sister accuses me of trying to get in your head, but I can't seem to get you out of mine."

The two of us are silent after his confession, until I finally get the courage to look him in the eyes. "If you promise to take me on a real first date tomorrow, no training involved, I might consider it," I say. His smile lights up his whole face. "Deal," he agrees.

~~~~~

I nod at Devon as I walk out the door, passing through the hall. I make it to the lobby, spotting Kwon waiting by the door. As he waves to me and I begin to walk over, a person steps into my path. I bump into Miguel, who looks at me, annoyance on his face. "Hey, [Name]," He greets. I nod at him. "Hey, Miguel." I try to step around him, but he starts talking to me. I lock eyes with Kwon, who taps his watch he's wearing. I shrug helplessly and Miguel launches into a rant about Robby being a horrible captain and how he's always so distracted. I nod along, impatiently before snapping.

"Why don't you just talk to him?" I finally huff. "Look, I'm late to meet someone, so I'll see you later." I quickly make my way out the door of the lobby before he can ask who I'm meeting.

I walk to Kwon, who's now waiting for me outside. "It's about time," he grumbles. I smile at his pout. "I was trying to leave, but he was complaining about his stepbrother," I say. He rolls his eyes. "He couldn't have complained farther away from you?" He asks, grabbing my hand. As he laces his fingers through mine, I smile up at him. "Aww, are you jealous?" I ask, starting to tease him. He frowns down at me and looks away, a blush staining his face red. "No," he mumbles. I giggle, letting him lead me away from the hotel.

~~~~~

We decided to go to the boardwalk, which is where we spent our day. We ate food, played games, and went on every ride at the park, and we were walking around again when I squealed and grabbed his hand. "Look at that panda!" I pull him closer to the game booth where there is a huge giant panda stuffed animal hanging from the top of it.

Kwon chuckles at my enthusiasm and pays the booth attendant. Kwon needs to knock down every clown on the little shelf to win the panda. On Kwon's first try, he knocked down ten of them. He played again and knocked down eleven. The third time, he also got eleven, despite hitting the clown dead center. Just as I'm about to tell Kwon it's a scam and to just leave, he pays again, and this time whips the ball so hard at that clown that it finally does fall over. He turns to the booth attendant. "Panda. Now." The guy does as he's told and hand's me the giant panda. I smile up at Kwon as he looks down at me. He looks like he wants to say something but gets distracted as he looks up. "The only thing we haven't done yet is the Ferris Wheel," he says.

I take his hand. "Then let's go!"

As we pay and get on the ride, we stare out over the city. I shiver as we get closer to the top, because the cold air hit me. Kwon chuckles, draping his jacket over me again. "At this rate, I should just let you keep it," he says. As I laugh and face him, he stares at me. "It looks even better on you than it does on me," he notes. I feel the blush on my cheeks, despite the chilly air, as his face gets closer. As his breath hits my cheeks, I feel my eyes flutter shut and I lean forward to close the distance.

He kisses me, softly at first, but slowly turning hotter and more passionate as it continues. My hands slide into his hair, just as soft as I'd imagined it'd be, as he pulls me closer by my waist. The fact that we're on the Ferris Wheel becomes forgotten until we reach the bottom, and the ride operator clears his throat.

The two of us get off the ride, me embarrassed and Kwon satisfied, and begin to walk back to the hotel. I'm clutching my gigantic panda on my right side and Kwon's hand on my left side, and as he swings our arms back and forth and twirls me around in the moonlight, I silently wish this moment would last forever.

Neither of us knew how late it was as we walked back into the hotel, but since we were greeted by my angry father and sister, and one very confused Johnny Lawrence, I would assume it was very late.

"Where have you been?" Dad begins to question. I shrug sheepishly. "The boardwalk?" I answer. Dad holds up his phone. "Do you have any idea what time it is? Why didn't you answer your phone?" He asks. I look at my phone and wouldn't you know? Fifteen missed calls and over one hundred unread messages. "Oops. My phone was on silent, not vibrate. That's my bad."

Dad begins to get angry, when Sam opens her mouth. "Why were you with him? You know he's our enemy!" She glares at Kwon, who until this point has been standing silently beside me. It's now that my dad seems to fully register who he is and, more importantly, who's jacket I'm wearing.

"Is that a Cobra Kai jacket? And you went out, alone, on a date, with one of their Captains?" I nod, handing the bear to Kwon. "Yeah, and I had an excellent time. He's quite the gentleman, you know. Held doors for me, walked on the side of the sidewalk with traffic, you know, gentleman things." Dad stalks closer. "We're not talking about this here. Give him the jacket back and say goodbye. You're not allowed to speak with him." I stay put, crossing my arms. "That's not fair!" I exclaim. "Cobra Kai isn't your enemy, Kreese is. So why can't I just go on a date with a nice boy who just happens to be from that dojo? I mean, Tory willingly joined the dojo, and you are still being perfectly nice and civil to her! Kwon's just a normal teenager who had an opportunity to succeed and took it!"

"It goes against everything Miyagi-Do stands for," Dad says. I throw my hands up in frustration. "Miyagi-Do this! Miyagi-Do that! All you ever do is talk about Miyagi-Do! Sensei Lawrence tries to teach us something, you argue against it because it's not the "Miyagi-Do way". Do you know how ridiculous you sound? And I can't date a boy because he happens to attend a dojo run by the guy who taught your high school bully how to fight? No offense, Sensei Lawrence."

Johnny waves it off. "No big deal, kid. Listen Daniel, maybe she's got a point." Dad turns to him. "Does she? Does she have a point? Get back to me when your daughter goes on a date with a cocky asshole who is being taught by a monster, and you'll understand how I feel." Johnny steps closer. "Listen to me man, I was the cocky asshole. This guy, he's not it. You're letting your feelings about Kreese affect your judgement and you're making horrible decisions. Just let the girl go on a few dates and be happy. She's not competing anyway, which you already know how I feel about that, so what's the harm in letting her date the guy?"

Dad glares at all of us before taking a breath. "We'll talk about it in the morning. Go to bed." With that, he climbs upstairs and goes to his room. Johnny sighs and waves at all of us before following after him, leaving me, Sam, and Kwon alone.

"How could you do this to us?" Sam asks, tearfully. Footsteps sound and the rest of my friends appear in the lobby. "We heard yelling," Hawk says. Demetri nods. "I tried telling everyone it was none of our business, but you see how well that worked out." he gestures to the other Miyagi-Do students. Miguel wraps his arm around Sam. "She's right. How could you betray us like this?" He asks angrily. I open my mouth, but Kwon finally speaks. "Betray you? She hasn't done anything to betray you, although listening to you people speaking, it's a miracle for you guys she hasn't. She doesn't even get to train with you people. She was brought here as a backup, but instead of letting her be one, you flew another person in from the states instead. I offered her the chance to join Cobra Kai, and she declined, saying that she couldn't do that to you guys."

The whole team except Kenny and Devon glare at him as he speaks, and I roll my eyes. Kwon then glares back at all of them. "You all love Tory so much, even though she joined Cobra Kai. Your captain would still be dating her if she didn't break up with him, so why the hell is me dating [Name] such a horrible crime?"

My team doesn't have an answer, so Kwon just scoffs. "Pathetic, all of you. Let's go, [Name]." He gently takes my hand and pulls me to the stairs, leading me to his room.

"You can stay with me tonight," he says. "I'm sure I have a shirt that you can borrow." I smile gratefully at him, trying not to think about the betrayed faces of my friends and father.

When we get to the room, Kwon tosses me a shirt before grabbing a handful of clothes and walking to the bathroom. "I'm just going to shower really quick," he says. "Okay," I respond, scrolling through social media. I like one of Yasmine's selfies, noting that she looks like she's finally getting better from the breakup. I still can't believe Demetri cheated on her. She truly did care about him, and I could tell it hurt her a lot. I like a post on Aisha's Instagram as well as I change out of my dress/jumper and into the shirt. It's long enough that it fits like a dress, ending just past my thigh. Aisha seems to be doing well at her new school, and I'm really happy for her, even if I do miss her.

I get a phone call from my mom. I sigh before answering. "Hey, mom!" I say, cheerfully. She sighs. "I just got off the phone with your father," she says. I slump. Of course she did.

"Is he anything like the Cobra Kais were when they were in the Valley?" She asks. "No. Aside from being a little cocky, he's not aggressive without reason." Mom sighs in relief. "Then I don't think you really need to listen to your father on this one. I trust your judgement, and even if it only lasts through Barcelona, at least you'll have a time with him you'll enjoy." I smile widely at him as he comes into the room. "Thank you, Mom," I say, happily. She laughs. "Okay. I'll let you sleep now. Love you, bye." She hangs up on me.

Kwon flops onto the bed next to me, only wearing a pair of sweatpants. He wraps his arms around me as he nuzzles his face into my neck. I pet his hair as he sighs into me. "I'm sorry about your team," he mumbles. I shrug, glad he can't see my face. "It's okay. I'm not sure what I expected from them. I thought they'd be a little kinder to you, but whatever. You're only the first guy I've actually liked since my ex, and even then, I didn't like him nearly as much."

Kwon looks up at me with a smile. "Yeah?" He asks, leaning closer. "Yeah," I say, closing the gap. We share soft kisses throughout the night, mostly just staying up and talking, enjoying each other's company as we slowly drift off.

As I lay in bed, staring out the window, I savor the feeling of Kwon's arms around me, his breath warm on my neck as he sleeps. In this moment, I don't care about the tournament, what my team thinks, or what could happen tomorrow, all I care about it the boy wrapped around me, who listened to my friend talk about me and decided that he needed to meet me. The boy who won me a panda and kissed me on the Ferris Wheel.

The cocky little asshole who managed to steal my heart. Little bastard.

[magical-reid]

The rings we keep

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!FBI!Reader

Genre: fluff

Content warnings: none?

Word count: 1.6k

The badge clipped to your belt was as much a part of you as the Glock strapped to your hip. Being an FBI agent meant long hours, endless yellow tape, and the occasional brush with danger that left you rattled for days. But you loved it. You thrived in the chaos, the adrenaline, the chance to make a difference.

Still, nothing could have prepared you for the chaos of being married to Spencer Reid.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t kind or brilliant—he was both, in spades. Spencer was a walking encyclopedia with a heart that quietly held more compassion than most people knew. You hadn’t planned on marrying him, though, in fact, neither of you had planned on marrying anyone.

It had started two months ago, in a Las Vegas hospital room. Spencer’s mother, Diana, had been lucid that day—something you’d learned was both a gift and a curse. She had smiled at you as you sat next to Spencer, the three of you chatting about books, the weather, and old stories from her youth.

“You’re so good to him,” Diana had said suddenly, fixing her gaze on you.

You’d looked up, confused.

“She is,” Spencer had replied, his voice soft as he squeezed her hand.

“Marry her,” Diana had said, her words clear and direct. “Spencer, I want to see you happy. And I want to see you married before you have to leave.”

Leave. It had been a terrible misunderstanding, her mind tangling the threads of the past and present. But the plea in her voice had been real, and Spencer hadn’t been able to bear telling her no. He’d looked at you, something fragile and desperate in his eyes, and before you knew it, you’d agreed.

The walk-in chapel had been surreal. There was no big dress, no flowers—just a quick exchange of vows, a ring from a pawn shop, and Diana’s tearful smile as she watched from her seat. The moment had been oddly sweet, almost sacred.

And then the moment had passed.

You’d both agreed to annul it later, but life got in the way. Between your cases and his, you barely had time to sleep, let alone complete the paperwork. Eventually, Spencer had suggested staying married, if only for the convenience.

“It’s easier,” he’d reasoned. “Legally, I mean. Besides, it’s not like it changes anything.”

And for two months, it hadn’t.

Today, though, felt different.

The case you were working on had taken a grim turn, and your unit chief had decided to call in the BAU. You hadn’t protested—it was a particularly brutal series of murders, and their expertise was invaluable. But when you stepped into the police station that morning and saw Penelope Garcia’s face light up like Christmas, you knew she’d snooped.

“Mrs. Reid!” she chirped, her voice barely contained.

You froze mid-step, narrowing your eyes at her. “Not here,” you hissed under your breath.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she whispered conspiratorially, winking. “My lips are sealed… mostly.”

Before you could respond, your unit chief waved you into the conference room. The BAU was already seated, their attention split between a whiteboard covered in crime scene photos and a map dotted with pins.

Spencer was there, of course, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. He didn’t look up when you entered, but his presence was enough to send a twinge of nervous energy through you.

Your unit chief cleared his throat. “Agent Reid, thanks for joining us. BAU, this is Agent Y/N Reid—she’s with our unit and will be helping coordinate the case on our end.”

There was a moment of stunned silence. You saw Emily Prentiss glance at Spencer, her brow raised in mild amusement. Derek Morgan’s smirk was almost immediate, while JJ covered her mouth, clearly trying to hide her surprise.

“Reid?” Derek repeated his grin widening.

“Y/N Reid,” you said firmly, emphasizing your first name. “Yes. We’re married. No, it’s not relevant to the case.”

Penelope let out an audible squeal from the corner of the room, and you shot her a warning glare.

“It’s not relevant,” Spencer agreed, his voice calm but his ears slightly pink. “Can we move on?”

Derek chuckled but relented, turning his attention back to the board. “Alright, let’s get to it.”

The case was grim—a string of murders targeting young women who all bore a striking resemblance to one another. Blond hair, blue eyes, petite builds. They’d been abducted, held for days, then left posed in public spaces. The unsub was meticulous, methodical, and growing more confident with each kill.

By midday, the conference room was a storm of theories and strategies. Your units worked well together, bouncing ideas off one another as new leads emerged. But despite the progress, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

It wasn’t the unsub—though God knew you’d had stalkers in your line of work. No, this was different.

You looked up from your notes and caught Spencer’s gaze. He quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the map.

The weight in your chest grew heavier.

Spencer was your husband. Legally, at least. But in every other way, he was your coworker. He was brilliant and kind and occasionally maddening, but you didn’t know how to be his wife. Not really.

“Y/N?”

JJ’s voice broke through your thoughts. You blinked, realizing everyone was looking at you.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said, you and Reid should interview the victim’s roommate together. She might be more comfortable with a familiar face,” JJ said, glancing between you and Spencer.

You hesitated, but Spencer nodded. “Makes sense,” he said. “We’ll take my car.”

The drive was awkward.

Spencer fidgeted with the radio, flipping through stations before settling on classical. You stared out the window, trying to ignore the growing tension between you.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said finally.

“So have you.”

He sighed, glancing at you briefly before returning his eyes to the road. “Are you… okay? With everyone knowing, I mean.”

You frowned. “It’s not like we planned this, Spencer. Besides, it was bound to come out eventually.”

“I know. But I don’t want it to make things harder for you.”

You softened at his words. Despite his sometimes awkward demeanor, Spencer had a way of saying the right thing when it mattered most.

“It’s fine,” you said. “Really.”

He nodded, though he didn’t look convinced.

The interview went smoothly, though it yielded little new information. The roommate was distraught, her hands trembling as she recounted the last time she’d seen the victim. You kept your tone gentle, and your questions open-ended, but the answers all led to the same dead ends.

When you returned to the station, the atmosphere had shifted. Penelope was typing furiously at her laptop, muttering under her breath about search parameters. Emily and Derek were deep in conversation, while Hotch stood at the head of the table, his arms crossed.

“We have a lead,” he announced as you and Spencer entered. “The unsub’s car was spotted near a bus station downtown. Surveillance footage shows him leaving the scene shortly after the last victim was found.”

He gestured to the screen, where a grainy image of a man in a baseball cap appeared. His face was partially obscured, but something about his posture sent a chill down your spine.

“The station is less than a mile from here,” Hotch continued. “We need to move quickly.”

Your team sprang into action, splitting into smaller groups to cover more ground. Spencer was assigned to the tech team with Penelope, while you were paired with Emily and Derek to canvass the area.

As you searched the bus station, your instincts prickled. Something about the unsub felt personal—too calculated, too deliberate. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching, waiting.

When your phone buzzed with a text from Spencer, your heart skipped a beat.

Be careful.

You texted back a quick You too before slipping the phone into your pocket.

Hours later, the unsub made his move.

It happened fast—too fast. You were alone, having split off from Emily and Derek to follow a potential lead. The unsub cornered you in an alley, his knife glinting in the dim light.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice eerily calm. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Your blood ran cold. He knew your name.

“FBI,” you said, keeping your voice steady as you drew your weapon. “Drop the knife.”

He didn’t. Instead, he smiled—a slow, deliberate smile that made your stomach churn.

“You’re just like her,” he murmured. “So pretty. So perfect.”

Before you could respond, footsteps thundered behind you. The unsub’s smile faltered, and he turned to run, but not before Spencer tackled him to the ground.

The knife clattered to the pavement as Spencer wrestled him into submission. You moved quickly, cuffing the unsub as Spencer caught his breath.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice tight with concern.

You nodded, though your hands were shaking. “Yeah. Thanks to you.”

He offered a small smile, but his eyes lingered on you, searching for any sign of injury.

Back at the station, the unsub’s confession came easily. He’d been stalking his victims for months, studying their routines, their habits. He’d seen you on the news once, years ago, and decided you were his ideal type.

The realization made your skin crawl.

“You saved her life, pretty boy,” Derek said, clapping Spencer on the shoulder. “That’s what husbands are for, right?”

Spencer flushed, but his smile was genuine.

Later, as you packed up to leave, Spencer lingered by your side.

“You didn’t have to come after me,” you said softly.

“Yes, I did,” he replied without hesitation.

For the first time since your wedding day, you felt the weight of the ring on your finger. Maybe this marriage wasn’t as complicated as you thought.

Maybe, just maybe, it was exactly where you were meant to be.

[moonchild9350]

Lavender Fields Masterlist & Taglist Post

Series Summary: you, a humanoid from a different planet, was born within a lab here on earth in the near future, your days filled with servitude and testing within the labs to learn more about your kind as your kind are not able to feel emotion. you had nothing to look forward to until you met Hyunjin, a technician assigned to you. you learn much at his hands and invaluable lessons, enlightening your once purposeless life.

Pairing: Hyunjin x humanoid!gn!reader

Genre: sci fi au, romance au, strangers to lovers au, angst, fluff, smut

Note: hi hi! this is my second series and decided to feature Hyunjin cause I mean it's Hyunjin lol. The first chapter will be posted soon. If you would like to be on the taglist for the series comment on this post or shoot me a message!

Contents:

Chapter One: Different Chapter Two: Chapter Three: Chapter Four: Chapter Five: Chapter Six: Chapter Seven: Chapter Eight: Chapter Nine: Chapter Ten:

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght @possum-playground

[loves0phelia]

The Maybank Twins

Summery: which dream would you pick?

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: grammar mistakes

A/N: Sorry I feel like this fic is all over the place and barely understandable but I had the idea of JJ having a twin since I learned JJ's real name was Jackson so I hope you like it anyway xx

JJ and Jackson were intensely different despite being twins. But it wasn't always like that.

Both boys were born kooks, but as children, the status did not matter. Being a kook or a pogue didn't have a meaning until you grew up. Kids from both sides of the island enjoyed playing with each other. That's why when they met you they didn't hesitate to befriend you even if you were a pogue.

On a beautiful Saturday, you took your shiny pink bike and began pedalling down the roads around town to the point where you crossed the line into Kook territory. You knew your dad wouldn't like you travelling so far from home but you loved to admire the large houses with picket fences and pools. You always dreamed of visiting one. 

As you were looking with dreamy eyes at everything but the path in front of you, the front wheel of your bike caught the side of a sidewalk.  The handlebars jerked to one side, and you tumbled forward. Hitting the ground with a soft thud, your knees scraped against the rough concrete.    

You sat up slowly, tears welling in your eyes as you examined your knees. Both were scraped and red, with tiny spots of blood forming on the surface. Your palms stung from catching yourself.

The commotion probably alerted some people because next thing you knew two boys around the same age as you came running out of the house you were wrecked in front of.   

They both darted out of the yard, weaving through the iron gate and across the street to where you sat on the concrete.  

“Hey, are you okay?” one of them asked, crouching down beside you.  

You sniffled, wiping your tears with your sleeve. “I fell off my bike.”  

“Come in, we can give you a bandaid,”  the second boy said without hesitation, looking at your scraped knees.

The first boy reached for your bike to place it to safety while the second helped you up on your feet and helped you inside the large mansion-looking house.

Inside, it felt even bigger. The tall ceiling and window looked fantastic. You almost forgot your pain as you looked over the various decorations.

“There sit” You sat down slowly on the gray cushions of the couch and tried to not get any blood on it.

“I’m JJ by the way, that was a badass fall, It looked so cool” He smiled and laughed, for a moment you were almost proud.

“Don't say that JJ she could have been really hurt and it's not cool” The boy crouched in front of you with a cloth soaked in lukewarm water and pressed it to your knee.

“You're just boring, Jackson, you don't think anything is cool!” JJ argued with his brother and Jackson furrowed his eyebrows.

“Yes, I do!” They continued bickering next to you until a beautiful blond lady came into the room.

“Boys, what is going on?” She asked with her hands on her hips looking over her twins.

The childish argument stopped immediately as if both of them were soothed by their mother's presence. “We saw this girl fall off her bike, we wanted to help her” JJ muttered.

“Did you guys ask her, her name?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. But both of them shook their heads. “I thought I raised you two to be gentlemen, what's your name honey?” 

“y/n” 

“That's such a pretty name, I hope these boys weren't too much of a pain for you” She whispered but JJ and Jackson definitely heard and you simply giggled.

This was the moment you began to be a constant person in their lives. Both of them loved you until they grew up and this love changed into something more.

When you all all turned from children to teenagers the words kooks and pogues began to have a meaning. You were now divided into two groups, rich and poor. But the boys didn't agree with this mindset. Especially JJ. After their mom died he became reckless. He Jumped on any opportunity to go on an adventure or to feel just an ounce of adrenaline. He was sick of the bubble wrap and wanted to live freely like the pogues.

Jackson on the other end even though he disliked the hate between each side of the island, he refused to drop everything like his brother to live a careless life. He wanted to go to college, he wanted to have a bright future, with a beautiful house, a wife and maybe even kids. He wanted the picket fence dream.

And you? You didn't know which dream to pick.

The dream with JJ where everything is joyful and exciting. 

Or the dream with Jackson where everything is soothing and comforting.

JJ

The Bluetooth speaker blasted an upbeat song, filling the small living room with pounding bass and lyrics. JJ stood in the center of the room, wearing his signature goofy grin and wildly waving an imaginary microphone in the air.  

“AND I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU!” he screamed, his voice cracking in all the wrong places.  

You rolled over on the couch in laughter, clutching your stomach. “JJ, you’re ruining Whitney Houston! That’s a crime!”  You both laughed as the song ended and Don't Stop Me Now by Queen started playing

“You think that’s bad? Just wait for this!” JJ leaped onto the couch with a dramatic flair, now holding an empty glass beer bottle as a microphone. “DON’T STOP ME NOW! I’M HAVIN SUCH A GOOD TIME”  

“ I’M HAVIN’ A BALL!” You screamed following the lyrics, jumping up to join him. You grabbed a remote control off the coffee table and sang into it like it was your own microphone, matching JJ’s energy note for note.  

“You’re awful!” he yelled over the music, grinning ear to ear.  

“Excuse me?” You shot back, pretending to be offended. “I’m carrying this!”  

“Please, you’re the backup singer at best!”  

“Asshole!” You gasped and pushed him making him stumble and fall on his butt on the soft cushion but he quickly recovered, standing back up and grabbing you by the hand to dance on the dirty rug. Without a second thought, he turned bringing you with him and dipping you as dramatically as he could making you both burst into uncontrollable laughter. 

He pressed a big messy kiss on your cheek and laughed again at the disgusted face you made before wiping away the saliva with his palm. 

The next song started—a slow, cheesy love ballad. JJ struck a mock-serious pose, reaching out a hand. “May I have this dance, milady?”  

You rolled your eyes but played along, taking his hand. “You may, good sir.”  

You swayed dramatically around the room, both purposefully stepping on each other’s feet and exaggerating every movement. JJ spun you out and back in, and you both collapsed onto the couch in a heap of laughter as the song ended.  

“That was awful,” You said, catching your breath.  

“The worst,” JJ agreed, his head tilted back against the cushions. Then he glanced at you, a mischievous sparkle in his eye. “Wanna go again?”  

“Duh.”  

It was always like that between you and JJ. Loud, obnoxious, happy. You both never caught a break in each other's presence. But you loved it, you loved him.

JACKSON

Your fist knocks softly on the door of the twin's house. The sound feels like it echoes in the home. After a couple of seconds of nothing, no voice, no footsteps you try again. Louder this time.

“JJ I swear if you forgot your keys again- oh hey” the door swung open revealing the twin you were looking for.

“Hey Jacks.” you smile noticing his messy blond hair meaning he was probably taking a nap.

“Uhm JJ isn't here” he scratched the back of his head and leaned on the doorframe.

“Actually I came to see you… we haven't hung out much lately” you said looking up at him.

“Yeah sorry, I've been studying a lot and I saw you and JJ hang out often. I didn't want to bother you know”

“You never bother, I'm your friend too” he nodded and lifted himself off the frame to let you into the house you knew so well. It was honestly a second home to you.

His room was dimly lit, and much cleaner than JJ’s. You and him lay side by side on the bed, your legs tangled in the blankets.  

He stared up at the ceiling, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting gently on your hand. You lay on your side, head propped in your palm as you looked at him, a small smile playing on your lips.  

“Do you ever think about where we would be if you and JJ never saved me when I fell off my bike?” You asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.  

Jackson turned his head to look at you, his light blue eyes warm and thoughtful. “All the time,” he admitted, his lips curling into a faint smile. “You're like the only person I can talk to about.. anything. JJ, he's my twin but it's easier with you. Moments like this are everything I look forward to.”  

You tilted your head, studying him. “You mean laying in bed talking about everything and anything?”  

He grinned. “Yeah I don't get to do it with anyone else”  

Your chest warmed at his words, and you reached out to brush a strand of hair off his forehead. “I don't get to do it with anyone else either”   

He raised a hand, his fingers brushing your cheek before leaning in to press a tender kiss to your forehead. It was soft, lingering, and full of unspoken affection. You closed your eyes at the touch, letting yourself sink into the quiet comfort of the moment.  

It wasn't unusual for you both to show affection like that. Jackson's love language was physical touch and JJ's was quality time.

“I like this,” you murmured after a while, voice barely audible.  

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice equally quiet.  

“Yeah. Just… us. quiet, calm.”  

Jackson smiled, his hand finding yours under the blankets and giving it a light squeeze. “Me too.”  

And it was always like this with Jackson and you loved it, you loved him but you couldn't bring yourself to choose who you loved most.

[saltnsugarbear]

Lip with “Fuck, wait — shit. Mm— fuck. Wh-where did you learn to do that?” “Well, the noises you make are a pretty good indication of how you like it.” “…God you sound so fucking cocky right now and it’s turning me on even more.” 

so like on the low i ate this up

word count: 1.0k

content warnings: KAREN SLANDER IM SO SORRY (I don't like her but I hate slut shaming more) they don't enthusiastically consent but they're both into it I'm sorry 😔, so ig dubcon, oral (m!receiving) (don't ask for this ever again), Lip is kind of mean (the voices olive got to me on that one)

side note: don't expect any bj fics again cause I hate the idea of giving men head SORRY also I like triggered my own life apocalypse (got sick at work, power went out, etc)

come celebrate!

One of Lip's favorite things about you is your competitive nature. Not that he'd ever say that out loud, but it's one of the things that endeared him to you.

It made him like pushing your buttons even more.

So complaining while you actually work on your group project is the perfect way to annoy you today. However you've stopped paying him any mind, about three minutes into his griping. So he tries a new approach.

Bringing up his most recent conquests. So obviously that means he feels the need to mention Karen.

And the fact that instead of being tutored, she gave Lip head instead. The story makes you roll your eyes, shaking your head when he comments that it's probably the best blowjob he's ever gotten.

"It could not have been that good.." You scoff, trying to focus on finishing the sentence you're writing. "Actually, I take that back. Given how big of a slut she is, she's probably had plenty of practice."

"Oh fuck you-" Lip starts.

"Am I wrong?" You challenge him quickly, glaring up from your page.

"You're just pissed off you're not getting any." He sneers. You roll your eyes, you're not having this conversation with him.

Lip takes your silence as agreement, snickering lightly. "No wonder you're so uptight, you're not getting laid."

You have to bite your tongue to keep from retorting. He's fucking insufferable.

"Everything makes so much more sense now. Because I kept asking myself, y'know, why you're such a bitch. But it makes sense now, you're not getting away so you need to take your frustrations out another way."

"You're such a fucking asshole, Gallagher. You don't know shit about who I'm fucking." You snap at him, putting your pen down none too gently.

"Right, like anyone would be able to fuck you. Probably too fucking tight up there, can't even get a finger in you." Lip's look is gloating, like he's won some verbal sparring match.

You don't know why you're moving. Pushing out of your chair and tugging Lip's back. Lip sputters at the abruptness of your yanking, arms flying out for balance. Once there's enough space for you, you quickly step in between his legs before dropping down to your knees.

You're a little surprised at the small tent in Lip's slacks already, scoffing after you piece it together. "You get off on the sound of your own voice?"

"What? No. What are you-" You cut Lip's questioning off quickly, pushing yourself up to rest on your toes so you can easily rest your arm on his thigh as you press your palm against his half hard dick. Lip's words are muddled as you bully him through the fabric, fighting himself for some composure.

With one last squeeze, you bring both of your hands to his hips, pulling him forward until he's sitting at the very edge. You don't miss how he inhales sharply at your rough handling.

Once he's positioned better, you sit flat on your feet before looking up at him through your lashes and leaning forward, licking at his erection through his slacks. Lip groans as you continue to mouth at his cock, head falling back as you suck softly around the fabric.

Once you're satisfied with the wet patch you've made in his pants, you bring your hands to unbutton and unzip them before tugging them down slightly. Lip helps you out by lifting his hips up, letting drag them down past his knees. Your saliva bled through his pants, dampening his boxers where you had been teasing him.

Taking your time, you go back to mouthing at his erection. You can hear him shifting above you, glancing up to see him bring his hands around. Lip's hands are pushy as they hold the back of your head.

"Uh-uh.." You pull away from his bulge, catching his wrists before leaning forward and tucking them behind his back. "Those stay there."

"Fuck..." Lip mutters.

"Lift." You tap his hips as you curl your fingers under the waistband of his boxers. Lip is a quick listener, lifting his hips up so you can tug his boxers down to his pants. He breathes out heavily when his cock springs free, hitting his stomach.

You're quick to take him in your mouth, sliding your tongue along the underneath of his length. There's a sense of pride as Lip struggles to form any words, the only things leaving his mouth a mix of whines and groans.

"Fuck, wait- shit-" Lip grunts as you sink back down to the base, glancing up at him with your nose brushing against his happy trail. "Mm- fuck. Wh-where did you learn to do that?"

You hum around his length, feeling how he twitches in your mouth before pulling all the way off.

"Well, the noises you're making are a pretty good indication of how you like it." You grin up at him, bringing your hand to wrap around the base of his cock.

"...God you sound so fucking cocky right now and it's turning me on even more." Lip's eyes are lidded as he looks down at you, watching as you slowly jerk him off. You roll your eyes at him, leaning back towards his cock.

"I liked you better when you could barely speak," you tell him before leaning forward and wrapping your lips around the head of him.

"Fuu- ughh.." Lip grunts as you suckle at his head. His hips buck up into your mouth, pushing himself farther in. You hum sharply, taking your hands away from his base and pushing back against his hips. Lip breathes heavily as you keep his hips in place, flicking your tongue over the slit before pressing gently at the underside of his head.

"Wait-" Lip chokes out, hips bucking up again. "Shit, shit- fuck-"

Lip's release is thick on your tongue and you're quick to open your mouth, letting him watch as his cum coats your tongue. Doing such makes Lip swear, another rope covering your tongue. You pull away from him, sticking your tongue out for him to see all of his release before making a show of swallowing it.

"Still think she gave you the best blowjob of your life?"

[pandapetals]

…i have an idea that im unsure on whether or not i can write it myself & i’m OBSESSED with how well you always characterize logan so hear me out

i’m always thinking about the boxing scene in origins, so perhaps some boxer!logan where he’s teaching his girlfriend self defense in the gym after hours? you can make it as steamy or fluffy as you want!

i’ve just been dying to submit a request because i’m a fan of your work <3

AHH, thank you so much. I love your account so much! I have been wanting to write about Boxer Logan for some time so this request is literally perfect.

boxer!logan howlett x fem!reader - fluff, fighting, teasing, banter, no y/n used, no reader description, soft logan, established relationship

"Alright, sweetheart," Logan said, his voice a low rumble that echoed off the empty gym walls. He stood in front of you, hands casually raised. The white tank top he wore clung to his chest, damp with sweat, and the sheen of it caught in the flickering overhead lights. He rolled his shoulders, muscles flexing in a way that seemed entirely unfair. "You gotta learn how to defend yourself."

You fiddled with the straps of the red gloves he’d given you, tugging at them. "I know, Logan," you said, arching a brow, "but do we really need to do this? I mean, c’mon—what’s the point? I don’t want to hurt you."

He laughed, the sound warm and deep. "Hurt me? Darlin’, you couldn’t hurt me if you tried." He tilted his head at you. "But you’re welcome to give it a shot."

You narrowed your eyes, torn between amusement and the urge to wipe that smug look off his face. He looked too at ease, standing there with his hands up and that teasing smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.

"Alright, fine," you huffed, stepping forward. "But don’t come crying to me if I accidentally break that pretty nose of yours."

"Pretty?" He raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider. "I’ll take that as a compliment."

"You would," you muttered under your breath.

Logan spread his feet into a fighting stance, nodding toward you. "C’mon, then. First lesson—don’t telegraph. You gotta keep me guessing." He raised a hand to gesture toward your shoulder. "See, you’re tense here. Makes it obvious what you’re about to do. Relax."

"Relax? That’s easy for you to say," you shot back, shaking out your arms. "You don’t have to punch you."

"Exactly," he said with a wink. "Now focus. Don’t think. Just swing."

Taking a deep breath, you stepped in and threw a jab toward his chest—not too hard, but enough to show you meant business. Logan dodged it effortlessly, leaning to the side as though it were a breeze that brushed past him. He gave you an almost pitying look, clicking his tongue.

"Sloppy," he teased, circling you like a predator playing with its prey. "That all you got, sweetheart? I thought you said you didn’t wanna hurt me."

You glared at him, your cheeks heating. "Oh, I will hurt you, Logan," you shot back, a spark of determination lighting in your chest. "Just wait."

He chuckled, that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. "That’s more like it. Now stop aiming for where I am—aim for where I’m gonna be."

You gritted your teeth, eyes narrowing as you watched him move. He was testing you, but there was something about the glint in his eye—like he was enjoying this, not just the sparring, but you. You tried to read him, to guess his next step, and when he shifted ever so slightly, you swung again, this time aiming lower.

To your surprise, he stepped right into it, catching your gloved hand in his palm with a sharp smack. His grip was firm but careful, and he grinned down at you, clearly pleased. "Not bad," he said, his voice softening. "You’re getting there."

You groaned, tugging your hand back. "You let me get that one."

"Maybe," he said with a shrug, the cocky edge returning. "But you still gotta work on your follow-through. What if I wasn’t nice enough to stop it, huh?"

"Nice? You’re about as nice as a brick wall," you muttered, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding—not from exertion, but from the way he was looking at you.

Logan’s grin softened into something almost fond. "You’ve got more fight in you than you think," he said, reaching out to gently adjust your stance. His hands lingered on your shoulders for just a second before he stepped back. "Now, one more time. And this time, I want you to mean it."

You nodded, steeling yourself. He was still smirking, but there was something else there too—a flicker of pride, maybe, or just the satisfaction of seeing you rise to the challenge. Whatever it was, you weren’t about to let him down.

You shifted your weight, fixing your gaze on his chest as if it were a target. Then, without warning, you lunged forward, throwing your whole body into the punch. He moved to dodge, but this time you were ready—you adjusted mid-swing, your fist just grazing his ribs. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him blink, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

"Well, look at that," Logan said, stepping back and rubbing his side with exaggerated drama. "You almost got me."

"Almost?" you said, crossing your arms. "Pretty sure I felt that connect." 

"Sure, sure," he said, smirking as he leaned closer, his voice dropping. "Next time, maybe try a little harder. You might even make me flinch."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Whatever, let’s just go again.” You stepped back, shaking out your hands like a boxer psyching themselves up.

Logan smirked, circling you slowly, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and challenge. His confidence was infuriating—like he was untouchable, always one step ahead. But as he moved, you caught his focus was on your gloves, like he thought that was all you had to work with.

Big mistake.

You let your shoulders drop, exhaling slowly as if you were done. "Alright, you win," you said, feigning defeat. "You’re too good, Logan. I give up."

He tilted his head, one brow quirking in suspicion, but the grin never left his face. "Oh, c’mon now, don’t quit on me, sweetheart. Where’s that fire I saw a minute ago?"

"It’s gone," you sighed dramatically, letting your gloves hang at your sides. Then, as he paused in his pacing, you stepped forward, closing the distance between you in two quick strides. Logan’s smirk faltered slightly, his eyes narrowing as if he sensed something coming.

Instead of throwing a punch, you leaned in and kissed him.

For a split second, Logan froze. His lips were warm and slightly parted, caught completely off guard by the sudden move. You felt his breath hitch against your mouth, and then—just as he started to kiss you back—you shifted your weight and swept your foot behind his ankle, knocking him clean off balance.

“Whoa—!” Logan grunted as he hit the mat with a thud, his broad shoulders absorbing most of the impact. He blinked up at you in shock, sprawled out flat on his back.

You straightened, grinning down at him as you tugged your gloves off one by one and tossed them aside. “Gotcha,” you said, hands on your hips.

He stared up at you, and you couldn’t tell if he was more surprised or impressed. Then, a slow, lazy smile spread across his face, and he let out a low chuckle that made your stomach flip. "Well, I’ll be damned. That was sneaky."

You crouched down beside him, trying to look innocent. “What’s the matter, big guy? Can’t handle a little creative thinking?”

“Creative thinking, huh?” Logan propped himself up on his elbows, his grin turning wolfish. “I don’t think that counts when you cheat.”

You gasped, feigning offense. “Cheat? Cheat? I think you’re just mad I finally got the drop on you.”

“Oh, is that what you think?” he drawled, his tone playful but laced with a hint of a challenge. Before you could blink, his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, yanking you forward. You let out a startled laugh as you tumbled down onto the mat, landing half on top of him.

“Logan!” you protested, trying to pull back, but his arms wrapped around your waist holding you in place. He was grinning up at you now, his eyes bright with amusement that made your breath catch.

“You’re gettin’ cocky, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “But I gotta admit, that was a hell of a move.”

You smirked, leaning in just enough to meet his gaze head-on. “Guess you’re not as quick as you thought you were, huh?”

“Careful,” he murmured, his fingers brushing along your side. “You keep talkin’ like that, and I might have to teach you another lesson.”

“Oh yeah?” you shot back, your voice dropping to match his. “And what’s that?”

Instead of answering, Logan pulled you down the rest of the way and kissed you, slow and deliberate. His lips were warm and firm, and he kissed like he fought—with total confidence and just a hint of something wild beneath the surface. The world narrowed to just the two of you: the heat of his body against yours, the rough scrape of his stubble, the way his hand slid up your back like he didn’t want to let you go.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and his voice was a low, satisfied rumble. “Lesson one,” he said, his smirk returning. “Never let your guard down.”

[ruhua-langblr]

Language Apps Suck, Now What?: A Guide to Actually Becoming "Fluent"

The much requested sequel to my DL post that was promised almost a year ago.

I'm going to address all of the techniques that have helped me in my language learning journeys. Since 95% of these came from the fact that in a past language learning mistake, they are titled as my mistakes (and how I would/did things differently going forward). For those that read to the bottom there is a "best universal resources" list.

Disclaimers:

"Fluency" is hard to define and everyone has their own goals. So for the purpose of this post, "fluency" will be defined as "your personal mastery target of the language".

If you just want to pick up a bit of a language to not sound like a total foreigner on vacation or just exchange a few words in a friend's native language, feel free to ignore what doesn't apply, but maybe something here could help make it a little easier.

This is based on my own personal experience and (some) research.

Mistake 1: Asymmetrical Studying

Assuming you don't just want to do a single activity in a language, or are learning a language like ASL, a language requires 4 parts to be studied: Speaking, Listening, Writing, Reading. While these have overlap, you can't learn speaking from reading, or even learn speaking from just listening. One of my first Chinese teachers told me how he would listen to the textbook dialogues while he was biking to classes and it helped him. I took this information, thought "Yeah that's an idea, but sounds boring" and now regret not taking his advice nearly every day.

I think a lot of us find methods we enjoy to study (mine was reading) and assume that if we just do that method more ™ it will eventually help us in other areas (sometimes it does, but that's only sometimes). Find a method that works for you for each area of study, even better find more than one method since we use these skills in a variety of manners! I can understand a TV program pretty well since I have a lot of context clues and body language to fill in any gaps of understanding, but taking a phone call is much harder—the audio is rougher, there's no body language to read, and since most Chinese programs have hard coded subtitles, no subtitles to fall back on either. If I were to compare the number of hours I spent reading in Chinese to (actively) training my listening? Probably a ratio of 100 to 1. When I started to learn Korean, the first thing I did was find a variety of listening resources for my level.

Fix: Find a variety of study methods that challenge all aspects of the language in different ways.

A variety of methods will help you develop a more well-rounded level of mastery, and probably help you keep from getting bored. Which is important because...

Mistake 2: Inconsistent Studying

If there is one positive to a language app, it is the pressure it puts on keeping a streak. Making studying a part of your everyday routine is the best thing you can do. I benefited a lot from taking a college language course since I had a dedicated time to study and practice Chinese 5 days out of the week (and homework usually filled the other two). Memorization is a huge part of language learning, and stopping and starting is terrible for memorization. When I was in elementary school, we had Spanish maybe a couple times a month. Looking back, it seems like it was the first class to be cut if we needed to catch up on a more important course. Needless to say, I can't even speak Spanish at an elementary level.

However, I'm sure many people reading this don't have the time to do ultra-immersion 4-hour study sessions every day either. Find what days during the week you have time to focus on learning new vocab and grammar, and use the rest of the week to review. This can be done on your commute to school/work, while you do the dishes, or as a part of your morning/evening routine. Making this as realistic as possible will help you actually succeed in making this a habit. (Check this out for how to set realistic study goals)

Fix: Study regularly (ideally daily) by setting realistic goals. Avoid "binge" studying since remembering requires consistent repetition to be most effective.

Mistake 3: Resource Choice

This is really composed of two mistakes, but I have a good example that will cover them both.

First, finding resources that are at or slightly above your level is the most important thing. Easy resources will not challenge you enough and difficult resources will overwhelm you. The ideal is n+1, with n as what you know plus 1 new thing.

Second, getting distracted by fancy, new technology. Newer isn't always better, and there are often advantages that are lost when we've made technological developments. I often found myself wanting to try out new browser extensions or organizational methods and honestly I would've benefitted from just using that time to study. (Also, you're probably reading this because of my DL post so I don't think it has to be said that AI resources suck.)

A good example of this was my time using Clozemaster. I had actually recommended it when I first started using it since I thought the foundation was really solid. However, after long term use, I found that it just wasn't a good fit. The sentences were often too simple or too long and strange for memorization at higher levels or were too difficult at lower levels. I think that taking my textbook's example sentences from dialogues into something like Anki would've been a far better use of my time (and money) as they were already designed to be at that n+1 level.

Fix: "Vet" your resources—make sure they will actually help you. If something is working for you, then keep using it! You don't always have to upgrade to the newest tool/method.

Mistake 3.5: Classrooms and Textbooks

A .5 since it's not my mistake, but an addendum of caution. I think there is a significant part of the language learning community that views textbooks and classroom learning as the worst possible resource. They are "boring", "outdated", and "ineffective" (ironically one of the most interesting modern language learning methods, ALG, is only done in a classroom setting). Classrooms and textbooks bring back memories of being surrounded by mostly uninterested classmates, minimal priority, and a focus on grades rather than personal achievement (imagine the difference between a class of middle schoolers who were forced to choose a foreign language vs. adult learners who self-selected!) People have used these exact methods, or even "cruder" methods, to successfully learn a language. It all comes down to what works best for you. I specifically recommend textbooks for learning grammar and the plentiful number of dialogues and written passages that can function great as graded readers and listening resources. (Also the distinction made between "a youtube lesson on a grammatical principle" which is totally cool, and "a passage in a grammar textbook" is more one of tone and audio/written than efficacy).

Classrooms can be really great for speaking practice since they can be a lot less intimidating speaking to someone who is also learning while receiving corrections. Speech can be awkward to train on your own (not impossible if you're good at just talking aloud to yourself!), and classrooms can work nicely for this. Homework and class schedules also have built in accountability!

Fix: Explore resources available to you and try to think holistically about your approach. CI+Traditional Methods is my go to "Learning Cocktail"

Mistake 4: Yes, Immersion, But...

I realized this relatively quickly while learning Chinese, but immersion at a level much higher than your current level will do very little for you. What is sometimes left out of those "Just watch anime to learn Japanese" discussions is that you first need to have a chance at understanding what is being said. Choosing materials that are much higher than your level will not teach you the language. It doesn't matter how many times someone at HSK 1 hears “他是甘露之惠，我并无此水可还”, they will not get very far. Actual deduction and learning comes from having enough familiar components to be able to make deductions—something different than guessing. An HSK 1 learner, never having heard the word 老虎 will be able to understand "tiger" if someone says “这是我的老虎” while standing next to a tiger. This is not to say you can never try something more difficult—things should be challenging—but if you can't make heads or tails of what's being said, then it's time to find something a bit easier. If mistake 2 is about the type of method, this is about the level. If you wouldn't give a kindergartener The Great Gatsby to learn how to read, why would you watch Full Metal Alchemist to start learning a language?

Side note: Interesting video here on the Comprehensible Input hypothesis and how it relates to neurodivergence.

Fix: Immerse yourself in appropriate content for your level. It's called comprehensible input for a reason.

Mistake 5: On Translation

I work as a translator, so do you really think I'm going to say translation is all bad? Of course not. It's a separate skill that can be added on to the basic skills, but is really only required if you are A. someone who is an intermediary between two languages (say you have to translate for a spouse or family member) or B. It is your job/hobby. In the context of sitting down and learning, it can be harmful. I think my brain often goes to translation too often because that's how I used to learn. Trying to unlearn that is difficult because, well, what do people even mean when they say "don't translate"? They mean when someone says "thank you", you should not go to your primary language and translate "you're welcome" from that. You should train yourself to go to your target language first when you hear the word for "thank you". A very literally translated "thank you" in Chinese "谢谢你" can come off as cold and sarcastic. I don't tell my friends that, I say "谢啦～". Direct translation can take away the difference in culture, grammar, and politeness in a language. If there is a reason you sound awkward while writing and speaking, it's probably because you're imposing your primary language on your target language.

Fix: Try as hard as you can to not work from your primary language into the target language, but to work from the structures, set phrases, and grammar within the target language that you know first.

Mistake 6: The Secret Language Learners Don't Want You To Know...

...is that there is no one easy method. You are not going to learn French while you sleep, or master Korean by doing this one easy trick. Learning a language requires work and dedication, the people that succeed are those that push through the boredom of repetition and failure. The "I learned X in 1 year/month/week/day!" crowd is hiding large asterisks, be it their actual level, the assistance and free time available to them, "well actually I had already studied this for 4 years", or just straight-up lying. Our own journeys in our native tongue were not easy, they required years and years of constant immersion and instruction. While we are now older and wiser people that can make quick connections, we are also burdened with things like "jobs", "house work", "school work", and the digital black hole that is "social media" that take up our time and energy. Everything above is to help make this journey a little bit easier, quicker, and painless, but it will never be magic.

I find that language learning has a lot in common with the fitness community. People will talk about the workout that changed their life and how no other one will do the same—and it really can be the truth that it changed their life and that they feel it is the ultimate way. The real workout that will change your life is the one you're most consistent with, that you enjoy the most. Language learning is just trying to find the brain exercise that you can be the most consistent with.

Fix: Save your energy looking for shortcuts, and do the work, fail, and come back for more. If someone tells you that you can become fluent in a ridiculously short amount of time, they are selling you a fantasy (and likely a product). You get out what you put in.

For those that made it to the end, here are some of my "universal resources":

Refold Method: I don't agree with their actual method 100%, but they've collected a lot of great resources for learning languages. I've found their Chinese and Korean discords to also be really helpful and provided even more resources than what's given in their starter guides.

Language Reactor: Very useful, and have recently added podcasts as a material! The free version is honestly all you need.

Anki: If I do not mention it, the people with 4+ year streaks with a 5K word deck will not let me forget it. It can be used on desktop or on your phone as an app. If you need a replacement for a language learning app, this is one of them. Justin Sung has a lot of great info on how to best utilize Anki (as does Refold). It's not my favorite, but it could be yours!

LingQ: "But I thought you said language apps are bad!" In isolation, yes. Sorry for the clickbait. This one is pretty good, and more interested in immersing you in the language than selling a subscription to allow you to freeze your streak so the number goes up.

Grammar Textbooks: For self-taught learning, these are going to be the best resource since it's focused on the hardest part of the language, and only that. If you're tired of seeing group work activities, look for a textbook that is just on grammar (Modern Mandarin Chinese Grammar is my rec for Chinese, and A Guide to Japanese Grammar by Tae Kim is the most common/enthusiastic rec I've heard for Japanese).

Shadowing: Simply repeat what you hear. Matt vs Japan talks about his setup here for optimized shadowing (which you can probably build for a lot cheaper now), but it can also just be you watching a video and pausing to repeat after each sentence or near simultaneously if you're able.

Youtube: Be it "Short Story for Beginners", "How to use X", "250 Essential Phrases", or a GRWM in your target language, Youtube is the best. Sometimes you have to dig to find what works for you, but I imagine there is something for everyone at every level. (Pro tip: People upload textbook audio dialogues often, you don't even have to buy the textbook to be able to learn from it!)

A Friend: Be it a fellow learner, or someone who has already mastered the language, it is easier when you have someone, not only to speak to, but to remind you why you're doing this. I write far more in Chinese because I have friends I can text in Chinese.

Pen and Paper: Study after study, writing on paper continues to be the best method for memorization. Typing or using a pen and tablet still can't compare to traditional methods.

The Replies (Probably): Lots of people were happy to give alternatives for specific languages in the replies of my DL post. The community here is pretty active, so if this post blows up at least 20% of what the last one did, you might be able to find some great stuff in the replies and reblogs.

I wish you all the best~

[flutterclouds]

This was such a great chapter, Tesh! I really loved getting to read about Nia and Toby trying to get their real first lead into the earthquakes. I also really liked reading about the tense scene in the rain between Calder and Kern. I do wonder if the Girafarig that slipped away will show up again. I do have to wonder what they might be up to.

I also loved seeing Samir team up with Team Scarlet in this chapter. Toby internally noting how Nia attracts lonely people to her was such a cute touch. I thought the narration’s noting of the the town having so much rain to be quite interesting. Perhaps a Pokemon is using Rain Dance? On that note, Earthquake is a TM, and a large number of Pokemon can learn it, including Girafarig. I’m not sure on how TMs might factor into the world of Seekers of Soul, so I’ll just have to wait to see if any of my move theories might be have some truth to them.

Another part of this chapter I really loved was the worldbuilding. Toby being sensitive to contact with water due to being a Fire type is so interesting to me. Does he drink water at all, or does he only stay hydrated through hydration berries? I also loved the little detail of Deidra being more sensitive to the quakes since she is a Lopunny and thus has pretty good hearing. Nia having the wherewithal to get under the saloon was also such a good detail since I know some places in the our world have extensive earthquake education. That makes me think that Nia must have lived somewhere near an earthquake fault, or at least learned about it at some point.

I think you’ve done such a great job expanding the world of Seekers of Soul, especially when it comes to the mythos and geography. The towns and locations visited so far feel very lived in. The Xylem Guild is a cozy community of Seekers, Ghatha is a lively city of colorful stone, and Asra is a desert mining town that comes alive at night after the day’s work is done.

Finally, I want to say I loved seeing more of Toby’s softer side this chapter. It was especially clear when he absorbed the Oricorio’s words, letting them take precedent for a moment over his need to find information about Team Zenith. He’s really come such a long way. Nia too, she would have never have gathered the courage to chase after Samir in the rain after an earthquake at the start of the story. You’ve done such a great job with their character development. I’m so excited to see where their adventures lead them next, with the matter of Giratina hanging over their heads and all. There’s also the matter of Will. At this point, I do not trust him and going by an animation you posted a few years ago, he’s definitely connected to Giratina in some way. Either way, I’m looking forward to seeing what Nia, Tobias, and Samir find in the mines next time.

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

[Chapter 43] (34 Pages)

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Trouble crops up in Asra. Tobias and Nia find a new lead.

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Keep reading

[gh0stly-pages]

Out of Our Minds (Part 5)

Ledger!Joker x Harley Quinn-esque f!reader (18+)

CW: violence by gunfire and gas, implied deaths/fatal injuries

Words: 5.8k

Chapter Summary: After a long night of plans, you're ready to break your patient out of Arkham Asylum

previous part: part 4

Notes: Welcome back! sorry for the long wait, life has been pretty busy but here's the next part! Things are really cooking up in this one. Just wanna preface that in this series you are NOT a good guy, you're turning into a villain like Joker, so there will be lots of violence and so if you're uncomfortable with that stuff I advise you not to keep reading! I won't be getting graphic though (and I really hope that I don't have to be the one to remind you that in real life, murder bad) Also this whole chapter includes a plot for breaking out of Arkham that is very farfetched but we're gonna pretend like it makes sense, okay? okay. Enjoy!

Arkham is cloaked in shadows.

The patients are forced into these shadows, pushed there by people desperate to remain in the light. They want to be the light. To show themselves as all things good and pure. They walk around with their chins held high and their shoulders back, clucking like birds. They are bright. Intelligent. Classy. Or so they want to be seen as. What lurks beneath is all darkness.

These people avoided the shadows, and thank goodness for that.

As you lurked in the shadows, preparing for the madness to come, you couldn’t help but smile.

_________________________________________

Your heart is pounding as you approach the two guards outside of Joker’s cell. You’ve managed to move his session to be the last one of the day, and the anticipation has been killing you.

You don’t know how you got here. You don’t mean literally, you know how you got there, walking with shaking legs through security, scared that somehow they would see it in your face. That you were hiding something. They didn’t even question you, waving you along while looking bored. After that, you realized they couldn’t read you at all. They simply didn’t care. So now, you hold yourself with confidence, hoping everything goes just the way you planned.

But getting here, being Joker’s accomplice, that you were still figuring out.

“Hello boys,” you say to the guards, even though they’ve seen you enough times to know the drill. They hand you the little remote, enter the code, and the door unlocks. Not a single word exchanged. You give them your best bitchy smile before walking through the doors. “Thanks.”

There Joker is, his face paint still intact, though smudged. You let out a deep sigh of relief, and while the door closes behind you, you take your seat, not exactly sure where to start. “Mr. J,” is all you can manage to get out.

Joker leans forward, dark eyes glinting. “Yes, sweets?”

You take a deep breath. “Are you ready to break out of Arkham?”

The smile on his face is like none other you’ve ever seen from him. It’s giddy, it’s dangerous, it’s thrilling. God, you love it. “Doll, that, ah, might just be one of the best things I’ve ever heard you say.”

It took you all night to think up a plan, with the little time you had. You knew you had to take advantage of just how little people cared for you, finally it was serving as a positive. You’d racked your brain, setting up a giant piece of paper on your wall and drawing out the layout of Arkham. You’d marked where the guards would be, how they’d move, the security cameras and alarms scattered around the building. It had all looked like a mess at first. A puzzle you wouldn’t be able to put together. Yet the more you thought about it, the more you realized you were thinking too much about how to perfectly escape and not how to rely on your own strengths. Not only could you fly under the radar, but you were light on your feet, had learned a few tips from Joker on weaponry, and the only people who (mostly) respected you in Arkham were your patients. 

You’d not gotten any sleep but it was worth it as you pieced everything together. The main part of your plan did not necessarily involve high level theatrics like J, but Arkham was in for one hell of a ride.

Reaching up into your hair, you pull out a hair pin, reaching over and grabbing Joker’s wrist. “Here’s what we’re gonna do,” you say, starting on attempting to unlock the cuffs. Joker’s lesson was somehow still fresh in your mind but it wasn’t an easy task. “I’m going to press the button on my remote that will alert the two guards outside the door to come in. We’ll be standing on either side of the door, and we’ll need to take them both out.” To your surprise, the handcuffs unlock with a small click, and you beam as the cuffs fall away. 

Joker lifts his hand, moving his wrist, which is partially bruised from the cuffs. “And what about the other layers of security?”

“There’s two layers of security. That was the tricky part, but I’ve talked to a few of my patients and they’ve agreed to… start a ruckus as a distraction. As long as most guards are occupied with the patients, the ones out there won’t have backup. We can knock them out easily.”

He smacks his mouth. “It all sounds too easy.”

You move to his other wrist, pushing the hair pin into the cuff. “I know, but it’s not gonna be easy. Things are going to go wrong but we’ve gotta try.” Again, with a bit of a struggle, the cuffs pull open with a satisfying click. You look down at his ankles, grateful that it seems he hasn’t been cuffed there. “You’re free.”

He stands up, stretching himself out, and you watch with earnestness as he groans and cracks his knuckles. “Not just yet, dolly. Got that remote handy?”

You grab the remote from your purse before tossing the purse to the side. You won’t be needing that anymore. “Got it.” As you stare down at the remote, everything hits you way too fast, like a mallet to the chest. Your breathing falters, your heartbeat speeding up with a rapid bump bump bump-. It’s not that you’re scared, not necessarily, but you’re scared that you’ll fail both you and Joker. You’re not J. You don’t know how to do this shit. “I…”

Everything goes blurry and it takes you a second to realize Joker has moved in front of you. He places his hands on your shoulders, bending slightly to look you right in the eye. “You’ve got a sharp mind, dolly. I, ah, know you wouldn’t fail,” he says, an odd reassurance but it works, and you can feel your breathing go a bit steadier. Then you realize how close the Joker is. He’s touching you, no cuffs, no table between you, no barriers. He’s right in front of you, all of him. “We’re getting out of here.”

“Right,” you mumble, straightening yourself. Much to your disappointment, he drops his hands from you, moving towards the door. You suppose it’s now or never. With a shaky breath, you follow after him, moving to the opposite side of the door. Now, the both of you stand on either side, prepared for whatever comes your way. “Ready?” you ask him.

He nods. “Ready, Doc.”

You press the green button.

The both of you press your backs to the wall as you hear the door click open. It’s far too early into the session for you to be leaving, so the guards must know something is wrong. The first guard walks in, the door swinging open so that it blocks the view of J, while you hold your breath to keep quiet. The guard doesn’t notice you, and his mouth drops open as he sees the table empty. He draws his gun, holding it out. “What the fu-“

Springing into action, Joker grabs the guard from behind, picking him up and throwing him across the room. The guard screams, his gun flying away from him as he hits the floor. In one quick swoop, Joker grabs the gun off the floor and jams the butt of it into the guard’s head, just as the other guard runs inside the room, already firing shots. J made it look so easy, but this other guy is your problem. Filled with a sudden adrenaline, you come up behind him, kicking him forward. You’re not the strongest, so he only stumbles, immediately whipping around to try and shoot you. Combat certainly isn’t your strong suit, not yet, but you can move exceptionally well. You sidestep him as he tries to ram the gun into your stomach, and you opt to knee him in the groin. He groans and tries to shoot you again, and you squeal as the bullets pierce the walls. Thank god the room is soundproof otherwise the guards outside would have come running in. From the corner of your eye, you catch Joker watching you. He’s holding the gun. He could shoot the guy easily but he doesn’t. He wants you to take the guard down. 

“Bitch,” the guard mutters, opting to try and throw himself on top of you just for you to dodge him again, lifting your leg and giving him a good knock to the ribs. He cries out, and as he tilts to the side, you give him a good punch to the temple. With a sick pleasure, you watch as he collapses to the floor, eyes wide open, barely breathing. Quickly, you grab his gun, not wanting to take any chances. 

You look up at Joker, who’s smiling as he watches you catch your breath, gripping the gun in your hand. “Impressive, doll. Though, ah, you definitely need to work on your skills.”

“You’re the one who gave me a night to think of this,” you grumble, and he chuckles. “Wasn’t exactly able to take a defense class.”

“I’ll teach ya.”

Suddenly, the room begins to glow red, sirens blaring that make your bones vibrate. You look at him in panic, he looks at you with excitement. Clearly, you both have very different definitions of fun. The sirens aren’t for you though, the Arkham security team doesn’t like to cause commotion for just a single patient causing mayhem. The patients must have started a ruckus, whether it be a riot or starting a fight with one another, you hadn’t gone into the details. You just told them to be distracting. 

You tilt your head towards the door. “Coming?”

“You go first, doll.”

You move ahead, prying the door open. Two more guards stand in the room, talking in hushed whispers beneath the blare of the siren. They don’t even notice you as you hold out the gun, firing into one guard’s shoulder and immediately spinning and shooting the other one in the hand. The guard whose hand you shot drops to the floor, their gun hitting the ground alongside them, and you quickly move forward and kick it. But as you kick the gun, a bullet flies out in front of you, nearly grazing your nose, and you spin around, the guard who you shot on the shoulder aiming his gun right at you. Fuck. You tense as his finger moves to pull the trigger again but before he can move any farther a bullet digs into his side and then one into his chest and he goes limp. 

You turn to see Joker huffing with the gun in his hand still smoking. “Doll, you’ve got a lot to learn. You’re not even-“ He turns and shoots the other guard in the chest “-getting in good shots. You’re leaving yourself vulnerable. Gotta make sure you get em’ where they can’t shoot back.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, suddenly feeling embarrassed. You didn’t expect to be this unprepared.

Seeing your expression, Joker falters a bit. “No apologies. I’ve told you, it, uh, doesn’t mean anything to me. It’s just a word.” He comes up to you and nudges you with his shoulder. “C’mon. Last room of guards before we have to run, right?”

“Right.”

“Well then,” he says, pointing to the door with his gun. “You first.”

This time, you don’t want to screw things up. You put the gun behind your back, pulling the door open with your other hand and entering the final room. This room has a security camera in the corner, so you don’t want to go in all guns blazing. You have an idea, and with the gun, gesture for Joker to stay hidden. You hope that’s what your gun waving conveys anyways. Three guards turn to look at you, the ones that greeted you when you first came in, two men and a woman. They’re all masked but you can make out the slight outline of their face beneath the face shield.

The woman runs forward, no gun drawn, leaving it still hanging at her hip. “Miss l/n, what happened?” She tries to crane her neck to see behind you but you’ve inched the door closed enough so she can’t see too much on the other side. “What happened with the nutbag? Are the guards attending to him?” 

You nod rapidly, trying to look like you’re startled. Your acting skills might need some touching up, another thing to work on. “Yes, I- I just wasn’t feeling very comfortable… Felt like I needed to get out of there.”

The woman snorts. “Alright, ma’am. Well, is there anything you need from us? Some other whackos are causing a disturbance.”

“Yes, I, um-“ You pull out your gun. “I need you to step aside and let us through.” You slam the barrel into her stomach, sending her flying backwards, and in one fluid motion you shoot the security camera in the corner and then train your gun on one of the other guards. You can sense Joker step out from behind you, shooting the other guard before he can even lift his own gun. The guard you’ve trained your gun on aims his gun right back at you. “You’re gonna let us go, ain’tcha?” you say, trying to keep your voice from shaking. You have to remain confident. “Or else this bullet is going in your head, right, Mr. J?” you say, looking at Joker. If you’re gonna be a villain to these people, might as well play the part.

Joker nods, mimicking your stance and pointing his gun at the guard. “Whaddya say, doll, what should we do if he, uh, refuses to listen?”

You tighten your finger on the trigger. “I can think of a few things.”

The guard drops his gun, raising his hands in surrender. It sends warmth through your chest. Even if it's sickly satisfying. You feel proud. “Okay, okay,” he blubbers, looking between them both. “Please just don’t kill me, I’ll let you go, please.”

Joker giggles. “How generous, you know, normally I’d use you to get out of this place but I don’t think we need the extra weight.” Joker shoots the man in his left hand, bam, then once in the other, bam. “Looks like you won’t be able to do much! Buh-bye!” The man faints immediately.

Seeing Joker at work, this sinister side of him you’ve only seen on the screen, makes you shiver, and your grip on the gun only tightens, knuckles going white. “The uniform. Take his uniform.”

Joker pouts at you. “Aw, it ain’t even my color.”

“J,” you warn.

“Kiddingggg, doll. Why so serious?” Grabbing the man, Joker strips him of his uniform roughly, getting each piece off before stripping out of his own clothes. Your cheeks turn pink and it all happens so fast before you can even think to turn your head and give him privacy. He pulls his shirt up over his head, chest in full display. The first thing that catches your eyes are all the scars and bruises littering his stomach, pink and jagged, scars you want to trace beneath your fingertips. He’s surprisingly toned, just like his arms. Not muscular exactly, but strong looking. Before you can get a better look, he pulls on the guard’s black undershirt, then fastens on the bulletproof vest. When he catches you staring, he grins. “Enjoying the show?”

You turn your head as he kicks off his pants, though you can still see him in your peripheral, throwing on the black cargo pants the guard had donned. “No,” you lie.

“And, are you, uh, gonna be gracing us with a costume change as well?”

You bite back a smile. “No.”

“Pity.”

When he’s finally done, you turn around just as he puts on the helmet. You don’t like that it’s hiding his face from you but you can still see his scarred smile if you look hard enough. “Lookin’ good, soldier,” you tease, saluting him. 

His lips twist into a smirk. “Lucky I like givin’ orders. Let’s move.”

“Okay, J, for this part, you’ve gotta follow me. I’ll run up ahead and lead you down to where we need to go, you gotta take out anyone you can. Got it?”

“Let’s see if we die or not, shall we?”

“You could try and be positive .”

You open the door, poking your head out to look around, and shit, it’s chaos out there, guards running back and forth, clearly busy with whatever the patients started. You can hear screams, banging, and laughter beneath the sound of the still screeching sirens. The place still glows a flashing red. You point to the right, down a long hallway. “This way!” you shout, running towards a set of doors at the every end of the hall. Arkham is a bit of a labyrinth but you know it well. Down that hallway leads to another hall which leads to more doors which then, finally, leads to the staff wing of Arkham. It’s where the back exit/entrance is. And also where you’ve parked your getaway vehicle. 

You don’t wait for Joker, but you can hear his steps behind you, the combat boots he stole pounding on the floor. Nobody seems to notice either of you at first, or they’re too busy to even give it any mind. You know eventually someone will run past Joker’s conference room and realize he’s not inside. His room empty. All traces of him gone. But you hope you’ve bought at least a bit of time. 

As you run, more guards run past you, and you’re nearly knocked off course as one bumps your shoulder. You keep steady on your feet though. Thank goodness for all those gymnastics lessons. The only time you glance over your shoulder is to make sure Joker is behind you before you push through the doors. Once you see him in all his suited up glory, you carry on through the doors, Joker just a step behind. “To the right again,” you yell. There’s less guards down here, but that means even more likely you’ll be caught. Already, you can see them turn to you, wondering what the hell you’re doing running off with one of the guards close behind. As the two of you run, one of the guards turns their attention to you. “Hey! What are you two doing?” the guard barks, running up in front of you. “The lady has a gun!”

You could probably give them an excuse that you’re running away from the danger but you feel too angry. “Running to safety, dumbass!” you say, using the gun like a hammer and hitting them on the head like a game of whack-a-mole. That was a hell of a lot more fun than shooting a gun. As the guard crumples to the floor, at least five other guards take notice, and you have to quickly jump over the guard’s unmoving body to run as fast as you can through the doors. You can hear gunshots explode all around you, it’s like a miracle you’re not hit, and you can tell which gunshots come from the guards and which from J. But before you know it, every single one of them falls flat on the floor. “Nice one, J,” you say, and he cuts up ahead of you, opening the door for you.

“Ladies first,” he says.  

“So gentlemanly.” You shoot out ahead of him. Now you’re in the staff hallway, lined with doors which leads to locker rooms and places to conduct meetings. At the very end of the hall is the exit. You’d be jumping for joy if it wasn’t for the fact that any second more guards would be chasing after you.

You grab his arm, pulling him down the hall, running faster than you ever have in your entire life. “Exit this way!” you scream through the chaos, heading into the “staff only” area of the building. Looming ahead of you, just down the hall of rooms and lockers, is the staff exit, leading to the back end of Arkham. You look over to Joker. “You ready?”

Joker moves his arm away from you, instead grabbing onto your hand with his own free one. “As I’ll ever be.”

The two of you barrel down the hall, practically slamming into the exit doors, desperately tugging them open. There doesn’t seem to be many people around except for a few guards lining the outside, and Joker moves to take care of them as you yank him towards your car. Well, your stolen car. You weren’t gonna risk coming in your own vehicle. “Here,” you say, pointing to a black car in front of you. Letting go of J’s hand, you stuff yourself into the driver's seat, and Joker shoots at another guard before cramming himself into the passenger seat. “Drive,” he yells, and you grab the keys from your pocket, turn them in the key hole, and slam on the pedal. He throws off his mask, tossing it in the back seat. “Faster!”

As you get to driving, you remember the final bits of your plan. The part you’re most proud of. “Hey, J, wanna hear what other distraction I planned?” you yell over the roar of the engine, as you swerve around the parking lot.

“Whaddisit?”

“Gas! The same kind they might have used on you. Rigged it all up on my own. The patients should be all rounded up in their cells by now and the guards? They’re getting knocked out cold!”

You have to focus, but you turn towards Joker, your heart swelling in your chest when he looks impressed. His eyes are wide as he pulls down the window and looks back at Arkham as you pump it straight out of the parking lot, taking down the small security gate. In your rear view mirror, you can see green explosions of gas within the windows. If all worked well, only the guards should be getting knocked out about now, leaving no one to come after you. Police will be on their way, but that at least gives you a bit more time and them a distraction. Plus, they aren’t sure what they’re looking for, no clue what car or who helped Joker escape, not until they can wake the guards.

Now, you realize, you can’t just go back to your apartment. It’s too risky. You look at J as you slow the car, trying to blend in with the rest of Gotham traffic. You failed to plan this far. “J, I don’t know where to go now.”

“I do,” he says, leaning over, making sure not to put too much weight on you or crush you as he takes hold of the wheel. “Just pump the gas, doll, I’ll get us somewhere safe.”

It sounds like a horrible idea, but you nod. You’d make it work. “Okay,” you say, and as the light turns green, you hit the gas. It’s scary as hell just controlling the gas, letting Joker swerve you both around, but you trust him. Ha, funny. You trust the Joker. He drives you towards the outer parts of Gotham, and as you enter a rather dingy residential street, he moves the car off the road. “Park it here,” he says, and you obey, pressing the brake and shifting the car into park. 

“Why here?”

“I’ve got a spot around here.”

“You have an apartment?”

He snorts. “No, I’ve got a, uh, hideout spot in one of the abandoned warehouses at the outskirts of Gotham. And it wouldn’t be very wise to park right outside the entrance.” 

Smart, you hadn’t thought of that. Clearly you lack experience in this realm. You grab the keys and throw open the door, Joker doing the same, and the two of you begin walking on the sidewalk, Joker taking the lead. Darkness has already set over the city, and the two of you walk beneath the light of dim street lamps. It’s cold out, and your white coat isn’t exactly meant to keep you warm, so you hug yourself to try and keep away the chill. “Is it very far?” you ask, and you realize this is the first quiet time you both have had together since escaping. You’ve been too anxious over escaping to even think about everything that’s happened. To think of how the Joker is right next to you, taking you to one of his many hideaways. 

Joker shakes his head. “Not too far, doll.”

Silence settles upon you both, the two of you far too preoccupied with getting to the warehouse to say much of anything else.

As you walk, the blare of sirens starts up in the distance, and when you turn behind you, you can see police lights in the distance. You’re positive they’re not for you, not yet, but if they even caught a glimpse of the Joker, the two of you would be over. Joker knew this too, clearly, grabbing your arm and picking up his pace, practically dragging you as he began to run. Everything is a blur as the two of you fly through the streets. Even though you’re not bad at running, after a few twists and turns, your legs start to hurt, your chest feeling heavy. But Joker doesn’t stop, probably used to running from lord knows what. Before you can register anything, you’re climbing over gates and Joker pushes open the large doors of the abandoned warehouse, pulling you in and up a crumbling flight of stairs until you reach the second floor.

Finally, Joker and you stop moving, taking time to catch your breath. Fuck, everything hurts.

You gasp, throwing yourself against the concrete wall of the warehouse, sliding down until your butt hits the floor. Your chest moves rapidly up and down as you try to catch your breath. Joker crouches in front of you. “Breathe, just breathe, good girl.” He holds out his arms. “C’mere.”

Immediately, you lean forward and throw your arms around him, going limp. He stands up, taking you with him, your legs dragging lifelessly on the floor until only the tips of your toes touch the concrete. You bury your face into his shoulder, and for a second everything feels right. Finally, a quiet moment, and everything crashes down on you, every decision you’ve made. It takes a second for you to process that you’re hugging the Joker, and he’s letting you hug him back. This man, this villain you’d become infatuated with, was holding you close. You’ve imagined something like this before, even when you didn’t want to, but this is better than any of that. “We did it,” you mumble into his guard shirt, which smells like rust and gunsmoke. “We escaped.”

“You did it,” he says, and when you finally pull back to look at him, he’s smiling at you. He gently settles you back on to the floor. “They’re going to come looking for us though. We’ll need to lay low for the moment.”

“In here?” It’s strange to be so close, your arms still wrapped around his neck. “This where you usually stay?”

“I stay all over.”

“Very spacious,” you say, moving your head to look around. “Where do you sleep though? On the hard floor?”

“Chaos doesn’t sleep, darling.”

“No, but people sure do.” You tug gently on one of his locks of hair and he growls. “You need sleep.”

“Can’t sleep now. Not when we’re being pursued.” He wrinkles his nose. “This your first time being a wanted criminal?”

“Duh.”

“I really can’t believe you did it, doll. Made up a whole plan and everything and got me out of Arkham.” Much to your dismay, he moves away from you, walking to some other part of the building. You hesitantly follow after him. “We can camp out here for the night but then we’ll have to move.” In a secluded corner of the room, a moth-eaten curtain hangs from the ceiling, concealing that whole part of the room. Joker takes the curtain in his hand, then looks at you. “Course, we can’t exactly fend for ourselves without weapons, can we?”

Yanking back the curtain, on the other side is a wall full of all sorts of weapons. Guns, knives, even TNT. There’s crates full of clothes, Joker’s clothes, you assume. Some clown masks. All sorts of tools for mischief. You look at it all like a child in a candy store. “J, this is amazing. Isn’t it kind of risky keeping it locked up in here though?”

“I’ve got some goons guarding it. And nobody in Gotham comes in here anymore, I’ve made sure of it.” He shrugs. “If anyone were to find it, let em’ take it, I’d just get duplicates and use them all on the thief.”

You move forward to get a better look at everything as Joker drifts behind you. It should be scary just how much violence is here at his fingertips but know it just makes you swell inside.

“So, how about it, doll? Pick your poison,” Joker says, holding your shoulders from behind. You look over all your options. The guns weren’t exactly your style, you were better at hitting people with them than you were at shooting them. The blades looked nice, and you’d like to learn to use them, but they could only do so much. Something that did catch your eye, sticking out from the other weapons, was a mallet in the corner. It was a tad comically large, definitely not the regular kind you’d see on a construction site. You move forward, Joker moving with you, and grab the handle. 

“Whaddya have this one for?” you ask.

“Uhhhh, to kill people with?”

You glare at his snarky response, though you’re still smiling. “I figured that much. Where’d you get it from though?”

“Amusement Mile.” The old, abandoned theme park towards the other end of Gotham. It’s been shut down ever since you were a child, but you remember your parents driving past it. Seeing a place that must have been so exciting and colorful look so dark and decrepit was chilling. “Found it at one of those old high striker games. Adjusted it a bit.”

Lifting it, you test the weight. It’s definitely heavy, but the weight is distributed evenly, making it easy to maneuver. You give it a quick swing, the whoosh of the mallet like music to your ears. This was what you needed. Sturdy, not too hard to wield, and perfect to pair with your swiftness. “I want this one.”

“Gonna play a game of whack-a-bat with that one?” He maneuvers in front of you, grabbing the handle of the mallet before you could give it another swing. “You can take that one. But you need a gun too. The mallets they’re, uh, too big to get around places sometimes.”

You look back at the wall and point at a small silver gun. “I’ll take that one too.”

He grins. “Are you sure you’re, ah, ready to cause some damage?”

You drop the mallet. “I’ve been ready.” All your life you’ve been pushed to the side. No, pushed to the ground. You were ready to hurt some people back. To make skyscrapers crumble and leaders fall. This anger inside you boils, and you can feel your grip tighten on the handle, envisioning every person who has wronged you.

Joker’s laugh pulls you back to reality, stepping up closer in front of you. “Calm down there, lovely. They call me the Harlequin of Hate but I think that title better suits you,” he says, cupping your chin. “My little Harlequin, partner to the Clown Prince of Crime.”

————————-

That night, you’re stuck sleeping on a mattress on the floor. 

You flop down on your back, the mattress not the comfiest thing you’ve ever slept on but it works. There’s no blanket, so no way of keeping warm, and you try and shift around to find a comfortable position. Joker sits on the edge of the mattress, his knees tucked up to his chest, and it’s such an odd sight to see him so regular that you laugh. His head jerks to look at you. “Admirin’ the view?”

“Maybe,” you say, smiling as you lay on your side. “It’s just weird to see you here. Not in Arkham or fighting B-Man.”

He hums. “It ain’t everyday I bring people around ere’. At least, not like this.”

“Lucky me, huh?”

“You realize you’re in this forever now, right? There’s, uh, no goin’ back from here.”

The weight of it settles on you. “I know... I wouldn’t have gone along if I didn’t know that.”

“Well, if you wanted to go, you could go now. You could walk free, tell the cops I threatened you and made you do all this.” He looks down at his feet. “I, ah, won’t stop you.”

You’re surprised to find your eyes watering. Joker, this menace, a force to be reckoned with, was giving you the option to leave. He could be fooling you, of course, but you could tell from the way the words escaped him awkwardly, uncomfortably tender, that he meant every bit of it. He’d let you go, you could continue your regular life, maybe find a better job. But that wasn’t the point of why you freed him. You wanted to escape too, to show Gotham how corrupt it was, and you wouldn’t do that without J. “I’m not walking away,” you say back.

“You’re insane, ya know that?”

“I know.” You stare at one another in silence. Finally, you yawn. “Are you… are you gonna come to bed?” You’re not sure exactly what’s going on between you and Joker. You like him, you know that much, but how much exactly does he like you? Enough to keep you around, obviously. But to what extent did he want you around? Did he want not just your loyalty but also your affections? You were ready to give affection, but was he? 

Joker shakes his head, and you feel yourself grow disappointed. “You go on, doll. I, uh, gotta keep watch.”

“Mr. J-“

“I like it when you call me that.”

“-You’ve gotta get some sleep. You’re gonna pass out without it.”

“I’ll be fine,” he grumbles. “Don’t ya get your pretty little head worried over it.”

“You’re an ass.”

Your anger only makes him smile. “If you’re so, ah, worried, then just wake up early and I’ll drift off for a bit.”

“Then that’s exactly what I’ll do,” you say, flipping over, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you ticked off. You’re not actually upset, you just wished Joker prioritized himself a bit more. That was something to deal with another day. “Goodnight, J.”

“Night, darlin’.”

That night you dream of Gotham in flames. You dream of chaos. You dream of him.

Taglist:

Taglist: @lightsabergirl / @knoepfl / @jeffswh0re / @itsmrshamilton / @heath-ledger-jokers-wife / @lolwey / @ilovetoomanymen / @amazingzou/ @ronniesweetkisser / @emberhatesthemoon

lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

[hlficlibrary]

hello, can you recommend some stories where they are co workers and hide their relationship from their colleagues. Thank you

Hello, anon! You're very welcome! Here are some fics that fit what you're looking for...

Have Love, Will Travel by @kingsofeverything

Rather than spend the summer working at their desks, Louis and Harry are given the opportunity to crisscross the country together in a tiny camper, filming their adventures for a YouTube series.

It soon becomes obvious to their viewers that there’s something more than friendship between them. Eventually, they figure it out.

Caught In Your Gravity by @lululawrence

It felt like the blood froze in Harry’s veins even as he got a bit lightheaded. He hadn’t even made it two practices, only one of which he was remotely in charge of, without giving it all away and now he and Liam were both absolutely fucked.

“Shit,” Harry breathed out. “Who all have you told? Does everyone know? I thought I covered it better than that…”

“No, no,” Louis said quickly. "They’ll figure it out soon enough, though, because they’ll get used to you changing things up, but you’re only going to trip over your so called Americanisms for so long before they realize it’s because you don’t actually know fuck all about football.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah. I figured. I just need to bullshit for long enough to allow Liam to get the situation figured out from his end.”

“Right, which brings me to my entire point. I think we can find a mutually beneficial arrangement with all of this.” Louis leaned forward. “You need to learn the ins and outs of the sport incredibly fast. I can help you with that.”

“What do you want in exchange?”

Or, an AU inspired by a 30 second trailer of Ted Lasso that doesn't actually have much in common with the show at all.

The Boys of Summer by @afirethatcannotdie

“I mean…we’re gonna have to sneak around anyway, yeah? Like, with that whole rules thing that I guess we’ve decided to ignore. Might make it a little more fun this way.”

AU. In which Louis is a reluctant sports coach, Harry's a fellow counselor who wears tiny yellow shorts, and camp rules say they're forbidden to date.

[zerun0]

please a Jayvik fic? that would be super cool and awesome sauce so I can pretend s2 didn't happen and they're having fun working as lab partners <3

"For now" — Viktor x Jayce

English is not my first language. Feel free to comment on any of my mistakes and i will update the post, also I more than happy to receive suggestions, and advice on how to improve my work.

— !SFW! — Established relationship, Fluff, Flirting, kissing. — Word count: — 1,9k (Full uncut version on AO3)

The Hextech lab buzzed with the energy of early afternoon. Shafts of sunlight filtered through the high windows, lighting up the chaotic jumble of notes, tools, and half-finished devices strewn across every surface. Jayce and Viktor stood side by side, arms crossed, looking down at the creature sitting proudly on their workbench, a round, fluffy Poro with stubby legs and an unshakable confidence.

“I trust you two implicitly! ”— Heimerdinger declared, his tiny hands clasped behind his back as he beamed up at them. “This little one has a, shall we say, spirit for exploration, when it’s not napping.”

Jayce leaned forward, hands braced on his knees. — “Professor, are you sure you can’t just take it to your meeting? I mean, it’s not like the Council Chamber is a lab full of fragile, priceless equipment.”

“Oh, nonsense!” — Heimerdinger waved his hand dismissively. — “They wouldn’t understand his unique needs. Besides, you’re the perfect duo for the task.” — He gestured between the two of them, eyes twinkling. — “Viktor with his sharp mind, and Jayce with his...big heart. Surely you’ll manage.”

Viktor arched an eyebrow. — “Professor, I am not certain that babysitti-”

“Ah! Not babysitting! Mentoring!” — Heimerdinger corrected. He patted the Poro, which chirped happily. — “He has much to learn about the world, and you’ll provide him with a safe, structured environment.”

The Poro hopped in place, nearly knocking over a flask of shiny blue liquid. Jayce caught it mid-air with quick reflexes, sighing sharply as he set it back down. — “Safe and structured,” — Viktor repeated dryly but in a low tone, unheard.

“Now, I must be off. Don’t let him out of your sight!” — With that, the diminutive professor bustled out, leaving the two young inventors staring at the small, smug creature that now ruled their afternoon.

Jayce straightened, running a hand through his hair. — “Okay, this can’t be that hard. He’s just a little…fluffy thing. How much trouble can he cause?”

The Poro tilted its head innocently before leaping off the table and darting into the maze of equipment.

“Right,” — Viktor muttered, already reaching for his cane to follow.

— Half an hour later, the lab looked like a storm had hit it.

“Where did he go this time?” — Jayce asked, hands on his hips. “Under the shelf,” — Viktor replied, not even looking up from where he was recalibrating a delicate instrument.

Jayce knelt down, peering into the shadows. — “Come on, little guy,” — he coaxed, waving the brightly colored toy Heimerdinger had left. The Poro eyed him warily, a small item clamped in its teeth.

“Don’t chew on that!” — Jayce lunged, but the Poro darted out of reach, bounding across the lab and knocking over a stack of schematics.

“Jayce,” — Viktor said calmly, — “please do not let him destroy everything we have worked on in the past three weeks.”

Jayce groaned, gathering up the scattered pages. — “Why does it like chewing on stuff so much? What does Heimerdinger even feed it?”

“Chaos, apparently,”— Viktor replied, glancing toward the Poro as it hopped onto one of the tables. It sniffed at a set of neatly arranged tools before pawing at them — “He must be bored. Perhaps we should entertain him?”

Jayce stared at him. — “Entertain? Viktor, it’s a Poro, not a toddler.”

“Clearly, you have never babysat before.” — Viktor sighed and set down his tools. He approached the Poro. With surprising gentleness, he reached out, holding the toy at the perfect angle to catch the creature’s attention.

The Poro sniffed it, intrigued, before pouncing.

“See?” — Viktor said, holding the Poro in place with one hand while it gnawed happily on the toy. — “It is not so difficult.”

Jayce folded his arms, watching with a surprised smile. — “You’re good at this. I guess all those late nights in the lab have taught you patience.”

“Or perhaps I am simply better at adapting than you.” — Viktor’s smirk was subtle, but it lingered.

Jayce chuckled. — “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Immensely.” — Viktor replied.

They stood in silence for a moment, Viktor holding the Poro steady while Jayce leaned against the table, watching the two of them. The afternoon sunlight caught in Viktor’s pale features, highlighting the sharp angles of his face and the focused intensity of his eyes.

“You know,” — Jayce began, his voice quieter, — “you’re always surprising me.”

Viktor glanced at him, eyebrow raised. — “Am I?”

“Yeah. Like,” — He paused for a second — “I didn’t think you’d be the kind of person who’s good with animals. But… you are.”

“Hmm.” — Viktor considered this for a moment before returning his attention to the Poro. — “I suppose I have an affinity for difficult creatures.”

Jayce laughed, the sound warm and unguarded. — “Are you calling me a difficult creature?”

“Do you require constant supervision and occasionally eat things you should not?” — Viktor shot him a sidelong glance.

Jayce held up his hands in mock surrender. — “Okay, fair-”

The Poro squeaked suddenly, leaping from Viktor’s hands and bounding toward another set of delicate instruments.

“Not again,” — Viktor sighed, already moving to intercept. Jayce followed, their shoulders brushing as they reached the table at the same time. Viktor’s hand caught the Poro, and Jayce steadied the precarious setup of tools.

For a moment, they were close, closer than usual. The Poro squirmed between them, but neither moved.

“Jayce,” — Viktor said quietly, his tone neutral but his gaze intent. — “You are staring again.”

Jayce blinked, caught off guard by Viktor’s observation. The air between them felt heavier now. He straightened awkwardly, still holding the resistor, and glanced away.

“I, uh… wasn’t staring,” — Jayce said, his voice not quite as confident as usual.

Viktor’s expression softened just a fraction, the faintest hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. He leaned back slightly, shifting his weight onto his prosthetic as his golden eyes lingered on Jayce.

“You are a terrible liar,” — Viktor replied, his voice quieter now, almost teasing.

Jayce exhaled a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. — “Maybe. Or maybe you’re just too good at reading people.”

“That is possible,” — Viktor admitted, his smirk fading into something more thoughtful. He tilted his head slightly, studying Jayce as if trying to decipher an equation. — “But it is not often you are at a loss for words. I find it…interesting.”

Jayce’s pulse quickened under Viktor’s gaze, and he suddenly felt very warm in the already stuffy lab. — “You’ve got this way of throwing me off balance, you know that?”

Viktor raised an eyebrow. — “And here I thought you were the unshakable one.”

For a moment, silence fell between them, broken only by the faint hum of the outside world and the occasional chirp from the Poro, now happily chewing on its toy on the other side of the room. Jayce hesitated, then took a small step closer.

“Viktor,” — he began, his voice low, — “I don’t know if I’m just imagining this, but…”

“You are not,” — Viktor interrupted, his tone even, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

Jayce’s breath caught. Viktor rarely spoke so plainly, and hearing him admit it sent a rush of heat through Jayce’s chest. Slowly, he reached out, his fingers brushing Viktor’s forearm. Viktor didn’t pull away.

“Are you sure about this?” — Jayce asked, his voice barely above a whisper. — “Am I reading the signs correctly?”

“Yes” — Viktor broke the silence after a few long teasing seconds.

Jayce smiled, his heart pounding as he closed the remaining distance between them. The quiet hum of the lab seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the sound of their breaths, shallow and uneven. He lifted his hand, fingers trembling slightly as he lightly cupped Viktor’s jaw. Viktor’s skin was cool under his touch, his breath hitching in response.

Viktor’s hand hovered uncertainly at Jayce’s waist before finally settling there, his grip hesitant but firm. Jayce felt a shiver run through him at the contact, his chest tightening as he took in the vulnerability in Viktor’s gaze.

Slowly, he leaned in, his thumb brushing along the sharp line of Viktor’s cheekbone. When their lips met, it was tentative at first, as if testing the waters. Viktor tensed briefly, but then he relaxed, leaning into the kiss with a quiet sigh.

Jayce’s hand slid to the back of Viktor’s neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. Viktor’s fingers tightened at Jayce’s waist, drawing him in as if the space between them was unbearable. It was unlike anything Jayce had expected… soft, electric, and somehow grounding all at once.

Viktor’s other hand came up, tentative at first, brushing against Jayce’s chest before resting there. Jayce could feel Viktor’s pulse through his fingertips, quick and unsteady, mirroring his own. Their movements grew less cautious, lips parting as the kiss turned warmer, more urgent.

Jayce’s free hand found Viktor’s waist, his thumb brushing over the fabric of his coat. Viktor responded with a quiet noise in his throat. He pressed closer, feeling the cool edge of Viktor’s prosthetic against his leg, a detail that grounded the moment in reality despite the overwhelming intensity.

“Jayce,” — Viktor murmured against his lips, the sound low and breathless.

“Yeah?” — Jayce replied, his voice rough as he barely pulled back.

Viktor didn’t answer, instead tugging him back into another kiss, hungrier this time. Jayce’s hand slid down to Viktor’s hip, fingers gripping just hard enough to make Viktor’s breath hitch again.

And then—

The door creaked open.

Jayce and Viktor broke apart with the speed of two guilty schoolchildren, Jayce stumbling back into a stool, nearly knocking it over. Viktor turned sharply, his hand darting to adjust the nearest instrument as if he’d been working all along.

“Ah, there you are!” — Heimerdinger’s cheerful voice filled the lab as he bustled in, utterly unaware of the thick air of awkwardness hanging between them.

“I’ve come back for our little friend,” — Heimerdinger continued, oblivious to the tension. — “The council meeting finished ahead of schedule, and I believe it’s time for a walk, and perhaps a treat!”

Jayce cleared his throat, his face burning as he tried to compose himself. — “Oh, uh, great! He’s… been fine. No trouble at all.” — He shot Viktor a quick glance, but Viktor was steadfastly avoiding his gaze, his attention fixed on the tools in front of him.

Heimerdinger crouched down to scoop up the Poro, who chirped happily at the sight of its owner. — “Ah, there you are, my mischievous little friend! I trust you didn’t cause too much chaos?”

The Poro squeaked innocently as it nuzzled against Heimerdinger’s face.

“No chaos,” — Jayce said quickly, flashing a nervous smile.— “Everything was… under control.”

“Splendid!” — Heimerdinger said, cradling the Poro like a prized treasure. He glanced around the lab, seemingly pleased with what he saw. —“And you’ve made excellent progress, I see. Such dedicated young minds, you make me proud!”

“Thank you, Professor,” — Viktor said smoothly, though there was a slight stiffness to his tone.

Heimerdinger didn’t seem to notice. — “Well then, I won’t keep you from your work any longer. You’ve certainly earned some peace and quiet.” — He gave a final, beaming smile before heading toward the door, the Poro perched happily in his arms.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the lab in heavy silence once again.

Jayce exhaled a long breath, running a hand through his hair. —“That was…”

“Fortunate,” — Viktor finished, his voice dry but his cheeks faintly flushed.

Jayce turned to him, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. — “I thought he was never going to leave.”

Before Jayce could say anything else, Viktor leaned in, his lips brushing against Jayce’s in a quick, soft kiss. It was light, almost tentative, but enough to send a jolt of warmth through Jayce’s chest.

When they pulled away, Jayce smiled, his heart racing. —“I think we’re good,” he murmured.

Viktor’s lips curled into a soft smile. — “For now.”

[seitmai]

Since then, you and Steve have found other ways to carve out moments together amid the whirlwind of the campaign. Usually it’s quick conversations in the back of the campaign bus or on the plane. It's not ideal, but it's something, and you find yourself looking forward to these small pockets of time more than you'd care to admit.

I love that they make these little moments for each other 🥰

Some of the key staffers silently hate it because every minute of strategy time is invaluable, so you and Steve pledged to only steal up to thirty minutes, and Bucky and Sophia take it in stride as one of their new duties to help protect that time because if the Roger and Rogers happy couple campaign approach is the M.O. now, then they argue that the happy couple needs alone time to stay a happy couple.

Yes, Sophia and Bucky having their back 👏🏻

You enjoy the more serious conversations as much as you enjoy the more superficial topics because both ends of the spectrum allow you to simply engage and learn each others’ personalities and histories and opinions. Sitting in the back of the bus on your way to a rally, you’re exchanging takes on Star Wars (you had grown up watching them in very distinct trilogy stages where Steve had seen the first two trilogies in his initial pop culture catch up phase), when there’s a surge of noise and activity at the front of the bus.

Aw that's so cute 🥰

Another collective cheer goes up from the staff. You feel Steve's hand tighten slightly on your shoulder, and when you look up at him, you see a mix of emotions playing across his face - pride, excitement, and a touch of humility.

🥹🥹🥹

"Of course," you say, admiring his level-headedness even in this moment of triumph. "But we should take a moment to celebrate this moment."

He needs those reminders

You listen to his directives and reminders, but while you do so, you realize the kiss you just shared is the first lip lock between you and your husband since the wedding, and there’s a bit of warmth that pools in your chest. You resist the pull you feel to look at him.

🥰🥰🥰

He chuckles softly. "A little," he admits. "But it's a good pressure. Motivating." You nod in understanding. The weight of expectation has grown even heavier with Santos's support even though it’s only been a matter of hours, but you can see the determination in Steve's eyes. He's ready for this part of the challenge.

He sure is

Steve turns to you one last time, his eyes soft. He reaches out and squeezes your hand briefly, a gesture of solidarity and support that sends a flutter through your chest. You squeeze back, drawing strength from his touch.

I get a flutter in my chest just reading this 🥰

That’s the moment you and Steve step out onto the stage, hand in hand, and the deafening roar of the crowd drowns out your names entirely. The lights and the energy spike the excitement and adrenaline, and it’s another moment in this campaign - and the second one of the day - that you know you’ll remember for a lifetime.

Together they can do everything 🥰

“Are you coming for my job, Mr. Barnes?” Jake asks, taking a seat at the table as well. Bucky huffs a laugh, “No, sir. The last thing I would want is to be in charge of a circus like this.” Jake nods in agreement. "What I wouldn’t give to have seen Johnson’s reaction to the news,” he says, referring to the other campaign manager, the rival that the DNC pushed over him for this presidential campaign cycle.

Circus is an accurate description 😅

“You and Mrs. Rogers,” Jake tacks on. Steve raises his eyebrows, but looks to you. This is the second time you’ve been brought in as a specific element to move the campaign forward.

Like a secret weapon 🤭

You feel a flutter of nervousness at the mention of more intimate interviews, but you nod in agreement. "Of course, whatever helps the campaign." Jake continues, "We're thinking of setting up some joint interviews, maybe even a day-in-the-life style piece. Show the public the real future First Couple, beyond the campaign speeches and rallies." Steve reaches over and takes your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "We can do that," he says, his voice steady and reassuring.

I would eat those interviews up!

Steve turns to you, a tired smile playing at his lips. "Just thinking about how surreal this all is," he says softly. "A few months ago, I was trying to lay low in this century, keep out of the spotlight. Now..." He trails off, shaking his head slightly. You nod, understanding. "Now you're vying to become the leader of the free world with every minute of your life under a microscope," you finish for him. "Yeah," he breathes out. "But at least it’s not every minute." You pause, key card in hand, considering his question. "It's... intense," you admit. "But I'm okay. Better than okay, actually. This whole experience, as crazy as it is, feels important. And I think we’re both getting stronger at this campaign thing every day." Steve's eyes soften as he looks at you, a mix of admiration and concern in his gaze. "You've been amazing through all of this," he says quietly. "Now it’s hard to imagine doing it without you."

🥰🥰🥰

"Listen," he says, his voice low. "I know we're both exhausted, but... do you want to come in for a bit? Just to talk, or... I don't know. It feels like we haven't had a real moment alone in-” “Ever?” you finish for him. Steve winces. “Yeah.” You shift slightly. “I don’t know, it’s so late.” Steve nods, understanding in his eyes. "You're right, it is late. We should both get some rest."

Nooo, this was going so well!

Red, White & True: Fort Wayne, Toledo, Detroit [4/?]

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes Word Count: 4.2k Summary: A campaign day with stops in three cities in three states ends up being a game-changer you weren't expecting, and not only for the campaign.

Content/Warnings: marriage of political convenience, slow burn

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

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[SEPTEMBER 21 - MORNING - FORT WAYNE, INDIANA]

After your first and only attempt at a private, non-business breakfast between you and Steve in the dining area next to the hotel lobby the morning after dinner at the Santos house, your staff and the Secret Service detail on Steve forbade you from trying anything like that ever again. Six a.m. was early, but there were far too many early bird guests showing up for breakfast as well, only to find a presidential candidate and former Avenger amongst the self-serve breakfast buffet and excited chaos had ensued. Even if the personnel around you hadn’t forbidden it, it had been immediately clear the privacy you used to expect in in a public setting was gone.

Since then, you and Steve have found other ways to carve out moments together amid the whirlwind of the campaign. Usually it’s quick conversations in the back of the campaign bus or on the plane. It's not ideal, but it's something, and you find yourself looking forward to these small pockets of time more than you'd care to admit.

Some of the key staffers silently hate it because every minute of strategy time is invaluable, so you and Steve pledged to only steal up to thirty minutes, and Bucky and Sophia take it in stride as one of their new duties to help protect that time because if the Roger and Rogers happy couple campaign approach is the M.O. now, then they argue that the happy couple needs alone time to stay a happy couple. Sophia only thinks it’s tending to the needs you have as newlyweds embedded in the campaign circus to have normalcy as a couple. It’s only Bucky who knows the truth (and Sam).

A single day on the presidential campaign trail always felt like at least two days of a regular life, but it often feels more like three or four days, especially on multi-city days, which were starting to become more and more common as it got closer to the first Tuesday in November. But this highly saturated time flow makes it so that the time you and Steve have started intentionally spending time together is having a marked effect on your relationship.

You enjoy the more serious conversations as much as you enjoy the more superficial topics because both ends of the spectrum allow you to simply engage and learn each others’ personalities and histories and opinions. Sitting in the back of the bus on your way to a rally, you’re exchanging takes on Star Wars (you had grown up watching them in very distinct trilogy stages where Steve had seen the first two trilogies in his initial pop culture catch up phase), when there’s a surge of noise and activity at the front of the bus.

You and Steve both glance towards the front of the bus, where a commotion has erupted. The noise level rises as staffers huddle around someone's phone, their voices intense, but strangely you can’t tell if it’s leaning more towards excitement or concern. You strain to hear what's being said, catching snippets of "breaking news" and "can't believe it."

Bucky's voice cuts through the clamor, slightly louder than the rest. "It can wait," he insists firmly. "We're almost at the venue."

Your heart rate quickens, anxiety creeping in at the edges of your mind.

You start to rise, but Steve places a hand on your arm. "Let's give it a minute," he says softly. "If it's urgent, they'll tell us."

You nod, settling back into your seat, but you can see the tense energy now in Steve’s body. You can almost see the gears turning in his mind, trying to anticipate what the clamor could be about.

After another moment, you arch your eyebrow at Steve. “The anticipation is going to kill both of us back here,” you say earnestly. “If we’re nearly at the venue anyway, we can table this and get back to more Star Wars at lunch.”

Steve huffs a laugh and agrees, and you pop up out of your seat again, and Steve follows as you quickly make your way to the front.

“What’s happening?” you ask, drawing the attention of the staff to you and Steve.

“Santos endorsed Steve!” Elsa trills. You’ve never seen her this happy.

You feel a surge of excitement and pride. The Santos endorsement is huge - you know it is without question a game-changer for the campaign. You turn around to look at Steve, a massive smile beaming from your face, enthusiasm you see mirrored right back from him. You don’t know if you reach for him or he reaches for you because it’s so quick, but your lips crash together, your stomach flips, and the staff cheers around you. It ends as quickly as it began, and the two of you turn back to the others, eager for more details.

"When did this happen?" Steve asks, his voice steady but tinged with excitement.

Sam, who'd gone back to scrolling through his phone, looks up. "Just now. Santos made the announcement over his Instagram, and it's already dominating the news cycle."

"What exactly did he say?" Steve asks, placing a hand on your shoulder as he moves in closer behind you, leaning over to look at Sam's phone.

Sam clears his throat and begins to read: "After careful consideration and having had the opportunity to speak with Captain Rogers, I believe he is the right person to lead our nation forward. His integrity, vision, and commitment to public service are exactly what we need in these challenging times. I am proud to endorse Steve Rogers for President of the United States."

Another collective cheer goes up from the staff. You feel Steve's hand tighten slightly on your shoulder, and when you look up at him, you see a mix of emotions playing across his face - pride, excitement, and a touch of humility.

"This is huge," seasoned campaign mastermind Jake finally weighs in, his usual stoic demeanor cracking slightly to reveal a hint of a smile. "Santos's endorsement would carry a lot of weight for any candidate, especially with moderates and independents, but it not only brings your first major endorsement, it’s a resounding statement for a former president to break from his party to endorse an independent."

You nod in agreement, your mind already racing with the implications. The Santos administration is still widely respected, and their endorsement could sway a significant number of voters.

Steve nods, his expression a mix of gratitude and determination. "It is," he agrees. "But we can't let it go to our heads. We still have a lot of work to do."

"Of course," you say, admiring his level-headedness even in this moment of triumph. "But we should take a moment to celebrate this moment."

You imagine it was always on Jake’s mind that an endorsement would be the best case scenario from a private dinner at the Santos home, but Steve had been very vocal to everyone involved - from the campaign side to Santos and his people - that for him the opportunity was only to be able to spend time with a former president. You had certainly gone into it without any agenda, grateful, even, for one night where you weren’t politic-ing.

The bus slows to turn into the loading bay area of the venue, and Jake calls everyone to attention to get the staff focused back on the rally only minutes away. You listen to his directives and reminders, but while you do so, you realize the kiss you just shared is the first lip lock between you and your husband since the wedding, and there’s a bit of warmth that pools in your chest. You resist the pull you feel to look at him.

[SEPTEMBER 21 - AFTERNOON - TOLEDO, OHIO]

The energy in Toledo's Huntington Center is electric as you and Steve make your way through the bustling backstage area for the second major campaign event of the day. The arena, usually home to hockey games and concerts, has been transformed into a political rally venue, with red, white, and blue banners adorning every available surface. The air is thick with anticipation, and you can hear the growing roar of the crowd beyond the curtain.

Staffers rush past, clipboards in hand, headsets firmly in place. You catch snippets of conversations about crowd size, security measures, and last-minute speech adjustments. The Santos endorsement has injected a new level of excitement into an already charged atmosphere.

As you approach the holding area, you spot Bucky conferring with the head of security, his expression serious as he nods along to whatever information he's receiving. Sam is nearby, phone to his ear, likely coordinating with media outlets eager for comments on the endorsement.

You can hear the low rumble of the crowd, punctuated by occasional cheers and chants of "Rogers! Rogers!" The excitement is palpable, and you can feel your own adrenaline starting to surge.

Steve turns to you, his eyes bright with excitement but also a hint of nervousness. "Ready?" he asks, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

You take a deep breath, smoothing down your blazer. "Let’s do this," your reply and this simple exchange is becoming tradition every time the two of you are about to step out in public now. It’s nice starting to have things like this, things that are yours. "How about you? Feeling the pressure after that endorsement?"

He chuckles softly. "A little," he admits. "But it's a good pressure. Motivating."

You nod in understanding. The weight of expectation has grown even heavier with Santos's support even though it’s only been a matter of hours, but you can see the determination in Steve's eyes. He's ready for this part of the challenge.

Suddenly, Jake appears at your side, clipboard in hand. "Two minutes," he says briskly. "Steve, they've added a few lines to your speech to address the endorsement. The changes are on the monitor.”

Steve nods, quickly scanning the teleprompter nearby. You watch as his eyes move rapidly across the screen, absorbing the new information. His ability to process and adapt on the fly never ceases to amaze you.

"Got it," he says, turning back to Jake. "Anything else?"

"Hit the key points as you always do," Jake replies. "And maybe throw in a line about unity, given the cross-party nature of the endorsement."

As Jake steps away to confer with another staffer, you feel a gentle touch on your arm. You turn to see Sophia standing beside you, a reassuring smile on her face.

"You've got this," she says softly. "Both of you. Just be yourselves out there."

You return her smile, grateful for her steady presence. "Thanks, Sophia. We'll do our best."

The stage manager approaches. “Thirty seconds,” she announces.

This is it. Another pivotal moment in the campaign, perhaps even more significant than you'd initially realized. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself.

Steve turns to you one last time, his eyes soft. He reaches out and squeezes your hand briefly, a gesture of solidarity and support that sends a flutter through your chest. You squeeze back, drawing strength from his touch.

The stage manager starts counting down. "Ten seconds!"

You can hear the crowd's excitement building to a fever pitch. The announcer's voice booms through the arena, introducing you and Steve. Your heart races as the curtain begins to part.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your next President and First Lady…”

That’s the moment you and Steve step out onto the stage, hand in hand, and the deafening roar of the crowd drowns out your names entirely. The lights and the energy spike the excitement and adrenaline, and it’s another moment in this campaign - and the second one of the day - that you know you’ll remember for a lifetime.

[SEPTEMBER 21 - EVENING - DETROIT, MICHIGAN]

The clock on the wall of the dimly lit campaign office reads 11:47 PM, but the energy in the room belies the late hour. The makeshift headquarters, hastily set up in yet another hotel conference room, buzzes with activity. Staffers huddle around laptops, their faces illuminated by the blue glow of screens, while others engage in hushed conversations, gesticulating animatedly as they dissect the day's events.

You sink into a worn leather armchair, feeling the weight of the day settle into your bones. The town hall here in Detroit had gone well - better than well, actually. The momentum from Santos's endorsement earlier in the day had carried through, infusing the crowd with an infectious enthusiasm. They had been engaged, asking thoughtful questions that Steve had handled with his characteristic blend of sincerity and statesmanship. But now, in the quiet aftermath, exhaustion tugs at the edges of your consciousness.

Despite the strain of a three-location-day catching up with you and everyone else, you can’t deny that there’s a different, very palpable sense of possibility hanging in the air. The campaign has always been optimistic, but there was a bit of a silent agreement in the air to ignore the fact that Steve Rogers - no political background and no political party - was a dark horse swimming upstream. The first nod from outside camp Rogers wasn’t a golden ticket to victory, but the news media was already discussing Steve in a different tone - giving more legitimacy in coverage rather than curiosity in coverage. With only six weeks left, it is not enough to win 270 electoral votes, and although that was the dream, it was never the realistic target. The target from the beginning was to get enough votes to keep either of the other two candidates from taking the majority and be a major player in that battle, making a case to be seriously considered if you could get the election turned over to the Congress to decide.

A Santos backing was the serious foot hold to take this scenario from a possibility to a probability.

Steve sits across from you, his brow furrowed as he reviews the daily notes Jake’s deputy campaign chairman has prepared and distributed.

You watch Steve as he reads, marveling at his ability to maintain focus after such a long and eventful day. His eyes move methodically across the page, occasionally pausing as he considers a particular point. Even in this state of concentration, there's an aura of quiet strength about him that never seems to fade.

"Anything notable?" you ask, your voice slightly rough from the day's speeches and conversations.

Steve looks up, a tight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Just the usual - poll numbers, upcoming events, media coverage. But there's definitely been a shift since this morning."

You nod, understanding the implication. “The Santos effect.”

"Jake's team is already planning how to capitalize on the momentum."

You get the same notes as well but prefer to read them once you’re back in your room. Steve hands you the page he’s been pouring over, and you lean forward to take and then study it. A comfortable silence falls between you, broken only by the muffled sounds of the staffers working. The new trends and polling numbers aren’t just good, they’re great.

Bucky takes a seat next to Steve, clocking you both looking into the daily report. “This kind of shift is good,” he says, “but now we just need to see it carry over and build from here on out.”

“Are you coming for my job, Mr. Barnes?” Jake asks, taking a seat at the table as well.

Bucky huffs a laugh, “No, sir. The last thing I would want is to be in charge of a circus like this.”

Jake smiles, and Steve and Bucky aren’t looking at him anymore, but you see the deeper look on Jake’s face. You’ve seen it on him before, it’s the look when he’s considering an idea - hisown or one suggested by the team - that he sees serious potential in. Even if he protests, Jake clearly sees potential in Bucky.

You would have to admit that you agree. Bucky understands Steve, and as he's stood shoulder to shoulder with him through this campaign, he's proven to be an invaluable asset. His strategic mind, honed by years of military experience, often provides insights that complement Jake's political savvy.

"Speaking of circuses," Jake says, voice louder, "let’s bring it in, folks.”

The rest of the key staffers all grab seats or press in around the table, and then Jake begins the end-of-day meeting. “We need to discuss tomorrow's schedule. The media's going to be on us far more seriously, and we need to be prepared for that shift in the tone of questions."

Steve nods, his expression serious. "What's the plan?"

"Engaging and not dry, but policy, policy, policy. We've got three major network interviews lined up for tomorrow morning. Steve, you'll be doing those. We want to capitalize on this momentum, but we also need to be careful not to appear too cocky."

"Understood," Steve replies.

"We've also got a strategy session scheduled for noon," Jake continues. "We’ve been reassessing our messaging in light of the Santos endorsement, but we want to see what it looks like after the burst from day one. We should have options for you to decide on then.”

You nod, understanding the delicate balance Jake is trying to strike. "What about the afternoon?"

Jake flips through his notes. "We've got a rally scheduled in Lansing at 3 PM. After that, we're heading to Chicago for a fundraiser in the evening."

Steve leans forward, his elbows on the table. "And what about the other candidates? Any word on their reactions to the endorsement?"

Sam speaks up. "Both camps have been relatively quiet so far. They're likely scrambling to adjust their strategies. We can expect some pushback tomorrow, though."

“I imagine we’ll see the Dems will be particularly cagey. They won’t want to look like a party divided,” Elsa explains, “but the reality is that one of their favored sons did just speak out and split where their support was supposed to go. The GOP-leaning media outlets are already gleefully stirring up chaos on their end, but nothing from their campaign yet.”

Jake nods in agreement. "What I wouldn’t give to have seen Johnson’s reaction to the news,” he says, referring to the other campaign manager, the rival that the DNC pushed over him for this presidential campaign cycle.

“After this initial new surge with policy,” Elsa takes over, “we want to redirect the narrative to you, Steve. We know America votes for people as much as they vote for policy. In about three days, we’re going to push heavily down the middle of the country and then make a swing across the southern states leading into the next debate. With that, we’re thinking about a series of casual, intimate interviews, more insight into your character, showing you’re not just the figure from history books or Avengers action over the last dozen years, but enough of a regular guy that they could have a beer with you.”

Steve nods, “All right.”

“You and Mrs. Rogers,” Jake tacks on.

Steve raises his eyebrows, but looks to you. This is the second time you’ve been brought in as a specific element to move the campaign forward.

You feel a flutter of nervousness at the mention of more intimate interviews, but you nod in agreement. "Of course, whatever helps the campaign."

Jake continues, "We're thinking of setting up some joint interviews, maybe even a day-in-the-life style piece. Show the public the real future First Couple, beyond the campaign speeches and rallies."

Steve reaches over and takes your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "We can do that," he says, his voice steady and reassuring.

Jake clears his throat. "Excellent. Now, let's talk about debate prep. The next one is coming up fast, and we need to be ready for the next level of scrutiny."

The meeting continues for another hour, with strategies being discussed and assignments doled out. By the time Jake calls it a night, it's just past 1 AM. As the staffers begin to file out, you feel the full weight of exhaustion finally hit you. Luckily your room is only a few floors and a short walk above you.

Steve stands up, stretching slightly. "Ready to call it a night?" he asks, walking around the table and offering you his hand.

You nod gratefully, allowing him to pull you to your feet. As you gather your things, you can't help but feel a mix of excitement and apprehension about the days ahead.

As you and Steve make your way to the elevator, you can feel the exhaustion settling deep into your bones. The day's events replay in your mind - the unexpected endorsement, the electrifying rallies, the late-night strategy session. It's all a blur of excitement and intensity.

The elevator doors close, leaving you and Steve alone for the first time since this morning. In the quiet confines of the small space, you lean against the wall, letting out a long breath.

As the elevator ascends, you find yourself studying Steve's face. Despite the long hours and constant pressure, he still looks composed, though you can see the fatigue in the slight slump of his shoulders and the faint lines around his eyes.

"Penny for your thoughts?" you ask.

Steve turns to you, a tired smile playing at his lips. "Just thinking about how surreal this all is," he says softly. "A few months ago, I was trying to lay low in this century, keep out of the spotlight. Now..." He trails off, shaking his head slightly.

You nod, understanding. "Now you're vying to become the leader of the free world with every minute of your life under a microscope," you finish for him.

"Yeah," he breathes out. "But at least it’s not every minute."

The elevator dings, signaling your arrival at your floor. As you step out into the hallway, Steve places a gentle hand on the small of your back, guiding you towards your room. The touch, though light, sends a wave of warmth through you.

"How are you holding up?" he asks as you reach the door. "This can't be easy for you either."

You pause, key card in hand, considering his question. "It's... intense," you admit. "But I'm okay. Better than okay, actually. This whole experience, as crazy as it is, feels important. And I think we’re both getting stronger at this campaign thing every day."

Steve's eyes soften as he looks at you, a mix of admiration and concern in his gaze. "You've been amazing through all of this," he says quietly. "Now it’s hard to imagine doing it without you."

His words send a flutter through your chest. You're about to respond when you notice a slight shift in Steve's demeanor. He glances quickly down the hallway, then back at you, a hint of hesitation in his eyes.

"Listen," he says, his voice low. "I know we're both exhausted, but... do you want to come in for a bit? Just to talk, or... I don't know. It feels like we haven't had a real moment alone in-”

“Ever?” you finish for him.

Steve winces. “Yeah.”

You shift slightly. “I don’t know, it’s so late.”

Steve nods, understanding in his eyes. "You're right, it is late. We should both get some rest."

You feel a pang of regret at the slight disappointment you see flash across his face. "Maybe we can carve out some time tomorrow?" you suggest, not wanting to leave things on a down note.

"Definitely," Steve agrees with a soft smile. "We'll make it happen." But you see his expression is more closed off, and wonder if you’ve now taken two steps back.

There's a moment of awkward silence as you both stand there, neither quite ready to say goodnight.

Finally, Steve clears his throat. "Well, goodnight.”

"Goodnight," you reply.

As Steve turns to head to his own room, you slip your key card into the door and enter your suite. Once inside, you lean against the closed door, letting out a long sigh. The truth is, there is a big part of you that wanted nothing more than to spend more time with him, away from the prying eyes of staff and security. But you're also acutely aware of the need to maintain boundaries, especially given the unique nature of your arrangement.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you pull it out to see there’s a message from Sophia with some questions she needs you to make decisions on for the morning. You send off your reply, then mindlessly fall into your nighttime routine, decompressing from the day, getting ready for bed, and tucking in with your tablet. You go over the daily debrief and ready notes for the campaign, and then move on to your Kindle app and fall asleep before finishing even two pages, alone.

next part: coming 11/22

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