#and i'm still not sure i found picture i need

[deesblanketfort]

Travelling as a regressor ☆´ˎ˗ ︶︶︶

Ever so often I travel (usually with my partner) and lately I've been wanting to regress during our travels. Being far from home may be a little scary to little me, however it can also be an opportunity to do new things and get out of my comfort zone!

Packing up!

🚗: Don't overpack! Truth is, you can't bring your whole home with you when you travel, that's why it's essencial to think carefully about which things you'll actually end up using. I personally abide by the rule of one for non clothing items: One pacifier, one teether, one sippy cup or bottle is enough.

🧳: Pick only one reasonably sized stuffie to be your travel companion! Again, you can't bring your whole stuffie collection with you, regardless of its size. Your travel companion should ideally fit inside a bag, while being big enough to be cuddled with.

🚗: Digital games will be your best friends! Pack up your phone with your favorite mobile games, bonus points if they don't need internet connection.

🧳: Art supplies! For those who prefer to write and color traditionally you can always bring a small notebook and some colored pencils or crayons.

🚗: Putting it all together! I personally recommend to sort out a small bag or purse for your regression gear (basically an agere bag).

Planning ahead!

✈️: Make sure the place you'll be staying in is safe and private enough for you to regress. And if possible, set out a specific window of time to regress.

🖍️: If you're travelling with a caregiver, sitter or friend who knows about your regression they can help you out with planning and watching after you when you're small.

✈️: If you're travelling without a caregiver or sitter you can still plan calls and digital playdates with your caregivers/siblings/friends.

Activities!

✉️: Write letters for your stuffies back at home! Everytime I travel I miss my stuffies so so much, that's why I started writing letters for them so they'll know I'm doing okay and I'll be back soon enough!

🎈: Visit the local parks, zoos and aquariums! Most regressors love zoos and aquariums (myself included) and those are always a fun time and regressed-coded destination!

✉️: Make a travel journal! If you like journaling you can make a travel journal, that is, every end of the day you write about the things you got to do and decorate it with mementos you found during your adventures.

🎈: Take pictures! If you have your phone with you, you have a camera to register every moment wish. You can take pictures of your stuffie, the places you visit or even have a makeshift photoshoot if you want.

✉️: Have a movie night! When you're settled in for the night, you can always watch your favorite regression movies before bed.

[thewholekittyandkaboodle]

Scar the Errant

A traveler that was tricked by a family of world destroying gods into retrieving an artifact that restored them to their former power. Wracked with guilt at the destroyed towns they were too late to warn, they made a wish to make things right and set out to steal back the artifact and use it to destroy these gods once and for all!

Chasing their path of destruction across a dying world, they were soon overwhelmed by the rampaging sadnesses empowered by both the despair of the population and the gods' destructive powers. He fought with everything he had, but was struck down pretty quickly. Little did they know that their wish gave them the power to loop back in time and prevent the circumstances that led to his death. Each time they loop, his body haphazardly comes back together and their scars remain.

Their voice is hoarse from throat injuries and screaming in agony. They no longer feel pain, their body and mind too worn to care anymore.

All their clothes are as worn out as they are. He doesn't care, the mission is more important, but they have a companion that insists on patching up what he can. There is only time and cloth to do a bit of a rush job, but Scar is still deeply grateful.

They're deeply grateful for each of their four companions, for the gentle hands that heal them, the steadfast muscles that protect them, the sharp mind that guides them, and the boundless energy that keeps them going despite everything. 

They don't know what they did to deserve such kindness, especially when he was the one that doomed the world in the first place. The truth will come out eventually, they know that. When it does they'll all surely leave him at the drop of a hat. Could they really blame them?

They're selfish. They're disgusting. They wear the skin of a person that died over and over again…They just need to get this job over with.

So uh, yeah. I'm making a dark ISAT AU. Basically the premise is that this world's version of Siffrin gets tricked into advancing an Armageddon and thanks to their wish to make things right Siffrin bears the wounds they get from previous loops. I'm still ironing out the kinks of the designs and story. (I REALLY don't know if I can keep drawing Scar as detailed as he was in the picture above) But I do at least have a general idea of how I want the main party to look like and what their new backstories will be. Next up will be Mirabelle, or Misery as she's called in this AU. You'll soon see why...

Anyway! Let me know if you found this interesting. If you have any questions, constructive criticism, or even theories I'd absolutely love to hear them!

[hl-obsessed]

.

[esyra]

After the hospital bombing, I finally heard back from my grandmother and confirmed that several of my relatives were murdered by Israeli bombing. Seven of them, to be precise. Three are still going, including her. We've been talking constantly ever since.

Asked if it was possible to head south, and was told they did but were also bombed there. So they decided to go back home, in Zeitoun. Their home was bombed and they were pulled out of the rumble, then driven by ambulances to the al-Ahli Arab Hospital. There were people in every corner. Gazans sheltering, sleeping on the floor. Gazans dying on the floor, waiting for beds.

Four were declared dead on arrival, three were in need of surgery and other three were just bandaged. Then, a bomb was dropped in the parking lot that made parts of the ceiling collapse, like Dr. Ghassan Abu Sittah reported in that horrific conference/interview. Those in need of surgery died.

By the way, just in case you didn't know: the Church of Saint Porphyrius, the third oldest in history, bombed by Israel a few days back, was located near the hospital.

When looking for new shelter, they saw schools with signs hanging outside, "We can't take any more families." They met families, sympathetic but already sheltering too many people. They're now staying in an apartment building they found empty. Sleeping in the corner of the living room. If the family comes back, they'll apologize and leave.

Told me she was saving her phone battery for when the bombing stopped, and she had to ask for help to rebuilt the neighborhood. But she doesn't think it's gonna stop anymore. The ones still with her are mute most of the time, like they're saving energy, but she feels lonely and wanted to talk. There's no internet and to connect to WhatsApp, people are buying "a card from the supermarket, there's a password and username." Not sure what she meant. Still, the internet is inconsistent and won't load neither videos or images nor pages, so she doesn't know what's happening on the outside world.

Told her there were a lot of people protesting to stop the genocide, she replied, "The bombings are getting worse by the day." The bombing yesterday was the worst she ever witnessed. The entire neighborhood is infested with the smell of death, of decomposing bodies. Bodies are piling up in the streets and she's not sure if it's because they ran out of places to store them, but most of them are in bags. The smoke of the bombings hide the blue sky—she hasn't seen the clouds for a while.

Asked if I could share their pictures, names and dreams with people and was told, of which I partly agree, "they're not entertainment." If anyone genuinely cared, they would be alive—I'd argue there are people who do care, but I'm not gonna lecture her pain. And they don't deserve to be used to fulfill someone's sick fantasy. Told me to remember what some Israelis do with pictures of dead Palestinians. And I do.

For those of you who are not familiar, many times before settlers got together to celebrate the murder of Palestinians. For one, in 2015, Israeli settlers set a house in Duma, West Bank on fire. An 18-month old baby, Ali Dawbsheh, was burnt alive. Both parents later died of wounds and only a 5-year-old, Ahmad, survived, although severely injured.

Two celebrations of their murder are widely known, one at a wedding and others outside the court in which two were indicted for the terrorist attack. In the wedding, guests stabbed a photo of the toddler, Ali, while others waved guns, knives and Molotov cocktails. Israel's Minister of National Security, Itamar Ben-Gvir, was present.

That's what happens in an apartheid. Palestinians are so abused by authorities that their "innocent civilians" come to accept the brutality as necessary or are desensitized by our suffering. After all, it's been 75 years—get used to it!

So I won't risk the image of my loved ones, in fear they are used in these kinds of depravity. I will say, though, the world lost a young footballer. Lost a female writer and an aspiring ballerina. Lost a kind father, who was also a great cook, and a loving mother that enjoyed sewing and other types of handicraft art. Lost a math teacher and a child that wanted to become one.

People think Israel is testing new weapons on them. There's civilians arriving at the hospital with severe burns, which they thought was from white phosphorus, but apparently the pattern is different from the one caused by white phosphorus. It's widely believed Israel tests weapons in Palestinians.

Jeff Halper, author of War Against the People, a book on Israel's arms and surveillance technology industries, said: "Israel has kept the occupation because it's a laboratory for weapons."

They've ran out of drinkable water and the "aid" Biden sent was only for the South of Gaza and no fuel, for hospitals, was allowed in. Many shelves in the supermarket are empty. She said many are convinced that if they don't die from the bombing, they'll die from starvation or dehydration, or whatever disease will develop from the dirty water they're drinking.

Told me all people do now is pray, cry and die. Told me she hopes West Bank is spared. Told her Israel bombed a mosque in West Bank and dozens of Palestinians in West Bank are being murdered by settlers, so she bided me goodbye.

[harrysfolklore]

grumpy - op81

summary: oscar is always grumpy, never smiles and claims not to want any friends. yn is determined to crack his armor no matter how much he tries to push her away word count: 8.4k + social media posts

folkie radio: NEW LONG FIC !! i wrote the first bit of this fic a while ago and i picked it up and this was the result, i really hope you like it. let me know your thoughts

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Oscar didn't want to be at this party. The pulsing music, the crowd of unfamiliar faces, and the overwhelming sensory assault of flashing lights and laughter grated on his nerves. He stood in a corner, nursing a drink he hadn't really wanted, wondering how long he needed to stay before he could politely excuse himself.

Lando had been excited about this joint birthday celebration for weeks. He'd explained to Oscar that he'd reconnected with an old childhood friend who, by some cosmic coincidence, shared his exact birthdate. Oscar had been surprised when Lando told him about it; he'd never heard of this friend before. But then again, there was a lot about Lando's life outside of racing that Oscar didn't know.

Oscar's eyes scanned the room, searching for a familiar face. He spotted Lando in the center of a laughing group, his arm slung casually around a girl Oscar assumed must be the co-host of this ridiculously extravagant party.

He couldn't recall if Lando had ever shown him a picture of this mysterious childhood friend. The invitations Lando had sent out mentioned her name - YN - but Oscar had paid little attention to the details. Racing consumed most of his thoughts, and social events like this were far from his priority list.

The girl standing next to Lando was pretty, Oscar noted absently, with an easy smile that seemed to light up those around her. She laughed at something Lando said, throwing her head back in genuine laughter. Oscar found himself wondering if this was the famed YN, but he couldn't be sure. There were so many people here, and Lando seemed to know them all.

Lost in his observations and internal musings, Oscar didn't notice someone approaching until a voice piped up beside him. "Not much for parties, huh?"

Lost in his observations and internal thoughts, Oscar didn't notice someone approaching until a voice piped up beside him. "Not much for parties, huh?"

He turned to find another girl standing next to him, her eyes twinkling with amusement. She was attractive too, he couldn't help but notice, with flowing hair and a smile that seemed genuine rather than the forced pleasantries he was used to at such events.

Oscar shrugged, not particularly in the mood for small talk. "Not really my scene," he replied, his tone cooler than the drink in his hand.

He glanced back at Lando and the girl he was with, then back to the newcomer. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if this might be YN, but he quickly dismissed the thought. Surely, the birthday girl would be at the center of attention, not chatting up grumpy partygoers in the corner.

The girl, not minding his frosty response, leaned against the wall next to him. "I get that. These big bashes can be overwhelming. But hey, the night's still young, right? Maybe it'll grow on you."

Oscar raised an eyebrow, his voice tinged with sarcasm. "Doubtful. I'm only here because Lando insisted."

"Oh?" the girl prompted, seeming genuinely interested despite Oscar's clear lack of enthusiasm. "You're friends with Lando then?"

"Teammates," Oscar corrected, taking a sip of his drink. "In Formula 1."

"That must be exciting!" the girl's eyes lit up, "I've always been fascinated by racing. The speed, the strategy, the teamwork… it's like a high-stakes chess game on wheels."

Despite himself, Oscar felt a flicker of interest. It wasn't often he met someone outside the racing world who seemed to genuinely appreciate the sport. But he squashed the feeling, determined to maintain his grumpy demeanor.

"It's just a job," he said flatly. "Not all it's cracked up to be."

"Well, aren't you a ray of sunshine?" the girl laughed, the sound warm and melodious. "Do you know the birthday girl, by the way?"

Oscar's frown deepened at the mention of the birthday girl.

"No, and honestly, I couldn't care less," he said bluntly. "I'm just here for Lando. In fact, I'm seriously considering leaving already. This whole thing is just… too much."

The girl's eyebrows raised slightly, but her smile didn't falter. "Oh? What makes you say that?"

Oscar, emboldened by the anonymity he assumed he had with this stranger, decided to let loose. "Where do I even start? First off, this music is atrocious. It's just noise. Who even picked this playlist?"

"Not a fan of pop, I take it?" the girl chuckled, shaking her head.

"Not when it's blasting at eardrum-shattering levels," Oscar grumbled. He gestured around the room. "And look at all these people. Half of them probably don't even know Lando or this girl. It's just a crowd of random people here for the free drinks and the chance to rub elbows with a Formula 1 driver."

The girl nodded, her eyes twinkling with what Oscar failed to recognize as suppressed laughter. "I see. Anything else bothering you?"

Oscar was on a roll now.

"It's probably all because of this other girl who thought it would be a brilliant idea to have a joint birthday party with a Formula 1 driver. I mean, who does that? It's like she's using Lando for the publicity or something, because I've been Lando's teammate for a year and I've never heard of her util now. This whole thing is over the top. The decorations look like a McLaren gift shop exploded in here. And don't get me started on that ridiculous cake I saw earlier."

Throughout Oscar's rant, the girl beside him simply listened, nodding occasionally and biting her lip as if trying not to laugh. When he finally paused for breath, she said, "Wow, you've really given this a lot of thought. It must be tough, being surrounded by all this… excess."

Oscar sighed, suddenly feeling a bit sheepish about his outburst. "I just… I don't get it, you know? Why make such a big deal out of a birthday?"

The girl's smile softened. "Maybe because birthdays are worth celebrating? Especially when you can share them with friends – old and new."

Before Oscar could respond, a familiar voice cut through the noise of the party. "YN! There you are! It's time for the cake!"

Oscar's head snapped up to see Lando weaving through the crowd, heading straight for them. His eyes widened as realization dawned, a mixture of embarrassment and disbelief washing over him.

The girl – YN – turned back to Oscar, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Duty calls," she said with a wink. "It was nice chatting with you, Oscar. Thanks for your honest feedback on my terrible music taste, my excessive decorations, and my 'brilliant' idea to share a birthday party with my childhood friend. Maybe next time you're at a party, try to enjoy it a little? You might be surprised."

As YN walked away to join Lando, leaving Oscar rooted to the spot, he couldn't help but feel a wave of mortification wash over him. He had just spent the better part of an hour criticizing various aspects of the party to one of the hosts herself. And not just any host – Lando's childhood friend, the girl whose birthday they were also celebrating.

Oscar watched as YN and Lando made their way to the center of the room, where the enormous cake he had mocked earlier was being wheeled out.

As YN and Lando took their places in front of the extravagant cake, the crowd began to gather around them to sing Happy Birthday. Oscar, still reeling from his embarrassing revelation, found himself shuffling closer to the center of the room, trying to blend in with the crowd.

As the song concluded, Lando stepped forward, raising a hand to quiet the crowd. He cleared his throat and began to speak, his voice filled with warmth and excitement.

"Thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate with us," Lando started, grinning widely. "YN and I have known each other since we were kids, and it's always been a bit of a joke between us that we share a birthday. Who would've thought we'd end up throwing a joint party like this years later?" He paused as the crowd chuckled. "YN, you've been an amazing friend all these years, and I'm so glad we reconnected. Here's to many more birthdays together!"

The crowd applauded as Lando raised his glass in a toast. Then, to Oscar's mounting dread, Lando handed the microphone to YN.

YN took the mic with a smile, her eyes scanning the room before landing on Oscar. He swallowed hard, wondering if she was about to call him out in front of everyone.

"Thanks, Lando," YN began, her voice warm and filled with amusement. "And thank you all for being here tonight. It means so much to see so many familiar faces… and some new ones too." Her eyes twinkled as she glanced at Oscar again. "You know, planning this party was quite an adventure. We wanted to make sure everyone would enjoy themselves… well, almost everyone."

Oscar felt his face grow hot as a few people near him chuckled, clearly not realizing the jab was directed at him.

"And now, let's cut into this 'ridiculous' cake I picked out. After that, feel free to enjoy more of our apparently ear-shattering music. Who knows? It might just grow on you!"

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liked by landonorris, lilymhe and 109,847 others

yourinstagram when you share your birthday with your childhood bestie who happens to be an f1 driver… you go BIG or go home! thank you @/landonorris for the most incredible joint celebration ever! from the "atrocious" music to the "ridiculous" cake, every moment was perfect 😉 and thanks to everyone who came - even those who stayed in the corner judging my party planning skills. here's to another year of chaos!

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username1 SLAAAAY

username2 omg lando celebrated BIG this year

landonorris Best joint birthday ever! Thank you for being one of my best friends ever

charles_leclerc The music was actually great! Don't listen to the haters

username3 I NEED TO PARTY WITH LANDOOOO

username4 imagine being lando's childhood friend and sharing your birthday with him THE DREAM

iamrebeccad That cake was anything but ridiculous! Still dreaming about it 🎂

username6 why do I feel like there's a story behind those quotation marks…

username7 Still can't believe you pulled this off! Best birthday party ever!

username8 there's an inside joke we're missing

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Oscar was making his way through the paddock when he spotted her. YN was chatting with Lando near the McLaren garage, wearing team merchandise and looking completely at ease in an environment that was supposed to be his territory. His stomach did an uncomfortable flip - a reaction he immediately attributed to embarrassment from their last encounter, nothing more.

He quickly turned around, hoping to avoid another interaction. The last thing he needed before qualifying was to be reminded of how he'd made a complete fool of himself at that party. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

"Oscar!" Lando's voice called out. "Come here, mate!"

Oscar suppressed a groan, plastering what he hoped was a neutral expression on his face as he approached them. YN turned to face him, that same amused smile from the party playing on her lips. He hated how his heart skipped a beat - clearly just residual embarrassment, he assured himself.

"Hey, grumpy," she greeted cheerfully. "Ready for qualifying?"

Oscar's jaw tightened. Something about her easy demeanor, the way she seemed so unfazed by their previous interaction, irritated him. Or maybe what really irritated him was how much he'd thought about that interaction over the past two weeks.

"Just focused on the session," he replied curtly, trying to ignore the way her eyes seemed to see right through his cold exterior.

"YN's going to be hanging around this weekend," Lando explained, either oblivious to or ignoring the tension. "I thought it'd be cool to show her around."

Great, Oscar thought. Just what he needed - another distraction. He'd caught himself checking her Instagram more times than he cared to admit since the party, telling himself he was just curious about what she'd posted about that night. The fact that he'd spent an embarrassing amount of time looking at her other photos was something he refused to analyze.

"How exciting," Oscar deadpanned. "The glamorous world of Formula 1. I'm sure you'll love all the noise and chaos."

YN's smile didn't falter. "Oh, I don't mind noise when it has a purpose. Race car engines are quite different from 'atrocious' party music, wouldn't you agree?"

Oscar felt his cheeks warm at the reference to his party complaints. The memory of that night had been replaying in his head for two weeks - how she'd stood there letting him rant, those knowing eyes twinkling with amusement. How different would things have been if he'd known who she was from the start? Would he have actually tried to enjoy himself? Would he not think about his ex for half of the night?

Because that was his reality, he thought about his ex more than he cared to admit that he did.

"I should go prepare for qualifying," he muttered, turning to leave, trying to escape both her presence and his confusing thoughts.

"Wait," YN called after him. "I actually wanted to apologize."

This made Oscar pause, turning back with a confused frown. "Apologize?" His heart was doing that annoying skipping thing again.

"Yes," she nodded. "I should have introduced myself properly at the party instead of letting you vent. It was a bit mean to let you go on like that without telling you who I was."

Her sincerity caught him off guard. He'd spent two weeks convinced she must think he was a complete jerk, and here she was apologizing to him? It didn't make sense. None of this made sense - including the way his pulse quickened when she smiled at him.

"Right. Well, no harm done. If you'll excuse me…" He needed to get away. Now. Before these unwanted feelings got any more confused.

"I made you a playlist," YN continued, her eyes twinkling. "All non-atrocious songs, I promise. Thought it might help with your pre-race preparation."

She held out her phone, showing a Spotify playlist titled "For Grumpy F1 Drivers Who Hate Fun." The fact that she'd taken the time to make him a playlist, even as a joke, did something strange to his chest.

Lando burst out laughing. "Oh mate, she's got you there!"

Oscar stared at the playlist, his expression hardening. The championship battle was too tight, the pressure too intense for these kinds of distractions. They were so close to securing the constructor's championship. He couldn't afford to let anything break his focus, especially not some girl who seemed determined to get under his skin.

"I don't need a playlist," he said, his voice sharper than before. "What I need is to focus on qualifying. We're fighting for a championship here. This isn't some game."

YN's smile faltered slightly, but she maintained her composure. "Right, of course. The championship."

"Yeah, the championship," Oscar continued, his tone cold and professional. "Something that requires actual focus and dedication, not parties and playlists. So if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

"Oscar, mate," Lando started, looking uncomfortable, but Oscar cut him off.

"No, Lando. You might be comfortable mixing your personal life with racing, but I'm not. I'm here to win, not to socialize." He turned to YN, his expression neutral but his eyes hard. "Enjoy your weekend at the track."

He turned and walked away, his steps quick and purposeful. Behind him, he could hear Lando apologizing to YN, but he forced himself not to care.

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Oscar sat on the edge of his hotel bed, his phone illuminated with photos he should have deleted months ago. Lily's smile beamed back at him through the screen - holidays in Melbourne, race weekends, quiet moments at home. Four years of memories he couldn't seem to let go of.

"This is pathetic," he muttered, tossing his phone aside. The Vegas skyline glittered beyond his window, a stark contrast to his dark mood. The text from Lando about the drivers' party at some upscale club sat unanswered on his phone.

He ran his hands through his hair, feeling the familiar weight of loneliness settle in his chest. Lily had ended things right before the season started, claiming she couldn't handle the distance anymore. The truth was, she'd found someone else - someone who wasn't away racing cars most of the year.

The thought of sitting alone in his hotel room on a Saturday night in Las Vegas, scrolling through old photos of his ex, made him cringe. Even Alex, who usually preferred quiet nights after races, was going to the party.

"Fuck it," he declared to his empty room, standing up abruptly. He'd rather feel uncomfortable at a party than feel sorry for himself.

The club was exactly as he expected - loud, crowded, and dripping with excess. He spotted several drivers immediately: Lewis holding court in a VIP section, Max and Kelly laughing with Charles, Alex and George arguing about something while Franco watched in amusement.

Then he saw her. YN was wearing a silver dress that caught the light, making her look like she belonged among the glittering Vegas lights. She was chatting with Lando and Carlos, her head thrown back in laughter at something Carlos had said.

Oscar ordered a drink and found a quiet corner, trying to ignore the way his eyes kept drifting back to her. Their last interaction in the paddock hadn't been great - he'd been cold, dismissive. Yet here she was, seemingly unbothered, lighting up the room with that easy smile of hers.

"Didn't expect to see you here," her voice suddenly came from beside him. He hadn't noticed her approach.

"I live to surprise," he replied flatly, taking a sip of his drink.

YN leaned against the wall next to him, mirroring their positions from her birthday party. "You look about as thrilled to be here as you did at my party."

"If you've come to mock me again-"

"I haven't," she cut him off, her voice gentle. "I actually came to see if you're okay. You seem… different tonight."

Oscar tensed. Was he that transparent? "I'm fine."

"You know, it's okay not to be okay sometimes," she said softly. "Even Formula 1 drivers are allowed to have bad days."

He looked at her then, really looked at her. There was no trace of mockery in her expression, just genuine concern. It made something in his chest ache.

"I don't need your pity," he said, but his voice lacked its usual bite.

"Good, because I'm not offering any," YN replied. "I'm offering friendship. Or at least a dance partner who won't judge your moves too harshly."

Despite himself, Oscar felt the corner of his mouth twitch. "My moves are fine."

"Prove it then," she challenged, pushing off the wall and holding out her hand.

Oscar stared at her outstretched hand, feeling the weight of his phone in his pocket - the one still full of photos of Lily. He thought about his empty hotel room, about scrolling through memories of a relationship that was long over.

"I don't dance," he said finally, his tone cooling again. "And I'm not interested in whatever this is."

YN's hand dropped slowly, but her eyes remained kind. "Okay," she said simply. "But if you change your mind about either - the dancing or the friendship - I'll be around."

She turned to leave, pausing only to add, "You deserve to be happy, Oscar. Even if you don't believe it right now."

Oscar watched her disappear into the crowd, his drink suddenly tasting bitter in his mouth. He pulled out his phone, thumb hovering over his photo gallery. After a moment's hesitation, he opened his settings instead.

"Delete all photos?" the prompt asked.

He pressed yes before he could change his mind.

It wasn't much, but it was a start.

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liked by username1, username2 and 12,958 others

f1gossip SWIPE to see Lily Zneimer (Oscar Piastri's ex) hard-launching her new relationship! 👀 After 4 years with the McLaren driver, she's officially moved on. Lily shared multiple pics on her Instagram with the caption "Finally found my perfect match ❤️"

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username1 the way she waited until oscar had a good race weekend to post this… calculated af 💀

username2 "perfect match" girl you dated an f1 driver… downgrade much?

username3 anyone else notice she limited her comments? 👀 guilty conscience maybe??

username4 oscar deserves better anyway, he's so focused this season!

username5 well this explains why oscar's been in his villain era all season

username6 her loss tbh oscar's having his best season yet

username7 the way she's trying to make it seem like they just met… girl we all saw you commenting on his posts since last year 🙄

username8 imagine breaking up with oscar piastri… couldn't be me

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The Monaco streets were quieter than usual at 6 AM, which was exactly why Oscar had chosen this time for his run. His feet pounded against the pavement in rhythm with the aggressive beats flooding his headphones, trying to drown out the thoughts of Lily's Instagram post that had been haunting him since last night.

Perfect match. The words echoed in his head, mocking him. Four years, and she'd replaced him so easily.

He pushed himself harder, taking the hill towards Casino Square at a punishing pace. The physical exertion wasn't enough to quiet his mind, but at least-

"Oscar!"

He ignored the voice, assuming it was meant for someone else.

"Oscar! Hey!"

The voice was closer now. Persistent. Familiar. He yanked out one earbud, turning around with an irritated scowl that only deepened when he saw who it was. YN was jogging towards him, wearing running gear and looking annoyingly fresh despite the steep incline.

"What the fuck?" he snapped when she caught up. "Are you following me now?"

YN raised an eyebrow, barely winded. "Don't flatter yourself, Piastri. I was already running when I spotted you."

"You don't even live here." His heart was racing, and he told himself it was just from the run.

"Staying with Lando," she shrugged, falling into step beside him despite his obvious displeasure. "He's got a spare room."

Oscar stopped abruptly, turning to face her. The morning sun caught her face in a way that made her eyes look impossibly bright. He pushed that observation away immediately. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what? Running?"

"This," he gestured between them, frustration evident in his voice. "Being… nice. Showing up everywhere. Trying to talk to me. I don't like you, okay? I don't want to be friends. I don't want whatever this is."

YN studied him for a moment, completely unfazed by his hostility. "You know, for someone who doesn't like me, you spend an awful lot of energy trying to convince me of that fact."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," she said, stretching her arms above her head casually, "that if you really didn't like me, you wouldn't care enough to tell me repeatedly. You'd just ignore me."

The logic in her statement irritated him more than her presence. She had a point, but he'd rather run up this hill ten more times than admit it.

"I prefer running alone," he said flatly, trying to ignore how his stomach did a weird flip when she smiled at him.

"Cool. Me too, usually." She grinned. "But sometimes life throws you unexpected running partners. Kind of like unexpected friendships."

"We're not friends."

"Not yet," she agreed cheerfully. "Race you to the casino?"

Before he could protest, she took off up the hill, her ponytail swinging with each stride. Oscar stood there for a moment, torn between irritation and something else he refused to name. The morning light cast long shadows across the street, and he watched her figure getting smaller as she climbed the hill.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered to himself, but his feet were already moving, chasing after her up the winding street.

He told himself it was just his competitive nature, that he couldn't let her win. It had nothing to do with how her presence somehow made his chest feel lighter, or how the morning felt less lonely with her there.

They reached Casino Square nearly neck and neck, both breathing hard. The square was empty except for a few early morning workers, the famous casino building looming above them in the soft morning light.

"Not bad, Piastri," YN panted, hands on her knees. "But I totally had you on that last corner."

"You cut me off," he accused, trying to catch his breath.

"Did not! I took the racing line," she grinned, mimicking his Australian accent on the last two words.

Despite himself, a laugh escaped Oscar's lips before he could stop it.

YN's eyes lit up triumphantly. "There! You laughed!" She pointed at him accusingly. "You actually laughed! Quick, someone alert the press - Oscar Piastri has emotions other than grumpy and grumpier!"

Oscar immediately tried to school his features back into their usual scowl, but he could feel the corners of his mouth fighting to turn upward. "Shut up," he muttered, but there was no real heat in it.

"Make me," she challenged, starting to jog backwards. "Come on, one more lap around Monaco? Unless you're scared I'll beat you again…"

Oscar felt something shift in his chest, a crack in the walls he'd built so carefully. He blamed it on the endorphins from running, on the early morning air, on anything but the way her smile made him want to smile back.

"In your dreams," he called out, already moving to chase after her.

And if he was smiling as they ran through the empty streets of Monaco, well, there was no one else around to see it anyway.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

YN burst through Lando's front door, still riding the runner's high from her morning excursion. She found him in the kitchen, bleary-eyed and hunched over a cup of coffee, his hair sticking up in every direction.

"Morning, sunshine," she chirped, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge.

"Why are you so… awake?" Lando groaned, squinting at her. "It's inhuman."

"Guess who I ran into?" She hopped onto the kitchen counter, grinning. "Your grumpy teammate. And - wait for it - I actually made him laugh!"

Lando's spoon clattered against his mug. "Oscar? Laughed?"

"I know, right? I mean, it was more like a surprised laugh that he tried to take back immediately, but still. Progress!" She took a long drink of water. "I don't get why he's so… intense all the time. Like, I know F1 drivers are serious, but he takes it to another level."

Lando's expression shifted, something like concern crossing his face. "Ah, right. You don't know."

"Don't know what?"

"About the breakup."

YN stopped mid-sip. "Breakup?"

Lando set his coffee down, suddenly looking more awake. "His girlfriend - well, ex-girlfriend now - Lily. They were together for four years. She ended things right before the season started."

"Oh," YN said quietly, her earlier enthusiasm deflating. "I had no idea."

"Yeah, it was…" Lando ran a hand through his already messy hair. "It was pretty rough. They had this whole life planned out, you know? She moved to Monaco for him when he got the McLaren seat. They were talking about getting married eventually."

"What happened?"

"She met someone else," Lando said grimly. "Some business guy in Sydney or something. Oscar found out when he got back from winter training. She'd already moved her stuff out."

YN felt her stomach sink. "That's horrible."

"Yeah. And the worst part? She posted about her new relationship yesterday. All these loved-up photos, calling the guy her 'perfect match' and everything." Lando shook his head. "Oscar saw it last night. That's probably why he was out running so early."

"Shit," YN whispered, remembering how she'd teased him about being grumpy. "I feel awful now. I've been giving him such a hard time about being antisocial."

"You didn't know," Lando assured her. "And honestly? You getting him to laugh is kind of huge. He's been… different since it happened. Throws himself into racing, barely socializes. The only time I see him smile is on podiums."

YN thought about Oscar's surprised laugh in Casino Square, how quickly he'd tried to hide it. "Four years is a long time."

"Yeah," Lando agreed. "And they were good together, you know? Or we all thought they were. She was at every race, knew everyone in the paddock. When she left…" He trailed off, taking a sip of coffee. "Let's just say there's a reason he keeps people at arm's length now."

YN slid off the counter, her earlier victory feeling hollow now. "I should probably back off then. Give him space."

Lando looked at her thoughtfully. "Actually… maybe don't?"

"What?"

"It's just…" Lando set his mug down, choosing his words carefully. "That was the first time you've mentioned him laughing since January. Maybe what he needs isn't more space. Maybe he needs someone who won't let him push them away."

YN thought about Oscar's determined scowl that morning, how it had softened just slightly when she'd challenged him to another lap. "I don't know, Lando…"

"Just… be yourself," Lando suggested. "You've already cracked the grumpy exterior once. And Oscar… he's a good guy. He just needs to remember there's more to life than proving his ex wrong."

YN nodded slowly, her mind going back to their morning run. She thought about the way Oscar had tried not to smile, how his eyes had lit up during their race to the casino despite his best efforts to remain stoic.

"Okay," she said finally. "But if he murders me for being annoying, I'm haunting you first."

Lando grinned. "Deal. Now please tell me you're making those pancakes you promised yesterday."

"Only if you tell me more about this grumpy teammate of yours."

"Oh, I've got stories," Lando laughed. "Let me tell you about the time he got lost in Singapore…"

As YN moved around Lando's kitchen gathering pancake ingredients, she couldn't help but think about Oscar, wondering if he was still running through the streets of Monaco, trying to outrun memories of a relationship that had shaped the last four years of his life.

She understood his coldness better now, but somehow, that only made her more determined to break through it.

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liked by username1, username2 and 10,983 others

f1gossip SPOTTED: Oscar Piastri jogging around Monaco with mysterious girl ! Sources say they were laughing and racing each other around 👀

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username1 OHHHH

username2 WHO IS THIS

username3 oscar healing era we love to see it

username4 isn't this lando's friend? the one he shares the same bday with

userame5 THIS IS YNNNN lando's bday twin

username6 OSC BOYFRIEND ERA AGAIN??

username7 cry lily zneimer

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Oscar stared at his phone screen, the message he'd sent to Lily still showing just one gray checkmark. Not delivered. He'd blocked her months ago, but last night, in a moment of weakness (and perhaps too much room service wine), he'd unblocked her number.

"I hope you're happy," he'd texted. Four simple words that made him feel pathetic now in the harsh light of day.

Of course she'd changed her number. Of course she hadn't responded. What had he expected? That she'd suddenly remember all their plans, their shared dreams, their life in Monaco? That she'd realize her Sydney finance dude wasn't her "perfect match" after all?

He tossed his phone onto the hotel bed, disgusted with himself. Four years of his life, and here he was, still orbiting around her like a satellite that didn't know its planet had disappeared. The worst part was, he wasn't even sure if he still loved her or if he was just haunted by the future they'd planned.

The Qatar paddock was already buzzing with activity when he arrived, the air conditioning doing little to combat the oppressive heat. He had an engineering briefing in ten minutes, and he needed to focus on the race weekend, not on unanswered texts to ex-girlfriends.

Then he spotted her. YN was chatting animatedly with Carlos near the Ferrari garage, wearing a McLaren team shirt that he suspected was Lando's. Her hair was pulled back in a loose braid, and she was gesturing enthusiastically about something, making Carlos laugh. She looked so at ease, so comfortable in this world that had taken him years to navigate.

Oscar immediately turned around, hoping to duck into the McLaren hospitality without being noticed.

"Oscar!"

No such luck.

He kept walking, pretending he hadn't heard her. The sound of quick footsteps behind him told him his escape attempt had failed.

"Hey, grumpy!" YN fell into step beside him, seemingly unbothered by his obvious attempt to avoid her. "Still maintaining your daily scowl quota, I see."

"Don't you have somewhere else to be?" he asked coldly, not slowing his pace.

"Probably. But bothering you is much more fun." She grinned, matching his stride effortlessly. "You know, most people say good morning when they see someone."

"I'm not most people. We're not anything."

"Still stuck on that 'we're not friends' thing? Even after our romantic morning run in Monaco?"

He tensed, acutely aware of the heads turning in their direction. Since their morning run in Monaco, social media had been buzzing with speculation. F1 fan accounts had somehow gotten hold of a blurry photo of them running through Casino Square, and the paddock rumor mill had been working overtime. The last thing he needed was more fuel for those fires, especially not when his embarrassing text to Lily was still fresh in his mind.

"Stop," he cut her off, pulling them both to a halt in a quieter section of the paddock. "This needs to stop."

"What needs to stop?"

"This. You. Being everywhere." His voice was low, controlled, but inside he was a mess of conflicting emotions. The ghost of his unanswered text message haunted him, making him feel vulnerable and defensive. "People are talking. They saw us in Monaco."

YN's smile faltered slightly, but her eyes remained kind. "And? We went for a run. Last I checked, that wasn't a crime."

"You don't get it," he said, frustration seeping into his tone. "I don't need this right now. I don't need people speculating or making assumptions." I don't need to feel things I'm not ready to feel, he added silently.

Understanding dawned in her eyes. "Are you afraid your ex might see?"

The question hit too close to home, especially after his pathetic attempt at reaching out to Lily. His jaw clenched. "You don't know anything about me."

"I know you're letting someone who left you control your life," YN said quietly, her words cutting through his defenses with surgical precision. "I know you're so afraid of getting hurt again that you'd rather push everyone away."

"Don't," he warned, his voice sharp. "You don't get to analyze me. You don't get to act like you understand anything about my life just because Lando told you some story." The fact that she could read him so easily only made him more defensive.

"I'm not-"

"We're not friends," he continued, his words precise and cutting. "That morning in Monaco was a mistake. I was…" Vulnerable, lonely, weak. "…it doesn't matter. Just stay away from me."

He turned to leave, his phone feeling like a lead weight in his pocket, the unanswered text message a reminder of everything he was trying to forget.

"You know what I think?" YN called after him, her voice carrying across the paddock. "I think you're not actually afraid of what she might see. I think you're afraid of what might happen if you stop letting her ghost rule your life. And you know what the saddest part is? You're so focused on pushing people away, you don't even notice who's trying to stay."

Oscar didn't turn around, but his shoulders tensed. Her words hit home with devastating accuracy, making his chest tight. Without another word, he walked away, leaving YN standing alone in the sweltering Qatar heat.

But as he headed into the briefing, YN's words kept playing in his mind: "You're so focused on pushing people away, you don't even notice who's trying to stay."

The worst part was, he was starting to wonder if she was right.

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The private jet hummed quietly as they crossed over Saudi airspace. Oscar kept fidgeting with his phone, refreshing Instagram for the tenth time in as many minutes. Another photo of Lily, another glimpse of her perfect new life without him.

"If you stare at that screen any harder, it might actually burst into flames," YN's voice cut through his thoughts.

Oscar locked his phone quickly, jaw tightening. "Mind your own business."

From across the aisle, Lando pretended to be absorbed in his game, but Oscar could see him watching their interaction from the corner of his eye.

"Want to talk about it?" YN asked softly, closing her book.

"No."

"Want to keep brooding dramatically while pretending you're not stalking your ex's Instagram?"

Oscar's head snapped up. "I'm not-"

"You've refreshed that page twelve times in the last hour. I've been counting."

"Why are you even watching me?"

"Hard not to when you're sighing like a sad protagonist in a period drama."

Despite himself, Oscar felt the corner of his mouth twitch. YN caught it immediately.

"Was that almost a smile? Quick, Lando, document this rare occurrence!"

"Leave me out of this," Lando mumbled, though he was clearly fighting back a grin.

Oscar tried to maintain his scowl, but YN's theatrical gasping was making it difficult. "You're ridiculous."

"And you," she pointed at him, "are coming out with me tomorrow night."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you need to get out of your hotel room, and I know for a fact you don't have any plans besides rewatching her stories and making yourself miserable."

"I don't-"

"You know what?" YN continued, leaning forward in her seat. "We're going to that new rooftop bar at the W. You're going to wear something that isn't team gear, you're going to have at least two drinks, and you're going to remember what it's like to actually enjoy yourself."

"And if I say no?"

"You won't," she said confidently. "Because deep down, you know I'm right. Also, I've already told Lando he's coming too."

"Traitor," Oscar muttered at his teammate.

Lando shrugged. "She's very persuasive. Also, slightly terrifying."

"So?" YN raised an eyebrow at Oscar. "What's it going to be? Another night of Instagram stalking, or actually living your life?"

Oscar looked between her determined face and his phone, still dark in his hand. The thought of another night alone with his thoughts was suddenly exhausting.

"Fine," he said finally. "But I'm not dancing."

"We'll see about that," YN grinned triumphantly. "Now, hand over your phone."

"What? No."

"Yes. Consider it confiscated until we land. Doctor's orders."

"You're not a doctor."

"No, but I am your friend, whether you like it or not. Phone. Now."

Maybe it was the altitude, or the way she said 'friend' so matter-of-factly, or just the sheer exhaustion of maintaining his walls, but Oscar found himself holding out his phone.

"Just until we land," he warned.

"Of course," YN agreed, tucking it into her bag. "Now, want to hear about the time I accidentally locked Lando in his own garage?"

"That was YOU?" Lando's head shot up from his game.

"In my defense, I thought you were already at the track…"

As YN launched into the story, Oscar felt something in his chest loosen slightly. He wasn't ready to admit it yet, but maybe - just maybe - she had a point about living his life again.

"…and that's why Lando now triple-checks every door before closing it," YN finished, making Lando groan.

"I knew it wasn't a 'random malfunction,'" he accused.

Oscar found himself actually laughing, the sound surprising even himself.

"There it is," YN said softly, her eyes meeting his. "That's the guy I'm taking out tomorrow night."

And for once, Oscar didn't argue.

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texts between lando and yn

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Oscar stood in front of his hotel mirror, already regretting the black button-down shirt he'd chosen. His phone buzzed with a message from Lando: "Sorry mate, stomach's not great. Going to skip tonight. You two have fun ;)"

The winky face made Oscar's jaw clench. He immediately typed back: "Not going if you're not."

Lando's reply was instant: "Yes you are. YN will murder me if you bail."

As if on cue, there was a knock at his door. Oscar considered pretending he wasn't in, but-

"I can hear you overthinking from out here, Piastri!" YN's voice carried through the door. "Open up!"

Sighing, he opened the door to find her leaning against the frame, wearing a simple black dress that made him suddenly very aware of his heartbeat.

"Lando's not coming," he said immediately.

"I know, he texted me." She stepped into his room uninvited. "We're still going."

"I don't think-"

"Nope," she cut him off. "You're not bailing. You're dressed, you look nice, and I'm not letting you spend another night hiding in your room."

"I don't hide-"

"Your Instagram search history would disagree." She grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the door. "Come on, one drink. If you're still miserable after that, you can come back and brood in peace."

Something about the way she said it - teasing but kind - made it hard to argue. "One drink," he conceded.

The rooftop bar at the W was busy but not crowded, the Abu Dhabi skyline glittering around them. They found a quiet corner with a view of the water.

"See? Not so terrible," YN said, sliding into her seat.

Oscar had to admit the view was spectacular. "It's alright."

"Such high praise! Should I alert the media?"

He tried to maintain his scowl but failed. "You're impossible."

"Yet here you are," she grinned. "Now, what are you drinking?"

Two hours later, they were walking along the waterfront, their earlier drinks having taken the edge off Oscar's usual guardedness. The night air was warm but pleasant, and the city lights reflected off the water like stars.

"No way," Oscar laughed - actually laughed - at YN's story. "You did not steal Lando's car."

"I didn't steal it! I borrowed it. There's a difference."

Oscar shook his head, still chuckling. "You're chaos."

"Better than being predictable," she shrugged, bumping his shoulder playfully. "Speaking of which, you know what I noticed?"

"What?"

"You haven't checked your phone once tonight."

Oscar realized she was right. He hadn't even thought about Lily since they'd left the hotel. "I guess I was… distracted."

"By my sparkling personality and amazing stories?"

"By your criminal tendencies, apparently."

YN stopped walking, turning to face him. "You know what else I noticed?"

"What?"

"You're smiling. Like, actually smiling. Not that fake media smile you do, but a real one."

Oscar felt his defenses start to rise, but YN continued before he could retreat.

"And the world didn't end," she said softly. "You had fun, you laughed, and somehow life went on."

He looked out at the water, processing her words. "It's not… it's not that simple."

"No, it's not," she agreed. "But it's a start." She turned to face the water too, standing close enough that their arms brushed. "You know what your problem is?"

"I'm sure you're going to tell me."

"You're so afraid of getting hurt again that you're missing out on all the good stuff. The random nights like this, the unexpected friendships, the moments that make life worth living."

Oscar was quiet for a moment. "I thought I had all that figured out," he finally said. "The whole future planned."

"And now?"

"Now…" he looked at her, really looked at her, illuminated by the city lights. "Now I don't know anything anymore."

"Good," she smiled. "That's where all the best stories start." She pulled out her phone, checking the time. "Come on, one more stop before I return you to your cave of solitude."

"Where?"

"There's a gelato place around the corner that's still open. And before you say no, just remember - I've already seen you smile tonight. Your reputation is already ruined."

Oscar found himself following her without argument, watching as she practically bounced down the sidewalk, chattering about the best gelato flavors. He thought about what she'd said about missing out on the good stuff.

Maybe, just maybe, she had a point.

"Hey YN?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks. For… you know."

She turned back to him, her smile soft. "I know." Then, because she was YN, she added, "But if you try to go back to being grumpy tomorrow, I'm telling everyone about how you sang along to Taylor Swift in the bar."

"I did not-"

"The security cameras would disagree!"

Their laughter echoed off the buildings, mixing with the sounds of the city, and for the first time in months, Oscar felt like maybe, just maybe, there was life after Lily after all.

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liked by landonorris, lilyhme and 102,648 others

yourinstagram turns out mr grumpy does know how to smile 😌 (he's gonna kill me for posting this last pic but it was worth it)

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username1 AWE THIS???

username2 weird plot twist but i love it

username3 YN AND OSCAR???

landonorris my stomach miraculously feels better seeing this 😇

↳ oscarpiastri I trusted you norris

↳ landonorris you'll thank me later mate

↳ username1 is there an inside joke we’re missing?

alex_albon WHO IS THIS MAN AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH OSCAR

↳ oscarpiastri Delete this immediately

↳ yourinstagram no ❤️

↳ username2 WHATS GOING ON

yourinstagram for someone who "hates" this post you sure are commenting a lot @/oscarpiastri

↳ oscarpiastri ...i know where you live

↳ yourinstagram no you don't

↳ oscarpiastri Lando does

↳ landonorris leave me out of this 😂

username4 hear me out… oscar and yn

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The McLaren garage had erupted into absolute chaos the moment Lando and Oscar crossed the finish line, securing the Constructors' Championship for the team. Zak was crying, Andrea was hugging everyone in sight, and Lando had already lost his voice from screaming.

Oscar's head was buzzing pleasantly from the multiple champagne showers and whatever drinks had been pressed into his hands during the celebrations. His race suit was stained and sticky, his hair a mess, but he couldn't stop grinning.

"WORLD CHAMPIONS!" Lando screamed for the hundredth time, jumping on Oscar's back.

Through the crowd of celebrating team members, Oscar spotted YN chatting with some of the engineers. She was wearing a McLaren shirt (definitely stolen from Lando's collection) and had champagne dripping from her hair.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or the high of winning, or just the way she'd been beaming at him from the pit wall when he crossed the finish line, but Oscar found himself moving through the crowd toward her.

"YN!"

She turned, her smile growing wider. "Well, if it isn't the man of the hour-"

Before she could finish, Oscar had wrapped her in a tight hug, lifting her slightly off the ground. YN froze for a moment, clearly shocked by this uncharacteristic display of affection from him.

"Oh my god," she laughed, hugging him back. "Are you drunk or just really happy?"

"Both," he admitted into her hair, still not letting go. "We did it."

"You did it," she corrected, pulling back slightly to look at him. "Though I have to say, I'm a little concerned. First you're smiling in public, now you're initiating hugs? Who are you and what have you done with Oscar Piastri?"

"Shut up," he grinned, finally releasing her. "I'm allowed to be happy today."

"Quick, someone record this! The evidence that Oscar Piastri has emotions!"

"I take it back, I hate you again."

"No you don't," she sing-songed, poking his cheek. "You just hugged me in front of the entire paddock. Your reputation is ruined forever."

Oscar's eyes widened slightly as he looked around, suddenly aware of the knowing looks and smirks from nearby team members. Lando was practically vibrating with glee.

"I can still blame the champagne," he muttered.

"Sure you can," YN patted his cheek condescendingly. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, champ."

"I'm never going to live this down, am I?"

"Not a chance. I'm having this moment framed. 'The Day Oscar Piastri Showed Human Emotion: A Historical Event.'"

Despite himself, Oscar laughed. "You're impossible."

"Yet you hugged me anyway," she grinned triumphantly. "Face it, Piastri, you actually like having me around."

Maybe it was the champagne, or the victory high, or just the way her eyes were sparkling with mischief, but Oscar found himself saying, "Yeah, maybe I do."

YN's teasing smile softened into something more genuine. "Careful there, that almost sounded like admitting we're friends."

"Don't push it."

"Too late!" She called out to the garage. "Hey everyone! Oscar just said-"

Oscar quickly covered her mouth with his hand, both of them laughing now. "You're the worst."

She licked his palm, making him snatch his hand back. "And you love it."

Before he could respond, Lando crashed into both of them, wrapping his arms around their shoulders. "GROUP HUG! WORLD CHAMPIONS!"

As more team members joined the huddle, Oscar found himself pressed close to YN again. She caught his eye and mouthed "softie" at him with a smirk.

He rolled his eyes but couldn't stop smiling. Maybe she was right. Maybe he did like having her around.

But he was definitely blaming the champagne for that hug.

(He wasn't.)

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liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 104,759 others

yourinstagram to the boy who "doesn't smile" and the guy who "never shuts up" - you just made history. beyond proud to watch you two achieve this. thank you for letting me be a small part of the journey (even when one of you claimed to hate me 😌)

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username1 MCLAREN CHAMPIONSSS

username2 AHHH HAPPY OSC

landonorris MY FAVOURITE HUMAN ❤️

↳ oscarpiastri Excuse me?

↳ landonorris …my favourite humans*

↳ username1 THIS TRIO

username3 the grumpy one and the chaotic one

username4 I SHIP OSCAR AND YN

username5 she's lando's coolest friend

oscarpiastri Never hated you btw

↳ yourinstagram i know, you were just a grumpy boyy

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texts between lily and oscar

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The McLaren Technology Centre had been transformed for the end-of-year celebration. Music thrummed through the usually pristine halls, and fairy lights twinkled everywhere. YN was nursing her second glass of champagne, watching Lando attempt to convince Zak to try some viral TikTok dance.

She found herself on one of the balconies overlooking the lake, enjoying the crisp December air. The door clicked behind her, and she didn't need to turn to know who it was – she'd recognize those footsteps anywhere.

"Escaping your own party, world champion?"

Oscar leaned against the railing beside her. "Needed some air."

"Too many people trying to hug you?" she teased. "I know how you hate showing emotion in public. Though after that champagne shower in Abu Dhabi…"

"Are you ever going to let that go?"

"Never," she grinned. "It's my favorite memory. The day Oscar Piastri admitted he had feelings."

He was quiet for a moment, fidgeting with his glass. "Speaking of feelings…"

"Ooh, are we having a heart-to-heart? Should I record this rare moment?"

"Lily texted me." He blurted it out almost defensively.

YN's smile faltered for a split second before returning. "Oh! That's… that's great! You must be over the moon. I mean, you've been waiting for her to-"

"I blocked her number."

"You… what?"

Oscar ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture she'd come to recognize. "She wanted to meet for coffee, talk about getting back together, but I just… I couldn't."

"Why not?" YN asked softly, even as her heart picked up speed.

"Because I think I'm falling for someone else," he said in a rush. "Have been for months, actually. Someone who never gave up on me even when I was being an absolute dick. Someone who somehow got past all my walls and made me laugh again. Someone who steals Lando's hoodies and makes terrible puns and calls me out on my bullshit and-"

She kissed him.

It wasn't a grand, dramatic kiss like in the movies. It was soft, quick, almost shy – but it shut him up immediately.

She pulled back, watching his stunned expression with amusement. "I always liked you, you idiot. You were just too busy being grumpy to notice."

"I… what?"

"The guy I've been telling Lando about for months? The one he keeps teasing me about? That's you, dummy."

"But you're always making fun of me!"

"Because you're cute when you're flustered! And it was the only way to get you to actually interact with me at first."

Oscar stared at her, processing. "So all those times you were 'accidentally' showing up wherever I was…"

"Lando might have helped with that," she admitted. "Though in my defense, you were being very stubborn about the whole 'I don't need friends' thing."

"I was an idiot, wasn't I?"

"The biggest," she agreed cheerfully. "But you're my idiot now. If you want to be, that is."

Instead of answering, Oscar pulled her closer and kissed her properly this time. She could feel him smiling against her lips.

"Finally!" Lando's voice made them jump apart. He was standing in the doorway, grinning from ear to ear. "Do you know how exhausting it's been watching you two dance around each other?"

"How long have you been standing there?" YN asked.

"Long enough to know I was right all along," he beamed. "My best friends are in love!"

Oscar groaned. "I'm never going to hear the end of this."

"Never ever," Lando confirmed cheerfully. "Now come on, there's a party inside and I want to see everyone's faces when they find out!"

YN turned back to Oscar, who looked like he was contemplating murder. "Well, at least we don't have to worry about how to tell everyone?"

"I'm going to kill him."

"No, you're not," she said, pulling him closer. "You're going to kiss me again, and then we're going to go inside and face the music together."

"Or," he suggested, "we could stay here and kiss some more."

"Look who's being soft now," she teased.

"Shut up."

"Make me."

So he did.

(Inside, Lando was already planning how to work this into his best man speech – not that he'd tell them that just yet.)

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yourinstagram 2 months of making mr grumpy smile (and yes, there's photographic evidence of the smiles now). who would've thought all it took was stealing his hoodies and annoying him until he fell in love with me 😌 ps: thanks @/landonorris for being the world's most obvious wingman

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username1 THIS IS SO CUUUUTE

username2 i’m crying. they’re the most adorable couple ver

username3 this is what osc deserves!!!

landonorris MY WORK HERE IS DONE

↳ oscarpiastri You're the worst best friend ever

↳ landonorris you're welcome mate 😘

↳ yourinstagram thank you for your service

charles_leclerc The grumpy one's gone soft

↳ yourinstagram he really has 🥰

↳ oscarpiastri I hate both of you

↳ yourinstagram no you don't x

↳ oscarpiastri ...no i don't ❤️

alex_albon aremember when he used to pretend he couldn't stand you

↳ yourinstagram look how that turned out

↳ oscarpiastri In my defense she was very annoying

↳ yourinstagram still am, you just think it's cute now

↳ oscarpiastri ...no comment

username4 BEST COUPLE IN THE PADDOCK

username5 the day oscar piastri used a heart emoji. historic.

oscarpiastri Fine. You win. 2 months of pretending to be annoyed by the most incredible girl who somehow sees past my "resting grumpy face" (your words, not mine). Thanks for not giving up on me even when i was being difficult. ps: that's my favorite hoodie you're wearing in the last photo, i want it back.

↳ yourinstagram no you don't, it looks better on me 😌

↳ oscarpiastri ...yeah it does

↳ landonorris Get a room you two 🙄

↳ yourinstagram says the guy who took half these photos without us knowing

↳ landonorris SOMEONE had to document the enemies to lovers arc

↳ yourinstagram i love you, grumpy ❤️

[forsworned]

Simon has an OnlyFans. It wasn't something he necessarily kept a secret, but it wasn't something he shouted out on the rooftops for all to hear. Just the primal need for being seen while he fisted at his cock in various poses, most of which were requested by you. You who were an avid fan of his.

You really didn't remember how you found him. Maybe you were just absentmindedly scouring the internet for anything to turn you on while you were in the middle of a solo sesh, but either way, you stumbled upon his page. You wasted no time subscribing to the skull-masked man who humbly accepted your request to use a cock ring with a little ghost charm hanging at the end of it.

And his moans—don't even get me started. They're deep, guttural, sexy, and caveman-like and you're creaming at just the mere sound of it.

Truthfully, Simon doesn't even need the money. His price range only goes as high as $5, and for his VIPs, you get exclusive access to all his behind-the-scenes features, one of which includes all the times he mistakenly shoots his cum at his chin.

But it comes off as a shocker to you when its' one of those nights where no matter how many times you make yourself cum, it's not enough. You crave him. Crave to see the way those half-lidded onyx eyes stare down at the camera as he gets off between missions for a quickie.

It's enticing. He's fully clad in his uniform, but his hard, girthy horse cock is out for display. Green veins pulsate against his porcelain skin at his touch and you're squirming at the vibrating wand you place on your clit.

Ping!

Your in-app message notification pop up and you notice the small badge on the messages icon. Thinking it was merely something promotional, you ignore it, but a second ping disrupts your solo love-making session that has you squinting down at your phone.

Curiously, you tapped on the little envelope, tilting your head at the message before tapping on it again.

TacticalHeat: Hey, lovie. How are you doing? I see you've been enjoying my content for some time now. Would you be interested in a private call?xx

Your heart thrums against your chest as your jaw drops to the floor. There was no fuckin' way this was real. It had to be some chatbot or some sort of impersonator, but sure enough you click on the icon and it leads you straight back to the page you were just rubbin one out to.

"Fuck!" You breathe out, throwing your head back as your orgasm spills out of you. You hadn't even noticed the wand still buzzing against your sopping wet pussy, but it leaves you heaving and ready for the next round.

Your fingers hover over your keyboard and you search your mind to say something. It's not like you had a picture on your profile, nor your name, or even a real description on your bio. It was merely a clipart of Snoopy with headphones on bumping to music, a practical choice.

You: I'm good! I can do maybe tomorrow night?"

For some Godforsaken reason, you didn't want to seem to eager, but for what? You literally were messaging on fucking OnlyFans.

Ping!

Your heart drops to your ass at swiftness and the contents of the message.

TacticalHeat: How about now instead?

Part two is here!! 😜

masterlist

[nanamisgirly]

cw geto is maybe bi here idk, chubby nerd!reader with a bit of attitude, tbh there's no cw it's borderline between smut and fluff

part.2

˖ 𑣲 comments and reblogs are always appreciated ma girliees :33

womanizer!geto loves fucking women. truly he does! they are all wrapped around his fingers and all he has to do is glancing at them. and this goes for the whole campus!! even boys would fuck him if he'd give them the chance. and maybe, if the mood struck just right at a party or in a messy, drunken threesome/orgies, he does fuck the boys.

but womanizer!geto has also a nerd bestie. the typical nerd girl. she was everything but his type. nothing that looked like his usual hookup girls. she was not fit, but not exactly fat. just chubby. her acne scars from high school still there with still some pimples that comes and go. and of course the infamous nerd glasses that didn't seem to want to stay on her nose.

you were not someone womanizer!geto would ever fuck. that's why you're friends. strictly platonic. he liked how you never batted an eye at his reputation, never judged, never treated him like a conquest. you both grow close through the years together in the same degree, during the late nights session study in the library before exams, for you it was monnnths before exams, you're a little ball of stress.

womanizer!geto doesn't like when guys approached you. not because he cares—why would he? it just...doesn't make sense. you're not the kind of girl men chase. not the kind they brag about. so he makes sure to lecture you about it—especially about frat boys. "they’re the worst," he mutters, arm slung lazily over your chair as his knee bumped against yours under the table. "trust me, nerd. they only act nice 'cause they wanna see how you moan." you rolled your eyes, setting your pen down with an amused scoff. "do you think i've never fucked, suguru?" you shrugged, smirking at his clueless expression "just 'cause i'm shy and a 'nerd' doesn't mean I don't enjoy a good fuck." well, you were lying but he doesn't need to know that. you were probably having sex every couples of months and it wasn't even that good. your voice was light when you added, "thanks for the concern, though." something in his chest stutters. and for some reason, he has to look away.

womanizer!geto has no shame. he lets girls climb into his lap, lets their hands wander, lets them grind against him right on the couch with people around. almost fucking them on the spot. but never when you're around! why? well, he tells himself it's respect. at least, that's the excuse he clings to. because why else would he pull away from a pretty thing palming his cock just to go talk to you? right? he's just...pitying you. that's all. and yet—when he finally starts to feel his cock hardening in his pants, he tells himself it has nothing to do with your wide, innocent eyes blinking up at him. nothing to do with the way your lips part, soft and expectant. his dick is...delayed. yeah. just slow to catch up to the last girl's game. horrible by the way.

and of course womanizer!geto is trying to subtly adjust his pants. he's forcing his mind elsewhere—anywhere else—because if he lets himself think too hard about how fucking pretty you look right now, he's going to have a problem. a big one.

womanizer!geto keeps a polaroid of you in his wallet. only because you are his bestie! don't get any ideas on that. he found the picture cute that's it. the two of you, standing under a canopy of cherry blossom, petals floating around you like something out of a dream. his strong arm wrapped tightly around your plush waist, your round soft tits pressing against his chest. it had been an innocent day. really. he had dragged you out after hours of studying, calling you a nerd and insisting you needed air before your brain cells ended up smeared on the library table. what was supposed to be a thirty minutes walk turned into four hours. and when you reaching this pretty alley he couldn't help but suggest a pic—just for the memory! and obviously his arm was around you only to male sur you both fit in the camera frame. obviously. he was not dying to touch you!

and now here it was. the damn polaroid in gojo's hand. the white-haired menace grinning like he just found the greatest blackmail material of all time. "damn, suguru, you look so whipped." geto's eye twitched.

"look at this! holding our nerd like she's breakable—aww, how so sweet!!" gojo snickered, flipping the photo dramatically. "and—hold on. did she kiss your cheek?" suguru said nothing, jaw locked as his mind instantly flashed back to that moment—how you rose on your tiptoes, one hand pressing slightly on his broad shoulder to steady yourself as you leaned in, brushing a soft kiss to his cheek. he had frozen for a second and he vividly recall your flushed face, wide eyes as you apologized profusely, muttering something about being 'carried away by the moment' and how it was simply a 'friendly' gesture.

his cock begins to stir at the memory of your soft lips against his skin. his heart skipping some beats.

"wait—holy shit." gojo barks out a laugh. "you keep this in your wallet? what, you jerk off to it?" your entire soul leaves your body. geto sees the way your eyes go wide, the way your hands fly to your face in horror.

and that's it. geto slowly stands up, cracking his knuckles and rolls his shoulders. "satoru," he said, voice eerily calm. gojo gulped. he was a dead man walking.

womanizer!geto tells himself he's just messing with you—that the way his fingers linger when he wipes a stray drop of your melting ice cream isn’t because he’s imagining how warm and soft your mouth would feel wrapped around his fingers. he convinces himself that when you lick your spoon, tongue flicking over the tip—his cock is not aching dreaming to be at the metal-stenciled place. and his rock-hard cock has definitely nothing to do with the way your thighs spread soft and full against the couch or the way your tits bouncy sightly every time you shift.

womanizer!geto is totally fine when you stretch on the couch next to him. arms up, back arching, body pushing forward, making your curves more prominent, making that cute little tummy press out—wait what?? geto shook his head trying to get back to his senses. no need to highlight it was impossible with the way his cock twitched in his pants.

womanizer!geto, obviously, does not want something with you..he does not want to bury himself into the plush softness of his nerd best friend, does not want to hear how sweetly you'd whimper his name. she's not his type!!!!

°‧★ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁( 。 •̀ ᴖ •́ 。)

a/n chubby girls are the biggest win 🙂‍↕️☝️

[peanutalergy]

would you write something where Spencer finds reader's lost cat and brings it back to her then they keep in touch + they both develop a little crush on each other?

your writing is wonderful!! <3

-🪲

tags: fluff fluff fluff but there's making out (?) idk if that counts as anything; also lots of cursing lowkey; reader is lowk penelope garcia coded

w/c: 1.8k

a/n: tysm for the req that's an adorable idea unfortunately not such great execution from my part also I wrote this in like an hour I'm so exhausted I should go to sleep but whatever I also don't know if this what you meant anon I'm sorry if it's not 😭 yeah I hate this sorry idk what to say it sucks

MISSING CAT

orange, green eyed, really chubby cat, last seen at ~3:30pm on november 9th. he will answer to garfield or little fucker; most likely the latter, despite that not being his name. he's very clingy, he’ll probably come up to you and start rubbing on your leg like the little freak he is but he's actually just a baby who needs his mom (me) so please call this number if you find him.

reward: $10 and a kiss maybe if you’re nice enough

spencer chuckled when he reached the end of the text and saw the adorable picture of a ginger fat cat. he read over the number on the poster, making sure to keep it stored in a folder at the back of his head along with the image of garfield as he returned to his walk.

not even an hour later, when walking past a not-so-nice smelling trash can, he heard some loud purring coming from one of the boxes surrounding it.

if it were any other day, he would have ignored it, guessing it's just another stray cat, but he was still thinking about garfield and his seemingly interesting owner.

“garfield…?” spencer called out from afar. silence. he took a few steps closer, trying to peek over the box while keeping his distance so as to avoid getting jumped at and attacked. “little… fucker…?” he choked over the nickname.

immediately, the animal that had been in his mind since seeing his picture jumped out of the box, purring louder as he started rubbing on spencer’s legs. he chuckled despite being scared.

garfield wasn't nearly as well kept then as he was in the picture, due to the days he had been on the streets. still chubby, but dirty and with a few patches of dried blood in his fur. spencer tried to move away, seeing his pants getting smudged, but the cat just started following him.

spencer pulled out his phone and started dialing the number seen on the poster, still trying to avoid the animal. after a few rings, you picked up.

“hello?...”

“hi, is this garfield’s, uh… owner?”

“yeah, why? have you found him...?”

“i think i did, yeah.”

“oh my god, wait, actually? is he okay? are you serious?” you mumbled excitedly, sitting up from the position you were comfortably lying in, the show on your tv already forgotten.

“i am serious, yeah. i'm just out on a walk, and, uh… he was in a box near a trash can. he's all dirty and bloody, but he seems okay.”

“my poor baby” you said with a pout “where are you? wait– who are you? who do i owe my son’s life to? my savior, my hero?”

“oh, i’m just… just spencer, really.” he said with an awkward chuckle, giving in and leaning down to caress the cat, who immediately leans into his hands as if he's never been pet before, “spencer reid.”

“mm, cool. anyway, where are you? i’m going to pick him up. tell him mommy’s coming. actually maybe don't. don't refer to me as mommy, please.”

“uh, well, i wouldn't mind dropping him off at your place, if you want.”

“i thought you were on a walk? you're gonna walk all the way to my apartment with that fucker in your arms?”

“yeah, so… yeah, actually. does he… is he fine with being carried?”

“oh, totally, he loves uppies, but it's–”

“sorry, what? uppies??” he cut you off, confusion and disbelief clear in his voice.

“yeah…? uppies… like… when you carry an animal? in your arms?...” a bleach and tone, like???

“oh, okay…”

“yeah, so, he loves uppies. but it's just inconvenient, no? carrying him like that? where even are you, dude? is it not far?”

after you tell him your address, spencer decided it's close enough to walk there with an overweight cat in his arms. however, when he took forty minutes to show up at your door, panting and sweaty, you realized that probably wasn't a good idea.

“jesus, man, you could've just said you can't walk that long with this fucker.” you said as you opened the door, letting him in and taking the cat in your arms, talking to him in that tiny, baby voice. “oh my god, my baby, thank you so much. you poor thing. where were you, sweetheart? i missed you so so so much…”

spencer stood awkwardly in the doorway, wiping away the dirt that the animal left in his shirt, as you kept mumbling to him.

it must have been around another half hour before you set him down on the ground again, but when you did so, you looked at spencer and gasped, “oh, where are my manners? i'm so sorry, i forgot you were there. come in, jesus, come on in.”

he walked in, and after offering him a glass of water, you led him to sit on the couch. settling awkwardly beside you, he said “so, uh… is he alright? hurt..?”

“no, he's okay. i mean, as far as i can tell. not a vet, or anything. i don't think the blood is his… although that doesn't make it any less worrying. i'll give his vet a call. maybe stop by the clinic. yeah, i should probably stop by the clinic, shouldn't i?”

“yeah, probably. does he have all his vaccines?”

“of course.”

“still, there's a chance he would have caught a disease or eaten something that could have been infected. it's always good to make sure.”

“yeah, i know. i’ll give them a call, see if they can see us today.” you said, to which spencer replied with a nod, the two of you falling silent for a moment. “oh, right, the reward.”

you stood up and walked to the table, taking your wallet and a $10 bill from it. “there's no need, really… it's okay. don't worry about it” he argued, shaking his head when you offered him the money.

“no, oh my god, no, this is the least i can do. you walked so far, with that little heavy fucker. please, just take this. actually, you deserve more. i can barely handle to hold him for more than a few minutes, i'm not sure how you–” you look him up and down “–managed to walk with him for so long. just take the money.” you mumble, taking another bill from your wallet and handing it to him.

"no, no, really, it's fine, i swear."

"no, stop it. you're not leaving until you take this money."

he took it with a scoff, seeing how you won't take no for an answer.

“i should give you the other part of the reward, too.” you said with a chuckle as you sat back down beside him.

“what, the kiss?” he stammered, shaking his head as his face goes red and his eyes widened slightly.

“yeah, you want it?” he started stuttering when you said that, so before he got a proper word out, you added “nah, man, i'm just joking. i put that there to be funny, i'd never kiss a stranger like that.”

“oh, yeah, that… that makes sense.” he laughed shyly, nodding.

the cat showed up again, and you went back to talking about him, until spencer decided it's time to go home, which was only around a few hours later.

now, you're not sure when that turned into what it is now, but you're glad it did.

maybe it was the day after that, when you took garfield to the groomers, and sent spencer a picture of him when he got home, wearing the cute tie they always give him.

maybe it was when you started sending every picture you took of garfield to spencer.

or maybe it was when you started talking about things unrelated to the animal.

you're not sure. but now, spencer reid is at your place again, wearing a colorful hat and singing happy birthday to your cat.

of course, he's the only other person at the party. he's the only friend you were certain would show up. and that he did, after rambling about how the cat didn’t even know it was his birthday.

“woo hoo!! happy birthday, baby!” you exclaim when the song is over, taking the cat in your arms and giving him kisses.

“yay, happy birthday, garfield!” he says with a chuckle, petting him.

as soon as he starts getting fussy, though, you put him back down on the ground with a giggle, “yeah, yeah, off you go.”

“i did tell you he doesn't know the date he was born in.”

“well, yeah, but at least he's getting plenty of treats.” you shrug as you throw yourself on the sofa along with spencer, taking off the birthday hats and tossing them to the side. “he knows he's loved.”

“i'm sure he does” he mumbles, smiling at you softly.

“thanks, by the way” you mutter after a beat, turning to him and giving him a nod.

“for what?”

“finding him.”

“that was ages ago, you've thanked me 63 times since then.” he says with a laugh.

“it's not enough, though. he's a stupid little cat, i doubt he would have survived more time out there. you saved his life, probably.”

he nods, staying quiet for another moment.

“y'know, there is one way you could thank me.”

“yeah…?” you already know what he's talking about, he already knows that you already know. the blush in his cheeks that showed up as he said that, his fidgety fingers, the way he started avoiding your gaze.

“the, uhm… the other part of the reward…”

you'd tease him, make him actually say it, if it weren't for how anxious he looks. it physically hurts, how awkward he is.

so instead, you move your hands to his shoulders as you lean in to press your lips to his. for a second, you're scared this isn't what he was talking about. you're wondering if you've just screwed up a friendship, until he moves a shy hand up to your face.

he feels scared, at first. he holds your jaw, fingers gently tangling in your hair as he hesitantly kisses you. but when a moment goes by like that, and you move to sit on his lap, straddling his hips, it's like something within him changes.

he starts kissing you like you're the first and last thing he'll ever touch, his hands roaming down your body as he slides his tongue into your mouth. he bites and sucks at your bottom lip while his arms wrap around your waist, and your own arms go around his neck.

but a man can't live only off of his beloved’s lips. unfortunately, humans do need oxygen. so when he needs to pull away to breathe, he does so with a groan.

panting, you stare at each other with a smile, and pressing one quick peck to his lips, you whisper, “thank you.”

"no, thank you.”

[giannaln4]

Wet Dream

lando norris x fem reader

summary: Lando had a wet dream and he needs to take care of it.  (1.7k words)

warnings: mdni, + 18, smut, masturbation, fingering, unprotected sex, needy!lando

a/n: this might or might not be inspired solely by this picture. i'm not gonna lie, this is pure smut. i apologise in advance. also i'm sorry for the abrupt ending 😭 i never know how to finish these. anyway, please send some requests!

↺ back to navigation— send me a request!

The only thing that could be heard in your shared room were your moans, loud and desperate for a release. 

You were on top of Lando as he held onto your hips for dear life, his eyes closing as the overwhelming feeling of his incoming orgasm started to grow. 

“Are you close, baby?” He managed to spit out. He needed to make sure he didn’t come before you, so his thumb landed on your clit to bring you closer to the edge. Your moans were intensifying, and god, he loved the look on your face when you were about to come.

He opened his eyes and… nothing. Nothing but pure darkness. 

He looked down at his crotch, only to spot his painful cock making a tent under the blankets. His breathing was heavy, and he was sweating a lot. 

Fuck. 

He released the bedsheets he didn’t realise he was fisting and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. 

He looked next to him and spotted you there, peacefully sleeping and completely unaware of the dream he just had. 

He closed his eyes again, hoping he would be able to ignore his painful cock, but of course he couldn’t, because as soon as he closed his eyes, flashes of his wet dream and how undeniably beautiful you looked riding him came back to him. 

He took another deep breath as he opened his eyes, once again encountering the dark room. His hand was slowly sneaking down the blankets, and when he finally found his bulge, he gave it a hard squeeze for some relief. He let out an involuntary moan, not loud enough so that it would wake you up, but the room was so silent he thought it would. 

He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it in, so instead of trying to relieve himself right next to you, he knew the right thing would be to go somewhere else and not disturb your sleep. 

He got up carefully and left the bed, looking back at you, before locking himself in the bathroom. 

He sat on the closed toilet, pulling down his boxers and finally freeing his aching member. He squeezed it again, and again, and again, before he started stroking it slowly. His grip was firm, and his groans were low as he finally gave it what it so desperately needed. 

Using his spit and the pre cum leaking from his tip, his strokes got faster, and Lando rolled up his shirt and trapped it between his teeth as he looked down at his hand, his mind trying to replace it with your pretty mouth. With that image in his mind, it got harder to contain his moans. 

⋆｡° ✮ ⋆｡° ✮ 

You rolled over, expecting to find your boyfriend to cuddle, like you always did. Instead, all you found was an empty spot next to you. It was still warm, so you knew he hadn’t been gone for too long. 

You closed your eyes again, figuring he’d be back in just a moment, but you heard something that made you open them again. A loud breath that you thought could only mean something had happened. 

You got up immediately, worried as you made your way to the bathroom. But once you were close enough, it clicked. You finally understood what he was doing. 

You were about to turn around, go back to bed, and pretend like it never happened, figuring he needed some privacy to finish his business, but something between your legs was begging you to help him out and calm down whatever had gotten into him.

⋆｡° ✮ ⋆｡° ✮ 

He was being louder than he intended, but it felt so good he didn’t even realise. His shirt was still between his teeth and his eyes now squeezed shut as he tried to bring himself to a sweet release.

His mind was replaying his dream, echoes of both of your moans filling his ears and the vivid image of you on top of him, something he wished he could plaster in his eyelids, until he heard a knock on the door that made him stop what he was doing 

“You okay in there?” He heard you ask from the other side of the door. Shit. 

“Huh?” Was all he managed to say. 

“Can I come in?”

“No!” He was quick to reply, “I’ll be right out.”

He couldn’t help but be embarrassed, feeling like a teenage boy who was just caught getting off where he wasn’t supposed to. He was ready to just go back out and act like he wasn’t just jerking off to a dream he just had.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” You asked. You didn’t hear him say anything after that, and you instantly regretted interrupting him. Maybe that was something he needed to do alone. Maybe he needed a release but didn’t need… you. 

Those thoughts were interrupted when you heard shuffling inside, followed by footsteps that got louder as he got closer to the door. 

Lando opened it, his hair messy and his shirt wet from stuffing it in his mouth. “Yes, please,” he said with begging eyes. 

You crashed your lips into him, pulling him back to the bed. 

“I can’t believe you were doing that without me,” you said against his lips. 

“I didn’t wanna bother you.” He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled you into his lap, hands falling on your hips as he brought you closer to him. 

You moaned when you felt his hard cock against you. “And keep this from me?” You asked as you moved your hips.

He bucked his hips involuntarily, the friction feeling delicious against your wet core. You kept moving on top of him as he discarded your sleeping garments, falling somewhere on the floor. You decided to do the same for him, getting rid of his shirt and running your hands up and down his muscles.

Neither of you could control the sounds that were falling from your lips, and yours only got louder when his right hand sneaked between your almost naked bodies to find your folds. He pushed one finger inside you, pumping vigorously.

“Mhm, already so wet for me,” he mumbled against your skin, his lips travelling down your neck.

“Couldn’t help it, it sounded like you were having fun in the bathroom,” you said, and you could feel a smirk creeping on his lips.

“Well, you drive me crazy even in my dreams.”

“Is that what happened?”

He hummed in response. “You should’ve seen how pretty you looked riding me.”

“Let’s make it come true then.” You pushed him on his back and got rid of his last piece of clothing, letting you see how needy his cock was. 

You admired him for a moment, and you could see him struggling to keep his hands to himself. When you finally decided you were ready, you started crawling to get on top of him, your hands landing on his bare chest.

“Ready?” 

“I’m always ready for you.” He replies, as sweet as ever. “Fuck, you’re so wet and beautiful,” Lando said, holding onto your hips as you began to get comfortable, both of your legs on either side of him. He gave your hips a hard squeeze as you got situated, just like in his dream.

You finally took his cock in your hand, stroking it slowly as you guided it to your dripping hole, a sigh of relief leaving your mouths when you sank down.

He groaned as his grip on your hips tightened when you lifted and sank back down onto him slowly.

“Feels good, baby?”

“So, so good.” His head fell back into the pillows when you rolled against him, and you couldn’t help but smile when he whimpered again. After a moment, he looked up at you. “Y/N?” He moaned your name, but it sounded more like a question.

You brushed a stray of his dark curls off his forehead. “Yeah?”

He let out another moan, his eyes falling to where you’re connected before meeting your eyes. “Faster, please.” And you listened, you began to ride him faster. “Just like that, baby,” Lando cried out.

You moaned as his dick spread you out. You began to bounce down faster and harder. Lando was losing his mind as he watched you move faster, your nails scratching down his torso. He was filling you so good he had you rolling your eyes to the back of your head every time his cock hit that sweet spot.

“Not gonna last long,” he warned you, his thumb finding your clit without even looking, although his eyes were on you the entire time, all of you, how your pussy looked as it swalowed his cock, how your boobs bounced with every roll of your hips, how your face contortioned in pleasure, and how your mouth fell open to let out the prettiest sounds he’s ever heard. He didn’t dare to look away; in case he was dreaming again, he didn’t wanna miss a single detail, and let’s face it, he didn’t wanna wake up this time.

“I’m close,” you breathed out, your legs burning from riding him, but you didn’t care; you only cared about how good he felt inside you.

“Cum with me, baby.” Both his hands returned to your hips, gripping them as he planted his feet on the bed to thrust up into you and help you move faster and more aggressively, trying to push you both over your edges.

Your own hand went to rub small circles where you were missing him as your other one fell on his shoulder to hold onto something, and before you knew it, you were coming around him. Your toes curled into the sheets, and your body trembled on top of his, making you fall forward and collapse across his defined chest.

"Fuck,” he whimpered when you squeezed him repeatedly. 

Lando had to do all the work himself, thrusting his hips upwards to meet yours, because your body wouldn’t and couldn’t move anymore as your orgasm racked through you. With four hard thrusts to your cunt, his load of cum shot up into your pussy and coated your slick walls.

Your bodies laid together as you both tried to catch your breath. His hand was rubbing your back, and his lips left a kiss on your temple, something he always did after you had sex.

“So, you had a sex dream?” You asked after a moment of silence. Lando chuckled at your question, kissing your shoulder softly before replying.

“And you just made it come true.”

[sheep-from-rad]

Photograph (Platonic Batman x reader) (second half inched on the yan territory)

Notes: I made a joke that I wasn’t held enough as a child. Well, jokes on me because it was apparently not a joke. I'm still shit at making endings, help Merry Christmas folks <3 

Masterlist 

dividers by: @strangergraphics

“Isn’t this for newborns?” 

Bruce sat shirtless on the room’s armchair. The room didn’t exist until this week, back then it was just another one of the big guest rooms inside the mansion. From formal, vintage patterned, dark green wallpapers it changed into a soft pudding yellow (Jason’s suggestion)  and the corners are filled with soft plushies. He looked down on his shirtless self again as Alfred stood by the crib to prepare the four month old infant. Years of fighting rogues but it was the thought of holding a baby that made him nervous. 

He takes a silent pride on his body, from his back muscles to his strong arms, from bruises and scars, he wears them like an intangible medal. He thought that the media would question how a businessman like him would have such build but he was easy to conceal it with his ditzy public persona. Ladies did love it but then again holding a lady and holding a baby are two different things. 

“You might have missed their newborn days but bonding as father-baby is not too late”, Alfred explained. “Ah, skittish like your father when it was his first time holding you” 

Bruce’s hands protectively closed around the sleeping babe. He reclines as Alfred helps lay the baby on his chest, one hand on the head and neck and the other under their bottom. Skin to skin and warm. Warm. He didn’t know an infant could produce such warmth. Is this how his father felt the first time he held him? The feeling of happiness like a small glowing bubble melting in his soul, a warm innocent light in the gloom. 

He tensed again when he felt his little baby moved, their tiny arms stretching with all their might. “Alfred I think they are —” Before he could finish his words, he found himself staring at a pair of (eye color) eyes with their little lips curled in a curious ‘o’. They can barely lift their head for a long time but keep doing so to keep the little staring contest going. “What are you doing? Are you memorizing me?” He cringed a little especially knowing that he just butchered the movie quote. The little cringing turned to a small panic when the baby’s little trembled. He braced himself for a wail but instead he was greeted by a gummy smile and a giggle. 

A giggle! Sure he missed the days of them being a newborn but they were here to witness the giggle milestone. “You think dad is stupid for quoting it wrong?” As if understanding his words, their giggles turned louder. “Master Bruce, language please.” The master of the house didn’t hear the older man nor the sound of the camera going off, capturing the moment. A picture, one of the many to cherish in the later years. 

✮⋆˙(alternate ending here because I can’t make up my mind) ✮⋆˙

Bruce found himself in the room that he hasn’t been in for years. Each step that he took was heavy as his heart, echoing regrets and apologies that needed to be said not just in words but also in actions. 

The room was empty with the exception of the barebone furnitures and thin sheet of dust. The only sign that someone once lived in the now lifeless room was a picture frame that was left behind and placed facing down. It was left behind as if mirroring how they had abandoned you. “Where has time gone?” he asked, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. He is envious of his younger self in the picture. He wished he could turn back time, hold you close and hold you tight, and reclaim the promises he had forgotten to do. Forgotten like the pictures and the memories and the wallpapers in the room. All yellowed on the edges and faded. 

The small sound from his phone snapped him from his trance, he had to compose himself before picking it up. 

“Dick?” 

“B, we found them” 

“Bring them home”

[spencerreidenjoyer]

we've already done it in my head | spencer reid x reader

You have fantasies about Spencer, and you feel bad about it when you have to see him at work. Thing is, he has fantasies about you too.

wc: 4.8k, rating: explicit

tags/warnings: professor!spencer, post prison!spencer, bau!reader, fem!reader, sexual fantasies, masturbation, daddy kink, getting together, hookups, friends with benefits (?), mentions of public sex/exhibitionism (they don't actually do it), fucking with feelings but neither of them really realise it yet lol...

a/n: i am insane and that's all i'll say about this fic. jk i started this at the top of the month and i'm glad i've finally finished it. this was such a crazy one to work on, aside from being swamped with school work. thank you to my lovely friend from twitter vic who kept encouraging me to work on this hehe. inspired heavily by taylor swift's guilty as sin? (obviously) and chappell roan's picture you just for those horny yearning vibes yknow? please enjoy this insanity!!! (crossposted to ao3)

Spencer rushes in from the university when Emily calls. It’s a serious case, one that Emily decides Spencer needs to be pulled away from his teaching for. She doesn’t feel good doing it – the whole team knows how important teaching is to Spencer, but he understands all the same when he comes into the round table room. Spencer sits down at the last empty seat next to you, his hair a mess as he sets down his things and flips open the case file. He turns to smile at you, before Penelope starts the case brief.

It’s a long, tiring day of work after landing in California, the BAU having been called in to investigate the murders of young moms in the area, and you need a glass of wine and a nice hot bath to even fathom everything you’ve seen today.

You should just turn in for the night, the Bureau being particularly kind with their budget as you all get individual rooms. Your drowsiness should put you fast to sleep, but your mind is racing with thoughts of Spencer.

Spencer’s been in his nice suit all day, filling out his shirt nicely. You’ve noticed his stubble growing in, and his hair is messy and gorgeous. You can’t help yourself for feeling this way, as guilty as you feel about it. You’ve been harbouring your crush on Spencer for way too long, in the couple of years since you joined the BAU. Spencer is a sight for sore eyes for sure, but his kind gentleness despite the horrors of what you all do for work is a welcome reprieve. 

While his sweet nature was what had you falling for him in the first place, Spencer could be extremely sexy, even if he didn’t know it. 

Today was especially tough for you. You and Spencer were sent in to interrogate a particularly uncooperative suspect, playing into the good cop-bad cop dynamic. Your coaxing wasn’t doing anything, and Spencer had ended up raising his voice in an attempt to intimidate them. He’d slammed his hand on the table, a loud clang against the metal, and his large figure only served to crowd the suspect in to scare them further.

You only got to know Spencer after the mess that was him getting wrongly sent to prison, but Spencer supposedly wasn’t like this before prison. Still, you found Spencer’s quiet intimidation incredibly attractive, and you had to keep your composure in the interrogation room earlier.

And your mind drifts to Spencer from earlier, his rough callousness with the suspect, his glare wild and intimidatingly sexy, you end up thinking about him.

About Spencer, who is so kind and sweet with you and the rest of the team, seeming like he couldn’t hurt a fly. 

About Spencer who could also be domineering and intimidating. He seems like he’d only pull it out if you asked, but the duality has you hot under the collar. 

Your eyes slip shut, mind swirling with thoughts of Spencer, about having him all to yourself, about him wanting you. 

About his large hands on you, making you feel so small under his firm grasp. 

About him pinning you down on the hard, cool metal of the table in the interrogation room. 

About him caging you in with his arms, the look in his eyes almost crazed and full of lust for you. 

“Spencer,” you gasp, before Spencer kisses you fervently. His stubble is rough against your skin, but you don’t care. Spencer kisses you like he’s a starved man and you’re his next meal, with such desperation that you feel weak in the knees.

“You’re gorgeous,” Spencer says. He kisses your jaw, down your neck, and his large hands are all over your body. You feel so secure in his grasp, he feels you up and drinks his fill of you. He gropes your tits, your thighs, your ass, manhandling you into spreading your legs, so he can press the hardness of his cock to your cunt. “Look what you do to me.”

You whimper, fully indulging in this wet dream as you slide a hand into your underwear. “Spencer,” you gasp.

“You’re so hot, you make me feel crazy,” Spencer hums, rolling his hips against you. You’re separated between layers of fabric, but Spencer humping you like this turns you on to no end. 

You rub at your clit in tight little circles, your wetness aiding the slide as you get yourself off to the thought of Spencer.

“Spence,” you moan, frustrated. While Spencer’s hardness grinding against you is literally a dream, you want to imagine his cock buried inside of you. You’re perfectly capable of moving this along, so you do. 

Magically, Spencer’s clothes are off and so are yours, the perks of a fantasy being that you don’t have to awkwardly stumble through taking your clothes off. You have a hazy picture of what he’d look like naked in front of you. You imagine toned muscle, a slight pudge to his tummy from his time in prison, his pecs filled out nicely. You imagine his cock would be pretty, as pretty as he is, veiny and thick and all sorts of perfect. 

“You’re too fucking good to me, baby,” Spencer groans, the blunt head of his cock pressed up against you now. He rubs off against you, sliding over your clit, your folds, over the wetness leaking from your whole. “Gonna fuck you so good, just like you deserve.”

Without hesitation, Spencer’s cock slips into you, the perfect thickness to make you feel full as he slides in inch by inch. 

You slip your fingers into yourself, aided by how impossibly wet you are just at the thought of Spencer, and your groan weakly. Two fingers aren’t enough, not when you bet Spencer could fill you up, like he’d split you in half on his cock. 

He pushes into you until he’s pressed flush against you, buried inside of you to the hilt. He starts to pound into you, like he’s uncaring of what you need, but the way he treats you turns you on impossibly.

Your fingers aren’t enough to satiate you, but you thrust them in and out of you in an effort to mimic how Spencer fucking you might feel. You moan, a little louder than you’d like.

“Spence–” you gasp, in your fantasy. It should be scandalous, Spencer taking you over the table in the interrogation room. You don’t know if the thought of people being behind the one-way mirror turns you on or not – being watched, letting Spencer take you in front of everybody. You like the thought of Spencer being so obsessed with you, so desperate, needing to fuck you right where you work.

The metal table is cool and harsh against your hips, but you don’t care if it hurts as Spencer fucks you relentlessly, quickly taking on a brutal pace. It’s exactly what you need, what you want Spencer to do with you, being rough and frantic enough to make you scream his name.

You whimper his name under your breath, bashful even while in your fantasy. 

Spencer has you pinned down, but it’s not like you intend to get away. You want to savour this even if it’s only in your mind, shameful as you’re getting off to the thought of your coworker. You just need this out of your system, need Spencer out of your system, and then tomorrow you can face him like a normal, well-adjusted person. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, palm grinding against your clit, fingers pressed inside of yourself. You’re shaking, with the thought of Spencer fucking you until you can’t take it anymore, the ideal of him in your mind too perfect, until you’re moaning into your hand as you orgasm. You sob, clenching tight around your fingers, feeling your slick gush out as you ride your high.

You don’t mean to fall asleep, but after both a long day and a crazy good orgasm, you end up passing out with a tissue clenched in your hand, with your panties and sleep shorts kicked off to the foot of the bed.

---

Spencer can’t stop thinking about you.

He shouldn’t, not when you’re his coworker and also one of the people he’s friendliest with in the unit. 

Spencer would say he couldn’t bring himself to trust many, especially after coming out of prison, but you were the one he warmed up to the easiest. A new face in the BAU wasn’t uncommon, but Spencer had found himself drawn to you. You were kind and warm to him fresh out of prison, your tenderness a welcome reprieve as he’d gotten accustomed to being back at the BAU. With your intellect and quick wit, matched with your beauty, Spencer could not help but be attracted to you – but that’s besides the point. 

Spencer knows how much your friendship with him means to you, and he’s certain that that’s all you see him as: a friend. 

Yet, he can’t stop himself from thinking about you in those pants. Those pants that hug your curves just right. Those pants that make your ass look great – not that he was looking – especially when you’re leaning over an interrogation table, trying to play the good cop with the suspect from earlier.

Spencer had hung back, trying to get a read on the suspect while you spoke to him. Him getting to ogle your figure and stare at how good you looked in those pants was unintentional, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. 

Spencer only felt a bit bad wrapping his hand around himself in the shower, mind flooded with thoughts of you. Water, almost scorching, running down his body, his hand moves fast and reckless, exhaling harshly as he gets himself off. 

He can’t get you out of his mind, your gorgeous figure, your pretty face, your wide eyes and thick thighs and soft lips – he shouldn’t be thinking of you like this. You were a coworker, a friend, for God’s sake, and yet he can’t stop imagining you under him. 

He can’t stop imagining pressing you against the table in the interrogation room – your lithe frame underneath him, making you look so small, making him feel so big. 

He presses his growing problem to your perfect ass, watching you writhe underneath him. You keep looking back up at him, with your wide, wet eyes and your flushed cheeks, looking like you need him to give you exactly what you need.

“Please, daddy,” you whine, and Spencer is groaning and undoing his belt before your pants get pushed down too. Stroking his cock quickly, Spencer easily finds his way to your entrance, wet and dripping with your slick. He pushes into you, pressing kisses to your neck as you groan with the intrusion. 

“Daddy,” you whimper, “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Spencer coos at you. Spencer feels you press yourself back up against him, pushing his cock deeper, and he loses all sense of control as he starts to fuck you hard. He feels like a madman, unable to hold himself back as he takes and takes and takes, fucking into your tight wetness, his head spinning with how good you feel around him. 

You’re whining and moaning under him, your noises music to Spencer’s ears as they echo off the walls. Your cunt is wet and sloppy as Spencer fucks you, wanting to give you everything you need and more.

“Fuck, baby,” Spencer groans, his hand tightly fisted around his cock. The way the tip of his cock leaks is easing the slide, as he pictures in crystal-clear detail how your cunt would draw him in, slick and messy be fucks into your perfect, tight cunt. “You’re too good to me.”

“Daddy,” you sob, your hands clawing down Spencer’s back. Spencer gropes you greedily through your clothes, grabs your tits and feels his fill of your waist, your perfect ass, your thighs as he rocks himself back and forth between them. 

“Gonna cum inside of you, love,” Spencer grunts, his pace unrelenting. His hands are on your thighs, gripping you tight, both fucking into you and dragging you onto his cock over and over. “You’re gorgeous. Gonna make a mess of you.”

You’re whining underneath him, making him feel too good, as you clench around him tight and moan even louder. Spencer can’t help himself, thrusting into you hard and fast and eager until he’s cumming.

He spills into his hand, the thick white ropes of his cum washed down the drain with the spray of the shower from above him. Visions of you flash through his mind, your gorgeous frame, your pretty face, your mouth on his. 

He’s barely towelled off before he’s knocked out in his bed, too tired to even process feeling guilty about jerking off to you. 

---

Sure, perhaps it’s childish to try and avoid Spencer all day, especially when you have an active case all of you need to be working on. You must be a fool to think that getting yourself off to Spencer would help, because all you can think about is your fantasies of him last night, how you imagined him bending you over and taking you– Not helping, you remind yourself.

Emily must secretly be on your side or be able to read your mind or something, because Spencer is relegated to work on geographic profiles and speed-read through case files back at the police precinct, while you get sent out onto the field to chase down your killer. 

But you can’t avoid Spencer forever, and you aren’t any good at it either. You feel like Spencer’s eyes are on you the whole day when you and him are in the same room, but you never look up at him to find out. While you could chalk up your nerves to a serial killer still being out on the streets, you don’t have any more excuses at the end of the day when you’ve finally caught him, and the team decides to get dinner to celebrate.

You purposely wedge yourself between JJ and Emily when you sit down at the table, trying to avoid Spencer, and you think you’re successful with getting away with seeming a little out-of-it when you end up slipping away early, claiming you had a rough sleep last night.

You’ve barely settled down in your hotel room for the night, finally feeling like you can relax, when there’s a knock at your door. You have no clue who it could be, but you open the door, and–

There Spencer is. 

“Hi,” you say curtly, feeling embarrassment wash over you all of a sudden, because all you can think about is getting off to the thought of him last night. You feel your cheeks warm, but you hope it’s not obvious that you’re blushing. Then, in an attempt to seem somewhat normal and well-adjusted, you add, “What’s up?”

“I should be asking you that,” Spencer says, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “What’s up with you today?”

You press your lips together in a thin line before you say, “Nothing’s up. I’m fine.”

“Come on,” Spencer prods, his head cocking to the side as he deadpans. “You know I can read you like an open book. Something’s up.”

You frown, Spencer stoking the flames of brattiness in you. “Yeah? Tell me what’s the matter, if you can read me so well.”

Spencer’s eyes widen slightly. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

“I- I thought we said no inter-group profiling,” Spencer says, his voice a little weak, and for the first time, you see Spencer look a little helpless. It’s kind of hot. 

Do you make him… nervous?

“Yeah, but if you insist on thinking something’s up with me…” You shrug, smiling. Spencer just blinks at you.

No. You couldn’t possibly entertain the thought. 

Spencer clears his throat. You watch him fidget with his hands just slightly, before he puts them by his sides to seem confident. “Well, you’ve been avoiding me, on purpose or not – both attest to your desire to avoid me somewhat. You could barely look me in the eye all day, which means you might be embarrassed or guilty of something, likely having to do with me.” Spencer says, his voice even, but he isn’t looking at you. 

You raise your eyebrows. His explanation is both specific and vague, and you feel slightly called out and safe from his scrutiny at the same time. But, you can’t shake off the feeling that there’s something more to Spencer’s words, the way he’s looking at you like he hopes you can’t pick his brain apart. 

So, you turn it back onto him, “Then, what do you think is the problem? You aren’t looking at me either, and you were fidgeting with your hands. Is something up with you, then? It almost sounds like you’re projecting, Dr. Reid.”

Spencer freezes, like he’s a deer caught in headlights. You can practically see his brain running a mile a minute, overthinking every possible outcome, overly self-aware of himself, his actions, his thoughts.

You try to stop yourself from smiling, because Spencer is kind of cute like this. “You wanna tell me what it is then, Reid?” 

“When did this become about me?” Spencer squeaks, his usually cool facade quickly disappearing. There’s a look in Spencer’s eyes, as he nervously looks you up and down, and oh– “I just– Well, I– You–”

“I’m thinking we might be on the same page, here,” you say, smirking. “Wanna tell me what it is?”

Spencer furrows his brows, his mouth agape as he looks up at you, but you’re putting your hand on his chest and trailing it down slowly. “Oh–”

“Tell me, Dr. Reid,” you cock your head, eyeing him up and down lazily. When you look at Spencer’s face, he’s shocked, enamoured and turned-on all in one. 

“You’re… attracted to me,” Spencer says, somewhat uncertain. “The same way I’m attracted to you.”

“And what makes you say that?” You hum. 

“I thought I heard you last night. Through the walls,” He says timidly, nothing you’ve seen from him before. “Thought I should’ve gone over to help, but I realised you were, um– You were pleasuring yourself. To- To me.”

“The walls are thin, huh?” You laugh, a little sheepish, but you note how Spencer’s becoming shy at the thought. “Did you…?”

His eyes grow wide. “Did I do what?”

You smirk. “That tells me everything I need to know, Reid,” you say, laughing.

“Well, you shouldn’t presume–”

“Shut up and kiss me, Reid,” you huff. You pull Spencer closer to you by his tie and you press your lips to his. 

It’s too perfect, when Spencer’s mouth is finally on yours. His hands cupping your face, Spencer kisses you hard and eager, like he can’t believe that he finally gets to have you. He kisses you like he’s starving, desperate for you as his next meal. You moan as his hands reach for your hips, pulling you in closer to him, greedy as he feels you up.

“Did you fantasise about this too? About me, like this?”

“This is better than I could’ve ever imagined,” Spencer says breathily. “You… You’re so attractive.”

“Could say the same about you,” you laugh, reaching to unbutton his shirt. His tie is already loose, hanging around his neck, but you want to see more. You undo the top few buttons, revealing more of his chest. You trail your finger over the exposed skin, letting your nail graze it slightly. You hear Spencer inhale sharply, and grin to yourself, proud of the effect you have on him. “So, do you want to just stand around and talk, or do you want to fuck me?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, and you chuckle. As if he hadn’t expected this was how it was going to go. Spencer purses his lips. “I mean, absolutely. I want to fuck you. But, um– We should definitely talk about this though.”

“Later,” you say, waving him off, before you lean in to kiss him again. Spencer grabs your waist again, like he needs to have you close. He lifts you slightly, making you squeak, but the both of you stumble over to the bed, unable to keep your hands off of each other, unable to keep your mouths off each other. You sit down on the bed, Spencer crowding you in with one of his knees on the mattress.

You loosen his tie and take it off, while Spencer moves to unbutton your shirt. HIs hands move deftly, eager to undress you, and he pulls away to marvel at the curve of your breasts in your bra when he pushes the satin shirt off of you. “Wow.”

“Wow yourself,” you say. You appreciate the view: a dishevelled, eager Spencer Reid in your bed, his hands all over you, his shirt half-undone, revealing tanned skin and a gorgeous body. “Need you to fuck me right now.”

Spencer laughs, perhaps a little incredulously, and he instead moves to take his shirt off instead. “I’ll- I’ll do that.”

“Good,” you say, distracted as you admire Spencer’s frame, the lines of his body, the softness of his stomach. He’s so hot you might die. “Very good.”

“I’m glad you like the view,” Spencer says, a little timid, like he’s shy to show off in front of you. He meets your gaze when you look up at him, caught in the middle of ogling him with no shame. 

You smile up at him sheepishly. “Please fuck me, Spencer.”

“Okay,” Spencer smiles, warm and gentle. He helps you slide your pants and underwear off your legs before you spread them. Spencer’s jaw drops, his eyes focused on the slick mess of your cunt. “Oh, my God.”

“Yeah?” you laugh, thoroughly amused with his reaction. “Show me how much you want me, too.”

Spencer’s hands are quick to push down his bottoms, dress slacks and boxer-briefs on your floor in an instant, wrapping a fist around himself as he works himself up for you. You can’t tear your eyes off of him – “Spencer, you’re… big.”

“Am I?” Spencer asks, and you’d lose your mind if you weren’t expecting Spencer to fuck your brains out. 

“You are,” you say calmly, because if you let yourself sound any more excited he might think you were insane. “But I can take you.”

Spencer grins. “Good.”

His fingers press against your cunt after you tell him to do so. His slender digits pick up all the slick that’s leaking from your hole, spreading it around messily as he toys with your clit. You shudder with the sensation, throwing your head back against the pillows. Then, one of his fingers slips into you, and he coaxes you open with a care you haven’t felt from most partners before. “How’s that?”

“So nice,” you groan, getting used to the feeling. He fucks you on his fingers, slow and careful, intent on stretching you out until you’re comfortable. You whimper and whine, feeling embarrassed at how vocal you’re being, but Spencer is kissing your breasts without a care in the world, and then you’re thinking about letting him know that you do feel good. Your next gasp is less ashamed, as Spencer coaxes a second finger in.

You’re panting as Spencer fucks you on his fingers, the repeated motion only working you up even more. The squelch from his fingers fucking you is obscene, and his eyes are wide as he looks at you. “You’re perfect,” he whispers. 

“Fuck me, Spence,” you say. 

Spencer bites his lip as he sits up and settles between your legs. He’s tugging at his cock as he lines himself up with your entrance. He slides his length along your folds, wet with your slick, and you groan at the friction. You grunt, wanting more, “Come on, Spence.” 

His hand on your leg, Spencer leans forward so he can press into you, and Spencer is practically folding you in half so he can fuck you. You moan at his thickness deep inside of you, filling you up, and the stretch is so undeniably amazing. Spencer’s length drags against your walls, such a delicious sensation deep in your bones, and you sob a little.

“Does that feel good?” Spencer asks softly, his voice tender. 

“So good, Spence,” you gasp. Spencer kisses your cheek, down your neck, and waits patiently for you to give him the go-ahead.

You feel his cock twitching inside of your heat, both your fantasies unable to live up to the real thing. Confident, cocky Spencer in your dreams is just that – a dream. The Spencer right in front of you is perfect, more perfect than what you’ve dreamed: shy but so attentive and sweet. He takes such good care of you. It makes you lose your mind a little bit.

“Fuck me,” you insist, and Spencer puts his hands on your hips as he starts to move. He fucks you deep, just the way you need him, and you cry out as he digs into your soft flesh, holding you tight so he can fuck you hard. The way Spencer pounds into you has your whole body trembling, pleasure coursing through you like electricity, till your mouth has fallen open and your toes are curling. 

“You’re so much better than I imagined,” Spencer groans, eyes squeezed shut as he puts all his energy into railing you. “Can’t believe this is real.”

You clench around him just to hear him moan, and you’re proud of yourself when his hips stutter and a groan rips through his throat in his pleasure. He glares at you. You grin, as Spencer keeps fucking you.

“What- Oh, fuck– What did you imagine? With me?” You gasp, as Spencer rolls his hips in a particularly deep thrust.

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, before looking down at you, like he’s really contemplating if he should say this. “I– I pictured bending you over the interrogation table. Fucking you, making you scream my name, taking you right there, I–”

You moan as Spencer hits that perfect spot inside of you, your legs trembling as you gasp, “I– Why did we have the same fucking fantasy? Fuck–”

“What? You thought of me that way too?” Spencer sounds incredulous, like he can’t imagine you thinking of him that way– As if he isn’t drilling you into the hotel bed right now.

“Fuck, Spencer– Oh, my God– Yeah, I– You had me pinned down on the table, and you were fucking me in the interrogation room, in front of all of them–”

“God, you’re perfect,” Spencer grunts, burying his head in your shoulder as he uses the leverage to fuck you deeper, harder, faster. You can’t stop moaning Spencer’s name, simply too overwhelmed with the pleasure he’s giving you, the way he’s fucking you into the mattress. This is all you’ve ever wanted. Spencer fucking you like a madman, giving you all the pleasure you need but still being greedy enough to take and take and take. 

“Please! Spencer, you– I’m gonna cum, I can’t–” You cry, sobs wracking their way from your throat, so loud but you can’t be bothered to keep yourself quiet. Spencer groans your name, a sweet, sultry sound, and you feel like you’re going to lose your mind. 

“Cum for me,” Spencer hums. “You’re so perfect, and you’re laid out like this all for me. You’re so fucking hot. Show me how good I make you feel.”

You’re sobbing as your orgasm hits you, overwhelmed by Spencer’s filthy words and his filthier actions, so intense as he fucks you into next week. It’s too good, and you lose yourself much sooner than you expect. Your pussy clenches tight around Spencer with your orgasm, sending him over the edge as he fills you up, cock twitching as he cums inside of you.

He collapses on top of you, his weight comfortable as you both catch your breath. Your mouth feels dry, but you don’t care when Spencer is leaning over to kiss you again. It feels so right, this wild feeling you only thought existed in your dreams.

The next morning when the team is gathered in the hotel lobby to head to the hangar to fly back to Quantico, Emily gives you a pointed look, and Rossi is clapping Spencer on the back with a knowing grin. You apologise sheepishly, while Spencer grows red, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the team. He only meets your eyes, and the two of you share a smile. You can tell neither of you want this to end here. Maybe you’ll talk about it when you get back home. 

[thepencilnerd]

sticky-notes and leftovers

thank you to everyone who voted in my last poll! ask and ye shall receive 🫶

summary: a glimpse into your daily notions with robby after moving in, a.k.a., literally just fluff to escape the reality that s1 finale is tomorrow

the first note appeared three days after you officially moved in.

It was stuck to the cabinet above the coffee maker, slightly crooked. Ballpoint blue. Classic. Robby’s handwriting—surprisingly neat for a doctor, dad-esque, deeply serious in a way that made you laugh.

Coffee’s ready. Don’t forget to eat something.

Below that, in smaller script:

p.s. you’re not as subtle about skipping meals as you think.

You’d rolled your eyes. Smiled. Made a mental note to write back. The next morning, you left one stuck to the fridge:

Thank you for the coffee. I'm still mad you beat me to it. Again.

And just like that, it began.

It wasn’t intentional, at first. The notes were mostly functional—reminders about groceries, schedules, patients one of you needed to follow up on. But they bled into softer territory quickly. Encouragement. Sarcasm. A shared language built in 3x3 squares of neon.

Good luck today. You're a miracle in scrubs. (check the leftover lasagna before you thank me. It’s kind of a war zone in there) I love when you sing along to the radio in the shower. I wasn’t singing. The shower was. Sure

By month two, there was an entire corner of the fridge reserved for them, layered like scales, curling at the edges.

Some mornings, he’d stumble out of bed to find his thermos with a note taped to the lid:

Be nicer to Whitaker. He’s trying.

Other nights, Robby would get home late and find one on his pillow:

Welcome home. You smell like hospital. I’m still glad you’re here. I love you.

He’d stand there for a moment, reading the words, the weight of the day falling off his shoulders. You’d be asleep by then, curled up on your side, hair slightly mussed from the pillow, the soft rise and fall of your breath the only sound in the room.

He’d lean down, brushing a kiss to your temple, careful not to wake you—but still, you’d smile, faint and sleepy, like your body knew he was near even before your mind did.

Sometimes, he’d whisper something only the walls could hear—missed you today or you’re everything—then set his phone to silent, take a shower, and crawl in beside you, the note tucked into his journal.

The ritual became a comfort. A constant. Something grounding when the days were long and the shifts were brutal. When you barely saw each other except in passing, there were always the notes.

Until the day you had the worst shift of the year.

It had been back-to-back traumas. A code blue that didn’t end well. A young patient who reminded you too much of someone you used to know. You didn’t cry, not in the moment. Not until you got home, peeled off your coat, and saw the Post-It on the inside of the fridge:

Soup’s in the fridge. Eat first. Then fall apart if you need to. I’ll be home before midnight – M.

You’d pressed your thumb over his name like it could hold you together. Ate the soup. Didn’t fall apart.

Not until you saw the follow-up note stuck to your pillow:

You don’t have to be strong for me. Just be.

You left your reply in the bathroom mirror, scribbled while brushing your teeth:

I love you. (also, we’re out of toothpaste)

He never brought it up. Just replaced the toothpaste. Kissed your forehead like it was all part of the same conversation.

One morning, months later, Langdon accidentally opened your lunch container in the fridge and found a note stuck inside:

Remember to eat. (yes, I know you will forget) This is me pretending to be surprised ~OoO~

Langdon had stared at it. Then took a picture. Then texted Dana, who texted McKay, who dragged Collins into it.

By the time your shift ended, the entire department was in on it.

You returned from rounds to find a Post-It stuck to your locker:

If he doesn’t marry you, I will. - Dana

Robby’s handwriting appeared below in green ink:

We’re taking applications for flower girls - Robby

Collins passed you in the hallway and grinned. “Power couple energy.”

McKay gave you a thumbs-up and said nothing. Langdon winked. Mel smiled shyly. 

You shook your head, embarrassed but smiling. Your heart full.

You never asked how they knew.

You didn’t need to.

It was a Wednesday night when Robby found you standing in front of the fridge, rereading the corner where you kept them. The notes were a riot of color—blue, yellow, green, pink—some faded, some brand new.

He stepped behind you, sliding his arms around your waist. Rested his chin on your shoulder.

"You keeping all of them?"

You nodded. "Even the one where you said the leftover stir fry was cursed."

"It was cursed."

You leaned back into him. "I like them. All of them."

"Even the stick figure one where I drew you doing a laparotomy with laser eyes?"

You laughed. "Especially that one."

He was quiet a moment longer. Then whispered, "I’ll keep writing them. For as long as you’ll let me."

You turned in his arms and kissed him, soft and slow.

"That better be a promise, Robinavitch."

"Sticky note vow," he whispered.

And when you pulled back, he was already reaching for the notepad.

[https-lvesick]

CAUGHT ON CAMERA — starring f!reader x na jaemin (ft. jeno and haechan, the perverts)

jeno and haechan know they can always count on their best friend, jaemin, and that's why they borrow his camera for a project. they just didn't expect to get the wrong camera... and enjoy every second of it.

content 𖹭 jaem!big dick, sex tape (size diff, breeding, stomach bulge, fingering, slight nipple sucking, m!oral + cum eating), m!masturbation

notes 𖹭 another big thanks for my baby @sinisxtea for proofreading this!

it wasn't unusual to see na jaemin walking around the campus carrying a camera and photographing everything he found cool. the devoted photography student had an unique artistic view, in his mind, anything could be turned into art. ordinary objects, situations and even some students were his objects of art, but there was only one thing, precious enough to worth his devotion: you. jaemin's object of adoration. he was so committed to you and to show the beauty of every single thing you'd do, he bought a camera exclusively for you.

that camera was special. It could only support videos and photos of you. you could be doing anything. playing with stray cats, eating, painting your nails, putting on some makeup, but his favourite moments were the intimate ones.

jaemin just... he couldn't handle your preciousness. in every aspect, he felt the need, the urge to capture and keep your beauty. especially when you put on a little show just to show him your new lingerie set. or maybe when you were choking with his cock down your throat, your makeup smudged all over your face. fuck... he could list every video that the camera had ever captured.

and knowing how committed, na jaemin, a third-year photography student, was to his major, donghyeok, his roommate, thought he could borrow one of his cameras for a project.

“did you even ask him for it, you dumbass? what if he took his camera with him?” jeno comments, leaning on the door frame, watching his friend search for one of the most valuable items for jaemin.

“wasn't he just driving his girl home? why does he need a camera for that?” the younger cusses, messing with jaemin's drawer.

“sure, but you know how in love he is and how he just keeps anything she does.” jeno rolls his eyes, almost giving up on convincing his friend to find an object he didn't even ask permission to use.

“finally!” donghyeok laid his eyes on something deep in the closet. he takes the camera and closes the doors.

“i still think that's the worst idea you've ever had. what if jaemin sees a picture of you there? especially if it's on the camera that, again, was deep in his closet.” jeno emphasizes his last words, trying to knock some sense into his friend, but knowing he wouldn't listen, he just adds: “at least check to see if it's charged.”

“that's what i'm trying to do...” donghyeok says focused. the two guys were already sitting in the corner of jaemin's bed. he turned the camera on and you are the first thing they saw, wearing a flowy light blue dress. jaemin and you were on a date and you were showing how to make your boyfriend's favourite sandwich. “how can someone be so pretty...” he murmurs, sighing.

“i don't know...” jeno says, letting himself get lost at the sound of your voice and how your beaming smile could lighten up his whole day. honestly, they can get where all of jaemin's adoration comes from. if he had a girlfriend like you, he'd also keep every single moment to himself. then he realized what he was thinking. “but she's our best friend's girlfriend, right? the camera is fully charged, we can see it, then c'mon.” he stands up, but donghyeok immediately pulls him to sit again.

“c'mon jen, we're already here. this might be the camera he dedicated to her. don't you wanna see more of this... damn sculpture? you sure?” the younger lee skips some photos and videos, stopping at a video where you're wearing a bikini. you were laughing with jaemin while taking off your sundress, talking about going to the water. the focus goes all to your ass, while you walk to the water and they can hear jaemin's mischievous laugh along with a perverted comment.

they knew it wasn't cool to desire their best friend's girlfriend, but were they the ones to blame when you looked that pretty? you looked like some fancy masterpiece sculpted by michelangelo in his peak of inspiration. are they the ones to blame when you looked like aprodithe's daughter yourself, being allowed to live among those poor and useless human beings, gifting them your graciousness? you must be the girl of every guy's dream and they're lucky to have a best friend good enough to win a lotto. at least they get to see you often.

as donghyeok passed the videos, the two guys found themselves more and more immersed in you. and jaemin is completely right to be obsessed with you.

“holy fuck...” haechan whispers, licking his lips before biting his lower lip. jeno comes closer, eyes wide open when he notices what's happening on the video.

“come here.” Jaemin's voice is heard and you comply. you crawl to the corner of the bed, where your boyfriend was, and sit still.

you were wearing an expensive lingerie set that was driving not only one, but three men crazy. the bra hugged your breasts so prettily that they wondered if they'd fit that good in their hands.

“nana... your cock...” you let out a whiny plea. almost purring like a cat. your sparkling eyes, begging your boyfriend to stop flauting you to the camera and to let you suck on him.

it's not that hard to deduce that jaemin may have been lowering his pants.

“haechan, enough.” jeno warns, trying to be rational, but yet his eyes were glued on the little screen that was showing you, kitty licking jaemin's tip, teasing him. you were even rubbing his cock between your breasts, slobbering on it.

“fuck it, he's not here to see what we're doing.” donghyeok says in a low voice, holding the camera in one hand, as the other was lowering his shorts.

“haechan, what the fuck!” the older lee exclaims, completely shocked with his friend's attitude.

“jeno, if you don't wanna stay, then leave. and you better don't open that fucking mouth of yours to jaemin.” he spits on his palm, before dragging it along his shaft, lubricating his length. “but you can't deny the obvious.” haechan laughs, looking at jeno’s pants, before turning his full attention to the video.

jaemin's hand was guiding your head, sucking him off as if it was your life goal. you sucked his tip, forcing your tongue on his slit, making your boyfriend cuss, and squeeze lightly his full balls. he's so fucking good at what he's doing, and so are you. shortly after, he's pulling your hair, prying you off of his cock.

“open that pretty mouth of yours, huh?” he asks, jerking off right on your mouth. In a matter of few seconds, you can taste his salty cum on your tongue and you swallow when he spills more on your boobs.

jeno was standing, thinking about this whole situation. he looked at his friend having fun and looks at his own problem, getting more uncomfortable. the way donghyeok looked so satisfied watching whatever was happening on the screen awakened his interest and desire. fuck, she was his best friend's girlfriend, but... she was fucking pretty and when would he get any opportunity like that again?

“this might be harassment or something like that…” he mumbles, retaking his place beside his friend and frees his cock out of his pants. jeno could see haechan's mischievous smile, so he said first: “don't you even get started, you nasty dog.” even with that said, donghyeok didn't seem very offended, after all, who is he to say anything?

by this time you were already laying in bed, your legs spread for jaemin and the camera, consequently, the two perverts watching that. your glistening cunt gushing your juices, while your boyfriend collected every drop of it with his long fingers, teasing your slit.

“how many?” jaemin asks, threatening to insert the tip of two of his fingers, but never doing it.

“three, nana…” you whine, biting your lower lip, watching your boyfriend smile and tease you, the same way you'd do to him. that's until he inserts the three fingers you requested, all at once.

haechan was sure that sweet, languid, moan would linger in his mind forever. jeno, on the other hand, was sure he will never be able to look at his friend and his girlfriend again. he'd rather throw himself off of the window. as soon as he cums.

with each movement of jaemin's fingers, the wet squelching sound could be heard. it made your eyes roll while jeno and haechan make it an opportunity to fasten their own movements. jeno gulps, looking straight at your wet hole, salivating. fuck, he imagines how good it must be to feel you. he's sure you're tight and nice to be inside of. he tighten his grip, forcing his cock on a tighter hole. haechan also salivates, watching how good you take jaemin's fingers. he stops his hand's movements, thrusting his hips up, imagining it was your pussy he was fucking.

jaemin takes his fingers out of you and the boys could suppose what he was doing. he was tasting you on his own fingers. haechan curses, caressing his balls, and closes his eyes, catching his lower lip between his teeth. jeno slows his rhythm, tracing his fingers along his abs.

your boyfriend hovers over you and kisses you. his free hand traces your body, searching for your bra's clasp, undoing it. you discard the piece, feeling jaemin's wet kisses on your skin, and then you feel his plump lips wrapping around your nipple. you shiver feeling your boyfriend's warm tongue, hugging him.

“jaem…” you call, almost like crying, and jaemin smiles against your skin, understanding well your wish. he pulls the mound of flesh between his teeth making you hiss.

“how could i deny you?” he mocks and stands up, taking off his pants. when he resumes his position above you, he rests his cock on your tummy.

and that's when they realize how smaller than jaemin you are.

“no fucking way! this won't fit, no shit.” donghyeok smiled, clearly having fun. “this might be better than some cheap ass porn i've ever watched in my life.” his eyes lighten up with excitement. jeno only nods, lost in pleasure.

jaemin rubs his tip on your slit, forcing himself slowly. “no matter how many times i fuck you... will you ever open enough for me, darling?” he growls, getting even further inside you.

“jaem, it's too big!” you whine, gripping the bed sheets and closing your eyes, arching your back.

for a moment, your boobs shake and donghyeok loves it, almost losing it. he considers replay that part, but maybe another time, when he's alone.

when jaemin is fully inside you and the bulge is perfectly visible, jeno cums with a grunt. haechan laughs, teasing his friend. “good job, jen! hit it that fast?”

“shut the fuck up, lee donghyeok.” jeno grits his teeth. the truth is, jeno has a thing for bulge. it was the first thing he searched for when he was trying to relieve some stress. it was the first thing he thought when getting laid and now... knowing you were so small that a bulge was surely made on your belly made him see stars.

jaemin moves. starts slow, helping you get used to his size, even if you had done it plenty of times before, he was too big for you, no matter how many times when you were fucked by him, but then he picks up his pace. his hand presses the bulge on your stomach for a while, before gripping your thigh. his rhythm is rough, intense, so much that it makes your breasts move at each snap of his hips. and haechan felt like he was in heaven.

your moans starts to get more desperate and high-pitched. you call your boyfriend's name like a mantra while resting one of your hands on his stomach. jaemin doesn't stop, only picking up his pace, getting even rougher. he feels your pussy gripping his cock, identifying your orgasm. your eyes roll to the back of your skull and your mouth remains wide open for a while until you feel it dry, feeling jaemin squirting all of his seed inside of you.

“you fine, love?” he asks, slowing down his pace, only so you can come down off your high. you can just nod.

jaemin finally turns his camera, focusing right where your bodies meet. he thrusts a few more times, before getting out of you. the moment his cum is seen dripping out of you like a cascade is when haechan loses it, cumming with a whiny moan.

jaemin says something else, but the boys could care less, so donghyeok turns off the camera, putting it on the bed. jeno and haechan remain in silence for a moment.

“this might be the best thing my eyes have ever seen.” “that must be the gayest thing i've ever done.” they say at the same time.

“what?” haechan says.

“c'mon, i saw your cock. plus, i had to hear you moan like a whore. i'm getting insane…” jeno stands up angry, covering his dick again.

“oh, right, 'cause you moan like an alpha, huh?” the younger lee also stands up, bringing the camera with him.

“where do you think you're going with this, haechan?” jeno questions, watching his friend walk past him with the camera in hands.

“if you think i'm not enjoying this pretty little thing right here while i can, you're stupid. and you better not to try and jerk off with me. once was enough.” he says, leaving the room and an astonished jeno behind.

poor jeno, little does he know that haechan won't only watch. maybe he can upload some videos too. seeing jaemin's cock was a little price to pay when he was able to see all of you, spread and wet again.

[astralis-ortus]

form of affection

✱ boyfriend!bc x fem!reader

— everything feels... new.

w.count → 0.8k genre → fluff warning → chan and reader both referred to as baby, one use of 'my girl', reader on period :(, minor cussing here and there, not proofread!ㅠ a.n → honestly i don't know what to write atm (aside from the continuation for that one seungmin fic) but i still want to write something lighthearted so... this happens. welp. :] ⋆ if you're enjoying my stories, do send me a ko-fi ⋆ see masterlist

you messed up.

"fuck," you finally muttered under your breath, hand clutching your forehead in frustration. you know you shouldn't have ignored your gut feeling earlier this morning and followed through with the precautions anyway.

again you turned against the mirror, still bearing some hope that whatever you saw earlier was just your eyes playing tricks on you, but no—the damned red spot on your white dress is still there, mocking you through reflection of your boyfriend's bathroom mirror.

"baby?"

you jumped at the sudden knock on the bathroom door, feeling like your heart has suddenly fallen to your feet. fuck—how are you supposed to tell him?

"are you okay? do you need me to come in?"

"no!" you hurriedly replied, only later cursing at yourself for not maintaining your composure. making chris worried was definitely your intention after going missing to his bathroom for quite a period of time, and your reply definitely wasn't helping your resolute.

"are you sure?" chris' voice were laced with concern, and you could even picture the frown that's definitely present on his forehead. "can you crack the door open? just so i'm sure you're really okay."

"it's just—"

"baby," again, the image of your boyfriend's stern gaze immediately popped up in your mind. "please? just one sec. i need to make sure that you're alright."

it's not that you're worried chris would say anything about it—you're well aware of the kind of person your boyfriend of 4 months is, and you completely trust him. it's just that…

you're embarrassed.

the click of lock were soon followed by a soft creak, revealing chris' concerned eyes beyond the slight opening of the door. his relief was audible even to you, gaze softening when he saw the glimpse of your flushed face.

"okay," chris' lips formed a soft smile, as if trying to soothe you, "are you sure all is good? do you need any help?"

"…today."

"hm?" blinking in confusion, chris brought his face closer to you, "sorry, baby, i couldn't—"

"i got my period today," you quickly repeated, cheeks heating up as you heard your own confession, "and i didn't bring any feminine products with me since i wasn't supposed to have it for another week. i also might've stained your couch. i'm sorry."

chris turned quiet, and you could practically see thoughts flashing through his eyes—but you're not a mind reader, and the passing seconds made your heart grew heavy. is he embarrassed to hear that? is he going to send you home? is he going to get upset? should you have not—

"if i'm not mistaken… i think there should be some pads and maybe some disposable underwear under the sink, baby," the sound of chris' voice promptly ceased the vortex of worry growing in your head, your eyes again meeting chris' clear ones, "i bought it a while back for you but i don't remember if i placed it here or in my room. could you check?"

despite the confusion, your body had instinctively moved along chris' request. to your surprise, you do find the items your boyfriend had mentioned, tucked neatly in a small box of necessities. you chest bubbled up in gratitude and filled with warmth—you never expected chris to do this for you, and yet, he managed to come over and beyond any of your expectations.

"found it?"

nodding your head, you swallowed back the tears welling up in your eyes. gosh—period hormones! "yeah, just found them. thank you, baby."

a sigh of relief could be heard from the other side of the door, and you couldn't help but smile—if it wasn't clear before, then now you're determined to find a way to repay chris somehow. frankly, at times you still don't understand the lengths chris would willingly go for you, or if you even deserve to be at the receiving end of chris' gesture of affection at all. the chris you've gotten to know is so full of love, and you don't even know if you have the capacity to love him the way he cares about you.

but in the mean time,

you've decided to try and accept chris' form of affection for you.

"okay," you could hear the smile in chris' voice as he speaks, "i'll go grab a change of clothes for you while you settle down, yeah? oh, and you do know where the towel if you want to shower, right?"

"yeah, i know," you held back a giggle as you reappeared in chris' vision between the crack of the door, clutching the box close to your chest with a beaming smile, "thank you, baby. really. i really appreciate this."

and with a smile equaling to the warmth of a spring's sun, chris chuckled a reply,

"anything for my girl."

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[teddypines]

Mother's Dinner Drama

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Summary: Family dinner dind't turn out like it should when Y/N's mother starts to get involved. Warnings: Mother issues, maybe a bit of trauma. Angst with hurtfull words. Little violence. little dissociation. Sweating.

Batmom!Reader x Batfam. Batmom!Reader x Bruce Wayne. Use of Y/N for Reader, Fem!Reader, Use of she/her pronounce.

Notes: Was feeling the angst a little to much. And thank you all for the great comments and reposts on my stories. It means a lot to me that you all enjoy the stories. Words: 2473

Picture from @lightningstrikes-art credits to them.

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Bruce knew of Y/n's troubled Relationship with her mother, Sharon. He had seen it over the years. How she would belittle and control Y/n over the littlest things. It took some time to fully see the true extent of it all, but he quickly realised that the love Sharon had was conditional. Unlike the love he used to receive from his own mother. The love he was trying to give Y/N and the children.

He also knew that Y/N still loved her mother even if it was conditional most of the time. He knew she tried to reach out, to bond or just be at peace. Sadly most of the attempts went unsuccessful. Over time things did change since Y/N got to see how unconditional love was really like from Bruce and she had to focus on the growing family. So less time for big family meetings. Which neither of them minded, it gave Y/N time to heal a little.

Y/N learned over time, and with a little therapy, how to take the good with the bad and that most of her mothers shit came from a place of no control and the belief that the world revolved around them. With this she tried to be a better mother to their children. She didn't yell when something broke or got spilled. She didn't lie or use cheap tactics to get her way. didn't manipulate the situation to her will or made the children feel bad. She gave them what they never got.

It was one of the somewhat regular dinners that Y/N's parents had with the Wayne’s. Of course Sharon was being Sharon. Talking, just to talk and hear her own voice. Telling the boys what to do and what not. Giving off this fake consurne, maybe it was really her worrying, but it all came from a place that would only benefit her.

Things were going as they were going with a big family like theirs. The boy's set the table as Alfred helped Y/N with the last touches for dinner. This is where things went south. 

Sharon walked into the kitchen, having nothing better to do. “Do you two need any help with anything? I could bring something to the table already or mix the dressing in the salad?” 

“No thanks, mom, we have everything under control here. If you want you can ask Bruce If he needs help with picking a wine.” Y/N answered as she handed Alfred the last two bowls with strawberries and cream for dessert later. “Are you sure? It doesn't look like you have it under control.” Sharon responded as she started to look for a fork. Once the fork was found she went straight into one of the salads and took a bite. “Hmm, it needs more mustard dressing.” she said while already starting her search for the dressing.

Y/n looked at her mother with a numbing feeling already growing inside her chest. “Mom, we are fine and don't need help. The salad is fine, if you want more dressing you can add it once you have some on your plate. Damian doesn’t like the strong taste of mustard so the amount of dressing is less as a base.” She tried to get her mother to see a little sense with her words. Sharon however didn’t listen and took the salad bowl into the dining room.

“Mom, what are you doing?” Y/n asked, trying to catch up with her. “I'm just going to fix the salad sweetie.” Sharon answered as she looked back at her daughter. This made Y/N worry a little more. All because she knew the patrons, patrons Bruce told her were not normal to know. “Mom, stop!” Y/n snapped as she saw their mother reach for the dressing. “Don't put more dressing into that salad!”

Sharon heard Y/n but didn't listen anyway. Why would she, she was going to make this salad better. Putting a whole lot of dressing into the salad and started mixing it in. “There we go, now try it, it's much better like this. You can finally taste something.” She said with a smile, feeling rather proud of herself. She however quickly saw the mad expression on Y/n's face but didn't take it as a hint that she did something wrong. “Owh, don't look so sour sweetie, we all make mistakes.”

“No mom! I told you not to put more dressing into that salad! Why didn't you listen?!” Y/n asked, raising her voice a little in upset. She didn't care about the dressing for themselves but for Damian. Is her mother really that insensitive? 

“To make it taste better sweetie, it was rather bland.” Sharon answered, not seeing the problem that was so clearly there in front of her. 

“It's supposed to be like that mom! Damian hates mustard dressing, I warned You about this. It's bland for a reason!” The little scene slowly turned into a bigger one as Alfred and the boys got into the dinning room with more food they wanted to put on the table. “I was just helping.” Sharon answered. “I didn't know Damian hates mustard dressing. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Mom, I told you that not five minutes ago so you wouldn't put the dressing in! And I didn't ask for your help! I told you we were okay.” Y/n snapped. She was done with this, it wasn’t just about her anymore, Damian got dragged into it and she didn’t want her mother to do the same to her kids. It took everything inside them not to explode with anger. “You know what, it’s fine. I guess you just have to tell Damian he can’t have any of the salad.” Y/N sounded rather toxic. A hand running through her hair. They tensed up, which only got worse when Sharon reached out to them. 

“I’m getting the napkins I guess..” Tessa said as she turned away from her mother. leaving the dining room as quick as she could. “What’s going on?” Bruce asked as he walked into the dinning room with the wine that matched the steak. Seeing how Alfred and the boy’s were looking over at Sharon. “What did you do?!” Bruce asked Sharon, rage already boiling inside him. Sharon didn’t answer at first. So Bruce handed Dick the wine and stepped closer to Sharon. “What. Did. You. Do?” His eyes spitting fire.

“I just fixed the salad and Y/N flipped out. It's only some extra mustard dressing, I'm sure Damian wouldn't mind.” Sharon answered.  “Ts, I do mind, Sharon. Mom didn’t tell you not to do it just because.” Damian rolled his eyes. He was done with his ‘grandmother's’ shit. “I'm gonna find mom.” He said before pushing the bowl with potato wages into Jason’s hands. Not caring if he would keep balance before storming off. Sharon looked a little nervous when her husband walked into the dinning room. “What’s wrong with Damian? He looks like he wants to murder someone.”

Everyone turns to Andrew, making the man a little nervous because of all the tension. “Okay who died? and where is my Sweetpea?” Andrew asked as he looked around the room. Once his eyes fell on Sharon he didn’t need anymore answers. “Sharon what did you do?”

“I was just trying to help! Y/N/N didn’t like it and got mad at me.” Sharon answered, luckily Andrew knew his wife and knew Y/N wouldn’t just get mad. “She is just overreacting and overly sensitive about Damian not liking mustard.” She added shortly after, making Dick and Jason even more angry. Andrew sighed as he rubbed his forehead. He was disappointed in his wife once again. “Sharon, you are so out of your mind right now. This is really insensitive of you and i can’t believe you did this. I hate saying this, but you are just like your own mother.” Those words of course hit like a ton of bricks for Sharon. 

Sharon gasped at Andrew’s words before slapping him. This made everyone gasp and Dick quickly walked over to check on Andrew. “What is wrong with you?” He hissed to Sharon. Bruce however was quiet, too quiet. He walked over to Sharon with a purpose, almost like an animal on a hunt. He grabbed Sharon by her arm and walked to the entrance. shuffling her coat and bag into her arms before shuffling her out the door. Jason throws Sharon’s shoes out of the door right after. “and don’t come back!” He yelled.

Jason looked up at Bruce, seeing the rage still present. “Go check on mom and Damian please. I'll help Dick, Tim and Alfred with gramps.” Bruce didn’t say anything to Jason’s words, but he did give Jason a proud smile before going to look for his wife and youngest son. 

<------------------------------------------------>

Bruce found his wife and youngest son in one of the lounge rooms, both cuddled up on the couch. With a sigh of relief Bruce walked over to the couch and sat down next to Y/N. “Love? Starlight?” Bruce ran a hand over Y/N’s head and down her back. Y/N and Damian both leaned against Bruce. “Hey baby bird, did you protect momma for me?” Bruce asked Damian, knowing his youngest would always protect Y/N especially with the way she protected and loved Damian. 

“Momma needed some space, but not alone space.” Damian answered as he leaned against his father. He too tried to comfort Y/N, but he felt how closed off his mom was right now. He knew she was just trying to stand up to her own mother, knowing a little about that himself, but it hurt him to see her so hurt. Bruce ran a hand over Damian’s hair. “That is very thoughtful of you Dami.”

The three of them sat there for a few minutes in silence. Damian and Bruce didn’t know how to reach Y/N right now. Bruce knew his wife and knew she was dissociating right now. He didn’t like it when she did that, but he understood why she did it now. Especially after what happened with her mother. It was hard for him, but right now he had to wait. 

“I don’t get it… That she would do this to me and my siblings, yes… But to her grandchildren… Why would she not listen to me when I say a child is sensitive to something… Why would she not listen to a mother when she is one herself!? when she knows how it is to not be listened to too!” Y/N started, first she was saddened by it all, but it quickly turned into anger. "WHY?!"

Tears quickly formed in her eyes. “why wouldn’t she listen to me?... Why would…” Y/N stopped as she was pulled into Bruce’s lap. “Because your mother is not the mother you are. She is a mother, but not a mother by heart like you are, love.” He answered in an attempt to sooth his wife. He whipped away her tears and kissed her forehead. “You fought for your son, something Sharon would never do. You would go against anyone and everyone, your mother wouldn't, that is what narcissistic people do. She would manipulate a situation to her will, something you would never even think about.” 

Bruce was right about those things, both Y/N and Damian knew that. “I know it’s hard when your own mother is not the mother you wish and crave she was. But we can’t pick our mothers, just the mother or father we want to be to our own children. You are a wonderful mother Y/N/N, a mother with a big loving heart and I am so so proud that you stood up to your own mother for Damian.” Y/N cried into Bruce’s chest at those lovefilled words. Words that made her feel like she did the right thing, that she did indeed was a good mother and not being pathetic or overreacting. Damian looked away. His father’s words hit him a little too, but he was going to hide that it did. 

Y/N sniffed her nose after a moment and whipped her eyes. “I’m okay, for now, i can be nice for dinner. I don’t want anyone to wait even longer.” She said, determined to not ruin the night even further. She was about to pull away and stand up, only to be held back by Bruce. “Love, don’t push yourself. Everyone is okay with waiting, they are mostly just worried about you. Besides Alfred and you are masters at reheating food, we can wait, truly.”

<------------------------------------------------->

In the end Y/N and Damian joined everyone again after calming down a bit. Bruce quickly went to his office so he could contact his lawyer, wanting nothing more than to help Andrew divorce Sharon. 

Everyone helped with getting dinner ready once more, the overdressed salad washed down and in the compost bin. Everything was reheated just right by Alfred’s magic hands and Y/N made sure the cold meals were not bad or too warm. The boy’s finished setting the table and Andrew sat down as everyone worked. He didn’t like it but Y/N told him to, he just had one of the biggest fights with his wife and was going to prepare for a divorce. He needed a little break. 

Dinner itself was wonderful, filled with laughter and a warm loving glow going around the room as everyone enjoyed the food.

“Is the salad okay?” Y/N asked Damian once she saw him take a few bites of one of the other salads that were made. She was still a little worried after the previous events. “Yes, momma, the salad is perfect.” Damian answered with a big smile on his face. appreciating the concern she showed for him. Something he loved about her, something that really made her his mother. Made her their mother. Y/N gave Damian a soft smile, glad the salad was to his liking. Glad all the food was to everyone’s liking. 

The older boy’s were happy to see their mother back to her usual self. This was their mother, the person who meant the most to them. the person who was there when their own mother’s weren’t. The person who loved them no matter what they would do. Their comfort and home.

Bruce grabbed Y/N’s hand underneath the table and gave her a smile. “You look beautiful, love. Like a queen.” He complimented her before lifting her hand. giving it a gentle kiss. “A queen who is nothing without her king.” Y/N answered with a big smile on her face. This was home.

[lecsainz]

A headcanon of Percy Jackson x reader daughter of Zeus, where he has been in love since the first day he saw her, and he had also recently arrived at the camp, please

˒ ⌕ SHE IS LIKE THUNDER

parings: percy jackson x zeus!reader

an:I know I disappeared, forgive me 🤧, but picture me writing this at 3 AM, dying of sleepiness after watching the last episode of PJO, AND ANNIE USED THE NICKNAME 😭 THIS EPISODE IS STILL TOO MUCH FOR ME TO PROCESS!!!!

summary: the one where you're a daughter of zeus, exploring your relationship with percy.

( my last work || my last work for riodanverse || go to main masterlist )

You and Percy crossed paths during one of your training sessions. Luke was giving Percy a tour of the camp, and when Percy laid eyes on you, he halted abruptly, as if struck by lightning. For some inexplicable reason, he felt an urgent need to know who you were, as if the gods themselves demanded it.

Percy's eyes widened as he observed you from across the training grounds. "Who's that?" he asked, pointing a finger in your direction. Luke suppressed a chuckle, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Her? Oh, that's Y/N, daughter of Zeus." Percy squinted, trying to decipher your actions, as you accidentally summoned a small lightning bolt that fizzled out near your feet. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Does that happen often?" Luke grinned. "Only when she's particularly excited, which, by the way, is most of the time. You should see her during thunderstorms!" Percy blinked, watching as you waved sheepishly, causing another faint spark to crackle in the air.

You and Percy found common ground in venting about the gods upon his arrival.

"Hey, little thunder, how's it going?" Percy grinned. "Don't call me that," you replied, trying to keep a straight face. "I'm good too, thanks for asking, Lightning Rod," Percy joked, emphasizing his newfound nickname for you.

Attempts at using your powers together proved futile, as water and electricity didn't exactly make for a harmonious combination.

According to Percy, Cabin 3 was way too big for just him, and assuming you felt the same way about Cabin 1, he started a tradition. At 12:00, he'd show up at your cabin, asking to share it, turning into a routine of hosting pajama parties in each other's cabins.

After you discovered that your half-sister, Thalia, had been turned into a pine tree to save her, Percy couldn't resist teasing you about it.

"Do you think your dad would turn you into, what, a fountain? Or maybe a cherry blossom tree would suit you?" Percy grinned, enjoying the opportunity to rib you. "Jackson, shut up," you retorted, rolling your eyes at his antics. Later, when Grover and Annabeth intervened, trying to keep you two from frying each other, Percy couldn't resist a parting shot. He had soaked you with water from a nearby forest stream during the mission, leaving you drenched and fueling your desire to electrocute him. "Next time you want to electrocute Percy, make sure I'm not around," Annabeth teased as they separated you, noticing your soaked state. Grover, being the peacekeeper, started singing the song of friendship, encouraging both of you to hug it out and apologize. Percy, however, observed that you were shivering from the cold as you walked. Realizing this, he handed you his jacket, concerned. "You'll catch a cold if you stay wet like this," he said, offering you warmth amidst the chilly aftermath of your water-based altercation.

Since neither you nor Percy admit to having feelings for each other, you find yourselves in constant teasing and banter.

During a mission, you two start a squabble because you want to lead everything, and he just wants to do his thing or isn't paying attention to what you're saying. Grover and Annabeth exchange glances, seeking a way to mediate.

It takes a long time before you muster the courage to admit you have feelings for the son of Poseidon. You decide to confess first because, knowing Percy, it would take ages if you waited for him.

"Percy, I need to talk in case we don't get out of here." "Spark Plug, we're getting out of here; trust me." "I like you, Seaweed Brain." He stands there in shock, mouth hanging open, unable to believe that you like him back.

After Percy managed to confess that he also liked you, you enjoyed teasing him about his stunned reaction. But deep down, you were terrified that he might have said he didn't like you back.

Percy becomes incredibly protective of you.

"Touch her, and you'll be dead."

You love stormy days and spend hours on the beach with Percy because he can control the water, ensuring you both stay dry.

"Isn't it beautiful?" "What, little storm?" You pause, gazing out at the tumultuous sea, the waves crashing against the shore. "It's like the ocean is in harmony with this storm. It's as if they understand each other, finding peace in the chaos." "Maybe," Percy finally responds, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Maybe storms and the sea have a way of finding peace in chaos because they understand that even in the wildest moments, there's a certain kind of order."

You appreciate the profound simplicity of his words, and in that moment, he wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder. For the first time in a long while, you feel at home