#but they are weird in a very different ways

[marshmallowwitharubberband]

As a university professor (and fandom enjoyer), I have noticed this type of narrow-vision thinking doesn't seem to happen solely in fandom spaces. In general, today's youth seem to be struggling a lot with abstract concepts and hypotheticals. Especially hypotheticals.

They tend to take things very literally and it's difficult for them to apply knowledge if, say, the exam question is not exactly the same as we saw in class. They also get very distressed when such things happen.

As a result, their problem-solving abilities are rather poor.

This isn't willy nilly generalization, it's an issue we've had to discuss among faculty more than once. I don't have enough knowledge to hypothesize what the root cause might be, but it is a very consistent pattern that I find fascinating (and worrying).

In short: people not being able to conceive something as purely hypothetical, and being unable to sepparate the parts of a whole to reapply said parts in a different way is something that has become a plague for fanfic writers and educators alike. It's so weird.

[piastrisun]

don’t smile.

pairings: lando norris + singer female character.

summary: unfortunately everyone has their owns ways to deal with a breakup. she turned heartbreak into lyrics, he turned it into a performance.

faceclaim: sabrina carpenter.⠀warning: none.

notes: named protagonist and messed up dates (as usual)

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f1gossip according to close sources to the couple, lando and marlene decided to end their relationship after three years together.

tagged landonorris, marlene

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username idgaf about any celebrity couple but THEM?????

username1 i just fell at my knees 😭😭

username2 WHAT??????

username3 this has to be a joke, i’m NOT believing it until one of them confirms it

username4 thank god, she was too much of a goddess for him

username4 (i’m actually not taking this news in a healthy way)

username5 don’t tag them, it’s fucking weird

username6 source: trust me bro

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marlene ⠀ and ⠀ landonorris added their stories!

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marlene this year has been WILD

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username she’s losing her mind probably

marlene i am, ty for noticing 🤍

username GIRL?????

username2 prettiest crier award goes to… marlene!!!

username3 if i say attention seeker for that second pic then what

username4 you’d be wrong, get out

username5 she’s been posting pictures like that years before meeting lando, what are u on

whitneypeak i’m obsessed w you

marlene i LOVE u

username6 we love you and hope you’re okay!!

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landonorris good days at home

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username so glad to see your smile!!

username2 that happy face 🥹

username3 is it my thing or he’s been too happy for a person that just ended a 3 year relationship

username4 i thought it as well tbh

username you don’t know this man wtf???

username6 live love laugh lando

username7 marlene liking this, so unserious

username8 the difference between his post and hers is very…

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f1gossip has a new love affair arrived for our dear mclaren driver?

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username SAY SIKE RIGHT NOW

username2 oh that was quick…

username3 these comments??? he doesn't owe grief to a relationship that didn't work out

username4 true but dating two months later after a breakup it’s insane

username5 play ‘is it over now? (taylor’s version)’

username6 LMAOOOO that’s an insane thing to say

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marleneupdates marlene recently with her team at electric lady studios in new york!

tagged marlene

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username2 NEW ERA INCOMING???

username3 the gasp i just let out

username4 off topic but she’s three apples tall

username5 quite literally 😭😭😭

username6 need new content NOW

username7 not ready to let go emails i can’t send

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marlene added to their story.

replies to your story:

madisonbeer so excited about this 🩷🩷

marlene i’ll try my best 4 u

georgerussell63 musical gossiping?

marlene you already know!!

landonorris and others liked your story.

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landonorris :)

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username pookiest pookie to ever pookie

username2 he‘s pregnant with the 2025 wdc here

username3 IM CRYING i hope he reads this

georgerussell63 oh yeah?

username4 WHAT DO YOU KNOW GEORGE WILLIAM RUSSELL

username5 kinda hate when a man is the happiest after a breakup

username6 as a lando defender, i agree

username7 why do you exist if you’re not mine 😭😭

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marlene you think it's happy hour, for me, it's not

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username WAIT. is this what i think it is

username2 babe wake up, mother is serving cryptic lines again

whitneypeak i know a song lyric when i see one

marlene 👀

username3 SUBTLE LANDO SHADE????

username4 you dropping hints like breadcrumbs and we’re HUNGRY

reneerapp your move is coming and i’m so ready

marlene you know me too well!!

username5 i swear, if this is a breakup song, i’m going to scream. i’m not ready

username6 i feel like the breakup will become real once she starts singing about it 😭

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landonorris added to their story.

replies to your story:

maxfewtrell FIREEEE

landonorris we look kinda lame

maxfewtrell so lame

keeganpalmer do u know what being home is

landonorris no, next question

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marlene ‘don’t smile’ is officially yours now!! go listen, i hope you love it as much as i do. thank you for your endless love and support. 🤍 ୭  ׂ  𓈒

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username on repeat already

madisonbeer this song is beautiful. congrats, love! 🩷

marlene couldn’t have done it without you

username2 IM NOT OKAY

maxfewtrell such a bop, mar!!

marlene thank you for believing in me 🫶🏽

username3 i love they stayed friends 🥹

username4 “i want you to miss me, you're supposed to think about me every time you hold her” SO REAL

username5 heartbreak into art as always

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©⠀piastrisun original work. please don’t translate, claim or repost any of my writing, 25’.

[ivyues]

Soft Nuzzles - Han Jisung

Lately, you couldn’t shake the urge to nuzzle into the warmth of Han’s neck.

You had never been a cuddly person. Not with friends, not with family, not even with past partners. Affection, to you, had always been something shown through words or actions – not through the warmth of another person’s embrace.

But then there was Han Jisung.

Dating him had been an adventure from the very beginning. He was playful and bright, a ball of energy that lit up any room he walked into. At first, you worried your differences would be too stark – his love for physical affection versus your instinct to keep your space. But somehow, you made it work. He never pushed, never complained, never pouted when you chose to express love in your own way. He simply accepted it, as he did with everything else.

And yet, somewhere along the way, something changed.

The first time it happened, you hadn’t even realized what you were doing. You were sitting on the couch together, watching a drama, when a wave of something unexplainable washed over you. Before you knew it, you had shifted closer, resting your head against the side of his neck. He had frozen for just a second, startled by the rare gesture, before his lips curved into the softest, most adoring smile. His arms instinctively wrapped around you, his hand in slow, soothing circles along your back.

“Are you feeling okay?” he teased, but his voice was laced with so much fondness that you couldn’t even roll your eyes at him.

You had grumbled something about just being tired before focusing back on the movie, but the feeling didn’t go away. If anything, it got stronger.

You found yourself drawn to him in ways you never had been with anyone else. Whether it was standing next to him while waiting for coffee, the urge to slip your arm around his waist became almost second nature. When he was gaming in the living room, you’d shuffle over and drape yourself against him, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne as if it grounded you. Even in the rare, quiet moments before bed, you’d find yourself seeking out his warmth, nuzzling into his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And Han? He loved it.

The first few times, he’d grinned so wide it almost hurt, eyes crinkling with pure joy. He never made a big deal out of it – never wanted to scare you away – but the way he held you a little tighter, the way he gently pressed a kiss against your temple or whispered how much he adored you, told you everything you needed to know.

The other members had taken notice, often teasing you both with comments about how "disgustingly cute" you were, always finding the two of you cuddled up together, as if you were the picture of love and comfort. They were genuinely happy for Han, seeing how much more at ease and content he had become with you by his side.

One evening, as you wrapped your arms around him from behind while he was cooking, he chuckled softly.

“You know,” he mused, “I used to think I’d have to be patient forever. But look at you now.”

You huffed against his back but didn’t let go. “Don’t make it weird.”

He turned in your arms, looking at you with a gaze so full of love it made your heart stutter. “Not weird. Just… the best surprise ever.” 

In that moment, the irresistible urge – again – made you want to nudge your head into his neck, whispering a playful tone. “Don’t say it.”

But, of course, he did.

“You’re like a cat,” he grinned, nudging your cheek with his nose. “At first, all distant and uninterested, but now? You’re always laying on my face.”

You groaned, lightly smacking his arm, but he only laughed, pulling you even closer. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “I love cats.”

And as he leaned in to press a kiss against your head, you realized that maybe – just maybe – cuddling wasn’t so bad after all. At least, not when he felt so much like home.

masterlist

[wosospacegirl]

And they were roommates - part 3

Summary: Y/n gets injured and has to stay in recovery for 8 months. It's a good thing her friend and teammate Kyra is more than willing to move in with her. wink wink

Warnings: kissing, lots of kissing and sexual tension hehe

Word count: 4k

MASTERLIST

| PART 1 HERE | | PART 2 HERE |

Kyra’s legs felt like concrete and her brain was foggy as she watched Katie steal the ball from her—again. Kyra was tired and confused, and her exhaustion was reflected in her poor training today. She had lost possession of the ball to Katie at least 3 three times, and after the third time, Katie even stopped teasing her about it. The fact that Katie even felt sorry for her spoke volumes about how awful she was today.

When she failed to do well in the last drill, Renée had—gently—asked her to step that one out. Kyra hadn’t wanted to at first, but Renée hadn’t asked her to either, so she went to the bench and sat on the stiff surface, watching her teammates actually show why they were on the field, and she wasn’t.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Alessia said handing her a protein bar. Kyra did not even see her approaching, highlighting how absent-minded she was.

“No,” Kyra mumbled, taking the snack, and fiddling with it at first before taking a small bite. Strawberry and white chocolate flavour, Kyra’s favourite. Maybe she wouldn’t be so depressed today after all. “Did you get kicked out of the pitch too? Is this the ‘prodigy-child-who-can’t-seem-to-kick-a-ball’ corner?”

“Well—no.” Alessia laughed. “Renée asked me to come here and see, in her own words, ‘what the fuck happened to Cooney’, so here I am.”

“Oh, so you don’t really want to talk to me, I’m just another chore in your busy day,” Kyra joked, biting back her laugh as Alessia nudged her slightly with her shoulder.

“You’re being dramatic,” Alessia stated, accepting the half-eaten protein bar Kyra handed back to her.

Alessia finished the protein bar while she waited for Kyra to formulate whatever she was thinking. After a few moments, she finally spoke.

“I’m so confused. And when I’m confused, I get completely worn out from the among of neurons I’m using,” Kyra confessed suddenly.  “I don’t like when things are… I don’t know. Blurry, maybe?”

Alessia listened carefully with narrowed eyes, chin resting on her hand. “But what are you confused about, what’s blurry?” Alessia questioned, not really understanding what the girl was talking about.

Kyra’s cheek flushed. “Y/n has been acting weird lately, I’m not sure why.”

“What do you mean weird? Last time I spoke to her she sounded fine, happier even,” Alessia tilted her head.

“Maybe weird isn’t the right word—” Kyra continued with her mumbling. “She’s acting different, not in a bad way, though.”

“In what way then?” Alessia asked, pressing further.

“She’s being very nice to me,” Kyra blurted out. “Not that she wasn’t before, of course she was always very kind, but now it’s…”

“Different?” Alessia complete easily, given Kyra’s difficult relationship with, well, words today. “She’s being nicer to you, and that’s making you feel confused?”

“Exactly!” Kyra said, throwing her hands up in the air.

Alessia laughed quietly. “All right, tell me about it, let’s dissect it,” Alessia said, fake-serious tone that made Kyra roll her eyes.

“I’m serious, Less!” Kyra groaned,

“I’m too! Go on, I’m all ears,” Alessia encouraged.

So, Kyra told what had happened last night.

Y/n had begged Kyra to put a mattress in her living room. “It’ll be like when we used to have girl’s night!” Y/n had said cheerfully as she sat on the couch. Kyra didn’t match Y/n’s energy. It was late, and Y/n mattress was surprisingly heavy.

“We could keep having girl’s night in your room,” Kyra complained, finally letting the mattress hit the floor. The Australian let out a sigh of relief as her hand went to her shoulder and pressed against the skin.

“Just so you know I am not carrying this upstairs again,” Kyra pointed at the mattress as if it were a sentient being responsible for its weight.

“Too heavy?” Y/n smiled, spreading her legs and motioning for Kyra to sit in between them on the floor.

Kyra obeyed, though not without some complaining. “Yeah, I don’t know what it’s made of.  Aren’t mattresses supposed to be made of goose feathers or some shit?”

Y/n squeezed the spot on Kyra’s shoulder she was complaining about, her hands touching the rough texture of Kyra’s Matilda's hoodie.

“Wow, there, right there,” Kyra whispered as Y/n touched the spot more firmly.

“I think mattress are supposed to have a fair amount of foam, spring, polyurethane—” Y/n explained.

“You’re just making up words,” Kyra muttered, leaning into Y/n’s touches.

“Unfortunately, they’re real words that make up real mattress materials,”

“How do you even know that?” Kyra turned, her eyebrows furrowed as she looked up at Y/n.

“I read it in an article n the newspaper,” Y/n mumbled, tapping Kyra’s head. “And turn around, I’m trying to give you a massage.”

“Newspaper? How old are you? 99?” Kyra whined as Y/n pressed her acromion. “Ouch, don’t be so rough!”

“Sorry! It would be easier if you weren’t wearing this bulky hoodie, I can’t even feel where I’m touching.” Y/n bickered. “Plus, the colors on it aren’t even that good.”

“Those are literally the national colours of my country!” Kyra argued, rolling her eyes as she watched the smug smile on Y/n’s face. “Ok, you’re messing with me,” Kyra concluded.

“Just a little, you’ve been too tense lately, and normally you’re very relaxed.” Y/n said. “I’m just trying to do something nice for you.”

“Yeah, maybe if the derby wasn’t so close I could feel happiness and, you know, live life, but we can’t have everything we wish for.” Kyra said in a fake-sad-voice.

Y/n’s hand fell from Kyra’ shoulder as Kyra pulled out the hoodie in a sweeping motion and threw it casually on the love seat by the window. The other girl was wearing a black sport’s bra underneath the hoodie.

Y/n froze, hands in the mid-air. She hasn’t expecting to see Kyra’s very strong back today. Kyra’s trapezius and deltoid muscles were very defined, Kyra looked tough, but also soft. The dichotomy of it making was making y/n breath out loud.

Kyra turned back to Y/n again, confusion on her face. “Don’t you want to do it anymore?” She asked the girl.

“Do what?” Y/n swallowed, trying not to look at the skin on Kyra’s back, focusing instead on Kyra’s eyes. Eyes were safe. Eyes didn’t make Y/n feel hot in places she shouldn’t feel hot at the moment.

“—The massage? You said if I didn’t wear the..”

“Oh yeah, yeah, of course!” Y/n rumbled. “Sorry,” she whispered as she placed her thumb, forefinger and middle finger on Kyra’s skin, gently pressing the sore spots.

“You’re tense,” Y/n told Kyra, “Especially here…” Y/n placed her fingers on the back of Kyra’s neck.” Y/n applied more pressure, until she felt Kyra’s muscle relax. “Feels good, now?” Y/n asked, continuing to work with her fingers.

“Yeah, it feels great really,” Kyra replied, enjoying Y/n’s hand on her. Maybe Kyra was in a dry spell for months, or maybe Y/n’s finger were really out of this world.

Kyra shivered slightly as Y/n nails scratched gently through her neck. Kyra had to hold back a moan to keep her dignity.

The realisation hit Kyra like a cold winter breeze, she was wearing a sports bra and being massaged—in the most delicious way—by a very pretty girl, who also happened to be her friend.

And now she was supposed to suck it up and share a mattress with said friend because said friend didn’t want to sleep in her room alone anymore. ‘It’s too lonely, it makes me sad’ Y/n had said.

Kyra was hyperventilating slightly. She wasn’t sure if Y/n could notice it.

Y/n moved her leg—the good one—more to the left and touched Kyra’s arm. It was such an innocent touch, but it made Kyra feet like a teenager all over again. Kyra began squirming in her spot, her palms clammy. It was seriously humiliating to feel this hot and bothered by a fucking touch on the arm.

Y/n’s fingers were quicker now, going from the middle of her back to her neck.

Kyra had been with girls before. She knew how to flirt, how to tease, where to touch. She wasn’t inexperienced or innocent on that matter. But the way Y/n was making Kyra’s body shiver just barely felt almost overwhelming—in a good, but scary way.

“Why do you seem more tense than when we started?” Y/n asked, interrupting Kyra’s inner monologue.

“Oh, I’m not. I’m …you just overwhelmed me with your flawless technique!” Kyra said, trying to sound teasing, but failing.

“Oh well, thank you,” Y/n said smiling, but still tilting her head slightly, as if she did not believe Kyra’s word. “I’m trying to find new hobbies, like you said.”

“You should stick with it. Your fingers feel amazing,” Kyra breathed, and then stopped. Her eyes went wide as what she had just said sank in.

“My fingers are that good, huh” Y/n said smugly, enjoying seeing Kyra squirm a little.

“You’re making it dirty,” Kyra said sheepishly.

Y/n laughed and watched as Kyra stood up. “You made it dirty first! Come on, telling a fellow lesbian her fingers feel good?”

“I just really like massages,” Kyra tried to recover from the awkwardness, her hoodie now on. “And it seems like you really liked making me squirm, so I think we’re both even.”

“Oh, okay, you turned that around quickly, I’ll give you that” Yn said, a little taken back, cheeks warm.”

“Flirting.” Alessia stated. “She was flirting with you! And you flirted back.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“You just told me how you flirted with each other!” Alessia said enthusiastically, looking like a happy puppy.

“We weren’t flirting! We were teasing each other, we always do that,” Kyra argued, pointing at Alessia and then at herself. “We always do that.”

“We? Ky when was the last time I made a dirty joke on you?” Alessia questioned, crossing her arms.

“Never!” Alessia said without letting Kyra answer it. “And Y/n never teased me like that either.”

“I’m so sorry Ky but I can’t see where your confusion is coming from, it” Alessia got up, standing in front of Kyra, looking down at her. “It looks to me like you two have a little crush on each other?”

“A crush?” Kyra whined. “We aren’t seven!”

“Well, right now you’re acting like a seven-year-old who can’t see what’s happening right in front of her,” Alessias lectured softly. “What did you guys do after the massage? Please spare me any intimate details, though.”

Kyra rolled her eyes. “Nothing happened, we just got ready for bed and slept.”

“In the same mattress, right?” Alessia asked.

“…Yeah”

“I’m sorry baby, but you can’t be this naïve,” Alessia said softly, looking at Kyra as if she were a innocent child learning how the world works for the first time.

“What happened after the two of you woke up?” Alessia asked.

Kyra blushed as she remembered the position she was when she opened her eyes in the morning. Y/n couldn’t move much because of her cast, but Kyra was a very fussy sleeper and had changed positions during her sleep.

When Kyra’s alarm clock went off, she wasn’t only greeted by the usual and annoying noise, but also by Y/n’s breathing. Kyra had snuggled up to Y/n’s body for some reason. Her head on Y/n’s shoulder as the girl breathed softly into her ear.

“Don’t go,” Y/n said half asleep when Kyra tried to get up.

Kyra blushed, enjoying the way Y/n pulled at her shirt lazily.

“I have to get up and make us breakfast,” Kyra explained, taking Y/n’s hands from off her shirt. “And you have your first physical therapy session today, so we can’t be late.”

“5 more minutes? Please?” Y/n murmured

Kyra sighed, allowing Y/n to lie back on her chest. “Okay, but just 5 minutes.”

“Uhum okay,” Y/n mumbled, falling back asleep.

“Nothing much,” Kyra said, back to Alessia. “We just, I don’t know, cuddled?”

“You cuddled?” Alessias asked slowly.

“Yeah.”

“You are Y/n seemed to be in a pretty domestic bliss right now,” the blonde bent down to tie her boots. “Maybe the whole moving in together had made you realise that you have this chemistry going on?”

Kyra thought for a moment.

“I guess so? I’m not sure about chemistry, though,” she admitted. “I’m not even sure Y/n feels the same way I do.”

Kyra felt pathetic, really. Sure, perhaps she had feelings for her friends—and her roommate—but that didn’t mean that Y/n liked her back. There was always the possibility that Y/n was just lonely, and Kyra just happened to be there.

“I don’t think she’d give you a massage or cuddle up with you if she’s still saw you as just her friend,” Alessia pointed out. “Y/n isn’t the type to play hard to get—she’s very straightforward about how she feels.”

Alessia was right. Whenever the three girls went out to a bar or club, Y/n never played games with the women she wanted to take home. She was direct and confident.

“I guess I just don’t see her liking…me?” Kyra confessed, looking down. “I’m not going into a spiral of self-loathing or anything—I know I’m pretty and funny,” She half-joked.

“But Y/n’s also dealing with a lot right now. She’s focused on her recovery, getting better, starting physio… I don’t think she’s even aware of whatever this is,” Kyra added.

“Y/n’s recovering from a really bad injury, but she’s still Y/n,” Alessia countered, eyebrows furrowed. “She’s got a good head on her shoulders—I don’t think she’d be so oblivious about this whole situation.”

Before Kyra could respond, their conversation was cut short. Renée had called both players back to the pitch.

“I hope you got your mind off whatever was bothering you,” the coach said as she patted Kyra on the back.

Kyra thought of Y/n’s face.

“Yeah, I’m back now. Sorry,” Kyra said, slipping her practice vast on and jogging onto the field.

Hours later, the training was over, and Kyra was on her way to pick up Y/n from the physiotherapy clinic. Kyra parked in front of the white building, spotting Y/n already waiting with a smile on her face

“Hi, how was it?” Kyra asked as she stepped out of the car, opening the passenger door and helping Y/n inside.

“It was very good, actually,” Y/n said happily, handing Kyra her crutches so she could put them in the back seat. “Dr. Marta says my leg’s looking great and that haven’t lost too much muscle mass, so I won’t have too much trouble when we start doing the heavier exercises.”

“That’s great!” Kyra said, looking in between Y/n and the road as she drove away. “Has Dr. Marta said when you’ll be cleared to do the physio back at Arsenal?”

Y/n turned on the radio and Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan filled the car. “Yeah, she said I could go in two weeks. She just wants to make sure my ligaments are strong enough first.”

Kyra put a hand on Y/n’s leg—the good one—and gave it a light squeeze. “Well, I bet your ligaments are already better than mine.”

Y/n stared at Kyra’s hand, enjoying the subtle touch.

Kyra noticed the silence realised where her hand was. “Sorry,” she mumbled, quickly pulling it back and placing both hands on the wheel.

“its’s okay,” Y/n said, taking Kyra’s hand and putting it back on her leg. “Your hand is warm; my leg is cold. You can keep it there,” y/n said casually.

Kyra swallowed. She wasn’t sure what to do, so she just left her hand where it was.

“But now tell me about the training—how was it?” Y/n asked, shifting the conversation. “And I saw you guys had media day! I was so bummed I missed it…I love media days”

Kyra raised an eyebrow, her thumb now gently caressing her skin now. Not a big deal.

“No, you don’t.” Kyra huffed. “Last season, you pretended to have cramps, so you wouldn’t have to film a TikTok.”

“I said I love media day, I didn’t say I like making a fool of myself dancing,” Y/n shot back, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, come on, you’re a good dancer,”

“Yeah, at parties! I don’t do well when I’m the only one dancing and everyone around me is watching,”

“Well, when you come back all healed up, I’ll do a TikTok dance with you, so you don’t have to dance alone.”

“Given your dancing skills I think we’d both be better off hiding in the changing room,” Y/n teased.

Kyra stuck her tongue out at Y/n before they both burst laughing.

..

Y/n felt like a like a caged animal whenever she was around Kyra, which was often, considering they lived together. She tried, really tried to control herself and her impulses around Kyra, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable in any way.

But every time Kyra got a little too close, Y/n had to remind herself to breath, to think straight and not to let her gaze linger for too long.

Y/n wanted to kiss Kyra, really kiss her.

That was all she could think about when Kyra slipped a pillow under her leg without her being asked, or when she cut apples and handed them to Y/n before she even realised, she wanted a snack.

Maybe Y/n’s love language was acts of service—after all, why was she horny just because Kyra put socks on her feet?

It had been months since Y/n had kissed anyone, maybe a month or two months before her injury. She couldn’t quite remember it. So it was unnecessary to say that she was desperate.

Y/n though she had more grace, more control in her, but it all went out the drain the moment Kyra plopped herself on her side on the mattress, fresh from the shower. Her hair was still damp, and the shampoo she used filled the room with a vanilla fragrance.

Pretty, pretty girl.

Y/n felt as if her entire brain had ben short-circuited, as if her neuronal network had been designed to think about Kyra and only Kyra.

Both girls had gone out to a restaurant an hour earlier, it was the first time Y/n had seen all her teammates together since her injury. It was lovely to see all of them together after such long time.

The arsenal players stayed until late, but when Kyra and Y/n had gone home, Y/n suggested a movie night, which Kyra had agreed to—under one condition—she was the on picking the film.

‘But I’m a cheerleader’ was in the final ark already when Megan crashed the graduation party to be with Graham.

Y/n wouldn’t say it was the film itself that influenced her to take that step. It was more the subtle brush of Kyra’s arm against her own that did the trick.

“Hey, Kyra?” Y/n said, her confidence rising.

“Hmm?” Kyra mumbled, not taking her eyes off the TV.

“I really wanna kiss you right now,” Y/n confessed bluntly. She didn’t stutter or stumble in her words—she knew what she wanted, and she’d be very happy if Kyra wanted It too.

Kyra gasped slightly and finally looked into Y/n’s eyes. “What?”

It felt as if there was no air in her lungs, as if her stomach was turning against itself. Was she dreaming?

No, she wasn’t. She was sure this was real.

“Kiss you. I really want to,” Y/n explained calmly. “But it’s alright If you don’t want,” She added, looking intensely at Kyra.

“I-I want to kiss you,” Kyra said, a hint of question in her voice.

“Yeah? You sure?” Y/n asked, slightly teasing.

“Uhum,” Kyra nodded eagerly.

“Ok,” Y/n whispered before leaning in and carefully kissing Kyra.

Y/n cupped Kyra's jaw gently, controlling the depth of their kiss with gentle confidence. Kyra's tongue slipped shyly into Y/n's mouth. Their bodies fit together in the best possible way.

The kiss was better than they had ever imagined. Y/n had kissed many women before, but Kyra was definitely her best kiss yet. Kyra’s softness and her slight hesitation to just let go in the kiss made Y/n feel hot.

It was like their bodies wanted each other for a long time.

Kyra sighed into the kiss; Y/n welcomed her breath. The kiss was slow, and deliberate, not rushed in any way—like they were savouring something they’ve been waiting for a long time.

Kyra broke the kiss, but didn't pull away, instead touching her forehead and looking into Y/n’ eyes. “I liked it,” Kyra said shyly.

Y/n smiled. “Me too, a lot.” She bit Kyra’s lip gently. “Can I kiss you again?” 

“You can kiss me whenever you want”, Kyra said, taking Y/n's mouth back into her own.

The position their bodies were currently in was a little odd. Kyra was sitting up on the mattress, but leaning slightly on Y/n, while Y/n was lying with a pile of pillows on her back so she could sit up straighter and still be comfortable with her cast.

They kissed once, then stopped to catch their breath. And then they kissed some more. Kyra's elbow resting next to Y/n’s face while Kyra held her body over Y/n with her forearm.

“That was a very good kiss,” Kyra said, kissing Y/n's mouth, then her cheeks, then her nose. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” she confessed.

"Yeah? Me too,” Y/n said, enjoying the feeling of Kyra’s lips on her face. “It was very hard not to kiss you before.”

“And I can see why, you're all flushed,” Kyra teased, now kissing the base of Y/n’s neck, sucking the skin gently, not enough to leave any mark.

“I’m not,” Y/n mumbled, very much appreciating what Kyra was doing.

“All for me” Kyra whispered, Y/n barely hearing it.

Unfortunately for Y/n, Kyra pulled away.

“No, come back,” Y/n whimpered, tugging at Kyra's oversized shirt, trying to bring her closer, but Kyra didn't give in. 

Kyra smiled softly, taking Y/n's cheeks in between her hands and puckering her lips. “It's almost two in the morning,” Kyra explained, getting out of bed. “You have to take your meds, and we need to go sleep.”

Kyra handed Y/n's prescription bottle, along a glass of water. Y/n took them, but not without making sure she was very disappointed at Kyra for ruining their snog session.

“Do you think I’m not mad at myself too?’ Kyra asked as she watched a pout form on Y/n’s face.

Kyra got back in bed and urged the girl to lay her head on her chest. “I’m having to be the responsible one! The ��let's not move too fast’ one the ‘hey it's late and we should be sleeping.’”

Kyra continued with her rant while Y/n just enjoyed her voice and how soft her body was against her own. They weren’t kissing anymore, but they were cuddling. It was enough for Y/n.

Kyra’s fingers found themselves on Yn’s scalp massaging it.

“We really should be sleeping,” Y/n said. “I can’t barely keep my eyes closed.”

“I swear I could stay up late without a problem a few years ago,” Kyra said added.

Y/n patted Kyra's cheek patronisingly. “And that's because you're getting older, babe,” Y/n murmured.

“I don't like it.” 

“You'll get used to it.”

“You say it like you’re much older than me” Kyra said.

Y/n noticed her voice sounded more tired now.

“I am.” 

“Only 2 years.” 

“Enough to have a fully developed brain.”

Y/n waited for Kyra's familiar teasing remarks, but they didn't come. She was already fast asleep. And so was Y/n a few moments later.

..

Please like, share and let me know what you think! Feedback is important and makes me want to write even more. :D

Read more of my work here -> Masterlist

Tell me if you would like to read any special scene with Kyra and reader!

[jenroses]

In third grade my evil teacher told the class that Columbus discovered the world was round and I said, "No, the Greeks figured that out way earlier," and she got mad at me and then I brought in my source and she still punished me.

That wasn't what made her evil. What made her evil was that she provoked the entire class into ostracizing me every time I was successful on a pretest and sabotaged me at every turn in every activity possible. Like literally I needed edmr to stop having panic attacks just thinking about third grade and when we did the edmr for that, a whole lot of later trauma got easier to think about too because she had literally caused a cascade of issues for me that lasted decades. Because I had loved my teachers prior to her and I never knew what I did wrong.

(the answer was she didn't want a handful of bright third graders in her "normal" fourth grader class and we were "inflicted" on her as a surprise on the first day of school. Evil. I talked to another student as an adult and her experience was 100% different, she had fond memories because Elaine Carlini was so nice to her. Evil evil evil. Fascist behavior tbh.)

She was a very young teacher, but I was a better human being who treated people with more respect than she gave me when I was 8 years old than she was at 24-ish. Scapegoating a literal child as an adult? Evil.

The fact that I still remember her name at 53 when I have forgotten so many others is telling.

I once offered her a flower and she refused it. Who does that?

Anyway that was all part of being in a weird educational experiment in the 70s. It was a program trying to integrate white students into a mostly Black school but it ended up being a program getting more money that was harder for Black students to get into than white students so irony racism. Most of the teachers were fine but man when things went wrong...

when i was a kid i got a 90% on my kindergarten "what are your favorite things?" test because for the question "what is your favorite animal?" i wrote down "puma" and it got marked wrong because my teacher said a puma isnt even an animal its a kind of shoe

[yailtsv]

Reader/Paige where Paige is a Secret admirer and leaves notes and little gifts to the reader(like from the 1st to the 14th) eventually leading up to a Valentines Day Date where Paige is waiting all nervous hoping the reader shows and they both can admit feelings towards each other. Very fluffy

Secret Admirer - p.b

💌 Syn: you have a secret admirer that just so happens to be your best friend

»»— warnings: none i don’t think

»»— notes: i’m really proud of this one 🙃 i’ve also never watched the notebook i just know it’s considered a romance movie so i went with it 🤷‍♀️

»»— word count: 2.7k

»»— pair: Paige x Gf!reader

the last 13 days have been weird for you as one could say. it started with a bouquet of roses outside your dorm room with a note that just said "from: your secret admirer" and that was on the first of february.

the 2nd day was a gaint stuffed bear  outside your dorm room - like the gaint ones you would get at costco but not exactly those bears as this one is a stuffed panda bear. there was no note for this one.

the third day was a assortment of valentines balloons and a box of iced cookies and chocolate dipped strawberries with a note that said "to the most beautiful girl - your secret admirer"

the next 10 days got even freakier. you got multiple different jewelry options on different days, you got your favorite things in a basket one day, you got a build a bear one day with it already named and everything, you got at least 3 more bouquets all different colors and all different flowers, and on the 13th you received a box full of letters - like actually hand written love letters

you were going absolutely crazy. you couldn't figure out who it was but you knew it had to of been someone you were close to because they knew all of your preferences and likes/dislikes or i guess maybe you we're getting stalked right now

you're picky with your jewelry and they knew that somehow. all of the jewelry was picked and created the way you like all of your jewelry to be. not to mention you literally received a basket full of your favorite snacks,foods, smell good things, and clothing brands.

since the first day of february you have been going around asking all of your friends if it was them with all of them looking at you confused and saying no. someone had to of been lying, there was absolutely no way not one of them knew what was going on.

the letters you received on the 13th were your 13th reason - this was probably your biggest crash out

you were honestly starting to believe all your friends - that they had no idea what was going on, and you we're starting to panic

what if i have a stalker?

what if i am being watched right now?

do i need to call the cops?

those were only some of the thoughts running around in your head. your friends weren't helping either, they were only calling you dramatic and to live a little.

"you're getting expensive jewelry and gifts for free, just take it" one of your friends had told you after you told her you we're starting to get concerned

that did not ease any of your concerns. after you got back to the dorms from class you decided to study the letters and see what you could find out about your "secret admirer" - which was absolutely nothing other than they're down right in love with you.

while reading one of the letters there was a knock at your door making you look up towards that door and eventually stand up to open said door - only to see nobody there...like at all

you were about to close the door when a box on the ground caught your attention, making your breath hitch but slowly and hesitantly grab the box anyway and make your way back into the safety of your dorm - behind the closed and locked door obviously

when opening the box you come face to face with a beautiful white dress with puffy see-through sleeves, a pair of white red bottom high heels, and a note

come to the park tomorrow night @ 6:30 and wear this.

don't be scared, you know me.

- your secret admirer

you don't know wether to be relieved or more terrified. "don't be scared, you know me" could mean that you do actually know this person and they are your friend or it could mean that someone's been watching you enough to know that you're starting to get creeped out and want to make sure that you show up to the park.

you pull out the dress and the heels setting them on your desk when you see another note in the box

you once accidentally in high school spilt your drink all over your math teachers white pants and he gave you detention for a week.

-your secret admirer that's not a creepy stalker

you laughed at the signed name before remembering the other part of the note - there are only a few people that know that secret as you were really embarrassed about the whole situation, and those people are your immediate family ....and paige your best friend since high school

wait is paige my secret admirer? no she can't be. but she's the only other person that knows that. but there is absolutely no way paige is my secret admirer right?

you didn't sleep much that night. you were going back and forth with your brain wether paige was your secret admirer or not but your decided you were gonna go to the park that night

you couldn't keep questioning everything without getting answers and now? the answers are gonna be directly handed to you tonight, - obviously with your location on and sent to your mom and 9-1-1 on speed dial

it's finally time to leave. for the last few hours you've paced, showered, did your hair and makeup, paced some more, got dressed, paced, added jewelry and other accessories, talked your self out of going, talked your self back into going and left the house before you could change your mind again

you took your time in walking to the park, as one you were obviously wearing heels right now, and two your anxiety is skyrocketing right now

you spent the walk to the park thinking of everything. all the gifts, all the words in the letters, the note with your secret, your friends reactions, all of it, trying to figure out if maybe your secret admirer was paige.

it would make sense as she knows you better than anyone. she knows how you prefer your jewelry - which not a lot of people do, she knows ALL of your favorite foods and snacks, she knows all your favorite brands - not just your favorite type of clothes, the actual clothing brand, she knows how much you love stuffed animals, and how much you appreciate hand written letters

she knows everything about you, so her being your secret admirer would be a reasonable thought.

but you still can't wrap your head around that thought. you've been in love with paige since sophomore year of high school, you've just never said anything because you were scared of ruining the friendship + you didn't think she liked you back. you've been dating trashy men this whole time to hide your feelings for paige, but know it might not have been necessary?

you've snuck glances at her while she wasn't looking for years.

you've been her own personal cheerleader for years.

you've watched her in awe for years.

you've worn her jersey to games as a way to support her for years - but really you were also doing it for you, wearing her jersey or clothes in general felt safe to you, unlike wearing your then boyfriends clothes. they gave you a sense of comfort that you were scared to ask of her. you could be having a bad day and put on one of her hoodies and it feels like a soft bear hug from her - without actually getting the hug. the clothes are always a little oversized on you and no matter if she wore it last week or a month ago, it still has the faint smell of her. you could ask to borrow her clothes but you were scared to ask for a hug or comfort from her in general.

you've been her number 1 fan for  everything she does for years. she does no wrong in your eyes. if she's the reason the ball didn't go in during a game your not gonna admit that. your gonna say it was the other girls fault even if you and her both know that's not true, because that's your way of comforting her. she knows your never gonna blame her for stuff including the small meaningless things like wether she's the reason the ball went in or not.

so after years of yearning for her love, her comfort, her attention,  having her be your secret admirer feels like a dream you need to wake up from.

walking into the park you see an area lit up with fairy lights and candles nearby and start heading towards that

when you get closer you see a giant pink and white blanket on the ground with a picnic basket in the middle. wine glasses and wine on a small tray, a big wooden basket filled with what appears to be gifts, and a car parked just a few steps away with the trunk door open with fairy lights and a heart banner hanging from the door. the backseats were down and multiple blankets covering the seats with a few pillows

there also seemed to be a pile of clothes folded on top on the blanket made bed. "hey" you hear from the left making you turn your head to see paige walking out from behind a large tree with a bouquet of pink and purple flowers

"hey" you say back in a kinda relived tone "i know you probably have some questions so i'm just gonna start talking, first these are for you" she says nervously before walking closer to you and handing the flowers over to you, with you taking them "they're beautiful, thank you" you say after sniffing the flowers

"of course. um ok so i'm just gonna be straight up and say it. i love you. i'm in love with you. i have been ever since high school i was just scared to say it. i feel like now that we are both adults we're running out of time with our time together and i don't want that. i mean i'm entering the draft this year and am moving to texas, your going wherever your career takes you. we are both growing up and going down somewhat different paths. which is why i can't be scared to admit my feelings anymore. i'm definitely scared of you rejecting me but i can't be high school me anymore. that's not gonna get me anywhere other than losing you. i might still lose you after this but at least i won't be living in question wether you like me back or not."

"paig-" you try to say but get cut off "i'm not done. for years i've watched you get played,hurt, cheated on, mistreated, by guys that have no idea how much of an amazing person you are. they didn't know that they were losing a person that would drop everything for them, they didn't know that they were losing someone that would do anything for them, and every time you came to my room crying about the pain they caused you, i just wanted to wrap you in my arms and protect you from the world. show you how your supposed to be treated, buy you the flowers that they didn't think you deserved, buy you the gifts that they didn't want to spend their money on, give you all the attention,love, comfort, that they refused to give you. i don't want to watch you go through that again, i want to be to the one to buy you flowers, to buy you expensive things, to show you love because what they were showing you definitely wasn't love. i want to wake up beside you and be able to kiss you whenever and tell you i love you everyday-"

you set down the bouquet and run over to paige, immediately bringing her lips to yours in a rough passionate kiss

you pulled away for air first with paige chasing your lips before you put your hand on her chest "i love you so much. i've been in love with you since sophomore year of high school"

paige giggles at that confession "if only we communicated in high school right?" she says with an amused tone before pulling you back into her but this time the kiss was soft and gentle, saying the remaining words paige didn't get to say.

after the love confessions you and paige ate the food she packed and talked for awhile before paige saw you starting to shiver

"cmon" she says standing up and holding her hands out for you "what? where we going?" you asked while she pulled you up

she didn't answer and instead just pulled you to the car and handed you one of the stacks of clothes and grabbed a blanket holding it up

"get dressed in those, i'm gonna hold the blanket up and look away" you don't question her and do as she says, getting dressed in the way to long sweatpants and oversized hoodie that still smells like paige

"alright i'm done" you say making paige put down the blanket "get in the trunk and get comfy, im gonna go pick up our stuff" she says setting the blanket down "i can help?" you say watching her as she turned back around from walking towards the picnic area "nope, get comfy in the trunk, i'll be back." paige says before walking away

you just shake your head with an amused smile on your face but listen to her anyway and get in the trunk and under one of the blankets. you can see her grabbing all the stuff and then eventually made her way back to the car - putting all the stuff in the drivers seat before moving back to the trunk area, taking off the lights and heart banner on the outside of the car as there was some lights she hooked up around the inside of the car too - so you guys still had light

she then gets in the trunk herself, shutting the trunk door and handing you her ipad "find a movie or something for us to watch" you take the ipad from her and put the password in going to netflix

from the corner of your eye you can see her take off her open button up shirt and crop top leaving her in her bra before she puts on a team usa hoodie then also changing from her jeans to a matching pair of sweatpants

you look back towards the ipad before she sees you were definitely checking her out - deciding on the notebook

she takes her outfit she just took off and shoes putting them in the passenger seat before grabbing your dress and heels and doing the same

"did the heels fit good?" she asks while also going under the blanket and getting comfortable "yeah, but if you're gonna buy me stuff i'm putting you on a budget. today, plus the outfit, plus all the gifts leading up to today must've cost you a fortune." you say as she went onto her side, and grabbed the ipad putting it on the side of the car door in front of you

"how about i worry what i spend my money on and you enjoy being spoiled? cause i ain't gonna stop spoiling you." she says while wrapping her arm around your waist and turning you so your also on your side - with your back to her chest

you just shake your head amused before she reaches over and starts the movie. during the intro you and her both moved a little bit to get more comfortable before cuddling into each other more

halfway during the movie you could basically feel paige's nerves - for what reason? you have no idea so you just reach up and hold her hand that's above your head - as her arm is acting as a pillow right now

paige leans her head closer to your ear "will you be my girlfriend?" you turn your head before turning your whole body to face her and look into her eyes

you lean up and gently cradle her face in your hands and bringing her face to yours and giving her another passionate kiss

"yes i'll be your girlfriend"

🏷️ @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @authentic-girl03 @ldapper

[twistedpink]

Ask 2/2

Friendzoned Leona trying to get OUT! Let him smash!!!

I can see a new thing (like sneaky link but more comical) being friendzoned and trying to escape for the guys.

LET HIM SMASH!! This was so fun

Friendzoned!Leona is shamelessly obsessed with you, and he hates it. Hates that he can’t treasure you like you deserve- That he’s been pushed aside again and again just for you to seek out bottom of the barrel herbivores to warm your bed and share your time. Hates that he’s been left hungry, and that you have the power to fix it. You know it, even going as far to tease him! He hates that you’re so clever..

Friendzoned!Leona that’s domestic and shit for you- because that’s what friends do, don’t they? But your other friends don’t order breakfast just the way you like, or smother you in muscle to will you for a nap. You’re pretty sure his friends don’t get that treatment,, He’s even wormed his way into sharing a bathroom! It’s so convenient, and you’re the one making it weird when you shame him for walking around shirtless. It’s his damn room, so aren’t you being a bad friend for taking up a perfectly communal space? Don’t be shy, you’re used to taking eyefulls of your other friends- How’s he any different?

Friendzoned!Leona’s tired of all your gossip and whining,, Wouldn’t you rather take your mind off it? His hand sneaks beneath your waistband, and he kisses you breathless - You say he’s beautiful. That he’s someone’s perfect match - and he’s pushed away. Like he always is, because there’s bound to be someone better. Some.. soulmate that you click with, kind and handsome,, He’s right here. You just don’t see it. It’s not like you’re taking advantage of the guy! Friendzoned!Leona just has needs that you’re,, a little unfit for. Getting into relationships is supposed to be a magical thing! Sure you cuddle, and kiss, and hang out all the time, but you could never do that with a boyfriend! You’d be too busy cuddling, and kissing, and hanging out.. Damn it. You hope he doesn’t take it the wrong way- After all, you’re such great friends! Why ruin it with labels?

Friendzoned!Leona is without a doubt, your best friend. He might not seek you out as much as you’d like, but he cares in his own way! It’s inevitable that your boyfriends go to him for advice, and isn’t he so helpful? Telling them exactly how you like to be touched, what makes you roll over or bare your fangs.. There’s no way he’s the reason your relationships are so short lived! They’re just jealous of your friendship,, It’s not his fault he’s such a good rebound >:(

Friendzoned!Leona’ll always be there for you, so there’s no need to worry your pretty head about it! When you wake up beside him after a movie marathon just don’t mind him reaching for your phone. Oh, that guy ghosted you? It’s not that weird- It’s not like he knew you. At least, not like Leona, because there’s no one who knows you that well. Keep playing footsies with him under the covers, and one day something’s bound to snap.. He’s a very patient lion, so he’s sure you’ll enjoy the change when the time comes. For now, can’t you lay off the dating? For a friend? <3

[dustofwarfare]

I'm convinced most people have literally never met anyone in a relationship a)over the age of 35 or b)with an age gap of any amount, or the other possibility is that I see this from people who have not met anyone over the age of 35 at ALL. (No shade to the rebloggers, just thinking out loud here.)

My one partner is 15 years younger than me (I'm mid-forties), is a professional, and the only time you notice the age gap is that she sometimes has to explain memes to me and also, we have entirely different music tastes (but that's fun!) and childhood formative literature/cartoons. The horror! *eyeroll*

Also I was way more emotionally stable at 21 than 31 (I had a THING, I'm good now lol) and let people make their own choices! People who are adults are allowed to be adults and make, y'know, adult decisions. Also I have bad news about financial stability and how it's very often a transitory state, and can shift between partners for your ENTIRE LIFE, so. Let's not forget that!

It's like how people meet me and go, "I just can't believe you're in your 40's" and I'm like that's because we aren't actually piles of dust and people have weird ideas about being over 35, I promise you I would go back to no age before about 44 for all the money in the world, I cannot express to you how amazing it is ahhhh <3

can I be so honest. can I be so real. is this a safe space.

I don't actually think that a 21 year old hooking up with a 30 year old is that bad. I don't think it's a problem the way people make it out to be. that's two legal adults having sex, chief.

[this-is-exorsexism]

i'm seeing a rise right now of binary trans people saying how nonbinary oppression is very different from trans oppression. spoiler: they don't mean the fact that we experience exorsexism and they don't.

every time in the last few days i've seen this the phrasing has already been deeply exorsexist. "nonbinary vs trans", as if most nonbinary people aren't trans themselves. it's also always "nonbinary = not medically transitioning" and "not medically transitioning = less oppressed", which is not how any of this works. they also seem to think that all medical transition is visible from the outside. it's not. i want a hysterectomy one day. it's medical transition. you can't see it from the outside. firstly, why are you assuming nonbinary people who medically transition don't exist? are you just acting like they're trans men and women? is your distinction between "trans" and "nonbinary" that trans people medically transition while nonbinary people don't? fuck your truscum ass. the amount of scrutiny, discomfort, harassment, violence you face also isn't fully related to whether you medically transition or not. i've been asked invasive questions about my genitals ever since i hit puberty. even fellow transgender people have weird ways of trying to figure out what my "real gender" is, i.e. what my genitals are but you all aren't ready for that conversation. i've been harassed in public bathrooms. i've faced dismissal of my actual problem from doctors due to my gender. people call me he and she in mostly equal amounts. none of this lines up with their narrative of the non-medically transitioning nonbinary person who is always perceived as one binary gender (and that gender is usually female because everyone thinks we're women lite). what i don't (currently) have to deal with is getting a gender dysphoria diagnosis, fight for gender-affirming medical care, worry about my prescription being taken away. this isn't exclusive to nonbinary people though. there are binary trans people who don't medically transition, too, but i guess according to this idea soaked in transmedicalism, these people don't exist, or you're just misgendering them as nonbinary.

a lot of binary transgender people treat us the way cisgender people treat them. many seem to feel threatened that us weirdos who won't choose a side have quite a lot in common with them, actually.

when nonbinary people talk about exorsexist oppression, we're either straight up told to shut up or not listened to at all. we're told we're being divisive by talking about our own experiences (and we have to, because again, research doesn't really include us), when the people doing the dividing are binary trans people going "we have nothing in common with those people", treating us like we cannot be trans etc. it's a tale as old as time: the more privileged people within a group separating themselves from the less "respectable"/more marginalised people within the group and then accusing them of being divisive.

i'm sick and tired of binary transgender people theorising about what it's like being nonbinary. we're not hypotheticals. we're not thought experiments. we're real human beings you can listen to.

yes, our experiences are a bit different. but not because nonbinary people are less oppressed. because nonbinary people experience an extra layer of oppression that binary trans people don't: exorsexism.

[moonmunson]

pas de deux

to the anon that requested this, i know this isn't exactly what you asked for, but inspiration struck. i hope you like it.

cw: wally certified yearner and loverboy, me not knowing how to describe dancing, allusions to reader being murdered in a very traumatic way by her dance partner but no specifics, sfw

wc: 3k

Wally knows that what he’s attempting to do is misguided at best, and probably disastrous at worst. 

The idea came to him a few weeks ago. He’d been sitting with Charley and Rhonda, shooting the shit in the gymnasium before their meeting with Mr. Martin, when he’d asked, “Is it possible to break a ghost out of their loop?” 

To Charley’s credit, he’d attempted to take the question seriously. Rhonda had just rolled her eyes, removing the ever present lollipop from her mouth before interrupting.

“Again with this? Come on, loverboy. Not gonna happen.” 

Charley sighed, tutting at Rhonda before turning back to Wally, a sympathetic look on his face, “There’s always a chance it could work, but if you’re talking about who we think you’re talking about, I’d say they’re pretty slim.” 

“More than slim, I’d say,” Rhonda butts in again, “I’m surprised she hasn’t worn a hole through the floor, with the way she dances. Like a ballerina in a music box.” She spins her lollipop through the air, follows it with her eyes before shoving it back into her mouth. 

“Have I ever told you your attitude is annoying?” Wally asked, sinking back into his chair and crossing his arms over his chest, ignoring the scoff from Rhonda’s direction, “I’m just saying. We’ve never even tried. What if she’s like, aware in there, like in her mind.” He reaches up to run a hand through his hair - a nervous tick he hadn’t lost, even in death. 

“Does it matter? She’s still stuck here like the rest of us. Better to spend eternity dancing than dealing with the banalities of high school.” 

Mr. Martin walked in then, effectively ending the conversation. Through the whole meeting, Wally couldn’t stop thinking about it. He’d seen you in the auditorium before, looping over and over, stuck in an endless dance for two but lacking a partner. It’s a rare thing for a ghost to act the way you do - there haven’t really been any other deaths at the school that were traumatic enough to warrant a loop like yours, and he’d been determined to break you out of it. Screw Rhonda, he’d thought. He could do it, he just needed to figure out how. 

The problem was, Wally knew nothing about dancing. He's not the smartest guy. He knows that, but he’d been brainstorming different ways to break you out of your loop for a while now, with nothing to show for it. It’d been grating heavily on his nerves.

In a moment he’d regrettably look back on, he’d gone so far as to join you on stage to attempt a fake out. When he’d lunged at you, and you hadn’t even blinked in his direction, he started to think Rhonda was right. You couldn’t see him, you couldn’t hear him. You were stuck up there, doomed to spin around the stage for God knows how long and there was nothing he could do about it. 

Then one day, something really fucking weird had happened. 

—

He’d taken to sitting in the audience, to watch you dance. It was weird, more than a little morbid and slightly obsessive, but watching you move was captivating to him. 

He found some similarities between dancing and playing football - the finesse needed to dodge and weave through people trying to tackle him was one thing - but he’d never seen anyone move the way you do. Every move you made had purpose. The lines created by your arms and legs, the softness with which you carried yourself from one end of the stage to the other. 

Preoccupied with the pressures his mom applied to him, the weight of the world on his shoulders, he’d never taken an interest in dancing, other than the awkward slow side to side swaying he’d done with his Junior year girlfriend at the prom. Now, he wishes he could dance with you - wishes you could teach him to move like you do. 

You’re stuck there, like a spinning top that refuses to fall - unable to fall. Except, as he was watching you, something unthinkable happened. 

You were looking at him. Like, looking straight at him. 

It took him more than a few seconds to realize what was happening, and even then he couldn’t believe it. Charley had talked to him about dancers having a spot to look at when they’re spinning - how it keeps them from falling over, keeps them from becoming dizzy and messing up. Was it possible Wally just happened to be in the seat you used as a spot? 

He couldn’t tell if there was recognition in your eyes, if you were really looking at him or seeing right through him, the way a living person would. But your gaze was fixated on him either way. And your face, it… you just looked so sad. If he didn’t know better, Wally would’ve thought your expression was pleading, looking for help. It only lasted a few seconds, before you turned your head in a different direction and your body followed. It sent him reeling. 

He found Charley and Rhonda in the library, and told them what happened. Charley sat up in his chair, struggling to understand what he meant. 

“What do you mean she looked at you?” 

Wally went to explain it to them again, hoping they’d believe this was out of the norm, “I mean she looked at me, dude. She was up there spinning like she always is, and I was just sitting there watching -” 

“You were watching her? Voyeurism doesn’t suit you, loverboy.” Rhonda’s arms were crossed over her chest, legs folded over each other - closed off, like she always is. 

“It’s not like that and you know it,” Wally sighed, exasperated, “It was weird. At first I thought she was using me to spot, while she was twirling, but the way her face looked? I don’t know, dude. It was just weird.” 

“There’s a chance she was looking at you, don’t you think? We don’t really know how looping works, so,” Charley’s endless kindness is a relief to Wally - especially when he says things like, “I think it’s good, what you’re doing. I wish we could help more.” Charley looks over in Rhonda’s direction, nudging her to say something to Wally. 

“Yeah. As much as I give you flack for it, your whole -” Rhonda waves a hand in Wally’s general direction, “boy savior thing, I do wish there was something we could do for her. It sucks. Not having a partner to dance with.” There was a glint of remorse in Rhonda’s eye, more than Wally ever thought he’d see from her. 

A spark lights up in Wally’s head, a hidden spotlight finding its mark onstage  - landing on you, your flawless form.

“Do you think if I dance with her, that it could break the loop?” Wally asks, looking back and forth between his two friends. 

“It’s definitely worth a shot,” Charley shrugs, gaze turning to his left, “Rhonda? What do you think?” 

The beatnik pauses for a second, long enough for them to see the cogs turning in her brain. 

“Look, I’m not saying it’ll work. Probably won’t. But maybe,” Wally starts to smile, “Just maybe, if you try to connect with her on her terms, instead of trying to force some logic onto the situation, something might change.” 

“I don’t know how to dance, though. I don’t even know where to start.” Wally drops his head in his hands, shoulders hunched over. Charley reaches over, splays a hand on Wally’s back and rubs back and forth. 

“Think of it like football maybe? You’ve got your plays, right?” Wally nods, sitting up and urging Charley to continue, “Those are like the steps. Formations could be the positions you take, and in dancing, timing is everything. The same way it is in football, at least from what I’ve gathered of the rants you go on. Rhonda’s right. Maybe if you learn how she moves, you can try communicating with her that way.” 

Wally sits up, throwing his arms around his two friends, ignoring Rhonda attempting to push him away before jumping up from his spot on the couch. He nearly trips over himself to sprint out of the room and down the hall, towards the auditorium, shouting “Thank you!” behind him. 

—

Wally stood in the echoing auditorium, the stage lights illuminating the otherwise dark room. Every day for the past week, he’d come to you - trying to decipher a language he did not speak. He watched you, trapped in your endless pas de deux. Gliding through the same steps, turns, your desperate yearning clear up close. 

At first, he’d just tried to mimic you. Clumsy and tripping over his own feet, he’d stumbled through the basic positions, frustrated with himself. His movements were jerky and awkward, a stark contrast to your effortless grace. He felt silly - like a hulking figure trying to copy something delicate and precise, something that took years and years of training. 

Slowly, things started to shift. He stopped just watching and copying, instead starting to feel the music that wasn’t there. He began to understand the reasoning behind your movements, the emotions they expressed. He started to see the gaps in your performance, the place where someone was supposed to fit, to complete the cycle you’d been stuck in. 

He started to see the places where he could fit. 

He wasn’t just mirroring anymore, he was learning the language. Each day he got a little closer, a little less clumsy, a little more in tune with the phantom rhythm that filled the empty auditorium. He was still a football player, and he always would be, but he was learning to use some of that training to become a dancer, too. For you. 

Wally knew this might not even work. He’d been in his head about it for a week at this point, and not even Charley or Rhonda could break him out of the loop he’d pulled himself into. He stopped going to the life support meetings in the gymnasium, much to Mr. Martin’s dismay - instead going to spend all of his free time right there next to you onstage. 

He put more effort into practicing for this than he ever did for one of his football games, a feeling of true purpose guiding his every movement. 

When the day finally came, Wally felt calm. He felt ready. 

He walked onto the stage, ready to put his rehearsing to the test. Ready to run the play, to score the winning point. You began your routine, perfect and meticulous and haunting as ever. This time, though, Wally didn’t just watch. He joined you. 

He didn’t try to lead, didn’t try to impose himself or change your dance, he simply became your partner. He matched your movements as best as he could, trying to feel his way through the dance. Trying not to be too robotic, but instead trying to move with the same empathy and yearning that he’d watched you dance with over and over. 

As you reached the point in your dance where your partner should have joined, Wally was there. He wasn’t a perfect dancer, not by any metric, but he was present. He was the missing piece. 

As your movements intertwined, a visible shift occurred. You, you who had been trapped in this endless cycle of longing, suddenly seemed to notice him. Your eyes, usually fixated on some distant point, flickered - focusing on Wally for the first time. Genuinely seeing him. Your eyes filled with tears, and as one of them dropped onto your cheek, Wally went to wipe it away. 

The music, which up until this point had only been an idea in Wally’s head, suddenly seemed to fill the auditorium, bouncing off of the walls and echoing around the two of you. Your dance became a true pas de deux, a conversation of movement and emotion. 

As the music started to slow, Wally found himself on unsure footing. He hadn’t stopped to think before about how the dance was supposed to end, but it didn’t matter. Grasping his hands in your own, taking the lead and guiding him through the end, the two of you moved in perfect harmony. Spectral echoes of each other, gazes connected and satisfaction blooming. 

The yearning in your movements softened, replaced by a sense of completion. The music faded, leaving the two of you in silence. For half a second, Wally thought you’d cross over, leaving him onstage by himself. Instead, you turned to him, a small smile gracing your lips. You didn’t fade. You were still there - as solid as he was. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, “You helped me finish.” 

Wally stood stock still, surprise still echoed on his features. He couldn’t believe he’d actually done it. You looked around the empty auditorium, eyes tracking over the seats before landing on him again, “I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited to finish that dance.” 

“I’m glad I could help you,” Wally stutters out, a pink flush on his face, “I know I’m not the best dancer.” You laugh, a sweet, girlish thing. In the five minutes that had passed since the dance finished, Wally swore he could see the weight being lifted from your chest. 

“You were perfect.” A flicker of sadness crossed your face, quickly replaced by gentle acceptance, “I… I don’t think I’m going anywhere, I’m still here, but…” you emphasized, palms open and gesturing to the stage around you, “but, I think it’s different now. I’m not stuck anymore.” 

“That’s good!” Wally’s face lit up, empathetic and gleeful. 

Your own smile brightened, affected by his sheer amount of happiness for you. You took his hand, solid and steady in yours. 

“What do I do now?” you asked, eyebrows turned up and inward, “Do ghosts sleep? I feel like I need to sleep for a month.” 

Wally giggled, leading you down the side stage steps and down the rows of seats, out of the auditorium, “We don’t need to sleep, but you can if you want to. You want me to show you my hiding space?” You nod, following him down the hallway.

When he passes the teacher’s lounge, and Charley and Rhonda see whose hand he has grasped in his, he winks at their shocked expressions before continuing down the stretch of linoleum and lockers. 

—

Life - or, afterlife, you suppose - has been weird since Wally broke you out of your loop. The first couple of days were extremely rough, spent trying to understand just how long you’d been up on that stage. A new member of Mr. Martin’s life support group, everyone has been extremely welcoming to you. 

Because ghosts don’t need to sleep, you haven't experienced any nightmares, something you’re exceedingly grateful for. Even so, you wake up from your naps feeling uneasy. Flashes of the end of your life playing in your mind, reminding you of the circumstances surrounding your death. 

You’re not ready to talk to the group about it, but Wally hasn’t left your side since he’d woken you from your reverie. You tell him about it in bits and pieces - about your dance partner, a shy, kind boy, turned cold blooded killer. The specifics of it don’t matter anyways. He can’t hurt you anymore, and according to the computers in the library, he couldn’t hurt anyone anymore -  following you into that good night soon after the police had taken him away. 

You learn that your family moved out of Wisconsin a decade ago, in an attempt to escape the media following them around and shouting questions at them, about a court case that didn’t happen because there was nobody to put on trial. You hope wherever they were, that they found some semblance of peace. 

Wally has been an incredible influence on you, and after settling into what the rest of your eternity might look like, you’ve had the same effect on him. He didn’t expect you to dance again any time soon, if ever, but he’d catch you by yourself sometimes - stretching your legs, sitting on the floor with your arms poised in that certain way. 

Then, after a year spent together going to meetings and finding hidden corners in the school to make out like true teenagers, he’d found you in Split River High’s newly minted dance room - sock covered feet gliding over the lacquered floor, hope and joy baked into your movements instead of the grief and melancholy he’d become so accustomed to in your previous routine.  

Out of the corner of your eye, when you’d seen him peeking through the window, you’d beckoned him in to join you. You started to truly teach him how to dance - guiding him through Pliés and Relevés and giggling at him when his lanky legs got in his own way. 

“You’d be better at this if you were shorter, I think,” you’d said, a smile unable to hide taking over your face, “but you look pretty good.” 

“Pretty good? These legs saved you, babe,” Wally scoffed, wiggling his toes to get you to laugh.  He always succeeded in that. 

“You’re right, you’re right,” you walked over to stand nearer to him, eyes angled upward to meet his honey brown ones, “the prince to my sleeping beauty, how could I forget?” 

“Damn straight, I’m your prince,” Wally’s warm hands grasped your cheeks, his mouth lowering to meet yours for a few seconds before gently shoving you away, “now show me how to do that thing again? I think I’m finally getting it.” 

—

Rhonda would never admit it, but she’d been especially proud of the effort Wally had put in to drag you from your loop. She knows everyone thinks she’s cold hearted, and she agrees to a certain extent, but she’d known the agony Wally felt when he thought he couldn’t help you. She’d never tell anyone this, either, but she’d snuck into the auditorium the night that he’d broken your loop - woken you up from your neverending nightmare. She’d stood alone, in the back and out of view, a smile etched on her features.

“You go, loverboy.”

a/n: tysm for this request! this was honestly the most fun i've ever had writing something. the inspiration was crazy and even though i know nothing about dancing i hope this is readable and easy to follow because i'm immensely proud of it. anon if you liked it pls lmk! I'm having such a fun time writing for wally so PLS send in any requests you have!!!

also, don't forget to like and reblog!

[sirfrogsworth]

I'm glad folks seem to like my light and effort photography post because I nearly melted my brain trying to write it. Every long post I write usually takes several days and a lot of mental discomfort. But I need to write for my sanity, so I keep on keepin' on.

My recovery is going so slow. In two months I have reduced the dose of the offending medication by 75%. Which sounds like a great success when you say it out loud, but it feels pretty miserable most of the time. The last 25% is proving to be much harder.

It is kind of a mindfuck because the worse I feel the more progress I am making. When I feel shitty, I feel productive. When I don't feel as bad, I feel guilty for slowing my progress.

I am bored because I struggle to concentrate. I am lonely because it is very hard to communicate with friends. My CFS is greatly exacerbated to where it feels like my limbs weigh a thousand pounds. My house continues to be a disaster zone because I can't clean. I barely have any counter space because I am too tired to wash dishes.

I've reached that point of desperation where I keep cleaning the same spoon over and over again.

I have simplified my self care to food, medicine, and sleep. I make sure I am eating. I make sure I take my meds. And I make sure I get as much sleep as possible. I will sort the rest out later.

I haven't been able to do any photography or photo editing in the last 4 months. I miss it very much. But creating that post and giving out photography advice helps a little. Even if it was difficult to write.

It's weird looking at my photography from over 7 years ago. It feels good that a lot of it still holds up. But I know so much more than I used to. Especially when it comes to studio lighting. I have all of this unrealized potential and no energy to create new photos. I have leveled up so much and it is frustrating when I can't show off what I'm capable of now. But I'm hoping if my recovery is successful I can finish building my home studio and photograph cool shit.

In the meantime, I do find photography education rewarding when I have the energy. If my body was fully cured tomorrow I think I would try to be an actual teacher of photography. I really enjoy sharing what I've learned and I think I am pretty good at it. The internet has been a great resource for knowledge but lately it feels like there is a lot of educational noise. It is really difficult for beginners to tell the difference between good and bad information. I look at some of these threads in the "Ask Photography" subreddit and many of the answers make me cringe.

I feel bad because I could really help some of these folks seeking answers but they are stuck with people who aren't really suited to educate. Either they don't know what they don't know and are too confident in their current expertise—causing slightly inaccurate to straight up confusing to blatantly wrong answers.

Or they do know their shit but are patronizing and arrogant to newbies.

I won't lie, there *are* stupid questions. But it is still best practice to act as if there are no stupid questions.

It's hard for me to criticize too much because I started a photography education Tumblr way before I was qualified to do so. I really thought I knew what I was talking about but I did not fully understand what I was teaching. I was mostly parroting what I heard from actual qualified educators. Thankfully when I look back at those posts all of the information is fairly accurate. It seems my saving grace was selecting good teachers.

Knowledge is so weird. You can have the correct information in your brain. You can use that information to get good results. But it is entirely possible to not understand that information.

I actually had a personal "eureka!" moment where everything unlocked almost all at once. I was watching a tutorial and the teacher talked about "image forming reflections" and it felt like every neuron in my brain fired at the same time. I had an epiphany and ever since I have had a deep understanding of light.

Just a single phrase inspired a realization that caused a cascade of other realizations. I've never experienced anything quite like that.

Have any of you ever had an epiphany like that? Aside from that single instance, I've only had mini-epiphanies. Like when I realized the moon is just constantly falling and missing the earth. My brain always imagined astronauts and satellites and the moon as things floating out in space. But everything in the universe is just free falling... all the time. Tom Petty knows what I'm talking about.

But that baby epiphany failed to unlock understanding for all of quantum gravity.

What was this post about?

I think I rambled into a few tangents.

In any case, I feel like crap and that's fantastic.

[onbearfeet]

Generally speaking, any story gets a certain amount of time at the start to set up its premise, however absurd. Anything that differs from everyday reality can be acceptable if it's set up properly.

A kid gets bit by a radioactive/bioengineered/magic spider and gets superpowers? Cool, now I know this is a universe where people get superhero powers from weird shit. Tell me a story about it.

There's a space war and two robots are on the run with a macguffin they got from a space princess? Okeydoke, I will accept the existence of all those things for the next hour or two. Tell me a story.

There's an island full of magic science dinosaurs and some idiots are touring it? Noted. Tell me a story.

"This would never happen" is only a valid criticism when "this" violates the established premise in some important way. If the dinosaurs get loose in Jurassic Park and everyone on the tour remains calm and unbothered, THAT is something that would never happen because the premise has not established that the humans in this universe would somehow not be scared of a T. rex. If you establish the tyrannosaur at the start, I will accept anything that seems to flow logically from that premise. She eats goats? Sure, carnivores sometimes do that. She wants out? Lots of caged animals do. She makes Godzilla noises? Ehh, I don't know what they sounded like, so that's as good a guess as anything I could come up with.

If the T. rex suddenly sprouts wings and flies away, on the other hand, I will call bullshit. If she builds a spaceship, I will call bullshit. If she starts reciting Shakespeare, I will ... actually be very interested, but I will also no longer even pretend to suspend my disbelief.

The T. rex herself is not a plot hole unless the movie hasn't established that dinosaurs are a thing that can happen.

"This would never happen" is a statement about rules being broken. It has its place, but only AFTER we all agree on what the rules are.

Call me a bad movie lover if you want, but I legitimately think people are being too critical on movies in a very uncritical way. “this would never happen” that’s the premise of the movie. What if it happened, what would the characters do? What is it trying to say about a situation and the people in it? Sure, some movies don’t do a very good job of tying up plot holes or creating believable motivations, but it’s also up to You to buy into the plot, to suspend your disbelief enough to watch the fucking movie.

[johnwickb1tsch]

lessons in anatomy VI

a yandere art professor Wick x drawing model muse! reader AU... (also featuring Matt from River's Edge) masterlist/chapter map

VI.

-Stewing in agony after the awkward ending to your otherwise pleasant encounter with Professor Wick, you spend the whole rest of the weekend working on a miniature diorama of a little girl living in the desert with a pet jackalope. It’s actually been a while since you made one, and by the time it’s done you do feel a little more sane. 

A psychologist might have said something about reclaiming the innocence from a conversation you wish had gone differently, or perhaps a longing for girlhood in which you did not have to worry about every conversation with a man turning into a sexual pitfall. Either way, the end result is cute, and weird, and you add it to the shelf with all your other little scenes. 

You are aware that most of your art comes from the bottomless well of dissatisfaction inside you. A part of you fears that if you ever did manage to get your shit together, you might not make art anymore. Maybe someday you’ll beat the game, retire to a cottage in the countryside, and fill your time with paint by numbers and talking to your numerous cats…

Until then, you’re currently living the glamorous life of No Sex In The City…and you have to go to work. 

-A week later, it seems Matt has decided to ignore Wick’s directive, or at least has decided they’re not mutually exclusive. He is meeting your eyes again, even shooting you a shy smile before class begins. It’s silly, what a thrill this gives you, like a glitter bomb gone off inside your heart. Perhaps after spending all weekend torturing yourself over Professor Wick, it just feels good to flirt with someone who is almost your own age. 

Or perhaps you’re a fickle creature in need of an intervention. 

Matt sits with you again under your maple tree, and even though you’re both quiet souls, it is surprisingly easy to talk to him. You talk about where you’re from and your families. You learn he moved here from out of state with his band mates, and that he never really had a happy home life.

He lets you flip through his sketchbook, and with every page you feel yourself softening towards him by the second. He really is very talented, and on top of that his drawings have a dreamlike quality that sucks you in. 

You pause on a two page spread filled with dark black lines and color. It’s a Chagall-esque bird’s eye view of a little town, houses and businesses, people going about their day, a bridge, a forest by a rolling river. It’s a seemingly happy and complex composition, until your eye settles on a pale form by the river bank far in the corner, a woman lying naked and alone in the cold. For some reason an uneasy, icy feeling creeps through your veins. Is she dead? 

“What is this, Matt?” you ask, taking in the details again. 

He seems to panic a little, reaching out to take back his book, closing it and tucking it into his backpack. “It’s just a dream I had,” he tells you, shaking his shoulders like he’s got the creeps. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

So you change the subject, but you still wonder. 

-Maybe Professor Wick was unfairly harsh to Matt, but you’re heartened to see the young man seems to have decided to rise to the challenge. He doubles his effort in his drawing, taking Wick’s direction and then some–the result would be stunning, but he runs out of time. The study is only half finished after three hours, and you can tell from your elevated place in the center of the class that he is miserable about it. 

“Wick is going to fucking annihilate me,” he mourns as you stand beside him looking at the drawing, now dressed in your robe. 

Critique is at the end of the week, and the students are allowed to work on their drawings on their own time until then, but they’re not allowed to take pictures of you for reference for obvious reasons of privacy. You’re afraid he’s right, and your heart goes out to him. He seems like such a sweet young man, and you don’t understand why John seems to have it out for him. 

“How much time do you need?” you ask under your breath, conscious of the man in undertaker’s black at his desk across the room. 

“I dunno. A couple hours?” he laments, and you elbow him to keep his voice down. 

“I could help you.” Finally understanding, he shoots a look with those wide dark eyes over at the teacher, before returning his attention to you. Those plush pink lips part with surprise, and you tell yourself that you’re not offering to do this because he’s the prettiest [and the saddest] boy you’ve ever seen. 

“You’d do that?” 

“You’re really talented, Matt. I want you to succeed.” 

He looks at you through his long hair like no one has ever said anything like that to him before. “That’s…really nice of you.” 

“Maybe I’m just vain,” you deflect. “This is going to be your best work...if you finish it.” You think you can tell that he has it in him to be great at this–maybe no one has ever given him that last nudge before. 

Maybe Wick knew what he was doing, being tough on him? 

Could be, but mostly, it felt like he was being a jerk, and you don’t want Matt to have to go through it again.  

----

TBC...

___

masterlist/chapter map pinterest board/ photo credits

[obsessedhoneycomb]

Red Mercedes

George Russell x fem!reader

Summary: Perfect married life sometimes hides the rotten truth of lies.

Warnings: cheating, slight manipulation, George getting what’s his at all cost, curse words and smut implication

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: After a frustrating week of not having any good ideas, I had a dream, so I finally had something to pour my heart into. It was so intense that it didn't let me eat my lunch, how fast my fingers drummed at the keyboard and my thoughts flew out of my brain. Enjoy it! :) wanted to include my favorite pregnancy trope, but i decided to not go that way this time

———

“Dad, I’m trying to tell you that mum is acting weird.” Your twelve year old son was travelling with George to Cayman Island for this event he was invited to, to speak about his ongoing career path as a leading F1 champion. 

George glanced at him, his hands gripping the steering wheel, regally upset about the fact that even your son noticed that something isn't right with your marriage.

“Mum is just tired. That’s all.” he tried to brush it off, but he knew. 

“You know, dad, I’m not stupid. I saw her with some man a week ago, sitting at the restaurant when we were out on a bike with boys. She was smiling at him like… Well, not like she’s smiling at you.” his son continued to ponder with his thoughts, pouring his mind out, making George feel uneasy. Pulling over at the hotel they were supposed to stay at, engine off, he turned his body to face his son.

“Buddy, I know that you love your mom, hell, who could not love her.. But she’s- it’s just a phase. I’m gonna figure it out, and you have nothing to worry about.” he tried to reassure him with his soft smile, his eyes betraying him, reflecting the weight of the growing lies.

———

“I see that you’re here with your son, he grew so much throughout the years, aren’t you afraid that he’s gonna be after you soon, you know, with racing and stuff?” 

George chuckled, moving his gaze at his giggling son in the first row, his sweaty palm wrapped around the microphone. “Well, there is the possibility, but his hobbies are different. He’s much more of a cyclist, so I think that Tadej Pogacar should be scared of having another rival.” 

“Oh, that’s great! Guess the Russell’s family is spreading through the field of sports. It’s a shame that your wife isn’t here with us, we had planned to have a family photo shoot for you, also spending some time on the yacht with the staff here.” 

George was professional at keeping his composure, so he just chuckled again, looking at the crowd of people in the small room.

“We can do that anyway, we don’t need my wife for that. She’s busy with some of her other projects, so…” 

Everybody seemed to be happy about it, not noticing the slight frown on George’s face and his son’s.

You were staying at home in Monaco, texting with your lover. Your naive brain was living in an illusion that nobody knows, you sneaking around with someone else, secret meetings at the old restaurant on the other side of the town, your red luxurious Mercedes parked in front of it very often. You were really dumb in some aspects and being so careless about getting after your own desires, you hurt your family in the process.

All those years of your marriage you heard it around you all the time, how George is a gentleman, kind guy, loving and caring husband and father, how every other woman would die for having him just for at least five minutes. But nobody saw that toll that had an impact on you, your life when you fell pregnant unexpectedly, and how George married you just because of it. Feeding you with all those empty promises, but leaving you alone through all that maternity shit because he was at the peak of his career while you were breastfeeding his restless son at night.

Yeah, there were times you were genuinely happy as a family, somewhere between the three to ten years of your son, George was more present, you accompanied him at races from time to time, depending on how his and your parents were willing to look after your kid. 

But the last two years felt like a nightmare, because George won another two championships after five years of no luck, his fans being literally everywhere, even breaking into your home. You spent a lot of time on the go, changing your location and you grew tired of this. Intimity between you and George was long gone, and you yearned for something he couldn’t give you, the tension, secrecy and passion. Even if it meant to destroy everything you have.

———

Darkness overtook the docks in Monaco, rain washing away the summer heat wave. George stood at the huge ass window of your penthouse, sipping on his whiskey, even though he did not favour the liquid that much, he got used to it from time to time. Your son was away for the holiday cycling camp, and with summer break in F1, it left him home alone with the lingering scent of your expensive perfume you saved for your not so secret lover. His mind wandered over divorce, but he was too prideful to let it happen. He didn’t care about your needs, shameful desires, he wanted to keep his family together. Even if it meant to ruin your sweet secret life. And he knew his plan was working the minute you stepped into your home through the threshold, sobbing quietly, with your dress soaked through, droplets of water dripping down your hair. His lips curling into smirk, he took the last sip of his drink, leaving the glass on the coffee table in the living room, walking slowly to the hallway.

You kicked off your heels, running your hands through your wet hair, wiping off your tears along the way, your mascara staining your cheeks. Feeling how your dress is sticking to your body, you let out a frustrated sigh with a whine, finally noticing George standing in the doorway, his arms folded over his chest wearing an unreadable expression.

“What’s the matter baby?” his tone was laced with smugness, he couldn’t hold it back anymore, seeing the mess you were.

“Nothing.” you muttered, trying to walk around him to get to the bathroom, but he was after you.

“You’re clearly distressed. Tell me what happened. You were supposed to have a night out with girls, if I remember correctly?” yeah, he was playing dumb.

“I was. But my car left me in the parking lot, because the smoke started to go out of the engine and I needed to call the towing service and-” you stopped in your rant abruptly as you got to the part you wanted to erase from your memory and you didn’t want to talk about it with George.

“And? Tell me darling.” his tone was firm, demanding, he caged your body against the counter in the bathroom.

You looked up to see his face, locking your gaze with his, reading his mind. He knew. And yet he was still there.

“He left me.” with your head slumped down you whispered feeling deeply ashamed. 

George smiled victoriously as the memory from earlier this week flashed through his mind, him paying that pathetic lover of yours loads of money to leave you, to ruin you, to destroy you.

“Oh baby.” he cooed sweetly, cupping that mascara stained cheeks of yours, listening to your sobs. And that was the last straw and you broke down in tears, all of the suppressed emotions flowing out as you wrapped your arms around him tightly, remorse and guilt building in your heart. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry…” you whispered into his chest, your tears staining his shirt. 

“Shhh… I’m right here baby. It’s okay.” his fingers brushed through your hair affectionately, making you relax.

“You should be disgusted with me…” 

“Believe me, I was at first. But from your point of view I somehow understood it.” 

“How… How long have you known?”

“Since the first time you giggled at your phone.”

“I thought that I’m good at hiding it.” 

“Oh, you were so naive that I won’t notice. You weren’t even creative at hiding your car properly. That exclusive red shade of it doesn't go unnoticed. Even our son saw you many times.” 

You shuddered when you felt his lips ghosting against your temple. The mention of your son stabbed you through your heart. 

“George, I-” 

“Shhh, darling. Your stupid boyfriend ditched you, so let your husband, the man who truly knows how to devour you, take care of you.” George whispered with a soft hum, his lips pressed under your ear.

The way he talked made you feel ashamed. But it ignited something within you, the lust and desire for him. And it made you curse internally at how dumb you were for the past years.

“I’m gonna make sure you remember who you belong to.” 

After the night to remember when George really took you like a slut you were, listening to your whines and moans, making you tell him how that lover made you feel, what he did to you, he made sure that you won’t escape his embrace again. Watching you sleep beside him, your body covered in love bruises and marks he hasn’t seen on you for months, he brushed the strand of your hair from your face, smiling proudly at how easy you were. All those years he thought you’re this soft and reserved girl who likes vanilla in bed, only to find out that you loved to be cock drunk all the time, overstimulated to the madness to keep your mind from wandering outside of the wedlock. 

“You were so wrong to think that I’d let you go, my beautiful wife…” and his whisper lingered through your sleeping brain like a lullaby.

-

Please don't use my writings without a permission. Pictures found on Pinterest.

Tags: @chilling-seavey

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hi! Hi! Fiesta time requesting to ya and was hoping if can place this ask here. I made sure to read you're rules so if I do somthing wrong then ignore my ask.

So Yautja's know that humans do not have strong instics as they do but they have certain things the Yautja don't have. Like uncanny valley.

So in this, the Yautja is with their human when they suddenly freeze. When they ask their human what's wrong, they don't awnser, just stearing off at somthing that they see. The Yautja can smell the fear and panic off of them.

What does the Yautja do?

Please please please please ignore this if I went aginst you're rules! Have a good day/night

Male Yautja OC (Bako) x male reader

Headcanons

I imagined this as Bako, who was mentioned a few times in my last yautja post, which you can read here.

Bako is a very chill Yautja compared to others. Hes already had multiple offspring and is still in his prime. It gives him a good amount of confidence and comfort in himself.

It also makes him a bit of a tease to his ooman lover, throwing you over his shoulder or just moving you around as he pleased, unless it really annoys you when he does.

He loves the size difference between you as well. You’ll catch him pressing his orange scaled hand against your own every now and then just to look at the difference. Bako always grumbles happily a about it.

But just because he’s more chill than most Yautja doesn’t mean he isn’t as active and aware as everyone else, he’s just great at hiding it behind an easygoing facade. Dating a normal ooman definitely makes him even more on edge and protective.

Hed try to teach you how to at least defend yourself or how to sharpen your instincts enough to protect yourself. You might not be able to kill another yautja in their prime, but you will be able to maul them enough to give you time to get away. Then he will hunt them down and present their skull to you.

Seeing you with a weapon also makes him grumble even more, arms crossed over his chest and his yellow eyes sparkling as he watches you use different firearms. Especially the firearms hes specially kitted for you to fit your hands and size.

If you take an interest in camoflague hed be more than happy to show you too, since hes mastered the art. Even without all his gear, Bako is able to melt into the background with ease after years of practice.

Having a more colorful shade in his scales meant he had to be really good at what he did, or he would have died one way or another. He just has to figure out how to really blend the different colors on your human skin.

But even with all this, Bako is always weary like any Yautja worth their salt should be. This is also why he notices pretty much immediately that you are weirded out or weary about something.

Having a Yautja partner can be pretty damn annoying sometimes with how protective and possessive they’ll be. Even if you guys are walking through what’s supposed to be a peaceful market, you still find Bako almost glued against your back.

Maybe you spot a species that just looks… uncomfortably human. But not really. You know like those ai robots that have skin that doesn’t really fit, or they blink too slowly and more too stiffly.

It makes you freeze for a moment, immediately sending alarm bells ringing inside Bakos head. There should be no reason for you to freeze, his clan had come to this market for years and it should be safe.

But smelling the discomfort and uncomfortable fear from you makes his mandibles flare under his mask, looking down at you for a moment to see where you are looking, before snapping his head in that direction, ready to kill.

Of course, you end up having to hold him back and explain that no, that alien didn’t say or do anything, yes, you were okay. It was just a weird human survival reaction.

You end up having to explain uncanny valley to him, and how once upon a time, humans developed pattern recognition for survival reasons.

This makes sense to Bako after you explain. He mentions something about other species that looked like humans coming to earth, to hunt humans, so of course you guys developed survival instincts against them.

This has you thinking “excuse me, what?” because what did he mean by that. of course, Bako just shrugs and goes “I thought you knew” and keeps you guys moving, as if he didn’t just drop that bomb on you.

Bako keeps being extra protective the rest of the day, as if just the smell of your fear keeps him on edge. Just in case, ya know? What if something jumps out of the shadows at you? You never knew out here. You just have to accept it, and accept all the cuddles later.

[maddie0101]

𖤐 heated waters

𖤐 summary: instead of staying in another motel, you brought dean to a nice five star hotel. you suggested that a vacation would help the two of you relax, but what happens when things get too steamy in the hot tub?

𖤐 warnings: smut!!!, best friends to lovers, horny idiots in love w each other, some dirty talk, sexual tension, fingering, teasing, p in v, semi-public sex, dean having trouble breathing bc reader is in a bikini, hot tub sex, wrap it before you tap it guys.

𖤐 word count: 4.2k

Convincing Dean to take a vacation had been a fight. You only rolled your eyes as he grumbled when you checked into the fancy hotel, eyeing the pristine lobby like it might be cursed.

“Yeah, if I left it up to you, we’d be sleeping in the Impala with a six-pack and motel vending machine snacks,” you shot back, handing the receptionist your credit card.

Dean had rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. And now, after a long day of actually relaxing for once, lounging by the pool, eating real food that wasn’t from a gas station, and even letting himself enjoy a massage, you had managed to talk him into drinking in the hot tub.

You quickly rummaged through your bag for your swimsuit, excited and very pleased with yourself at the grand idea. “I’ll be out in a second,” you called over your shoulder as you disappeared into the bathroom.

Dean, still lying on the massive hotel bed, waved you off. “Yeah, yeah. Take your time, sweetheart.”

Shaking your head, you slipped into your bikini, adjusting the ties and checking yourself in the mirror. You had never really thought about what Dean would think of you in something like this. He’d seen you in plenty of different outfits over the years—blood-soaked, dirt-covered, even in a towel after hurried showers between hunts. But this felt different and you couldn't lie to yourself, you were a little excited. Brushing off the weird flutter in your chest, you finally stepped out of the bathroom.

You barely took two steps before realizing that Dean had gone completely still. He was still lying on the bed, beer in hand, but now his knuckles were white around the bottle. His mouth had parted slightly, and his eyes—oh, his eyes—had gone dark as they flickered over you.

His expression was unreadable at first, a mixture of shock and something else, something you couldn't quite read. But as quickly as it appeared, he reeled it back in, clearing his throat and gripping his beer like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

You smirked. “Something wrong, Dean?”

Dean blinked, like he had just been pulled from a trance. “Nope.”His voice came out strained, rougher than usual. His gaze darted up to yours, then away just as fast.

You crossed your arms, tilting your head. “You sure? You’re acting weird.”

Dean let out a breath, dragging a hand through his hair. “Just—uh—didn’t expect you to—y’know—walk out wearing that.”

You raised a brow, amused. “That? Dean, it’s a bikini. We’re going to a hot tub.”

Dean let out a tight chuckle, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. “Right. Totally normal. No big deal.”

Dean's jaw locked, his knee started bouncing like he was physically restraining himself. He hadn’t taken another sip of his beer—hadn’t moved—just sat there, like if he twitched the wrong way, he might lose it. You smiled to yourself. And, okay, maybe you shouldn’t have found it so entertaining, but Dean Winchester—flustered? Awkward? Almost short-circuiting because of you? It was delicious and you were eating every second of this moment up.

You walked past him toward the minibar, feeling his eyes follow you despite his best effort. “Relax, Winchester,” you teased, grabbing a tiny bottle of whiskey. “It’s not like you haven’t seen a girl in a bikini before.”

Dean exhaled sharply, muttering under his breath. “Yeah, but not you." The words were so quiet, definitely not meant for you to hear, but you did. And your stomach flipped.

You turned just in time to see him stand abruptly, grabbing his swim trunks like they might save him. “I’ll, uh, get changed.” His voice was gruff and his movements hurried. He didn’t meet your gaze as he all but escaped into the bathroom.

But by the time the door clicked shut, you were grinning like an idiot.

By the time he finally emerged, looking as put-together as someone who just had a mini-crisis could, you were already lounging in the hot tub, sipping on your drink.

But now it was your turn to struggle. Because—holy hell. Dean walked toward the tub, rolling his shoulders, his shirt hanging from his fingers. He tugged it off in one smooth motion, muscles flexing...Your brain short-circuited.

You’d seen him shirtless before—patching up injuries, post-hunt showers, those rare summer days where he ditched the flannel. But something about this moment—the setting, the low glow of the patio lights casting golden shadows over his skin, the way his abs flexed as he stepped into the bubbling water—was unfair.

Dean settled across from you, sinking into the warmth, letting out a satisfied groan. “Damn,” he muttered. “Okay, maybe this was a good idea.”

You barely heard him over the sound of your own heart pounding. Dean cracked an eye open, catching you staring. A slow smirk crept across his lips. “Something wrong, sweetheart?”

Oh. You realized, too late, that you had been blatantly ogling him. You quickly looked away, face heating. “Nope. Just wondering if you’re gonna keep sitting there looking smug or actually drink.”

Dean let out a chuckle, bringing his whiskey to his lips. “Mmhm. Sure.”

The tension between you was thick. And you both knew it. Neither of you spoke for a moment, the bubbling water swirling between you, the night air warm and heavy. Dean stretched his arms out along the edge of the hot tub, tilting his head back with a satisfied sigh. The patio lights cast a soft golden glow over his skin, highlighting the broad planes of his chest, the water glistening over his collarbones.

You swallowed hard and quickly took a sip of your drink, focusing very intently on the dark sky above. You were not about to get caught ogling Dean Winchester, of all people. It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen him shirtless before—after years on the road together, motel rooms and shared living spaces had provided plenty of accidental glimpses. But this was different. The two of you weren’t post-hunt, covered in sweat and blood. This wasn’t some rushed moment between showers or changing clothes. This was slow. Unhurried. And worst of all? You were supposed to be relaxing. Yet here you were, gripping your glass like it was the only thing keeping you tethered to sanity, your body all too aware of the man sitting just across from you.

Dean let out another sigh, shifting slightly in the water. “Damn, I might just have to give you this one.”

You raised an eyebrow, finally looking at him again. “Give me what?”

His eyes flickered open, meeting yours with that lazy, almost reluctant amusement. “The vacation thing. I hate to say it, but this? Not the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

You smirked, lifting your glass. “I’ll take that as the highest of praises.”

Dean chuckled, shaking his head as he took a sip of his own drink. “Don’t get cocky, sweetheart.”

You leaned back, letting the warmth of the water soak into your skin. “Too late.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, the low hum of the water jets filling the space. But even as you tried to settle into the quiet, you could feel Dean’s gaze flicker toward you every so often. Quick glances—barely noticeable if you weren’t paying attention.You resisted the urge to smirk. Instead, you turned your head slightly, catching him just as his eyes darted back to his drink. Busted.

You didn’t call him out on it. No, that would be too easy. Instead, you shifted ever so slightly, stretching your arms over the edge of the tub, the movement pulling your body up just enough to let the waterline dip lower.

Dean cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. You felt his gaze flicker downward again, lingering for just a second too long before he pulled his eyes away, jaw tightening. You bit back a grin, staring at your drink like you hadn’t just caught Dean Winchester actively struggling to keep his focus.

“Y’know,” Dean finally said, voice carefully even, “it’s weird seeing you like this.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Like what?”

His lips parted, then pressed into a thin line, as if he’d just realized he walked straight into a trap. Dean Winchester, hunter, badass, master of talking his way out of any situation—stuck. You fought the urge to laugh. He shifted in his seat again, finally settling on, “Relaxed.”

It wasn’t what you expected. Your teasing smirk softened into something more genuine. “Yeah,” you admitted, tilting your head back. “Feels nice, doesn’t it?”

Dean exhaled, and for a moment, the playful tension faded into something quieter. “Yeah. It does.”

You glanced over at him, catching the way his shoulders had lost that constant tension, the usual tightness in his jaw gone. Dean never let himself relax. Even in moments of quiet, his mind was always running, always ready for the next fight. But here, now, sitting across from you, a drink in his hand, the warm water lulling him into something close to peace—It made your chest tighten.

You looked away before he could catch the softness in your gaze, clearing your throat. “See? Told you I know what I’m talking about.”

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. Rub it in.” You grinned, satisfied.

Another silence stretched between you, but this time, it felt heavier. Charged. Dean took another sip of his drink, eyes flickering toward you again, his gaze skimming over your shoulders, down the slope of your collarbones, dipping lower—You raised an eyebrow. “Enjoying the view, Winchester?”

Dean’s hand jerked, nearly spilling his drink. He recovered quickly, clearing his throat. “Huh?”

You fought back a smirk, watching him flounder. This was fun. “I mean, you keep looking over here,” you teased, swirling the liquid in your glass. “Figured I’d check if you’re admiring the scenery or just lost in thought.”

Dean scoffed, leaning back. “Please. If I was lost in thought, you’d know it.”

“Oh? That so?”

Dean smirked. “Yeah. My face gets all serious. Broody. You’d start asking if I was about to confess some deep, emotional trauma.”

You laughed. “True. But that doesn’t explain why you keep staring at my tits.”

Dean choked on his drink. You cackled, leaning forward as he coughed, setting his glass aside. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered, wiping his mouth.

You grinned. “I knew it.”

Dean scowled, cheeks tinged pink. “You’re imagining things.”

“Oh, am I?” You tilted your head, drumming your fingers along the rim of your glass. “So, if I were to, say, adjust my top right now, you wouldn’t—”

Dean pointed at you, eyes narrowed. “Don’t you dare.”

You smirked, savoring the moment. The way Dean’s posture stiffened, the way his eyes flickered nervously between your face and the swell of your chest, told you everything you needed to know. It was like a slow-motion train wreck you couldn’t stop watching.

You smirked, almost too pleased with yourself, but you didn’t make a move just yet. You leaned back against the edge of the hot tub, feeling the bubbles massage your back as you let the tension build. Dean, on the other hand, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His hand gripped his drink like it might fall out of his fingers at any moment. He couldn’t quite hide the flush spreading across his face, and the way his gaze darted over your body—quick, calculating, like he was trying to keep it together—was enough to make your heart race.

“Relax, Winchester,” you teased lightly. “It’s just a bikini.”

Dean swallowed hard, his throat working. He cleared his throat as he finally forced himself to meet your eyes again. “Right. Just a bikini. No big deal.”

You tilted your head, pretending to look innocent. “It’s a big deal to you, though, isn’t it?”

Dean shifted in the hot tub, avoiding your gaze. The tension between you two had thickened, every passing second making the space between you more charged. The casual teasing had shifted into something deeper, a quiet understanding lingering in the air. You sat up a little straighter in the tub, casually stretching your legs out, letting them float beneath the warm water. “Come on, Dean. You’ve seen plenty of women in swimsuits. What’s so different about me?”

Dean’s eyes snapped to yours, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. “It’s not that,” he muttered, his voice rougher than usual, like he was struggling to keep his cool. “You’re… different.”

The answer caught you off guard. You expected more of the usual smartass remarks, the teasing banter you’d grown so used to. But this… this was a little too honest. It made the air between you feel even heavier, the realization that the game you were playing wasn’t just for fun anymore.

You swallowed, your smile faltering for a split second before you recovered, tossing back a sip of your drink to cover it. “How am I different, exactly?”

Dean shifted again, his knee brushing against yours beneath the water. His hand tightened around his glass, the muscles in his forearm flexing with the movement. You couldn’t help but notice how he was trying to look anywhere but at you. “You’re—” He paused, and for a moment, you almost thought he wasn’t going to finish the sentence. Then he cleared his throat, shaking his head. “I don’t know. You’re just… you.”

You raised an eyebrow, a small laugh escaping your lips. “That’s the best you’ve got? Just me?”

Dean shrugged, still avoiding your gaze. “What else do you want me to say? You’ve been my best friend for how long, and now—now you’re out here looking like that?” His voice was more strained now, and you could tell he was trying to hold it together, trying to keep the situation from spiraling into something neither of you were ready for.

You let the silence hang for a moment, watching his profile, the way the moonlight hit his jaw and made his stubble glint. The air was thick with words unspoken, but neither of you was ready to cross that line. “So, what are you saying, Dean?” you asked softly, leaning in just a little, your voice almost teasing but with an edge of something more serious. “That you’re into me?”

Dean’s head snapped toward you, eyes wide. “What? No! I—” He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. “That’s not… that’s not what I meant.” You chuckled softly, trying to keep the mood light, even though your heart was pounding. “You sure about that?”

Dean’s gaze flickered to your lips, then quickly away. He was fighting something, something he clearly didn’t want to deal with. He muttered something under his breath, his fingers rubbing his temple like he was trying to shake off whatever was swirling in his head. “Dammit, Y/N,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

You tilted your head, raising a brow. “Make what harder?”

Dean leaned back, his chest rising and falling with a deep breath, eyes flicking to the water beneath him. “This. Us.” The words hung in the air, too raw, too real, and you both just… sat there for a moment, letting the weight of the situation settle in.

“What are we doing, Dean?” you asked quietly, your voice softer now, the playful teasing gone. You couldn’t help it. The way he was reacting to you, the way everything between you was shifting—it had caught you off guard. It felt different now. Like the lines between best friends and something more were suddenly too blurred to ignore.

Dean didn’t answer right away, but his hand, still gripping the glass, twitched like he was about to say something. He shook his head again, a small frustrated sound escaping his lips. He didn’t want to talk about it. Not yet.

“You know what we’re doing,” he finally said, his voice quieter, rougher. “We’re just… enjoying the night. This… this doesn’t change anything.”

You stared at him, taking in the way his shoulders were tense, the way his jaw was clenched like he was trying to hold himself back. It was as if he was afraid that crossing some invisible line would change everything. And maybe it would. Maybe it already had. The air between you and Dean had thickened in a way that made it impossible to ignore. The hot tub’s bubbling water swirled around you both, but it felt like the world had quieted down to just the two of you. Neither of you spoke, your knees brushing occasionally, both of you pretending it didn’t mean anything, but it only made the tension worse.

His knee gently bumped into yours, and you could feel his leg brush up against your skin. A jolt of heat raced through you, making it impossible to ignore the proximity. You glanced at him, and for a moment, you both just stared. His gaze was intense, unreadable. His lips parted slightly as if he was trying to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. You, on the other hand, couldn’t look away. You knew what this was—the chemistry, the connection. It had always been there, lurking beneath the surface, unspoken, but now? Now it was undeniable.

You shifted slightly, trying to ease the tension in your own body, but all it did was bring you closer to him. Your knees were now so close that if you moved a fraction more, you’d be pressed right up against him. Neither of you made the move to back away, though. Instead, you both stayed rooted, as if somehow afraid that if either of you acted, it might shatter the fragile moment you were both caught in.

Dean’s hand rested on the side of the hot tub, fingers curling lightly around the edge. His bicep flexed slightly, drawing your eyes to the strength in his arm, and you felt the breath catch in your throat. He caught you staring, but instead of teasing you like he normally would, he let out a low exhale, his jaw tightening. It was clear now that neither of you could deny what was happening.

The silence stretched on, your hearts beating faster with every passing second. His gaze drifted from your eyes to your lips, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was feeling what you were—this undeniable pull, this tension building between you both. You leaned just a little bit forward, your body reacting without thinking, but the movement was slow, cautious, like you were both testing the waters.

And just as you were about to close the gap, Dean shifted again, this time inching closer. His knee brushed against yours once more, and this time, the contact was more deliberate, the touch lingering just a bit longer than it should’ve.

You were so close now—barely inches apart. His breath fanned across your face, warm and slightly uneven. His gaze flickered to your lips again, and this time, you didn’t hide the way you were looking at him. You wanted this. You wanted him. The weight of the moment was heavy, the air thick with anticipation.

Dean’s lips parted, and for a second, you both hesitated. It felt like the world was holding its breath, waiting for one of you to make the first move. But neither of you did. Neither of you wanted to break the fragile balance, the delicate tension that hummed between you.

Then, in a quiet breath, Dean leaned in. His hand moved from the side of the tub to your cheek, fingers grazing your skin lightly, and you let out a soft breath at the touch. Your eyes fluttered closed just before you felt the gentle pressure of his lips on yours. The kiss was slow, deliberate—tender. Like he was savoring the moment, unsure how to move but unwilling to pull away. Your heart raced as you melted into him, responding with the same intensity, your lips moving together with the kind of quiet hunger that had been building between you for far too long.

Dean’s warm hands pull you impossibly closer and he deepens the kiss. A groan of satisfaction rumbles through his chest as you involuntarily let out a small moan. The water laps around you as he swiftly pulls you into his lap and cups the side of your face, bringing you closer. Electricity shoots through your bodies as you wrap your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss.

Just as the heat pools in your lower stomach, Dean's hands slowly slide down your thighs, working their way to the curve of your ass. You gasp into his mouth as his large calloused hands grip you, the action only causing your hips to rock. You let out another moan as Dean bites down on your bottom lip and thrusts his hips up, causing your heat to feel exactly what you're doing to him.

"Y'wanna take this inside?" You ask in between kisses and attempting to catch your breath.

"Hell no." Dean groans, "You've already tortured me enough."

You didn't even have time to react before he quickly slid your bikini bottoms to the side and thrusted his thick fingers into your heat. The gasp that left your lips was quickly covered up by Dean's mouth attacking yours. His fingers worked in and out of your heat, causing sparks to shoot through your body. Your head falls onto his shoulder, leaving light kisses as he continues to let his fingers fuck up into you.

"Come for me sweetheart." Dean's gruff voice causes you to shiver as you desperately rock your hips down on his hand. "Can't wait to see how you take me. Such a pretty little mess for me already."

His words send you over the edge. A loud moan rips through you as he continues to help you ride out your high. Dean's hand rises up from the water and cups the side of your face, bringing your lips back down to his. In between the heated kisses and the taste of whiskey still lingering on his lips, you whined again as you felt Dean's length rubbing against your core.

"Dean, I need you inside me." You managed to get out, "now." You demanded, not wanting to waste another second.

You felt Dean's lips curving into a smirk against your own. The first time he'd get to fuck you, and you were already begging for him. The thought wondered through his head of how many times you might've thought about his dick inside of you. How many times you squeezed your thighs together to get some sort of relief, and he had no clue. How many times you thought of him while an orgasm shot through your body.

"S' demanding." Dean's mouth met yours as he grabbed his length and slowly thrust himself into your entrance. The feeling was absolutely euphoric as shocks shot through your body and your cheeks burned. A loud moan left your lips as he began to move, his large hands digging into your plump thighs for support. You met him each time he thrust up into you, your foreheads rested together as your hands gripped the brick of the hot tub behind him.

"Ve' wanted you for so long." Dean admitted, "since I first laid eyes on you."

"Me too." You managed to get out between moans, "I've thought about you so many times. How good you feel."

Dean let out some low growl, his pace picking up. "Such a good girl. Taking me so well. This pussy was made for me."

The words only spurred you on, grinding down on him as you started to moan his name over and over again in his ear. "I'm close." You admitted, that familiar coil tighten in the base of your stomach.

"Come with me sweetheart." Dean's hips met yours in a more sloppy, erratic pattern. You knew he was extremely close as well.

"Dean-" you moaned his name one last time as he left a trail of wet kisses along your neck. The sensation pulling you over the edge, your walls clenching and pulsing around him. As you came, Dean quickly followed, not being able to withstand the sensation of your pussy pulsing around his dick.

You two slowly came down from your highs and finally met each other's gaze. Dean's eyes were hooded as he looked up at you. "I love you." He admitted, causing your breath to hitch. "And I'm not just saying that because I'm inside of you right now."

You giggled but quickly met his loving gaze, "I love you too, Dean. Always have."

"Good because that would have been awkward. You know admitting your feelings to your best friend who you just fucked in a hot tub..."

You smiled, shaking your head. Meeting his gaze again, your smile grew into a smirk as you grinded your hips down, causing Dean to let out a groan. Your arms hung loosely from around his neck and your fingers played with his hair as you leaned forward, brushing your lips against the shell of his ear. "Wanna move this to the bed?" Your voice came out extremely low and seductive, causing a shiver to roll down Dean's spine before he let out a mixture between a growl and a groan. "Oh we're going all night, baby."

author’s note:

I wrote this while running on 4 hrs of sleep 🥴 lmk if you would like to be tagged in future fics!

If you don’t know by now I am a slut for tension, angst, and longing. I’m not one to write a lot of fluff, lmfao. So if you guys would like more fics lmk!

If you wanna check out the rest of my work—the link is here!

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