#not sure when exactly at this point in time

[corkinavoid]

Hey, @confused-they, this is for you and for everyone else who wanted more of this AU. Merry Christmas.

DPxDC Ring of Rage? More Like Ring of Engage [pt. 4]

[<- part 3]

[Written to 'Tantrum' by Ashnikko]

TW: mentioned mild gore (some inside parts become outside ones, nothing graphic)

Tim can't breathe.

Joker's mad laughter is ringing through the darkness of the warehouse, echoing in his head, the screeching sound straight out of nightmares. Hood should be nearby - as in, somewhere in this darkness along with him - but Tim can't think about that, his own maniacal giggles bubbling in the back of his throat, a grin tugging at his lips.

He has to get up. He has to stand, he has to fight, and it really shouldn't be this hard.

But he can't breathe.

Tim clutches his fingers on the fabric of his suit on the chest, distantly wondering if this is how Danny feels when he is more human than ghost. Probably not, he mentioned that breathing is only optional.

He really wants his boyfriend right now. His fiance. Whatever, he wants Danny, he wants his cold hands on his cheeks and the faint, humming purr of his core that Tim finds nice to fall asleep to, and-

Maybe later. He can't exactly summon him now, not in the middle of a fight, especially not in the middle of a fight with Joker of all people.

There's an angry growl somewhere to Tim's left, staticky through the voice-modulator. Then several sounds of gunshots and a gleeful, taunting yell of the madman.

Hold on.

Tim snaps his eyes open - not that anything changes, everything is still pitch-black around him - and blinks.

Why not?..

It's not like Danny is a civilian. Tim tends to pay little attention to the fact since the King of Infinite Realms doesn't hang out with the whole superhero convention on principle. But Tim is pretty sure he won't mind it this once.

Besides, Tim is so done with Joker that it's not even funny.

A few breathy chuckles escape his throat as he lets his body fully slump back on the floor and brings his left hand to his face, placing a quick kiss on the Ring through his glove. He doesn't need to do that, not really, but it's kind of a ritual at this point, and the gesture somehow makes him feel better.

"Danny," he whispers.

For a long moment, nothing happens.

Then, there's a soft, popping sound, and his beautiful boyfriend is floating right over him, faintly glowing and a little sleepy. Tim is momentarily distracted by his bare feet and pj pants with tiny rockets on them.

Danny yawns and tugs the hem of his t-shirt down as it starts to float. "Whas'sup," he mutters, rubbing his eyes and clearly not fully awake, and Tim's heart melts instantly. He loves Danny. He just... He loves him, okay? He loves that Danny didn't question his summons for a moment, he loves that he came even though he was obviously sleeping, and he loves that Danny is wearing a tee he stole from Tim.

Unfortunately, before he is able to get his shit back together, another sound of gunshot ripples through the air, and Danny startles, blinking himself awake and looking in the direction of it. Then, his eyebrows shoot up, and his mouth makes a soft 'O' shape before he turns back to Tim and tilts his head in question.

"You want me to deal with him? The clown, I mean, not your brother," he asks, and it's so casual and off-handed that Tim actually huffs a laugh.

"Sorry, I was just- I'm really tired of his ass," Tim should probably sit up, this is not a talk they should have while he is lying on the ground. On the other hand, Jason is somewhere out there, and he has guns and doesn't have a clear visual around him, so maybe Tim shouldn't sit up.

Danny hums, "Is that a yes?"

Tim just nods. He is pretty sure Danny can see him despite the darkness. "I promise it's a one-time thing, I don't plan on calling you every time one of local lunatics acts up. I just... I fucking can't with him," he admits with a defeated sigh. But, before he can spiral any further into the abyss of unworthiness, Danny's cold hands are cupping his cheeks, and his icy eyes are looking right into Tim's sky blue.

"Love, I don't mind getting rid of each and every one of your Rogues. Granted, it would probably fuck up the timeline, and Clocky would be mad, but I'd do it if you want me to, no questions asked." His voice is quiet, and Tim has never been more grateful for his domino mask, because he can feel his cheeks heating up and he doesn't want Danny to see the exact effect his words are causing.

"I- Okay," he quietly agrees, and then blinks, backtracking, "Wait, no, don't fuck up the timeline. Just deal with the laughing bitch this once, and that's it. We can handle the rest."

Danny is smiling at him in that adoring way Tim recognizes as 'I really want to kiss you, but it's not the time or place'. Then, he nods and lets go of Tim's cheeks, straightening up in the air, and his clothes shift all at once, like a magic trick.

Gone are the stretched out t-shirt and the pants with rocket ships. In their place, Danny's body is head to toe covered in stars and galaxies that hold the vague shape of armor, and there's a slightly shimmering, blueish-green translucent cape over one of his shoulders.

The Crown over his head, the sentient artifact much like the Ring on Tim's finger, appears from nowhere, and, after a brief pause - Tim swears it was debating on whether or not the situation is worth the effort - promptly sets itself on fire. Blue flames cast long shadows on Danny's, no, King's face, making him look older and his cheekbones sharper.

Before, the boy was only faintly glowing, and, evidently, the others present in the warehouse were too distracted to notice him.

But now, with the flaming Crown casting dancing shadows on the walls of the warehouse, it's really hard not to see the otherworldly being making an appearance.

"Holy fuck," Tim hears Hood's quiet, astonished voice, and almost cracks a grin.

Yeah, he wants to say, that's my boyfriend. Although he suspects he and Jason are having vastly different reactions to Danny's presence. Because Tim kind of wants to take all his words about dealing with Joker back and take Danny home, straight to bed.

...He is going to have to strangle Jason in his sleep if his reaction is similar. No, that's a wrong thought, this is so not the time for it.

"Who are you, flying glowstick?" Joker sounds rightfully pissed off by the interruption, "Does Batsy employ alien kids now?"

Danny chuckles, the starry freckles on his cheeks glowing brighter, "Okay, just because you compared me to an alien, I'm not going to completely erase you from this plane of existence."

Tim snaps his head up.

"Wait, no killing," he reminds, not because he actually cares but because B would throw a fit. Danny brushes him off with a wave of his hand.

"No worries, he'll stay alive," he smiles at Tim, and to everyone else, it probably looks like stuff of nightmares, sharp, pointy teeth and lips stretched out far beyond human capabilities. But Tim sees it for what it is: a face of mischief.

"Do I get a vote in this?" Jason's deadpan voice comes from somewhere on the other side of the warehouse at the same moment as Joker screeches in rage, "Who the fuck do you think-"

"Nope," Danny pops the 'p', and Tim is not sure if he is answering to Hood or refusing to listen to the clown's monolog by it. Maybe it's both. It's probably both.

The next moment, Danny is gone, disappeared from the place he was floating at, and Tim hears a wet, very unpleasant sound followed by Joker's scream of pain.

"You see this?" He hears Danny's nonchalant, unfazed voice above the clown's pained cries, "This is your rib, bitch- Hey, quit whining and listen to me, it's important."

There's a slap, a rustle, and a sound of ripping fabric, and Joker's voice becomes muffled, like someone put a gag in his mouth.

"You're like Adam now, you know, lacking one rib," Danny continues, "Only I'm not making you a girl out of this one, I'm pretty sure you don't deserve to reproduce. Anyway, going further down that metaphor, I'm the God almighty in this situation, so if you want to keep the rest of your ribs - and the rest of other things that are supposed to stay inside of you - to yourself, you gotta do a thing for me, okay?"

There's some muffled groans that Joker makes in response, then an enraged growl, a sound of a struggle, another slap, and then that same wet, disgusting squelch.

"Two ribs, wow, okay, you're really being difficult about this!" Danny sounds so innocently dumbstruck about it that Tim suppresses a laugh. "Are you listening now?" There's a quiet, choking wheeze that answers him, and Danny sounds quite pleased when he says, "Great."

Tim debates if he should look. He doesn't exactly want to since the sounds provide enough context, but it might be somewhat cathartic for him.

And then the air around him inexplicably shifts, becoming cold and oppressive, weighting Tim down like a heavy blanket and pushing him into the floor. The dancing shadows and the blue light of flames on the walls twist and churn, like taking aim, and Tim doesn't know what Danny looks like right now but he knows he is as far from human as possible, his voice coming with a staticky, echoing whisper, a threatening hiss slithering inside Tim's ears.

"Play your little games all you want, Fallen Jester, but know that you can not win. The punchline to your joke is long overdue, and your soul has belonged to me for quite some time now," his words are cold and uncaring, and in all the time Tim has known his boyfriend, he has never heard him speak like this: with a sense of lazy power, like he is only humoring the people around him.

Like they mean nothing to him.

"I will not kill you, or at least not here and now. My Guiding Star doesn't want to see my hands dirty with your filthy remains. Besides, death is only a moment, and you don't deserve only a moment of suffering," he huffs a short, humorless chuckle, "But, luckily, I am the Eyes of the Universe, the Titan's Bane, the King of the Dead, and everyone will meet me once their eyes fall shut for the last time," there's a smile in his voice now, full of cold and merciless anticipation. Tim feels a shiver run down his spine.

"So just you wait, Jester, and I will meet you on the other side. Then we'll see how whatever is left of your soul is going to spend an eternity."

Tim's ears are ringing with the pure, somehow gleeful hatred that laces those last words. He didn't know he could literally taste the disgust and the promise of pain, and yet, here he is, with a hint of something sour on his tongue.

And then, the heavy, weighted air that has been charged with power is lifted, the shadows and bright blue lights are all gone, and Danny, wearing his pj's and smiling, is standing over him. His feet are planted on the ground for once, and the Crown is gone without a trace, but his t-shirt is still trying to float up. The boy tugs it down again, offering a hand to Tim.

"Wanna go out for a burger since I'm already here in Gotham?"

Tim had never breathed easier in his life. He laughs a little and reaches up, taking his beautifully unhinged boyfriend's hand and standing up.

"I thought you'd never ask."

[moonlightwritingf1]

Worthy of You | LN4

❄️ summary ━━━━━━━ Lando rented a cabin in France for Christmas but couldn’t enjoy it when Y/N suddenly left. Desperate, he flew back to England, where she admitted overhearing his doubts about being worthy of her. Lando confessed his love, and Y/N revealed she felt the same but feared rejection.

❄️ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

❄️ word count ━━━━━━━ 4k

The cabin was nothing short of breathtaking. Nestled in the heart of the French Alps, it seemed straight out of a holiday movie—a sprawling chalet with rustic charm. The exterior was draped in a blanket of snow, the wooden beams of the house warmly contrasting the wintery landscape. Snow-dusted balconies framed sweeping views of the towering peaks outside, their jagged lines stark against the pale sky. Inside, the atmosphere was nothing less than luxurious: vaulted ceilings with exposed timber, a massive stone fireplace crackling with warmth, and furniture covered in soft faux fur throws. Twinkling fairy lights danced around the banisters, casting a soft glow, while the scent of fresh pine from the enormous Christmas tree filled the air, welcoming everyone into its festive embrace.

Lando had rented the cabin for the week leading up to Christmas, hoping to host a cozy retreat for his closest friends. It was supposed to be the perfect escape—a time to unwind, relax, and create new memories. But as he stood in the living room, with the warmth of the fire behind him and an unshakable emptiness in his chest, he felt anything but at ease.

Pacing back and forth, phone in hand, Lando’s jaw was tight with frustration. Y/N had left earlier that day, telling him that she needed to return to London for some "urgent" matter. The words didn’t sit right with him. Something was off, and he couldn’t quite shake the nagging feeling that she was hiding the real reason.

"She just... left," he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his messy curls.

"You’re going to wear a hole in the floor," Max commented from the couch, watching Lando with an amused, yet concerned, expression.

Lando didn’t respond, his eyes glued to his phone. He had already called Y/N three times and sent two messages, all without any reply. Max raised an eyebrow, leaning against the kitchen counter with a beer in hand.

"Still no word from her?" Max asked.

Lando shook his head, glancing at the phone in his hand as if it might magically ring with her name. "No. Nothing. She just said she had to leave and that was it."

Max frowned, clearly puzzled. "That doesn’t sound like her."

"Exactly," Lando agreed, frustration lacing his voice. "She was fine this morning—excited, helping decorate the tree and everything. Then out of nowhere, she says she has to go. It’s like she couldn’t wait to leave." He tossed his phone onto the coffee table with a huff, running a hand through his curls again.

Max shrugged, his expression neutral. "Maybe you should wait until she gets back to you instead of spiraling. She’s probably just busy."

But Lando wasn’t convinced. "I can’t wait. Something’s wrong. She looked at me before she left—like there was something she wanted to say but couldn’t. It’s not like her to just leave like that."

Max raised a brow, offering a pointed look. "You sure you didn’t say or do something to upset her?"

Lando scowled, shaking his head. "I didn’t even get a chance to talk to her. One minute everything’s fine, and the next... she’s gone."

Max didn’t press further. Instead, he simply sighed. "Well, maybe give her space. She’ll reach out when she’s ready."

But Lando couldn’t do that. He needed answers now. Without another word, he slipped out of the kitchen and onto the balcony, the chill of the evening air biting at his skin despite his thick coat. Leaning against the railing, he gazed out at the snow-covered mountains, his mind racing with unanswered questions. Y/N had been acting strange lately—distant, quieter than usual. The sudden departure was the final straw. Something didn’t add up.

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, Y/N sat alone in her London flat, the flickering lights from her modest Christmas tree casting a soft, warm glow in the otherwise quiet room. Outside, the city streets were slick with rain, the muted sounds of traffic filling the silence. Her fingers curled around a steaming mug of tea, but she barely noticed the warmth.

Her phone sat on the coffee table, buzzing intermittently with Lando’s name lighting up the screen. Each time, her heart clenched, and each time, she couldn’t bring herself to pick it up.

She sipped her tea, trying to quiet the storm in her mind, but the memory of that morning wouldn’t leave her. She had been standing in the hallway of the cabin, a box of ornaments in her arms, when she overheard Lando and Max talking in the living room. The words they spoke felt like a punch to her gut.

"I don’t know what to do, mate," Lando’s voice was low, tense.

"What are you talking about?" Max had asked, clearly confused.

"It’s Y/N," Lando admitted, and hearing her name made Y/N freeze, her breath catching in her throat.

"What about her?"

Lando sighed deeply, and Y/N could almost hear the weight of his thoughts. "I care about her more than I should. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone. But I can’t tell her. She’d probably just laugh in my face or—worse—pity me."

Y/N’s heart twisted painfully in her chest.

"You really think she’d react like that?" Max asked, his voice skeptical.

‘’Wouldn’t you?" Lando responded bitterly. "She's amazing, Max. She deserves someone who's not... me. Someone who doesn’t come with all the problems of my life. I don’t know... it’s just complicated.’’

Y/N couldn’t bear it anymore. Hearing Lando doubt himself, and by extension, their connection, had hurt her more than she could explain. She dropped the box of ornaments where it stood and rushed to her room to pack her things, not bothering to tell anyone why she was leaving.

Now, in the solitude of her flat, Y/N replayed his words over and over, trying to make sense of her own emotions. Did she love him? She realized that the answer had been in her heart for months, but she’d been too afraid to face it.

Her phone buzzed again, pulling her from her thoughts. Lando’s name flashed across the screen once more. This time, her thumb hovered over the screen, hesitating before she tapped it.

She read his message: Please, Y/N. Just let me know you’re okay.

Her heart ached as the words weighed heavily on her. She typed a reply but paused, her fingers trembling. After a deep breath, she hit send:

Y/N: I’m fine. I just needed some time to think.

On the other end, Lando’s phone buzzed once more, and he lunged for it, his heart leaping when he saw her name appear.

"She responded," he said quietly to Max, who gave him an encouraging nod.

Lando opened the message and read it quickly, his brow furrowing with confusion. "She’s fine?" he muttered, feeling unconvinced by her words.

Max leaned over to glance at the screen. "Sounds like she just needs some space."

But Lando wasn’t satisfied. He typed back immediately: Think about what? Did I do something to upset you? Please, Y/N, talk to me.

Back in London, Y/N stared at his message, her chest tightening. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she wasn’t ready to confront her feelings—his or hers. She needed more time.

Lando opened his mouth to argue, but then stopped short. He had spent months hiding his feelings for Y/N, terrified of scaring her off, of ruining the connection they shared. But now, her sudden departure was making him question everything.

"Do you think she knows?" he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Max frowned. "Knows what?"

"How I feel about her," Lando admitted, his gaze shifting away as if he were ashamed.

Max studied him for a moment before shrugging. "If she does, she hasn’t said anything to me. But maybe that’s the problem—you’ve been waiting for her to figure it out instead of telling her."

Lando’s jaw tightened at the suggestion. "And if I tell her and she doesn’t feel the same?"

"Then at least you’ll know," Max said simply. "But honestly, I think you’re underestimating her."

The next day, Lando couldn’t take it anymore. The cabin, with all its festive decorations and roaring fire, felt too big and too empty without Y/N. With no more time to waste, he grabbed his coat and car keys.

"Where are you going?" Max asked, looking up from his phone.

"London," Lando replied with quiet determination.

It was late afternoon by the time Lando arrived at Y/N’s flat. The crisp winter air stung his skin as he knocked on her door, nervous energy bubbling inside him.

The door opened, and there she was—her expression a mix of surprise and apprehension.

"Lando," she said softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

"You didn’t answer my calls," he said, his voice tight with emotion. "I needed to see you. I needed to know why you left."

She stepped aside, allowing him to enter. The warmth of her flat enveloped him, the scent of cinnamon and pine filling the air. They stood in the living room, the silence between them thick with unspoken words.

"Y/N, talk to me," Lando urged. "Did I do something? Did I say something?"

Her eyes filled with tears, and her voice trembled as she finally spoke. "I heard you, Lando. At the cabin, talking to Max."

His heart sank. "You... heard me?"

She nodded, her voice breaking. "You said you cared about me but couldn’t tell me because you thought I wouldn’t feel the same. That it was too complicated."

Lando closed his eyes in anguish. "Y/N, I didn’t mean for you to hear that."

"But you meant it," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He stepped closer, his expression softening as he reached for her hands. "Of course I meant it. I care about you more than you know. But I didn’t say anything because I thought you’d pity me—or worse, push me away."

Y/N’s tears spilled over, and she wiped them away quickly. "Lando, I could never pity you. And I would never push you away."

His brows furrowed, searching her eyes for understanding. "Then why did you leave?"

"Because I didn’t know how to handle it," she admitted, her voice raw with emotion. "Hearing you doubt yourself—it scared me."

Lando gently took her hands in his, looking deeply into her eyes. "I’ve been scared, too. Scared of losing you, of ruining what we have. But I can’t keep hiding how I feel."

Her breath caught in her throat as his words sank in.

"I love you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I’ve loved you since the moment we met. And if you don’t feel the same, I’ll understand. But I couldn’t let you leave without telling you."

Tears streamed down her face as she looked up at him, her heart pounding. "I do feel the same," she whispered. "I’ve been in love with you, too. I just didn’t know how to say it."

A smile spread across his face as relief and joy flooded his chest. Without another word, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. "You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear that."

She smiled through her tears, resting her forehead against his. "I’m sorry for running. I should’ve just talked to you."

Lando held Y/N close, his heart racing as if it were a race day. For months, he’d rehearsed this moment in his mind, but nothing could have prepared him for the overwhelming relief and joy that came with hearing her say she loved him too.

"You don’t have to apologize," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I should’ve told you how I felt sooner. I was just too much of a coward to risk losing you."

Y/N pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting his with a soft vulnerability. "You’re not a coward, Lando. You’ve been so patient with me, and I’m sorry if I ever made you think I didn’t care."

"You didn’t," he assured her. "I just... I got in my own head. I do that sometimes."

She smiled gently, the tension finally starting to ease. "We’re both pretty good at overthinking, huh?"

"Clearly," he replied with a chuckle, his thumb brushing against the back of her hand. "But maybe we can work on that together?"

Y/N nodded, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. "I’d like that."

The air between them shifted again, quieter now, but no less intense. Lando’s gaze flickered to her lips, and for a moment, he hesitated.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Her response was immediate—a shy but confident nod as she leaned in. Their lips met, soft and tentative at first, but quickly deepened as weeks of unspoken feelings spilled into the kiss. Lando’s hands slid to her waist, pulling her closer, while Y/N’s fingers tangled in his curls.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathless, their foreheads resting together.

"That was worth the wait," Lando said, his voice tinged with humor and awe.

Y/N laughed softly, her cheeks still flushed. "Yeah, it was."

Lando glanced around her cozy flat, the Christmas lights casting a warm glow over everything. "As much as I love this place, it feels like we’re missing out on our cabin Christmas."

Y/N frowned slightly, guilt creeping back in. "I’m sorry for leaving. I ruined the trip for everyone."

"Hey," he said firmly, cupping her face with both hands. "Don’t do that. No one blames you, least of all me. Besides," he added with a teasing smirk, "I rented that ridiculously fancy cabin for selfish reasons."

Her brows furrowed. "Selfish reasons?"

"Yeah," he admitted, leaning in closer. "I was hoping I’d get some time alone with you."

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, and then she laughed, a sound that sent warmth flooding through him. "Well, I guess you got what you wanted in the end."

"Not quite everything," he said, his tone turning serious. "But I’m working on it."

By the following evening, they were back at the cabin. Y/N had been reluctant at first, but Lando insisted, saying he wanted to finish what they’d started.

As the car pulled up to the chalet, Y/N couldn’t help but gasp. Seeing it again, with its snow-covered roof and twinkling lights against the backdrop of the Alps, it felt like stepping into a postcard.

"It’s beautiful," she said softly.

Lando grinned as he grabbed their bags. "Wait until you see it at night."

Inside, the warmth of the fireplace welcomed them, and Y/N felt a wave of nostalgia for the short time she’d spent there.

"I didn’t unpack everything after you left," Lando admitted as he set her bag by the stairs. "Figured you’d be back."

Y/N turned to him, her heart aching at how much faith he’d had in her. "Thank you for not giving up on me."

"Never," he said simply, his eyes locking with hers.

They spent the evening decorating the tree, finishing what they’d started days ago. Lando playfully scolded Y/N for her questionable ornament placement, while she retaliated by draping tinsel over his head.

When the tree was finally done, they sat on the plush rug in front of the fire, a bottle of wine between them.

"This feels nice," Y/N said, her voice soft.

Lando leaned back on his hands, watching her intently. "It feels perfect."

Y/N glanced at him, her cheeks heating under his gaze. "You’re staring again."

"Can’t help it," he said with a small shrug. "You’re kind of my favorite thing to look at."

Her laughter was quiet but genuine. "You’re such a flirt."

"Only with you," he admitted, his tone earnest.

They fell into a comfortable silence, the crackling of the fire filling the space. Y/N sipped her wine, her mind wandering back to the moment she overheard him at the cabin.

"Lando?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yeah?"

"When you said it was complicated... What did you mean?"

He exhaled deeply, setting his glass down. "I meant that my life is messy. The travel, the attention, the pressure—it’s not easy, and I didn’t want to drag you into all of that if you weren’t ready. But I realized something after you left."

"What?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"That none of it matters if I don’t have you," he said, his eyes shining with sincerity. "You make everything better, Y/N. And I’m done letting fear get in the way of that."

Her chest tightened, and she reached out to take his hand. "I don’t care about the mess, Lando. I just want you."

His smile was soft but filled with relief. "You’ve got me, then."

And as the fire burned low and the snow fell gently outside, they sat together, finally at peace. For the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

As the evening drew on, the crackling warmth from the fire grew more comforting, and the glow of the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree made the cabin feel like a perfect little world of their own. Lando and Y/N had fallen into a comfortable silence, the soft clink of their wine glasses and the occasional laugh over a shared memory keeping the air light.

Y/N leaned back against the soft rug, feeling the warmth of the fire seeping into her body, and caught herself glancing over at Lando. His attention was on the flames, but there was something different in his expression tonight—a vulnerability she hadn’t seen before. The weight of everything between them—the distance, the confusion, the undeniable connection—had been lifted, and what remained was something new. Something hopeful.

"Lando," she began, her voice just above a whisper, tentative, yet full of curiosity.

He turned toward her, his eyes still soft but intense, always making her heart beat a little faster. "Yeah?"

Y/N swallowed, the words feeling heavy on her tongue, unsure of how to articulate the depth of her thoughts. "I’ve been thinking about everything—the way things unfolded, the way I left, and how much I was running from us… from what was right in front of me."

Lando’s gaze softened even more, and he scooted closer to her, his hand brushing against hers before he stopped, as if asking for permission. She placed her hand in his, lacing their fingers together, the simple touch sending a jolt of warmth through her chest.

"You’re not the only one who was running," he murmured, his voice low and sincere. "I think I’ve been too scared of what we could be. Of messing it up. But now… with you here, everything feels right. And I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t."

Her heart fluttered at his words. "I was scared, too," she admitted softly, gazing into his eyes. "Scared that maybe I was just a distraction for you. That maybe I was too much for you, or that you wouldn’t feel the same. But I don’t want to feel like that anymore."

He smiled, and for the first time in a long time, it was a smile that reached his eyes—gentle, warm, full of promise. "I feel everything for you, Y/N. I just didn’t know how to show it. How to tell you, especially when I thought you might not feel the same."

Y/N looked down at their intertwined hands, feeling a tightness in her chest at the realization of just how much they had both been holding back. "I’m sorry for leaving like I did," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I shouldn’t have run away. I just… I was so overwhelmed."

Lando lifted her chin gently with his fingers, his touch tender as he urged her to meet his gaze. "You don’t need to apologize," he said softly. "What matters now is that we’re here. Together. And we don’t have to hide from what we feel anymore."

For a long moment, they just stared at each other, the air thick with the weight of everything they hadn’t said before. There was something sacred about this moment, as though time had slowed, giving them space to let everything they had kept buried come to the surface.

And then, without warning, Y/N felt the rush of emotions she had been holding back for so long. She leaned in slowly, her eyes never leaving his, as if testing the waters, seeing if he would pull away. But he didn’t. Instead, he met her halfway, their lips brushing in a tentative kiss that was soft but filled with an intensity neither of them had expected. It was the kind of kiss that spoke of years of friendship, years of longing, of waiting for the right moment.

But when their lips finally met, it felt like the world had shifted. It wasn’t just about a kiss. It was about all the unspoken words, all the time they had spent pretending they didn’t care, when all along, they had been waiting for this very moment. The kiss deepened, slow and desperate, as though they were both trying to make up for lost time, to erase the doubt and the distance they had allowed to grow between them.

When they pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, and neither of them spoke for a while. The only sound was the soft crackle of the fire and the distant howling of the wind outside.

"Everything feels different now," Y/N whispered, her voice full of wonder.

Lando’s lips quirked up in a gentle smile. "Different in a good way?"

She nodded, her fingers tracing the lines of his palm. "In a way that makes everything else feel unimportant. Like nothing else matters but us."

"Yeah," he agreed, the weight of the words settling in. "I’ve spent so much time thinking about the future, about racing, about everything else. But in this moment, with you… I know what really matters. It’s you."

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her chest, her heart swelling with affection. "I’ve been thinking the same thing," she said, her voice soft but steady. "I was scared. But now that we’re here, I’m not afraid anymore."

Lando tilted his head, studying her face with an intensity that sent a rush of heat through her. "So, no more running?"

She shook her head, her smile gentle but full of certainty. "No more running."

Lando leaned in again, his lips capturing hers in another kiss—this one slow, full of everything they had been holding back. There was a tenderness in it, a promise that they would take this slow, that they would learn to navigate whatever was to come together. But more than that, it was a kiss filled with the knowledge that they were finally on the same page, finally together in a way they had always been meant to be.

As they broke apart, Lando reached for the bottle of wine and poured them both another glass, the soft clink of the glasses a gentle reminder that they had come a long way.

Y/N glanced out the window at the snowflakes gently falling from the sky, each one unique and fleeting, just like the moment they were sharing. "It’s beautiful out there," she said softly.

Lando turned to look as well, and for a moment, they were silent again, watching the world outside. But then he turned back to her, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Not as beautiful as you, though," he said with a grin.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. "You’re such a flirt."

"Only with you," he replied, his voice low and teasing. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her skin. "And I always will be."

Her heart raced at his words, her body feeling alive with the anticipation of everything that was unfolding between them. She leaned into him again, her lips brushing his, more sure of herself now than she had ever been.

And for the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to believe in the possibility of everything—the future, the love they had shared, and the love that was still waiting to be discovered between them.

[random2908]

I mean... OP is from Australia, I think? As are some of the other commenters? This isn't entirely about the US.

In America, the degree to which this is unadorned truth versus exaggeration depends what you're buying. I expect a sweatshirt to last at least five years of daily wear; however, I don't wash them unless they are visibly dirty or it's been, like, several months. I expect a t-shirt to last about 5 years in rotation where I might wear it once every 2 weeks and wash it regularly. My winter jacket was purchased 16 or 17 years ago (from a random store at the mall) and my fall jacket was purchased 8 years ago (from Kohl's, a mid-range department store), and although my winter jacket doesn't fit all that well anymore, neither jacket is nearing the end of its lifetime. I generally keep 2-4 pairs of jeans in rotation, washing them about monthly, and expect them to last about 3 years. My dad bought me two bed sets from Target (cheap department store) 20 years ago, and for a long time I just alternated between them; the fitted sheet on one of them tore after about 7 years and the other lasted 19 years. (Admittedly, I'm apparently really gentle with all of my possessions, because my electronics, furniture, etc also seem to last relatively long.)

So yeah, some stuff lasts. However.

My jeans that wear through in 3 years, first of all, would wear through in a couple months if I treated them like a child would--I know this with some certainty because I do occasionally tear them at work. Whereas when I was a child in the 80s/90s, my jeans lasted 1-2 years of running around and falling down. And some people have jeans from the 1970s that are still wearable. So yeah, my jeans don't wear out in a season, but they do last at most 1/2 as long, probably a lot less than that, compared to jeans of decades ago. And you can feel that the fabric is much thinner.

I remember in 1998, on a road trip, my mom bought me a t-shirt from a t-shirt stand, for $5, and the material felt completely different. Much softer, much thinner, than any of my other t-shirts. (I was 15, so I'd had a lot of time to learn what a t-shirt should feel like.) But it still said 100% cotton--it wasn't a different material, just a worse construction. These days, it's the other way around: I have exactly one t-shirt with the texture of the ones of my childhood, and all the rest feel like that one cheap shirt. And all but that one t-shirt has ripped on my belt buckle no matter how well I file down any sharp edges, because the shirts are so thin and flimsy. Sure, I usually wear these shirts for about 5-6 years until the holes are bad enough that they aren't presentable. The design has usually all the way worn off by then. But I was still wearing t-shirts from middle school when I was in grad school, and some of them had almost no degradation of the design (luckily when I was in middle school oversize t-shirts were in, so they fit properly when I was a young adult). Also, the t-shirts from my childhood, when they finally wore out when I was an adult, it was because the seams ripped. The t-shirts from my adulthood, when they wear out, it's because holes tear in the fabric itself.

So far I've been mostly talking about all-cotton clothing, except for the sweatshirts, and sometimes the jeans, which are a mix. The synthetic stuff falls apart a lot quicker. I have a dress that I've worn twice, that I washed once (careful of the instructions on the tag) and it's already pilling. Pilling means significant fabric loss, which means its days are number until it's ready to tear.

So yeah, a lot of generic clothing does last longer than people are saying--but some doesn't. And even so, the failure still happens a lot faster than it used to, and the failure points are in different places than they used to be.

I'm so pissed right now. I know that fabric has been declining in quality for a while but I just bought new pajamas from kmart and they are literally see through. Not just through one layer of fabric either; I can see through the leg, that is, through 2 layers of fabric. These aren't clothes. I am not exaggerating when I say that I have strained soup through cheesecloth thicker than these pants. These are men's flannel pajamas, the kind people wear in winter, and they are made if shittier thinner fabric than even the most bargain bin bullshit halloween costumes. This "flannel" feels like plastic and is thinner than a chux wipe. Why is this even for sale.

[hmmcypher]

. . . edging a desperate cutie to tears.

cw | sub!ftm!character, mean dom!reader, edging, possible dub-con undertones, light manipulation (?)

imagine your faves xx

“shh baby, you’re missing it,” you hum, nudging him to train his eyes on the screen. your hand is on his jaw, squishing his cheeks and forcing his eyes to remain fixed on the screen ahead.

your body was draped over his, a blanketing weight that pressed him into the mattress and made him stay exactly where you wanted him.

with his hips raised slightly, your fingers danced around the area he needed you most. it had been a the longest hour and a half of his life, he couldn’t even count how many times you’d edged him since the show started and at this point he was fucking soaking.

he couldn’t find it within himself to be embarrassed, not now anyway, not with how desperate he was to cum. embarrassment was the absolute last thing on his mind.

the show is long forgotten by this point, his brain is a messy scramble of pure need while you continue to toy with him.

“you’re so m-mean,” he chokes out as he wriggles his hips in an attempt to get you to touch him in any meaningful manner.

you leave a kiss right below his ear that sends a shiver down his spine. “oh love, i have been a bit mean hm?” you feign curiosity and your fingers trail lower and lightly trail over his clit. his inhales sharply and relaxes into your hold, “i’m so, so sorry baby.. i’ve been so mean.” your kisses feel cool against his warm, sweat slicked skin. your fingers dance against his clit, rubbing tight circles that leave him gasping shallow breaths.

“i need more,” he cries out in frustration. his brows are threaded together into a soft frown and tears fill the waterline of his eyes, threatening to fall. he feels you grin against his cheek, “more?” he nods furiously, panting and needy for it.

his body falls lax the moment two of your thick fingers plunge into his cunt. “thankyouthankyouthankyou hnng, f-fuck!” he babbles mindlessly, pussy quivering around your fingers. your pace is fast, unrelenting even, in and out of his sopping wet cunt.

he all but squeals, falling lax and ignoring the show completely. “plea-se, i-i need to cum! ‘m so close!” he whimpers, sounding as wrecked as ever. “i want to hear you get desperate for it, baby, i wanna hear you beg.” you grunt into his ear.

“please. i-i‘ve been so g- fuck, good for you! please i c-can’t,” he keens, clenching around your fingers like a vice. he continues to mindlessly beg, pleading for you to give him permission to finally cum. he’s desperate for it, yearning as if it’s all he needs.

but, you aren’t particularly swayed.

you can feel his muscles clench and tense up as he nears his peak. he’s gritting out curses through his teeth, trying to stave off for as long as possible.

just when you can feel he’s truly at his end, you withdraw your fingers. the tears that had gathered at his waterline began to fall. he sobs out in defeat as his thighs press together at yet another denied orgasm.

“i’m not sure i want to be done playing with you yet, doll. you can go again for me.. can’t you?”

[revelboo]

More Transformers x Reader Headcanons

Various Transformers thoughts and nonsense

Soundwave/Blaster

• Cassette carriers can make a very specific crooning sort of purr that’s meant to soothe or coax unruly cassettes. Most of the time it’s not even a conscious thing. Which isn’t a problem except around humans. Because of our size, we can trigger that instinctive sound by accident if we’re upset. Even if the Cybertronian doesn’t even particularly like us or care for us at the time, leading to some… awkwardness.

Earthspark Soundwave

• “Silence,” he snarls, looming over you, big servos flexing in what you’d already figured out was an empty threat. Big and scary won’t actually hurt you, just threatening when you’re getting on his nerves. Aware of the cassettes watching the exchange, of Lazerbeak glaring at you in an attempt to telegraph how bad an idea it is, you know he’s right. But pushing Soundwave’s buttons is just too fun.

• “Or what? You can’t actually make me do anything, can you?” You just grin up at him. Insolent, little brat. Striding after you, he sees you glance back at him and the exact moment your attitude falters. Lunging for you as you scream and run. Aware of how undignified this is as his cassettes watch the drama. Seizing you as you kick and fight against him, he’s not sure what to do know. Just wants you to shut up. Not try to pick fights at every turn. “What are you doing? Are you purring?” The shaky question makes him freeze in horror. Realizing he is crooning at you like he would a cassette. Snarling, he releases you and you stumble away, staring up at him as Frenzy makes a strangled noise trying not to laugh. Because he didn’t just do that for a human. For you especially.

• They’re also very likely to try to carry a human around in their cassette compartment for safety, but also because they like having your warmth there. It can also be a way of ending an argument, picking you up and placing you inside like an errant cassette until you cool down, while crooning at you.

Body Language

• Cybertronians with wings/ door wings do unconsciously telegraph their emotions with them, but while wings lifted up is a sign of aggression in a Seeker, it’s a friendly or alert gesture in nonflyers. And can cause misunderstandings.

• Antenna can function much the same way and tend to be sensory appendages and, as such, very sensitive. The way they flick or move making them targets for curious humans. Touching a Cybertronian’s antenna because they’re cute comes across as an invitation to interface or can cause aggression. Or both.

TFP Shockwave

• Feet silent as you move closer to where his head is resting on his outstretched arm, you bend to check that his single optic is dim. Falling asleep at his desk while working isn’t exactly anything new, but staring up at the screen of alien gibberish, the graphs, and diagrams, you really wish you could make sense of it as you wrap your arms around yourself. Movement draws your attention back to him as his antenna flick in his recharge. You’d decided they look like bunny ears at some point, but haven’t dared to point that out to him. Doubt he’d be pleased to hear you call him cute.

• Shuddering as he comes awake to the feel of soft little hands playing with his antenna, his optic flares, arm shifting to flatten you against his head with a warning growl. Hears your little squeak of surprise as you grab onto his antenna for balance and his whole frame shivers. Can’t move, his cannon pressing against your back to pin you against him. Torn between the desire to encourage that touch and the urge to drop you and back away, because it feels too good.

Seekers

• When under extreme duress, Seekers will hiss, the noise typically accompanied by a whistling from their turbines that’s meant to call their trine for help.

• Seekers naturally gravitate toward forming trines and can be aggressive to outside trines, but several trines will band together against a common threat. In Everything is Alright, the elite trine is broken. True Romance is a better example of a healthy trine dynamic. In Everything is Alright’s universe, I’d intended to use the Rainmakers as an example of the normal dynamic, but made the True Romance alternate take instead. The drive to form trines in Seekers is so strong, they can also unconsciously form trines with non-Seekers if they’re around the other Cybertronians constantly, though they’re unlikely to admit to the mental association, finding it embarrassing.

Rainmakers

• There’s no such thing as alone time, not even resisting when an arm curls around you and drags you back into a warm frame. Shivering when your hair begins to float, and a mouth finds your throat. “Missed you,” Ion Storm murmurs, your skin prickling wherever he touches you. Even though it’s only been hours by your estimate since you last saw him. Hear Acid Storm make a low, rumbling noise of amusement from where he’s setting out energon cubes for them and food for you.

• About to walk by, Nova Storm reaches out to touch a stray strand of your staticky hair. Giving in to impulse and moving to pin you between him and Ion Storm, relaxing at the feel of your much cooler body against his own. “Fuel first,” Acid Storm growls without any real heat. Making a sound of acknowledgment, he cups your throat and tips your face up toward his, mouth brushing yours as you soften against him, relaxing into the heat of his touch. “I know you two can hear me.��

Mixed Signals

• Especially a problem with more aggressive Cybertronians- when arguing humans will sometimes just walk away to get some space to calm down. Unfortunately, that can come across as an invitation to follow with Decepticons in particular. A challenge. Continuing to ignore them or avoid them, upping their aggression and even seen as flirting or attempts to get their attention.

TFP Megatron

• “Where are you going?” That low, angry growl makes the hair at your nape prickle. He has a point though, trapped on his berth with the mass displaced mech, there’s nowhere to actually go. Except away from him right now, because you’re over arguing with him. Need to calm down and for him to just leave you alone for a minute. Which isn’t happening when you hear his heavy peds following you.

• Stalking after you as you ignore him, that aggression shifts and heats, becoming hunger. Catching your arm to force you to stop, you spin towards him, palm smacking against his face. “Don’t you dare, I’m angry with you.” Growling, he hauls you off your feet against him, chuckling when you slap him again and his spike stirs at your defiance. Wonders who you’re trying to convince, him or yourself as his mouth crashes down on yours.

• Decepticons and Autobots are often taken off guard when humans do something they think is cute. Yawning, sneezing, the way we get flustered are all fascinating to some of them, making them try to provoke reactions. Decepticons especially, have trouble dealing with humans being affectionate or sweet. Gently stroking their helm or curling up against them can be so unexpected they may gently bite in reprimand just because they don’t know how to respond.

• Humans tend to be tactile and want to touch everything. Cybertronians not used to this can be taken off guard when trying to offer a human a ride in their alt mode. Not realizing we’ll touch anything in reach, admiring them without understanding how sensitive their interiors are. These are surfaces that are never really handled. More of them will just tolerate the touch if it’s a familiar human, while others will forcibly eject them or snarl at them not to touch. Especially if the touch comes across as intimate.

Bluestreak

• Struggling to focus on the road as you run your fingers against his dash, shifting distractingly in his seat, a hand on his shifter, Bluestreak swallows a whine. “It’s so wild. I can’t believe the amount of detail you incorporated,” you say, a fingertip tracing a tooled leather seam to make him shudder all over. “Um, are you okay?” No. Not at all. And far too embarrassed to actually say anything because he’s not sure if he’d ask you to stop or beg you to keep touching him with those soft hands.

[winwintea]

mutual affection

PAIRING ↬ physics student!park jisung x fem!reader

TAGS ↬ FLUFF!!! the cheese is so cheesing here, way too many physics puns, you might cringe but here it is, i love park jisung, love love love him

SUMMARY ↬ sometimes, love isn’t theoretical—it’s proven, one note at a time.

WORD COUNT ↬ 2.6k words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ wow i’m a nerd. MEERRY CHRISTMAS @polarisjisung THIS ONE IS FOR YOU MY LOVE <33

PLAYLIST ↬ rhinestone eyes - gorillaz; swan - miyeon; song 2 - blur; missing you - ftisland;

JISUNG TAPPED HIS PEN AGAINST HIS NOTEBOOK RHYTHMICALLY,

pretending to take notes as the professor droned on about Schrödinger's Equation. It wasn’t that he disliked quantum mechanics—he loved it—but today, the equations felt heavier than usual. His eyes wandered to the person sitting next to him—you.

You were furiously scribbling in your notebook, not writing notes but...drawing? Jisung squinted. Was that a...cat? No, two cats. One inside a box labeled "alive" and the other "dead." He felt a grin tugging at his lips before he could stop himself.

A faint chuckle escaped, and he ducked his head, mortified, as you glanced his way. He was sure he’d blown his cover—who laughs during a physics lecture? But instead of being annoyed, your lips began to form a small smirk.

“Like what you see?” you whispered, sliding your notebook slightly closer to him.

Jisung blinked. Was this a test? A joke? Chenle said he always had trouble talking to women. Something about playing too much League and not touching grass. But it wasn’t his fault! And Chenle was wrong. He did touch grass. He hesitated but gave you an awkward nod, his brain scrambling for something to say. “It’s, uh... creative. Schrödinger would be impressed.”

You snorted softly, flipping the notebook his way completely. Beneath the doodle, you wrote:

"Your turn."

Jisung froze. Your turn? What was he supposed to draw? He glanced back at you, but you were already watching the professor again, feigning disinterest, though the corner of your mouth continued to twitch with amusement.

Heart pounding, Jisung picked up his pen. Drawing wasn’t exactly his forte, but he couldn’t just pass up the challenge. He quickly sketched a stick figure version of himself, complete with messy hair and oversized glasses, holding a comically oversized Geiger counter pointed at the box.

Next to the drawing, he added:

“Should I open it or...?”

He slid the notebook back your way, staring straight ahead, willing himself not to blush. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you lean over to inspect his work. There was a brief pause, and then—you laughed. Not just a quiet chuckle but an actual laugh, soft and melodic.

“That’s not bad,” you whispered, your tone teasing. “Stick figures are an underrated art form.”

Jisung risked a glance your way, only to find you grinning at him, eyes bright with amusement. For the first time, he smiled back without overthinking it.

As the lecture continued, neither of you paid much attention to the professor. Instead, your notebook became the canvas for the beginning of a tradition—tiny doodles, puns, and inside jokes that somehow made quantum mechanics infinitely more interesting.

Jisung couldn’t explain it, but as he scribbled out a little equation to accompany his next doodle, he felt a strange, unfamiliar excitement bubbling in his chest. For the first time, class didn’t feel so dull anymore.

It started with Schrödinger’s cat, but it didn’t stop there. For the next lecture, Jisung was prepared. He had a small stack of sticky notes tucked into his notebook, ready for whatever you might throw at him.

You were already scribbling something when he slid into his seat. The professor began discussing wave-particle duality, but Jisung’s focus was on the tiny folded note you flicked onto his desk.

He cautiously unfolded it. Written in neat handwriting was:

“Are you made of copper and tellurium? Because you’re Cu-Te.”

Jisung nearly choked on air, covering his mouth to stifle a laugh. He could feel the tips of his ears heating up as he turned to look at you. You were staring straight ahead, pen twirling between your fingers, but your smirk gave you away.

He scribbled back quickly:

“Are you a black hole? Because you’ve got some serious pull.”

You took the note, bit your lip to keep from laughing, and scribbled something before passing it back.

“Careful, Park. You might reach escape velocity at this rate.”

For the rest of the lecture, neither of you could keep straight faces. Jisung felt lighter than he had in weeks.

Two lectures later, during a painfully long discussion on thermodynamic entropy, Jisung felt like his brain was melting. Next to him, you seemed to be having the same struggle.

He noticed you sketching again, your tongue sticking out slightly in concentration. A few minutes later, you nudged his elbow and slid a folded scrap paper toward him.

He opened it to find an absolutely ridiculous cartoon: a dramatic black hole with wild hair and glasses that looked suspiciously like the professor’s. Around it, little stick figures were being sucked into the gravitational pull, textbooks flying everywhere.

At the bottom, you’d scrawled:

“Entropy? More like ENTRAP-Y.”

Jisung clamped a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking as he tried (and failed) to contain his laughter. The professor paused, eyes squinting at the two of you, and Jisung froze in shock.

When the professor turned back to the whiteboard, Jisung quickly scribbled a response:

“I think I just lost three brain cells to this singularity.”

You snorted quietly, and for the rest of the class, both of you avoided eye contact to prevent another laughing fit.

It wasn’t always jokes. At some point, the notes started to change.

One afternoon, after a particularly rough group presentation where Jisung stumbled over his words more than once, he slumped into his usual seat next to you, clutching his notebook like a shield.

You didn’t say anything at first, just slid a folded piece of paper onto his desk.

“You did great today. Public speaking is the worst, but you made your point, and honestly, half the class was lost after the second slide anyway.”

Jisung stared at the note for a long moment before writing back.

“Thanks. I always feel like I’m messing up. Group projects make it ten times worse because I’m scared I’ll let everyone down.”

You read it, your expression softening before you wrote back:

“I get that. But hey, if we ever have to do a project together, I’ll handle the talking, and you can handle the math. Deal?”

Jisung’s chest felt warm in a way he couldn’t quite describe.

“Deal.”

It was late in the semester, the kind of day where the sunlight streamed through the classroom windows just right, making everything feel a little softer. The professor was lecturing about particle accelerators, and Jisung was genuinely trying to focus—until he noticed you scribbling on a slip of paper.

You passed it to him without looking up.

“If you could work anywhere in the world, where would it be?”

Jisung hesitated. No one had ever asked him that before—not seriously, anyway.

“NASA, probably. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve had this strange obsession with space. It feels like there’s so much to discover, you know?”

You grinned when you read his response.

“That’s so cool. I’d want to be there too. Maybe one day we’ll run into each other in the cafeteria, arguing about quarks over sandwiches.”

Jisung smiled, his heart doing this weird fluttery thing that he couldn’t quite explain.

“I’d argue that up quarks are superior, but I’d let you win. Probably.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, scribbled something back, and slid the note over.

“You’d let me win? Park Jisung, are you challenging me to a quark debate?”

For the rest of class, Jisung couldn’t stop smiling.

Each note became a little window into your world and a bridge into his. It wasn’t just the jokes or the sketches—it was the little truths tucked between the lines. And every time he unfolded a piece of paper from you, Jisung felt a little less like an awkward physics student and a little more like…someone special.

Jisung’s head was spinning as he shoved his notebook into his backpack. The lecture had just ended, and while most of the class was still debating the finer points of entropy, his focus was on the small scrap of paper tucked between the pages of his notes.

It wasn’t supposed to leave his bag. It was just…a silly thought he’d scribbled down late at night when he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

But as he hurried to pack up, the folded note slipped loose and landed on your desk.

He didn’t notice until he was halfway out the door.

You were still sitting, absently flipping through your notes, when your gaze fell on the scrap of paper. You picked it up and unfolded it, eyebrows raising at the messy handwriting:

“I think the Doppler effect explains why my heart races whenever you’re near.”

You froze. The edges of the paper trembled in your fingers as the words sank in, and your cheeks warmed instantly.

“Jisung?” you called out instinctively, but he was already gone, lost in the crowd of students exiting the lecture hall.

Heart pounding, you hesitated for a moment before grabbing your pen. On the back of the note, you wrote carefully:

“Newton’s Third Law says every action has an equal and opposite reaction. I feel the same way.”

The next lecture couldn’t come fast enough.

Jisung didn’t sleep much the night before class. The realization that he’d left that note behind had haunted him. Maybe you’d thrown it away. Maybe you’d laughed at it.

But when he walked into the lecture hall the next day, you were already there. Sitting in your usual seat, you looked up as he approached, and your smile was soft—almost shy.

“Hey,” you said, sliding a small folded note across the desk.

Jisung swallowed nervously, hands trembling slightly as he opened it.

Newton’s Third Law. Equal and opposite reaction.

His eyes scanned the words once, twice, before he finally dared to meet your gaze. You were biting your lip, your eyes bright with anticipation.

Jisung’s voice came out barely above a whisper. “You—You feel the same?”

You nodded. “It’s simple physics, Park. Cause and effect.”

He let out a breathless laugh, hand coming up to cover his face as his shoulders shook slightly. “I can’t believe you’re using physics laws to confess to me right now.”

“Technically, you started it,” you said with a grin.

It was the end of a particularly brutal thermodynamics lecture. Jisung’s brain was fried, and judging by your furrowed brow, you weren’t faring much better.

The professor dismissed the class, and everyone packed up sluggishly. Jisung hesitated as he glanced at you, still scribbling something in your notes.

“See you later?” you said casually, but Jisung didn’t respond.

Instead, he slid a small, carefully folded piece of paper onto your desk before rushing out the door.

You blinked after him, confused, before carefully unfolding the note.

It was a Feynman diagram.

But instead of particle interactions, Jisung had mapped out…you and him.

At one vertex was a little stick figure of him, labeled “Jisung”, and at another, a tiny doodle of you labeled “(Y/N)”. Between the two were arrows labeled “Shared Jokes”, “Physics Puns”, and “Mutual Nerdiness”, and tiny hearts scattered along the connections.

At the bottom, in small, slightly wobbly handwriting, he’d written:

��I like you.”

Your face felt like it was on fire, but you couldn’t stop the wide smile spreading across your lips.

When you walked out of the lecture hall, Jisung was leaning against the wall, clutching the strap of his backpack like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

“Jisung,” you said softly, holding up the note.

He shifted nervously, avoiding your gaze. “I, um…I thought it might be easier to…you know…diagram it out.”

You laughed—a soft, delighted sound—and pulled out your pen.

Carefully, right at the bottom of his diagram, you added a new arrow connecting your doodle to his.

“Mutual Affection.”

You held it up so he could see, and Jisung’s eyes widened. His lips parted slightly in surprise before breaking into the brightest smile you’d ever seen.

“So…you like me too?” he asked quietly, voice trembling just a little.

“I think it’s safe to say we’ve reached a stable equilibrium,” you said with a grin.

He laughed—a sound full of relief and joy—and for a moment, the two of you just stood there, smiling at each other in the middle of the crowded hallway.

Physics could explain a lot of things, but this? The way Jisung’s heart felt like it was about to escape his chest, the way your eyes would crinkle when you smiled at him—this felt like a force of nature all its own.

By the time midterms had passed and the days grew shorter, the notes between you and Jisung had shifted. There were still plenty of physics jokes and ridiculous doodles—like the time he drew you both as photons bouncing off a reflective surface—but now there were softer words, too.

Between derivatives and integrals, you’d find little sentences scribbled in his neat handwriting:

“I hope you’re eating enough today.”

“You looked really pretty in the lab yesterday.”

“The universe is expanding, but I think my feelings for you are growing faster.”

In return, you wrote him notes on sticky tabs and slipped them into his textbook:

“Don’t stay up too late studying tonight. Even electrons need rest.”

One afternoon, after a particularly chaotic study session in the library, Jisung passed you a folded note with a tiny sketch of two orbiting electrons, labeled “You” and “Me”, with a little heart in the nucleus.

Underneath, he’d written:

“Stable bond achieved.”

You laughed softly, clutching the note like it was precious cargo.

“Park Jisung, you’re ridiculous,” you whispered.

He grinned, cheeks turning pink. “But you like it, right?”

You leaned over, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. “I like you.”

Jisung turned bright red and nearly dropped his pen.

The lecture hall was unnervingly silent during your final exam. The only sounds were the scratch of pencils on paper and the faint ticking of the clock.

You were halfway through a particularly frustrating question on thermodynamic efficiency when your calculator, which you’d been using furiously, clicked slightly as you pressed down on the buttons.

You frowned, turning it over—and noticed a tiny piece of folded paper tucked neatly into the battery compartment.

Your eyes darted up to scan the room. Jisung was a few rows ahead, hunched over his paper, completely engrossed in his work.

Heart racing, you carefully unfolded the note beneath the desk.

It was a small sketch, drawn with the same endearing messiness Jisung always brought to his doodles.

At the top, a hand-drawn banner read: “You’re the best experiment I’ve ever run.”

Below it, a sketch of the two of you: you with your hair tied back, him with his glasses askew and a shy smile. Little stars and hearts floated around the cartoon versions of yourselves, and at the bottom, he’d written:

“Hypothesis: Spending time with you improves my mood exponentially. Conclusion: Hypothesis confirmed.”

You pressed your hand over your mouth to hide your smile, your face heating up as tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

Carefully, you scribbled on the back with your pencil:

“Conclusion peer-reviewed and verified. Park Jisung, you’re my favorite discovery.”

When the exam ended, and everyone started filing out, you caught up to him in the hallway.

“Hey, Newton,” you said softly.

Jisung turned, his nervous smile flickering into something brighter when he saw you holding up the note.

“Did you…did you find it?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I did.” You stepped closer, holding the paper gently between your fingers. “You know, I think you might be my best result yet.”

Jisung let out a soft laugh, cheeks flushed pink. “Does that mean we’ve achieved optimal conditions?”

You grinned, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his. “Definitely. Stable equilibrium achieved.”

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @yizhrt @polarisjisung @multifandomania @spacejip @peterm4rker @viasdreams

[carisc4pshaw]

Office Christmas Party

In which the Hotchner!reader needs a plus one for an office Christmas party and Aaron Hotchner is quick to suggest Spencer accompanying her. (Fluff&Smut!)

word count: 4.4k

tags: office christmas party, one bed, aaron hotchner (dad), fem reader, bisexual reader, elle greenaway, spencer reid, plus one, new york city, christmas movie, room service, falling in love, crush, smut, fluff, elevator kissing, fancy hotel, manhattan, sightseeing, work colleagues, dating the boss’ daughter, girly reader

warnings: elevator kissing, sub spencer reid, dick riding, protected PinV sex

notes: Happy Christmas/ Christmas eve everyone! I hope you enjoy this, I tried my best but I’m still new to writing with a reader. I think I remembered all the tags pls let me know if * missed anything.

—————————💚————————

Two weeks before Christmas you walked into the Behavioural Analysis Unit of the FBI, your shoulder bag swinging as you walked up the small staircase towards your father’s office not bothering to knock before opening the door.

“What have I told you about knocking,” Aaron Hotchner looked up from whatever file he was finishing to see you standing in the doorway.

“My bad? I need help,” you sighed loudly sitting down on the chair opposite him.

“What have you done now? Hotch asked putting down his pen.

You gasped putting a hand on your chest, “That’s rude! I haven’t done anything.”

“Then what do you need help with?” He sat back in his chair looking at you waiting for you to continue talking.

“There’s a Christmas work party out of town next week and I have no plus one and I don’t want to go alone, help me find someone to go with please!”

“Man or woman? You know this isn’t exactly the help you ask your father for.”

“I know but I’m desperate, I’ll take anything, anyone,” You dramatically slumped over on his desk putting your head in your arms that were folded on the desk.

“I’ll think about it.”

“That’s it? I need to know possible suitors now. Does that hot brunette still work here I saw her once when I came to visit.”

“Who?” Aaron raised an eyebrow.

“Um,” you pictured yourself being back there that day and looking over at her desk, “Elle!”

“Yes.. she works here but she’s a little old for you?”

“She doesn’t look old, how old is she?”

“29.”

“Dad that’s only eight years difference. I’ve dated older people than that.”

“I have Elle on a special assignment in Texas next week but you’re more than welcome to ask her on a date another time I suppose…” Aaron said before adding, “What about Spencer?”

You pondered for a moment, “Look I like him he’s got that sexy nerd vibe.. also he looks like he’d be clueless but so good in b-“ You stopped what you were saying remembering you were speaking to your father, not a friend, “Nevermind. Do you think he will ramble a lot I don’t know if the other workers will like it, they are nowhere near as smart as him and I don’t want them to say things about him.”

“He does talk a lot but I thought you liked that plus he’s closer to your age,” Hotch made his point after shaking his head at your words, he wasn’t born yesterday he knew exactly what you were about to say and he did not like it at all.

“I suppose, there’s going to be models, influencers and fashion magazines we work with there though… I guess Spencer isn’t too bad he has a grandad kind of style going on people and by people I mean me, find that quite hot nowadays.”

“Look I have a job to do if you’re going to ask him just ask,” He said looking back at his file, “Aren’t you meant to be at work?”

“The company are scouting new models today I’m not required to be there, I don’t do that.”

“Right, well speak to Spencer and tell him I’ll give him extra time off with pay since he’ll be entertaining you. Where is this party?”

“New York. The company convinced Lilia Archer to go. I’m so excited she’s awesome.”

“Lilia Archer? Mention her and Spencer will be there I’m sure.”

“What do you mean? He’s got like a crush on her?”

“We had a case she was involved with last year, Spencer kissed her.”

“What?” you asked shocked but also with a hint of jealousy bubbling in your stomach.

Aaron laughed, “It was… unexpected.”

“You can say that again,” you picked up your bag, “I’ll see you later dad, love you.”

Hotch stood from his chair and walked around the corner of his desk pulling his daughter into a hug, “I love you too.”

You left the office walking down the stairs while looking around to see if you could spot Spencer.

You finally found him over by the coffee machine pouring an unnecessary amount of sugar into his coffee, “Spencer?”

The man turned around quickly hearing his name spoken so softly by a voice he recognised, “Y/N! Hi, what are you doing here?”

“I was actually looking for you,” you started.

“You were… Why?” His lips pressed into a straight line as his eyebrows knitted together.

“Are you busy next week? On Friday and Saturday?”

“I mean yes, I’ll be here…”

“And what if my father gave you some time off?” you smiled with hope.

“What’s going on?”

“I need a plus one for a Christmas party in New York, Please be my plus one Spence,” you clasped your hands together grinning widely.

“I’m not sure it’s really… well my scene, you work in fashion with models and I don’t usually go to parties.”

“Please Spencer, Lilia Archer is going to be there apparently,” you smirked a little.

“Oh I definitely cannot go, she’s got a boyfriend it will just be awkward,” Spencer frowned.

“Fine, I’ll have her uninvited or something? Please Spencer, If you don’t want to share a room with me I’ll pay for you to have your own.”

“What, no, you don’t have to spend your money on that I don’t mind sharing i-if that’s okay with you, of course!” Spencer stuttered getting nervous.

“So you’re coming?” the wide smile reappeared on your face.

Spencer sighed, “I guess so, what do I need to take?”

“Can I have your keys?”

“What why?” Spencer’s eyes widened.

“I have a day off, you are always busy and I will pick good outfits, it’s literally my job, I’ll go pack for you,” you put your hand out waiting for his keys.

“But I haven’t tidied up, I wasn’t expecting company.”

“Spence you’re a clean freak your meaning of messy is everyone else’s spotless clean.”

“Just stick to the wardrobe, don’t snoop around I know what you’re like,” Spencer said as he handed over his keys.

“Yes Doctor Reid, oh yeah if it wasn’t obvious you’re going as my boyfriend,” you kissed him on the cheek before walking off not giving him time to respond.

“What’s going on there pretty boy? The big boss wouldn’t be too happy if he saw that,” Derek said as Spencer’s blush deepened on his cheeks.

“I thought she was into me…” Elle added.

“I’m sure she wouldn’t turn down a night with both of you,” Derek winked at the brunette.

“You’re disgusting,” She rolled her eyes going back to typing on her computer.

——————

When Spencer returned home from work the next day, he opened the door to see his apartment fairly clean with his books that didn’t fit in the bookcase stacked up in alphabetical order as well as some cookies on the kitchen counter and as he went into his room he saw the open suitcase on the bed with a note by the side.

I hope you like everything I’ve packed and you enjoy the cookies I made you. I’m trying to be a good ‘girlfriend’ ;)

Y/N <3

Over the next few days, You only came into the office once to give Spencer another note that contained your phone number so you could communicate about where to meet before flying to New York.

On the day of the trip, Spencer drove to your apartment at 6 am, your flight was at 8:30 am but your apartment was a 20-minute bus ride from the airport meaning it was the best place to meet.

Spencer knocked on the door and waited a few minutes before knocking again.

“Spencer there’s a key under the mat!” You called through the apartment. The man rolled his eyes, you had probably woken up your neighbours and just told them where you had been hiding your spare key although by the look of the building it may have soundproof walls or a least more soundproof than his were at his apartment.

He took the key and unlocked the door, stepping inside to see you in the kitchen with your hair in rollers, drinking a cup of tea with multiple outfits hanging up around the house.

“I take it you aren’t ready?” Spencer said.

“Good morning my love, nope almost just need to pick the airport outfit!”

“I like the second one,” He shrugged.

“Hm, I think I’ll go with the fourth.”

Spencer shook his head with a laugh, “Please don’t be long we don’t have much time.”

“Don’t stress it’s all cool,” you picked up the coat hanger that had a pair of black Victoria's Secret sweatpants, a white tank top and an off-the-shoulder sweater on, “Make a coffee, make yourself comfortable.”

Every minute that passed Spencer checked his watch getting more anxious until finally 15 minutes later you left your bedroom with a suitcase and 2 bags with your hair curled and your outfit on.

“I’m ready, let’s go,” you said grabbing your phone and walking over to the door.

——————

You and Spencer stood outside the hotel and spa, it looked fancy and definitely out of his price range, Spencer thought to himself.

“Ready for 2 days of fun boyfriend?” You smirked pulling your suitcase through the glass door of the hotel.

Spencer followed closely behind you holding one of your bags. He let you check in before you went to your room on the top floor.

“Woah this is huge!” you said looking at the hotel room’s super king-sized bed.

“It’s a nice hotel, how much did you pay for this?” Spencer asked leaving his suitcase next to the left side of the bed.

“I didn’t, my boss did. I’m pretty sure she booked out the whole hotel for the party.”

“So,” Spencer sat down on the bed after removing his shoes, “What exactly is the plan?”

“What plan?” you raised an eyebrow sitting down next to him and picking up the room service menu.

“Why am I here?” Spencer kept to the edge of his side of the bed.

“To be my plus one for the party tomorrow night, maybe you can show me around the city, dad said you’ve been here more than a few times for cases.”

“That’s it? You just wanted a plus one? There was no hidden meaning? I’m sure you could have found someone better looking on a dating website.”

“I like nerdy guys, plus you’re a fancy FBI agent,” you turned to look at him biting your lip before giggling, “I think we are going to have fun, wanna explore the hotel?”

“Maybe later, I want to stay here for a few minutes since I’m going to have to start using my social battery soon.”

“Okay suit yourself, I’m going to meet some of my friends I won’t be longer than an hour,” you said getting off the bed and heading out of the door.

Spencer sighed once he heard the door close, his head falling back against the headboard. He couldn’t deny the fact that he had a crush on you but he knew you were totally off-limits, you were Hotch’s daughter after all.

His head felt dizzy picturing the way you had looked at him while biting your lip even if it was jokingly it still made his head spin and his blood rush to his cock.

Spencer took it upon himself to take a cold shower, he needed one after the flight anyway so why not kill two birds with one stone?

You walked back into the room at the same time as Spencer opened the bathroom door with a towel wrapped just around his waist.

“Hello to you too, what a nice surprise,” you winked at him with a laugh.

“Shut up,” the man walked back into the bathroom closing the door, “I thought you were going to be an hour.”

“Got bored, assumed you’d want to go out or get something to eat maybe? Do you find if we swap rooms I need to pee.”

“Oh, oh sure,” Spencer opened the door again, “Food sounds good. Could you stay in the bathroom until I’m dressed?”

“Sure if it makes you more comfortable,” You smiled going into the bathroom.

“Thank you,” Spencer got dressed as he called into the bathroom, “I’m paying for our food, you can come out by the way.”

You opened the bathroom door, “You don’t have to Spence, my father gave me some money to spend here.”

“Use it to buy something nice, I want to pay for dinner,” Spencer smiled at you.

“Fine I’m not going to turn that down again,” you laughed and grabbed your purse.

——————

You and Spencer had lunch and stayed out exploring the city until 5 pm when you headed back to the hotel.

“Are you sure you’re okay ordering room service for dinner?” You asked Spencer for the 4th time since you had been walking back to the hotel.

“Yes I’m fine with it,” Spencer laughed and rolled his eyes pushing their room door open.

Just as he was about to close the door he heard a feminine voice calling ‘Wait’ Confused, he waited, by this point, you had gone into the bedroom.

“Oh!” The woman spoke, “I’m so sorry I thought this was my friend's room.”

“You’re a friend of Y/N?”

“Yes… and you are?”

“Spencer,” he smiled, “Y/N, someone is at the door for you.”

You groaned and came out of the bedroom with your sweater off, you looked extremely good in the white tank top you had been wearing under the sweater.

“Laura! Oh hey; Laura this is my boyfriend Spencer, Spencer this is my boss Laura.”

“Boyfriend?” Laura looked confused, “You have a boyfriend?”

“Yes…” points to Spencer, “Boyfriend.”

“Oh well, I guess you don’t need to come to the club with me and a couple of the others to find plus-ones then,” Laura laughed.

“Nope, no clubbing for me, Spence and I are going to have a movie night, order room service and have lots of cuddles,” you grinned.

“That’s cool have fun, I’ll see you tomorrow, or I’ll text you if I get lucky,” Laura winked before leaving the room.

You closed the door and Spencer eyed you curiously, “I wouldn’t have minded if you went out.”

“We have plans did you not hear?”

“You were being serious you want a movie night with me?” Spencer raised an eyebrow.

“And cuddles,” you smiled before returning to the bedroom, “Can you order room service while I take a shower?”

“Of course, What do you want?”

You hummed, “Carbonara, margarita pizza, red wine and chocolate brownie with ice cream. Oh and ask for bottled water.”

Spencer laughs, “I’m guessing this gets charged to your boss?”

“You guessed right, order what you want. I love her but I love spending money more,” You giggled going into the bathroom and turning the shower on.

You walked out of the bathroom in your towel, “Sorry I forgot to take my pyjamas through.”

Spencer cleared his throat, “It’s fine um room service will be 6 minutes and roughly 17 seconds.”

——————

The two sat in the living room area of the room eating their meals and sharing a few bites with each other.

You both went back to the bedroom to watch TV and just as you were about to climb into the bed you took off your dressing gown revealing your silky pyjamas which consisted of a low-cut tank top and short shorts.

Spencer’s face went a little red as he cleared his throat, “That's what you chose to bring?”

“Is there a problem with them?” You asked looking down at your clothes.

“No, no, no problem you look really um great,” he wanted to continue his ramble but you stopped him.

“You can tell me I’m hot baby,” the younger woman winked.

“Stop that, let’s just watch the movie,” Spencer spoke desperately.

“Fineeee,” you said dragging out the last letter as you switched the TV on.

At some point during the movie, you fell asleep on Spencer’s arm. Once he realised you were sleeping he switched off the movie and fell asleep beside you.

The next morning, you woke first with a groan, you smiled as you tilted your head up to see Spencer sleeping. He looked so perfect as he slept. You weren’t sure if having thoughts like that were sweet or creepy.

You pulled back the duvet to go to make some tea. By the time you came back, Spencer was starting to wake up.

“Sorry, I didn’t make you anything I didn’t know when you’d wake up,” you said getting back into bed.

“That’s fine, good morning,” He smiled trying not to move.

“Good morning, is everything okay?” your eyebrows knitted together in curiosity.

“Yeah I’m fine, just uh disorientated… give me a few minutes to wake up.”

“Man troubles?” you caught on and raised an eyebrow.

Spencer choked, “What?”

“Oh come on I wasn’t born yesterday Spence, I’ve had boyfriends. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

He covered his face with his hands, “It is embarrassing but it will go away. What time is it?” Spencer asked changing the subject.

“Only 7:30 but Dad will call at 8 to check on me,” you rolled your eyes,

“And then I’ll go back to sleep for a bit.”

“What time are you getting up?” Spencer said, he was used to getting up long before this time most mornings but it wouldn’t hurt if he had a lay-in for once. It wouldn’t usually be his thing but these beds were extremely comfortable.

“Before noon? The party starts at 5 pm so I’ll have more than enough time to get ready,” You placed the empty mug on the bedside table and waited for Aaron to call you in the meantime Spencer had fallen back to sleep.

—————

When you both woke up again, you had slept slightly past noon. Spencer had a few missed calls from the team, he instantly felt guilty that he wasn’t available to answer his phone if they needed help but it didn’t take long for you to convince him that it was his day off and he didn’t have to be on call all the time.

After a lot of stressing about curling your hair and making sure your make-up was perfect, you were almost ready. The last thing you had to do was put your dress on.

Spencer was waiting on the small sofa for you to finish getting ready. When you walked out of the bedroom in the long sparkly dark grey strapless dress his mouth almost fell open and his eyes were glued to you, his pupils dilated.

“I have some rules, well if you agree to them, we have to actually act like a couple… you know kissing and stuff and I want you to be yourself… earth to Spencer?” you waved your hand in his face when you realised he wasn’t actually listening to you and his eyes were locked on your body, “See something you like?” you laughed.

Spencer nodded his eyes still barely moving as if he was in a trance.

“Wanna take it off? I don’t mind being late,” you smirked.

Spencer snapped out of his thoughts at your words, “What? No, I can’t, you just look good, you look nice, um hot?”

“Thank you,” you tilted your head to the side with a smile, “So you’re fine with kissing?”

“Totally fine, I mean I haven’t kissed anyone in a long time, I might be bad. I really hope I’m not.”

“Spence, you’ll be fine.”

——————

You had no problem introducing Spencer as your boyfriend to your work colleagues making him wonder if you had done this before, what he wasn’t prepared for though was how highly you spoke of him and the sparkle in your eyes which to him would suggest that you really meant what you were saying. However, when you spotted Lilia Archer across the room you changed. It wasn’t that you seemed shy because you were anything but shy, but until Lilia spotted both you and Spencer it was like you was trying to hide.

You were the first to notice Lilia walking toward the both of you and your first instinct was to pull Spencer closer to you, your lips landed on him in what was meant to be a quick kiss to make Lilia feel at least a tad bit jealous but the kiss didn’t stop at a quick peck.

The two of you felt a spark run through you that neither of you could explain but you both didn’t want it to end.

Once the genius remembered that you were at a party with hundreds of people and not alone in your hotel room he removed his hand from the side of your face and pulled back from the kiss.

His hand fell beside him, catching your hand in his not long after, “That was interesting…”

“It was.”

“Did you mean it or was it because Lilia was coming?”

You shrugged, “A bit of both I wanted to make her jealous but I did mean it, I think you’re attractive and I know I'm not anywhere near as pretty or cool as Lilia Archer-“

“Stop talking like that. You’re perfect how you are, the only reason I didn’t do that first was that I thought for sure no one as confident as you would want someone… like me. And the other reason is Hotch, he is my boss.”

“Come on Spence you’re the most perfect gentleman I’m sure Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner, would be more than happy if his daughter was dating his favourite boy genius.”

Spencer took a small step closer to you despite the lack of distance between you already. He cupped your cheeks lowering his head to give you another kiss.

“I know we’ve only been here for an hour but do you want to get out of here?” you said with a giggle.

“Lead the way.”

——————

The two of you couldn’t keep your hands or your lips off each other in the elevator to your floor or in the hallway toward your room.

Once the hotel door was closed you pushed Spencer up against it, kissing his lips passionately as you fiddled with his tie trying to get it off in a hurry.

You swiftly moved on to unbuttoning his shirt once the tie was off, your lips were still connected but now your tongues were invading each other’s mouths.

Separating from each other to take a couple of breaths, Spencer removed his shoes while you kicked your heeled shoes off removing a few more inches between yours and Spencer’s height.

“Bedroom?” you asked him, taking his hand in yours and intertwining your fingers together.

“I didn’t bring condoms with me, I didn’t plan for well this,” he said with a laugh.

“I always have some with me just in case,” you said as you entered the bedroom immediately finding one in your bag while Spencer removed his pants.

“At least you’re prepared, now come here I love that dress on you, you look beautiful but I want to take it off,” Spencer spoke with a rasped tone, his hands running up and down the curves of your waist and hips once you were standing in front of him.

“Take it off,” you whispered.

Spencer stood up from the bed spinning you around to find the zipper at the back of the dress, when he pulled it down he was met with your bare back meaning you had no bra on and only a lace g-string.

Spencer couldn’t help a quiet moan escaping his mouth when you turned back around showing him your exposed top half.

“You’re beautiful,” he said kissing your lips once again his hands finding your breasts.

A few moments later the both of them were fully undressed nothing left on their bodies.

“Can I put it on?” You asked holding up the condom packet.

“Please,” his voice was slightly strained he was so desperate to be inside of you, he didn’t know how much more he could take.

You ripped open the packet wasting no time before sliding the latex over his cock as a groan fell from his lips.

“Can I be on top?” you asked him.

“You want to ride me?”

“Yes, please?” you gave him a puppy dog-eyed gaze earning a nod from him.

“I’m not going to say no to that,” Spencer held your thighs as you positioned yourself in the right place before slipping his cock inside of you.

You moaned as he penetrated you further. Once fully inside of you, you took a deep breath.

“Am I hurting you?” Spencer asked worriedly.

“No! I just need a second,” you slowly began to move up and down your hands placed on his chest to maintain your balance.

Spencer moaned with each small movement, the warmth from your insides felt incredible wrapped around him, he fit perfectly inside of you.

“You’re doing so good,” you praised him as his hip started to jerk in a rhythm that matched your pace.

“I can’t last much longer, you feel so good,” Spencer moaned against your lips, when you leaned down to kiss him his cock angled even deeper instead of you.

You could barely open your eyes as you said, “I’m almost there.” The way you spoke triggered something in Spencer that made him remove one of his hands from your back and move it so his thumb would brush against your clit in circles.

With a few more sloppy thrusts caused by his hips that grazed your g-spot each time combined with him rubbing hard circles against your clit, the both of you came at the same time both with moans so loud anyone would be able to hear them through the walls.

You didn’t pull him out of yourself until you had fully gotten your breath back.

“Oh my god,” you sighed lifting off him and rolling into the space beside him, covering half of your body with the thin duvet.

“Good, oh my god? or bad?” Spencer asked pulling you close to him.

“Definitely good, so good,” You answered.

“Okay good because I agree, you were amazing,” Spencer pecked your lips softly.

“I hope you plan on being my plus one again,” you spoke quietly running your fingernails down his naked chest.

He pulled the duvet up to cover your body a little more, “I certainly plan on it.”

[annasofthe11thdimension]

Alright, so this is basically...an art dump for all the pics i drew when i was trying to draft the ending i wanted my Odile looping Au 'Like a Wheel Ever Turning' which...is not even SLIGHTLY how this fic is going to end now, but while figuring that out i still like draw all this and had to do SOMETHING with it.

So figured I'd post it and be like 'hey! fun Odile looping act 5 boss fight vibes not connected to anything else!' since like...that basic IS what they are at this point lol.

The one cool idea i loved that i think is now FIRMLY ditched is the act 5 boss fight starts when Odile uses wish craft to splinter herself into two halves.

The 'old/current' her that is meant to be her coldly logical side, and a younger 'copy' version, which is meant to be the childish irrational side...that is what's stopping her just shutting down the time loop because she can't figure out how to be happy with her friends leaving.

I mean, if you murder the part of you that WANTS the wish to come true, that's basically a 'get out of time loop free card' right? Right! Totally sound logic!

Yes the 'young' version of her firmly believes that she's real, and also also got memories going up to about age 21, and also that she ought to be in Ka Bue not HERE among these french weirdos.

Also yes again, a 'young' Odile is EXACTLY as unhinged about this as you'd expect a 21 year old to be upon finding out that apparently the 'real' her think murdering her is the correct solution to this problem!

The shift of the fight was meant to have the inverse 'colors' shift from one version to the other by the end, wrapping up with the point where the 'original' Odile is forced to have a heart to heart with the personification of her perceived 'worst' qualities.

Pretty sure the vibes for this ending was a lot more focused on the resolution of having deeply complex feeling about EXPRESSING emotion directly to other people. That along with a side helping of how isolating it is to be perceived as a 'real' adult such that you can't be weak enough to ask anyone for help. Because really if you can't even be that then why are you any different then when you were irritating mess of a youth?

Not saying any of that isn't still present in the story, but like...there is a LOT of other stuff going on, and those themes are now linked into many other ones too, and that's not even TOUCHING on how Loop's been...somewhat complicating my redrafting lol.

...Also I might have drawn/plotted this version before i knew about two-hats lol. THAT also is a factor.

Anyway! Still liked all of these enough to want to do SOMETHING with them, and figured this worked, so i could like map out my thoughts on them, even if i never got to write this.

[fallbhind]

my girl dick is hard rn btw thanks to perv!classmate!rafe <3 “he was getting harder every time he heard your chuckles.  and god,when you wrapped that pen between your glossy lips, he just wanted to force his fat dick against the gap of your mouth, watching you struggle to take him with those pretty eyes of yours rolling in the back until he’s crying and his tip leaking on your favorite lipstick.” if i could read this everyday all day I’d constantly stay hard. need someone to get hard listening to my chuckle &&. everything in between.

“you probably didn't know it, and it was one of his many dirty secrets, but he had a sex doll in his room that looked exactly like you and that he fucked every time he came home. he was a premature ejaculator but above all compulsive. you could be sure that this doll was fucked ten times in a row until he was out of breath, sweaty and stinking, until his hair and sheets were drenched in sweat and juices with his muscles drained and body shaking under painfully spasms.” this was so incredibly detailed in my opinion, so at least we know exactly what he does in his room as well as what it smells like.

“‘god, you're pathetic.’ you muttered before sitting next to him.  ‘did you pee your pants ? you've got a stain.’ you whispered in his ear. ‘i know what you are, cameron.’ but you were in a good mood today, so you wrote on a paper.  — meet me in the girls' bathroom upstairs. (I know how much you love this place. I'm even sure you have lots of photos of me in the cabins.)” god that’s hot mean!popular!reader is hot w pervclassmate rafe holy shadooks.

“as soon as you touched it, his stomach clenched. you were so kind to do that for him. you only thought of yourself. your fingers moved speed around his shaft while his balls slapped against his muscular thighs in motion. he was hard since this morning, so it was hurting him so bad, to the point he was terribly miserable and unsteady, just waiting for your touch since he watched you this morning in the hallways.” god nemyesyaaa ur starting to make me feel like this his something personal 😞. my girl dick got harder, making my stomach clench at the perfect description of dried cum.

“

“‘good boy, aren’t you rafe?’ you replied while gently slapping his heated cheek, before squeezing both of them between your fingers.  ‘you definitely are.’ you said, watching his face blushing under your touch. ‘y-y-es…’ ‘so you will do anything for me…?’ you asked with a smile on your lips. he nodded again. anything you wanted. absolutely anything. ‘fine…i'm gonna give you what you want.’ ‘what do you mean?’ ‘that i'm gonna use you until i'm tired of you. it's my turn to have fun. but it will stay a secret between us of course. this is my number, and i better find you all submissive when i call you.” mean!popular!reader is such a girl boss helping out perv!classmate!rafe fulfill his sexiest nightmare.

ain't nobody business // classmate!rafe cameron x mean!popular! reader

summary ; your classmate was too obssessed with you...but you were also too cool to care about him....only at first....

warnings ; 18+ smut plot. verbal violence. oral(f&m receiving). public masturbation. sub!rafe (simp obssessed and loser). nosebleeding so kind of blood. spitting. pervy behavior/needy depraved attitude. light praising. weird obssession. minors dni. be aware of the warnings before reading please.

author's note : none.

pervy classemate!rafe who's always been your biggest simp. not only had he always been a simp when it came to you, but he was totally sick and completely depraved. he was the very definition of the word pervert in its most terrible sense. he never missed a single class where you were present because he was completely obsessed with the idea of being close to you, of sharing the same space as you. he loved to hum the air you breathed because your scent was the one that intoxicated him. he was constantly at the back of the class and you were only a few feet away. he was a pathetic gooner who knew he had no chance with popular chicks  like you. your standards were — too fucking high.  you were the kook princess,  too classy, too hot, too perfect, the mean girl out of his league.

 then, he was never presentable. 

you didn't necessarily notice it because you liked to ignore the existence of your fan. but he was constantly looking at you, his blue eyes glued to every one of your moves. he was like a stalker, watching you from afar in the hallways as you walked through the crowd with your group of friends. you were the prettiest of them all, your hair was always clean and neat, your face soft and made up, your lips covered in gloss and your mouth chewing a bubblegum. you always wore skimpy outfits because it was always horribly hot even inside the school. 

he was desperately waiting for you to burst into his line of vision, his hand already stuck in his pants. his locker wasn't far from yours. there were photos of you and accessories belonging to you inside. everything you thought you throw away, he would get it back. he had a huge collection about it.

he was too freaking weird and lame — kind of the pervy freak your girlfriends make fun of it.  the kind of losers that upset you and made you roll your eyes when he was staring or talking to you. the kind of idiots that was always in your fucking way instead of getting lost somewhere you didn't care. 

but despite your mean and cold attitude toward him, rafe was always so eager to see you. 

out of the pathetic man he was, rafe cameron was big. even when his dick was limp in his boxer, a fat bulge was outlining the fabric of his underwear. when you were in the same room as him, he always felt the need to palm himself, literally stroking his aching cock through his pants as you took a seat. it was crazy because your back was only shown to him but his dick was already growing in his grip, the veins of his length bulging thick against his touch. 

he was getting harder every time he heard your chuckles.  and god,when you wrapped that pen between your glossy lips, he just wanted to force his fat dick against the gap of your mouth, watching you struggle to take him with those pretty eyes of yours rolling in the back until he’s crying and his tip leaking on your favorite lipstick. the way you swirl your tongue around the hood, leaving a trickle of drool webbing from your lips to the pen while you pretended to think, sweet moans escaping your lips as you fixed your mini skirt was too much for him. 

you were such a bitch. 

you probably didn't know it, and it was one of his many dirty secrets, but he had a sex doll in his room that looked exactly like you and that he fucked every time he came home. he was a premature ejaculator but above all compulsive. you could be sure that this doll was fucked ten times in a row until he was out of breath, sweaty and stinking, until his hair and sheets were drenched in sweat and juices with his muscles drained and body shaking under painfully spasms. when he had to jerk off, he didn't need to go to pornsites, he just needed to open your insta page. and it was even better when you posted stories because you were always half naked in them. he masturbated until his screen was covered in hot and thick spurts, his liquid hiding your face.

he was such a dreamer and you were such a fantasy. 

one time, you were in physics class in this lab-like class and you were across from him. he spent the whole time looking at your cleavage. his eyes were deep down on your boobs.  but he was also suffered from  a  painful boner that you were aware about, but was ironically under your control.  

“ want a picture of them, cameron ? ” you said with exasperation. “ because you're never gonna touch them. never in your life so stop watching. ” 

he knew it. losers like him didn't stand a chance with girls like you and that was what made him even hornier. 

sick.

the slightest contact with you was enough to ignite him. and telling him that he had no chance of touching you or going out with you made his cock bigger. 

" god, you're pathetic. ” you muttered before sitting next to him.  “did you pee your pants ? you've got a stain. ” you whispered in his ear. “ i know what you are, cameron.” 

but you were in a good mood today, so you wrote on a paper. 

— meet me in the girls' bathroom upstairs. (I know how much you love this place. I'm even sure you have lots of photos of me in the cabins.)

you kissed him on the cheek. as you were looking down on him, he just gasped while swallowing hard as you were laughing out loud with your girlfriends.

you were waiting for him  in the bathroom after class. it didn't take long for him to arrive. you had locked both of you in a cabin. he barely had time to open his mouth when you were already pulling down his pants to give him a blowjob. 

his boxer was wet and covered with dried cum. it was so gross and god so disgusting. you couldn't believe yourself that you were about to do this.

“are yo..." 

“Be quiet, Cameron. or i might kill you. ”

“ Please, you turn me on. ” he pleaded with a hard breath. 

his dick was fat and hard, literally twitching under your touch as you tried to not think too much. he was already whimpering like a crybaby when you hadn't even touched him yet.

he was in heaven. you were like a goddess for him. 

“ You really don't deserve me. and not even what i'm going to do to you. So you better not  screw that moment because it's gonna be the  first and last time a girl gonna ever touch you in your shitty life. ” 

as soon as you touched it, his stomach clenched. you were so kind to do that for him. you only thought of yourself. your fingers moved speed around his shaft while his balls slapped against his muscular thighs in motion. he was hard since this morning, so it was hurting him so bad, to the point he was terribly miserable and unsteady, just waiting for your touch since he watched you this morning in the hallways. 

he was shaky and breathy, drooling and moaning like a slut. and it was also ironic too because you were supposed to be the whore in general. but rafe cameron was one of the biggest bitch you ever seen. 

he was a kook but he was so shitty. 

“ i said be quiet. ” you ordered with a firm voice, tired of his whines. “ since you struggle to listen to me, i'm gonna put this in your mouth. better hold it tight with your teeth because if i hear another sound from you, i gonna take those high heels that you love to see me with and step on your dick with it. understand ? yea, i can give you real reasons to be noisy.  " 

you took off your underwear to stuff it in his mouth. you had hooked it tightly enough behind his head to keep him from dropping it. 

when you wrapped your mouth around his cock, you felt him shudder as you began to suck him gently. you moved your mouth as far as possible until you felt his girth at the back of your throat.  you had pushed your mouth to take all his inches, making in it fit between your lips. you were now full stuffed with his cock that was throatfucking you senseless. 

you were licking and sucking, giving him the blowjob of his life. he started to foaming at the mouth over your panties, his drool dripping from his chin to the raging dick that filled you. 

you were literally taking the saliva he was raining over you, giving no shit at this point.  when he began to move his hips, guiding the pace while fucking your throat, and you let him do as he was driving himself between your lips. a hand was tangled in your hair, getting them messy. your tongue was so soft, the sweetest he ever felt.

his lower tummy was twitching, abs flexing deep to the feeling you gave him. a sloppy head  that made him cum so fast, coating your lips with a splash of sperm, as he held the back of your neck, forcing you to gag over the fat length. you were still hot, but messy. your vision was blurred and your face was covered with his drop of white loads, and streams of saliva. mascara was dripping from your eyes, your lipstick was smudging on your cheeks and his cock, your mouth was damping with drool and small bubbles connected to his sticky soaked tip.

you sucked him again and he came five minutes later inside your throat. after that, he had stuck two fingers down your mouth. it was as if the roles had reversed for a moment because you were now his whore. 

he had started to thrust in and out, free-using your cavity while you took his fingers deep in your mouth. they were big and wet, making you gurgle terribly. his digits felt even more thicker inside you. he was brushing them against your tongue, forcing you to take them and lick them until they were nice and clean.

 

when he was satisfied, you had collected your panties, getting ready to leave. “please, die now. it's so embarrassing for me. ” you looked down and your eyes widened. “i don't mean that to see you being even bigger, cameron. you're such a trash. ”

“ please, can i touch you ? ” he was whimpering to your ears. 

“ think you deserve it ? ” you answered. “ because no, you can't. ”

he was under you, his grip so weak around your naked thigh, while he was pleading under his breath.  

he was staring at you with desperate eyes  that you agreed. “ but you're not gonna touch me. you're gonna watch only. you understand ? ”

he nodded, before getting on his knees. you took a seat in the cabin, and spread your legs, skirt on your knuckles. his hand was already on his cock, the tip leaking on the floor, as you opened your thighs wider to watch him losing his mind fully on the sight of your gleaming pussy. 

you hate yourself for being so soaked that wetness was running down your skin. rafe was now jerking himself off, his heavy and shaky breathing escaping his lips. you had brought fingers against your pussy after having moistened them then you had started to play with your lower lips with your hand before starting to caress yourself. your legs were feverish because you had already shoved three fingers inside  you. 

rafe was obsessed. you managed to drive him crazy, to dehumanize him. he had lost control when you added another finger, making it seem like you could fit the whole hand. you were so naughty, but your moans were so sweet. then the way you squirmed as you fingered yourself made him sick and perverted. “ easy pretty, you can't cum before me. ” 

but he couldn't take it anymore, he had soaked his hands from touching himself so much while he watched you fucked yourself with your fingers. “ c-can…i cum..please…” he was breathless, mouth running like a pup, eyes filled with tears as his hands were trembling over his throbbing dick. “ n-need…it…! ”

“ it's all you got, baby ? i'm disappointed. looks like someone doesn't really want to cum…” you teased, still playing with your insides. 

he knew he was stupid but you made him even dumber. when it came to you, he had nothing in his head, no self-esteem, no dignity. your fingers worked hard in your insides. the wet sounds of your digits going back and forth in your plushy canal as he was stroking himself harder. his fingers were in rhythm with yours, matching the way they were moving in your pussy. 

you were like a movie star. a fucking porn star. the one he's dreamed about in the dark of his room.

your cunt was clenching over your fingers, sliding in and out of the wetness that came from your walls. but you continued to push them deeper and deeper to bring you close. you feel your hips lifted up, your legs trembling and you find yourself on your tiptoes as you reach your digits further in your swollen cunt. rafe couldn't help himself, and moved from your place to lick at your pussy when your fingers were still inside you. he was eating you out at , tongue sticking at your drooling slit that he was lapping while golden stars were taking you away from reality. he was so needy, the way his voice was breaking into your pretty cunt. he spreaded your folds way with his tongue, lapping through the needy hole before starting to make sloppy licks. you could feel his heavy nose rubbing against your clit, stroking it gently as he was lapping and stretching your canal. 

you had to admit, he was good and if you didn't have so much ego you would let him know. but instead, you let him continue, the weight of his tongue shoving inside you, forcing you to squirm as he tickled your sensitive bud with his face. he was thrusting in and out, letting you leak your juices on his chin.

he was so deep in the thing, twirling his tongue to feel all your insides, driving his mouth so deep that he could not miss the spot, hanging his jaw open to let your wetness drip down his chin. 

he was about to pass out, living the dream of his life with you. the way your pulsing clit was rushing into his fat nose making him nuzzle stronger , slow back and forth to messy rubs. all your pussy was now so tough on him, stroking him harder, forcing him to gasp and wimps. you didn't make it stop because you were too selfish to care about what he felt. 

his mouth was working on your slit, as your clit was still evilly running the sensitive spot of his nose, getting it all wet and red until you heard a small crack from the pressure. his nose was now bleeding but that didn't stop him from pleasuring you. he was still eating at your cunt, metallic taste added to the sweet of your hole. after a wild minute, his entire face was coated with blood and seeds as he cried harder, his hands tugging the skin of your hips. 

his nose was bleeding against your bud, as a line of the red liquid was trailing over the opening of your cunt making a way to his driving tongue. he was buried inside your whole sucking you to depth with blood foaming under his teeth — so close to bleed into your folds. 

when you exploded, his tongue still fucking you, he had been so quick to swallow it all.

“ it's not gonna happen twice…” you muttered, still a little dizzy.  “And if you tell anyone, I’ll find you and kill you. And please, take a fucking shower,  Cameron. ”

“ It's Rafe. ” 

“ I know your name. I just don't care about it. ” you replied with a sigh. “ Now, i'm leaving. Stop, gooning yourself. It's so gross. ”

You began to walk away but you wanted to add something more. 

“ Did you understand ? Nod your head…”

You smiled when he obeyed. 

“Good boy, aren’t you Rafe ? ” you replied while gently slapping his heated cheek, before squeezing both of them between your fingers.  “ You definitely are.” you said, watching his face blushing under your touch. 

“ Y-y-es…” 

“ So you will do anything for me…? ” You asked with a smile on your lips. 

He nodded again.

 Anything you wanted. Absolutely anything. 

“ Fine…i'm gonna give you what you want. ”

“ What do you mean ? ”

“ That i'm gonna use you until i'm tired of you. It's my turn to have fun. But it will stay a secret between us of course. This is my number, and i better find you all submissive when i call you. ” 

[bullet-prooflove]

Hey hey! How about "Fog up the windows in the parking lot" for Buck please?

Tagging: @kmc1989 @mckinleysbones @sophiah2253 @qutequeersstuff @gatefleet

Companion piece to:

Catalina Island - You and Buck meet for the first time during a daring rescue.

Not Yet (NSFW) - Buck loves it when you tug at his curls.

Burning Down The House - You and Buck cause a fire during date night.

Buck is in heaven, pure unadulterated heaven. His face is buried in the curve of your throat, his hands on your hips holding you in place as he thrusts into you in the passenger seat of his Jeep. Your back is pressed against his chest, your khaki forest ranger shirt rustling against his navy LAFD as the windows of the car start to fog up, drowning out the rest of the quiet parking lot.

It's been a couple of weeks since you’ve been able to do this. Between his shifts and your stints on firewatch there’s barely been time to catch up with each other. When you’d requested he come up here to the national forest and do a fire safety talk he’d jumped at the chance to see you, even if it was surrounded by 20 excited Eagle Scouts, who were about to disembark on their first overnight field trip.

The two of you had headed out with their leaders to make sure they set off ok before you were back in Buck’s Jeep kissing the hell out of each other because ten days, it’s a little too long to go without seeing you.

“Harder.” You whisper and that thin thread of restraint that Buck’s been holding onto, it snaps. He picks up the pace, his hips arching, plunging deep. His fingertips gripping your waist so tight, it’s going to leave bruising and he gets a little thrill out of that, out of the idea of you looking in the mirror, seeing his marks.

The sound of your hitched breathing fills the car, each one punctuated with his motions as he drives you to that peak, driving you higher and higher until you finally hit nirvana, shattering around his cock. The way you say his name in that moment, it has him coming with you, his release spilling inside that perfect pussy of yours, his teeth biting down on the fabric of your shirt, stifling the sound of his orgasm.

“God, I’ve missed this.” You murmur as you lean back against him, your head coming to rest in the hollow of his neck.

“Me or the sex?” He whispers, his breath ghosting in your ear as he cradles you against his chest.

“You.” You tell him and there’s a sense of satisfaction in that because there’s a lot of physicality and as much as he enjoys that aspect of the relationship it’s the intimacy he craves. “I know we haven’t seen much of each other lately and I’m sorry, it’s just my job…”

You’ve been pulling a lot of extra shifts lately because it’s the busy season and another search and rescue operator was injured a few weeks ago. You’re picking up the slack the best you can and he understands the pressure of that.

“Hey.” He murmurs against your temple. “I get it, you know I do. My jobs not exactly a 9-5 either, that’s why this works. There’s no pressure, we see each other when we can and that’s good enough for me right now.”

He knows where this stems from, the man before him. He didn’t understand the job, he made impossible demands on your time and in the end he gave you a choice.

Him or the job.

You’d picked the job and you haven’t been in a relationship since. You hadn’t seen the point because you’re job won’t change and you can’t expect someone else to understand that, or at least you couldn’t until you met Buck.

“We’re forever you and I.” He tells you, using his fingertips to tilt chin up to meet his gaze. “We’ll always find time for one other, no matter how busy we may get.”

Love Buck? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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[ahqkas]

Could you do the bamboos doing the tiktok trend a boy who jacket and kind please

♯JACKED AND KIND ( the batboys doing the ‘jacked and kind’ tiktok trend with you ! )

— gn!reader, dick & jason & tim ( separated ), cursing, not edited

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

this man would literally be so hyped about doing the trend with you!!

your boyfriend stood behind you as you positioned your phone just right, angling it to catch the best angles. he doing some simple stretches, probably the same ones he did whenever he got ready for one of his patrols. you watched in the reflection your phone provided how his navy blue shirt fit his torso, wrapping and stretching around the muscles without any real effort to show off his broad shoulders and muscular arms. you could also point out the faintest smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. he knew exactly how good he looked.

“okay,” you took a step backwards toward him once you were satisfied with the preparation. “don’t let me down.”

a chuckle left his throat at your words while he met you halfway in the steps, taking a few steps forward so he could be standing behind you in order to record the trend. “baby, letting you down isn’t part of my vocabulary. lifting you up, on the other hand . . .” he trailed off with a wink and you managed to lightly slap his bicep before the countdown went off and the video started recording.

the song started playing from the phone — “slim pickins” by sabrina carpenter — and you tensed into position, facing the camera. you felt the warmth of his large hands on your hips before he touched you ( his touch was steady, as if he had done this a million times before ).

with an almost effortless motion, dick lifted you up in the air for a second before you made contact with his shoulder. you squealed in surprise from how quickly the whole thing happened and tried to balance yourself on top of him. he adjusted his grip on your knees while flexing his biceps for the camera, showing off the pure muscle with a large grin etched on his pretty face.

he looked confident, like he was the first man to ever grace the earth, even swaying a bit on his feet. show-off. the song continued playing, and just as the lyrics — “a boy who’s jacked and kind” — faded, dick followed it by lowering your body down in a quick move, catching you in a bridal style before you could even process what was happening.

“dick!” you couldn’t help but gasp this time. you haven’t seen this feature in the trending videos yet, and you were pretty sure you two would end up viral with just this move alone. you could picture the comments already.

“get a room”

“i miss my future bf”

“ON MY PHONE? ON MY WIFI? ON MY ACCOUNT??”

he really was jacked and kind.

. . . JASON TODD !

jason would kill this trend without even trying.

you had been begging him for the last hour about doing one of those new trending tiktok videos. the ones where couples did something ridiculously romantic which caused the whole comment section to show what’s it like to be born a hater (“so cute!! BLOCKED” “reacted "👍🏻" to your message” “i’m sleeping on a highway tonight guys” ). jason had been through countless trends already, but you were extra set on doing this trend with him.

“jason, come on! it’ll be fun, i promise.”

he dropped the book he was reading on the coffee table with a dramatic sigh, turning to look you in the eye. “i swear, every time i turn around, there’s another damn trend going viral.”

but there was no real annoyance in the tone of his voice. he could act all rough and nonchalant, but deep down, he adored you with all his heart and soul. he’d never admit it aloud, but you got him feeling things he didn’t quite know how to process.

you looked over at him with those pleasing eyes he could never resist. “please, jay?”

letting out the biggest sigh you’ve ever heard, your boyfriend stood up from the couch and walked over to where you were standing in front of your phone. “you’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered under his breath lowly with those beefy arms crossed at his chest.

“i promise this will be the last one.”

“uh-huh.” jason didn’t want it to be the last one.

you turned your head over your shoulder to look at him while you set your phone up. “you know how this works, right? just pick me up and place me on your shoulder.”

you didn’t have a single doubt about him not being able to pick you up. jason was a big guy, he could manhandle you all you he wanted without breaking a sweat, you knew that. he was going to pick you up.

“alright, sweetheart. get over here.”

the song started playing as soon as the timer was up and you felt his hands sliding up your thighs as he bend over a bit before he wrapped his forearms around the meat of your legs. he picked you up effortlessly like you weighed nothing, not a single sound of protest leaving his lips from the motion. your laugh filled the room when you made contact with his broad shoulder and you wrapped your arm around his neck, leaning slightly closer to him for the video to capture.

jason didn’t flex his arms, didn’t need to show his strength off. he simply wrapped his hands around your thighs, fingers kneading the soft muscles as he helped you balance yourself so you wouldn’t fall and make a blooper instead.

“see? no big deal.”

. . . TIM DRAKE !

tim was never one to enjoy attention, especially not the one that came with being on camera.

but when you, with your sweet smile and convincing voice, had asked him to do yet another one of your tiktok trends, he couldn’t really say no.

“tim, please? you’ll love it, i promise,” you pleaded with him, already setting up your phone with the timer set straight on because you knew he wouldn’t resist you. he never did.

and he didn’t this time, either. “what’s this trend about again?”

you practically bounced over to where he was standing with pure excitement written all over your face. “it’s a lifting one. i just need you to pick me up exactly when the songs say ‘a boy who’s jacked and kind’. simple, right?”

“i really don’t think–“

“oh, come on! you’re strong, and you’re always complaining i never let you have fun. this is fun, tim.”

at that, he let out a long sigh while his hand rubbed the back of his neck. he was thinking, deep in thoughts. but you were really really really hard to resist when you got like this — all pleading and loving with him. you had this look in your eye, he had realized, one that said you would never stop bugging him until you got your way. and he realized he was down bad for that look.

“fine. but if i drop you, don’t blame me.”

tim stepped into position behind you, his eyes narrowing as he mentally braced for the lift before the video could ever start. he wasn’t sure how exactly this was supposed to go, but it didn’t look that complicated, right? it was just about picking you up and holding you there for a few seconds. simple. yet, he couldn’t help but overthink the whole thing.

his stance was little awkward, with his hands hovering near your waist as if he wasn’t entirely sure of his footing, trying to maintain that balance between not looking too stiff and not being too casual either.

for a split second, everything was going perfectly. your boyfriend had you in his arms, effortlessly supporting you on his shoulder while your laughter erupted from your throat. you knew tim would be perfect for this trend. but that’s when things went sideways.

his feet shuffled under him and he lost his footing on the carpet beneath him. his balance wavered which caused yours to do just as same, and before he could adjust and save the situation, your body slipped a little too far to one side. tim’s eyes widened, and he made a split-second decision to shift his hands, trying to catch you before you fell completely.

everything happened so fast.

you were halfway to the floor when his arm shot out, catching you by the waist just in time. for a second, it looked like he might’ve actually saved the moment — then his grip faltered, and you were both tumbling to the ground in a tangled mess of limbs.

“ah!”

the two of you collapsed together, but your boyfriend managed to twist in the last moment, taking most of the fall with his own body before you could hit the floor completely. he groaned softly under you with his chest rising and falling rapidly as you lay on top of him, your face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and laughter.

“you almost dropped me.”

“i did drop you,” he replied dryly, but his voice held no real frustration — just the tiniest hint of amusement as he looked up at you.

it might’ve not been a video that would kill the whole trend, but it was a video that would never fail to make you smile. and that was enough for you.

[str1wberry7thyme]

Martyn saying that the watchers hate love the most out of all emotions with zero pauses on this mornings lore stream is driving me crazy because it’s explains. Everything.

The way they made sure Grian was still miserable even after winning third life because they wouldn’t let him enjoy a win with his partner that he spent the whole season intrinsically attached to. How silly was he to forget, he still needed to kill Scar.

Scott ending last life with nothing but bad blood between his two closest allies that continued on across multiple seasons, and still hasn’t truly been fully resolved in wild life either.

Pearl winning Double life, the season about soulmates and what should be filled with love, completely by herself. And in the end when she realises she doesn’t truly hate or want revenge against Scott, only wanting him to understand her like he used to, it was too late. The watchers were never going to allow two winners. They wanted soulmates to rip each other apart in the end, almost like they wanted to make a point that you are better off alone in their world this way.

Martyn used his alliances to his advantage and immediately betrayed his mean gill that he did care for in his own way because he knew that’s what it took to win these games. Exactly how the watchers wanted.

Scar was so confused, so shocked when he realised the man without any friends had been “rewarded” for it in the end by being crowned the winner. But that’s not what he wanted for himself, he wanted to be nothing but a good person but every task he was given forced him into antagonising others and made sure there was no love left for him in the end. He can’t believe how this is possible.

..But then comes Joel and his stupid car. Joel and Gem and their stupid family. Joel and his stupid decision to hold his anger and forgive others instead. Joel and his stupid win that had even the ghosts of the dead full of joy for him. Joel and his stupid victory that actually felt like a victory for the first time in the series. Joel and the way he stupidly killed what was basically a walking symbol of the watchers with a laugh. I wouldn’t be surprised if the watchers hate to see him coming.

[maykop1010]

Oh sweetie you trying to school me on what genocide and apartheid are, lol. I and my family survived a genocide and ethnic cleansing (one perpetrated by Israel).

But I’m sure this isn’t genocide, or war crimes or apartheid right boo.

"I felt like, like, like a Nazi... it looked exactly like we were actually the Nazis and they were the Jews."

Soldiers expressed anonymously how a discourse of hatred and revenge normalized the abuse of detainees.

"There is total dehumanization here. You don't really treat them as if they are human beings..."

"It's like a drug... you feel like you are the law, you make the rules. As if from the moment you leave the place called Israel and enter the Gaza Strip, you are God."

"I have no problem with women. One threw a slipper at me, so i gave her a kick here (pointing to the groin), broke all this here. She can't have children today."

"X shot an Arab four times in the back and got away with a self-defense claim. Four bullets in the back from a distance of ten meters ... cold-blooded murder. We did things like that every day."

"An Arab just walked down the street, about 25 years old, didn't throw a stone, nothing. Bang, a bullet in the stomach. Shot him in the stomach, and he was dying on the sidewalk, and we drove away Indifferently."

"A new commander came to us. We went out with him on the first patrol at six in the morning. He stops. There's not a soul in the streets, just a little 4-year-old boy playing in the sand in his yard. The commander suddenly starts running, grabs the boy, and breaks his arm at the elbow and his leg here. Stepped on his stomach three times and left."

"I asked the commander: "What's your story?" He told me: "These kids need to be killed from the day they are born. When a commander does that, it becomes legit."

These ppl know NOTHING but propoganda

[julymusings]

I just can't get the idea of soulmate!jason where you share scars out of my head. Jason is a canvas of scars. We all find them beautiful and wouldn't judge him even if we were held at gun point.

But imagine you were getting those scars at the same time he was... it would be hard. Of course you are worried about your soulmate, but when you wake up with a permanent, very purposeful J branded onto your face, can you really tell me you wouldn't be embarrassed to go outside? Afraid of meeting your soulmate who seems to be either a criminal or in a very dangerous victim situation? Would you not be even a little angry that now your face is ruined?

(I know there is makeup, but we are ignoring that for a second)

Yes, you share these scars with your soulmate and somewhere along the line you'd find peace with them. But in the moment when you look in the mirror and find an autopsy scar... I can only imagine what you would feel.

Oh, and poor Jason. He would never be able to forgive himself. He probably wouldn't even realize he has a soulmate because if you get a scar he wouldn't notice it beside all of his.

This isn't a request. I just wanted to share my thoughts and hear yours.

Oh absolutely. I’m wondering exactly how far the scarring would go— would you have burns from the explosion? Do you wake up covered in bruises from the crowbar? A bump on the bridge between your eyes from a broken nose?

I imagine you’d be pretty resentful toward the universe if you woke up with a J branded on your face and marks from injuries that aren’t yours all over your body. And finding the autopsy scar?? Grieving someone you don’t even know? How would you recover from that? Especially so young; Jason died at 15, so you’d probably be around the same age. Imagine going into school like that. Teenagers are awful. They take one look at you and assume you’re bad news, because why else would you look so roughed up? Stay away from people like that, their parents whisper through side-eyed fear. Whoever your soulmate is, you hate them at least a little bit.

And if you follow the storyline where the pit heals all of Jason’s scars from joker and before, imagine waking up one day, almost two years later, and everything’s just gone. Would it be relieving or terrifying? But then you start to get some more, different from the old ones but it’s still as if they never left. Callouses on the pads of your fingers from squeezing a phantom trigger. Slices on the tip of your ear (Jason narrowly dodged three daggers launched by a furious Damian after he accidentally stepped on Titus’ tail). Is this some kind of joke? Is your soulmate pool confined to a singular street gang that gets into the same fights every night? (Luckily open wounds are few and far between now. Maybe it’s professional fighter who finally invested in some body armor, your friend jokes.) At least there’s no branding this time. I guess whoever they are, they’re better protecting their face this time around. Either way, it doesn’t matter. You’re not sure you want anything to do with them anymore. Who’s to say someone hurt this bad is capable of not hurting you?

But he is, he’s so capable and deserving. It breaks your heart to learn the origins of those marks you stared at in the mirror, judging and hating. If you thought having those scars was hard on you, he must have felt it tenfold. You try to act like it never bothered you, but you both know it did. The look on Jason’s face when you absentmindedly mentioned you never really made friends until college because everyone saw you as unapproachable in high school— it took a full week of loving reassurances on your part and therapy sessions on his to get back to your normal.

But sharing his scars helps, even if just a little, in understanding every part of him. You understand his loneliness and fear because you felt it too. Some nights you swear you can feel the trace of a burning knife down the front of your torso, or bits of glass piercing your palms, so you know. You know that ice packs help with the ache, that aloe vera gel soothes the itching irritation from tiny cuts, and regular Hatha Yoga provides just the right stretch to loosen aching joints. He gives you a funny look when you gift him an aloe Vera plant for his windowsill, but says nothing, agreeing to take care of it when you ask him to keep it alive. One night you notice him repeatedly rubbing his red, burning palms down the front of his jeans and lead him to sit down before taking a clean knife and slicing off one of the stems, cutting it open to spread across his cuts. That silent statement of understanding, of seeing him in a way no one else does, has him welling with tears.

So, sure, having to grow up with only signs of him, not knowing who he was aside from anonymous messages on your skin was pretty difficult. But now when you trace across the bridge of his nose over the line of jagged skin, he can do it right back to you, and both of you can’t help but feel a little grateful.

I think I went a little off topic idk man I was just saying stuff but I love the idea of soulmate!jason where you get each other’s scars and that results in you feeling the same/similar but lesser symptoms of them and therefore knowing how to deal with them for him without him having to tell you🤭if someone wants to write a fic like this I will gladly read it

[lady-lostmind]

A Gift for Steve Harrington

Written for @steddiebingo Twelve Days of Christmas Prompt: Gifts

Rating: T | WC: 830 Thank you @oh-stars for betaing!!

Eddie has never been great at giving gifts. He tries. He wants to give the people he loves good gifts. But he’s not exactly flush, ever, and as creative as he is it’s not really make gifts creative. Hence Wayne’s mug collection, which has turned into an inside joke more than anything. Wayne doesn’t even use mugs that often. Always carries his work thermos around. But Eddie still buys every ridiculous mug he finds at the thrift store and stashes them away for Christmas and birthday gifts. 

The point is, Eddie is at a loss. He’s the luckiest son of a bitch to have ever lived because he landed fucking Steve Harrington of all people and it’s their first Christmas like together, together and he has no clue what to get him. 

He knows things that Steve likes. Obviously. He’s obsessed with the guy. Hangs on every word that comes out of his mouth. But Steve likes…fancy shit. Like shit Eddie wouldn’t even know where to attempt to find. His shampoo isn’t in the hair aisle at the grocery store. He has no idea where he shops for clothes since Eddie gets all of his clothes at the thrift store. The mall is probably a good guess but he hates going to the mall, and he wouldn’t even know where to start if he did. He could try to buy sports stuff but he’s not confident in his ability to keep the teams straight and he’s pretty sure buying the wrong team is a big no-no. So, he’s stuck, and desperate. Because fuck all if he’s going to lose Steve Harrington because he can’t buy a fucking Christmas present. He has to find something good. Something thoughtful. Something that shows he can be a good boyfriend. Something that says thank you for letting me see you naked. Because he honestly doesn’t know how this is even his life and he has to hold onto this perfect specimen of a man. 

Eddie groans, shoving a sports shirt back on the rack and stomping his way toward the exit. He’s running out of time but nothing seems right. Nothing is good enough. Nothing is– Eddie freezes as he walks past an aisle of picture frames. He hesitates, feeling like this is too easy. But he knows Steve would love it. He loves anything that has a little thought behind it. Eddie backs up and goes down the aisle, feeling ridiculous for not thinking of this sooner. He chooses carefully, taking his time picking the perfect frame and when he gets home he digs through his little box of mementos looking for–

“Aha!” Eddie snags the ticket stubs from the bottom of the box and stares at them fondly before positioning them on the corner of his favorite picture of him and Steve and then sealing it all behind the glass in the frame. 

–

Eddie is nervous. He tugs on his rings and his leg bounces uncontrollably as he watches Robin hand gifts out to everyone from under the tree. What if he’s wrong? What if Steve wants a nice gift? What if he thinks it’s weird Eddie kept the tickets? What if he thinks it’s lame to give him such a cheesy couple gift? What if it’s way too early in their relationship to give him something so sappy? What if– 

Eddie holds his breath as Robin grabs Steve’s gift and scoffs at the wrapping, rolling her eyes at Eddie. “Newspaper, Eddie? Really?”

Eddie shrugs and catches Steve's little smirk as Robin hands the gift to him. Steve looks over at Eddie and smiles before starting to rip the paper off. Eddie chews on the side of his thumb, waiting for Steve’s reaction. He turns the frame over so he can see it and gasps.

“Eds is this–” He looks up and locks eyes with Eddie. “Are these from our first date?” 

Eddie can feel his face flush bright red. He tugs a piece of hair in front of his face and nods, unable to answer with his stomach so tied up in knots. 

Steve looks back down at the frame, rubbing his thumb over the tickets. But he doesn’t say anything else. Just stares. Eddie spirals thinking he absolutely fucked up. Steve hates it. He hates the gift and now everything is going to be ruined and–

Steve finally looks up and there are tears streaming down his face and– great. His gift was so terrible and off the mark he made his boyfriend cry. Good job, Eddie. Really great–

Steve launches himself into Eddie’s lap and plasters their mouths together, holding onto him tight. Eddie can taste the saltiness of his tears on his lips and is very– confused. He pulls back, looking at Steve with wide eyes. “So, you…like it?”

Steve huffs out a wet laugh, his eyes crinkling in that way Eddie loves when he really smiles. “I love it, Eds. It’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten.” 

[wosos-stuff]

The journal of secrets

Chapter 1: The Hidden Crush

---

The air was sharp and cool, carrying the distinct scent of fresh-cut grass and the distant hum of the city just outside Arsenal’s training grounds. Y/N always loved the mornings, when the world felt quiet and the rush of the day had yet to catch up. But today, her mind wasn’t on the training drills, or the upcoming match this weekend. It was on her Alessia Russo.

Across the pitch, Alessia was surrounded by a few teammates, laughing at something one of them had said. Y/N stood a few meters away, trying not to stare, but failing miserably. Alessia looked stunning, her blonde hair pulled back into a messy bun, cheeks flushed from the morning warm-up, and her laughter—it was one of those things that echoed in Y/N’s mind long after she had walked away.

Alessia Russo, Arsenal’s golden girl. The new star, the one everyone adored both on and off the field. For Y/N, it had started as admiration. How could it not? Alessia was talented, passionate, driven—everything Y/N strived to be. But as time went on, admiration had twisted into something deeper, something more dangerous.

“Are you gonna stare all day, or are we actually gonna get some work done?” McCabe’s voice cut through Y/N’s daze, snapping her back to reality.

Y/N blinked, realizing she had been standing there, football in hand, for longer than she should have. She cleared her throat, forcing a laugh as she turned to Katie. “Sorry, just…lost in thought.”

“Lost in Alessia’s orbit, more like,” Katie teased with a smirk, nudging Y/N with her elbow. “You’re not exactly subtle, you know.”

Y/N’s face flushed a deep shade of red, but she shook her head quickly, trying to play it off. “What? No, it’s not like that.”

Katie raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “Sure, whatever you say. Just try not to trip over your own feet when she’s around, alright?”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth. Katie had always been able to read her like an open book. But even so, there were things Y/N never admitted aloud—things that were too complicated, too risky to say.

Like how her heart sped up every time Alessia smiled at her, or how she secretly replayed their brief conversations in her head on the way home. No, those thoughts were saved for the one place Y/N felt safe enough to express them—the pages of her journal.

---

Later that evening, Y/N sat cross-legged on her bed, the soft glow of a lamp illuminating the small room she rented near the stadium. The journal was in her lap, its leather cover worn from months of use. She twirled a pen between her fingers, trying to figure out where to start.

The journal had started as a way to cope with the pressures of professional football, a way to get her thoughts out of her head when they became too much. But at some point, it had morphed into something else—something more personal. Now, its pages were filled with thoughts about Alessia. Memories of fleeting glances, stolen smiles, and the way her laugh seemed to make everything else fade away.

Y/N opened the journal, flipping to a fresh page, and stared at the blank space for a moment. 

*What do I even say this time?*

She hesitated for a moment, then began to write:

*It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? The way she makes me feel. Like my heart can’t decide if it wants to race or stop altogether when she’s around. I know I should just get over it, but…how? She’s so kind, so talented. Every time she smiles at me, I feel like the world tips on its axis. But it’s pointless, right? She’s way out of my league. Even if I tried, even if I told her—what would she say? What if she laughs? What if she thinks I’m crazy?*

She paused, staring down at the words, feeling the familiar weight of unspoken feelings settle in her chest. This wasn’t new. This was her ritual. Confessing everything to the pages of a journal that could never talk back.

---

The next day started like any other—early morning training, a long list of drills, and the chatter of her teammates echoing across the pitch. But as Y/N rummaged through her gym bag before practice, a wave of panic washed over her.

The journal wasn’t there.

Her heart raced as she frantically searched every pocket, every compartment of the bag, but it was gone. *No, no, no—this can’t be happening.* She tried to stay calm, but her mind was already spiraling. Who had it? Where could she have left it?

Training was a blur. Her usual focus was shattered as her thoughts kept drifting back to the journal. What if someone found it? What if they read it?

---

Y/N barely registered the drills she was supposed to be focusing on. Her mind was a haze of panic, spinning out scenarios of what would happen if someone—especially Alessia—found the journal. The thoughts she had written down weren’t just about admiration; they were raw, real feelings, laid bare in ways she couldn’t imagine anyone else seeing.

“Y/N, you alright?” Jen Beattie’s voice snapped her out of her daze. Y/N had been standing in the middle of the pitch, ball at her feet, while the rest of the team had already moved on to another drill. She blinked, scrambling to compose herself.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Y/N said, forcing a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. She kicked the ball aimlessly, praying she didn’t look as rattled as she felt. But she could feel the stares from a few of the other girls. Even Alessia, from across the field, had glanced in her direction.

She tried to shake it off, knowing she needed to keep her head in the game. But the weight of that missing journal sat heavy on her chest, refusing to let go. After what felt like an eternity, training finally came to an end, and Y/N made a beeline for the locker room, hoping to search her bag again. Maybe it had fallen out in her car. Maybe it was somewhere else. Anywhere but in the hands of someone who could read it.

But as she approached her locker, her stomach dropped.

Sitting on the bench was Alessia, casually holding something familiar. Y/N froze in place, her eyes locked on the journal in Alessia’s hands. The world seemed to tilt, and for a split second, Y/N wasn’t sure if she was about to faint or run in the opposite direction.

“Hey, Y/N,” Alessia said, her voice calm and curious, though there was something unreadable in her eyes. She held up the journal with a small, almost playful smile. “I think this is yours.”

---

There were moments in life when time seemed to slow to a crawl, when every heartbeat thudded loud and heavy in your chest. This was one of those moments for Y/N. She tried to find her voice, but nothing came out. Alessia—*Alessia Russo*—was holding the one thing she had never intended for anyone to see.

Y/N swallowed hard, her mind scrambling for an excuse, an explanation, *anything* to make this less of a disaster than it already felt like. But Alessia didn’t seem angry or even particularly shocked. In fact, she looked…amused.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t read everything,” Alessia added quickly, perhaps noticing the growing look of panic on Y/N’s face. “Just a few pages.”

Y/N felt like she was going to throw up. *A few pages?!* That meant Alessia had seen at least *some* of what she had written—her thoughts about Alessia, her fears, her stupid little fantasies that she had kept hidden for so long. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

“I… uh…” Y/N stammered, her throat dry as sandpaper. “I don’t—how did you—?”

“It was on one of the benches after training yesterday,” Alessia explained, leaning back slightly against the locker behind her, still holding the journal with a relaxed grip. “I thought about just giving it back to you straight away, but… curiosity got the better of me.” She raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eyes. “You’re a pretty interesting writer, Y/N.”

Y/N could feel the heat rising in her face, her ears burning as a thousand thoughts collided in her mind. This was it. The end of her career, her friendships, her *life* as she knew it. Alessia Russo had read her journal, and now she would probably laugh in her face, tell the rest of the team, and Y/N would have to move to some remote island where no one would ever find her again.

But Alessia didn’t laugh. She didn’t mock. Instead, she tilted her head, studying Y/N with a thoughtful expression.

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” Alessia said softly, her tone no longer teasing but… curious. Almost gentle.

Y/N’s heart pounded. Her legs felt like they might give out any second, but she forced herself to stand still, to meet Alessia’s gaze. What could she say? There was no denying it now. Alessia had read enough to know. She had seen Y/N’s feelings laid bare in black and white.

“I—” Y/N started, then stopped, feeling like her throat had closed up entirely. “I didn’t mean for anyone to… it’s just, um… a stupid thing I do. Writing stuff down. To, you know, deal with things.”

Alessia nodded, and for a moment, the room was filled with an awkward silence. Y/N could barely breathe. She couldn’t tell if Alessia was uncomfortable or just thinking, but either way, the tension in the air was almost unbearable.

Then, out of nowhere, Alessia smiled. A small, amused smile that caught Y/N completely off guard.

“Actually,” Alessia said, leaning forward a little, “I had an idea.”

Y/N blinked, confused. An idea? This was the part where Alessia was supposed to tell her how weird and creepy she was, not… smile and suggest ideas.

Alessia continued, her voice calm and casual. “There’s been a lot of gossip around the team lately, right? About people dating, who’s seeing who, all that crap. It’s getting kind of annoying, to be honest.”

Y/N nodded, unsure of where this was going. Sure, there had been plenty of rumors floating around—locker room gossip was as constant as the drills they ran every day—but how did this relate to her journal?

“So,” Alessia said, her eyes gleaming with mischief, “what if we used this? What if we pretended to date? You know, to get everyone off our backs for a while.”

Y/N stared at her, utterly dumbfounded. “Wait… what?”

Alessia leaned back again, crossing her arms over her chest. “Think about it. We pretend to be together. The team stops asking questions, the media stops poking around, and we get a little peace and quiet. Plus…” she raised the journal with a smirk, “this little secret stays between us.”

Y/N’s mind was spinning. Fake date? Alessia Russo was proposing that they fake a relationship. The very thought made Y/N’s heart do somersaults, but she wasn’t sure if they were good somersaults or ones that would make her throw up.

“But… why?” Y/N asked, still trying to wrap her head around the idea. “Why would you want to pretend to date me?”

Alessia shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Like I said, it’s easier this way. We’ll make it look real, keep people out of our business, and I’ll even make sure no one ever finds out about this journal. Win-win, right?”

Y/N felt like she was in a dream—or maybe a nightmare. This was too surreal. Alessia Russo, the girl she had been secretly in love with for ages, was offering to fake a relationship with her. And not only that, but Alessia was acting like this was the most normal, rational thing in the world.

But it wasn’t normal. It was the exact opposite of normal. It was wild. Unbelievable. *Terrifying*.

And yet, a small, reckless part of Y/N’s mind whispered: *What if?*

What if she said yes? What if she agreed to Alessia’s crazy plan? Sure, it would be fake. But at least for a little while, Y/N would get to be close to Alessia, to pretend that her feelings weren’t one-sided, even if it was all an act.

Y/N swallowed hard, her throat dry. “I… I don’t know.”

Alessia smiled, that playful glint returning to her eyes. “Come on, Y/N. What’s the worst that could happen?”

*Everything*, Y/N thought. *Everything could go wrong.* But when Alessia looked at her like that, it was hard to say no.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Y/N took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

---

The words were barely out of Y/N’s mouth when Alessia grinned, looking genuinely pleased with the answer. “Great! We’ll start tomorrow. We’ll make it look real—hang out together, do some dates, post a few pictures. Everyone will buy it.”

Y/N’s stomach was still in knots, but a strange excitement bubbled beneath the nerves. This was happening. She was going to fake date Alessia Russo.

*Fake*, she reminded herself. This was all pretend. Nothing more.

But as Alessia handed her the journal back, their fingers brushing for the briefest second, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if pretending might just be the hardest part of all.