#i find the relationship between these two fascinating

[sitp-recs]

Wield Me by @tackytigerfic (E, 10k)

Drarry, pre-Tedrarry

Draco Malfoy, blacksmith, is renowned through the magical world for his skill and exquisite creations. He could quite easily spend the rest of his days making pretty trinkets for the fae court, and being handsomely rewarded for the privilege. But why take the easy route when instead he could get involved in a dangerous mission with Unspeakable Harry Potter (who also happens to be Draco's... well, he's something, isn't he?). A little story about learning to strike while the iron is hot.

“It’s deep magic, you know. It doesn’t recognize anything quite so specific as a particular location. It’s more conceptual, I suppose. You remember.” He knew they did, the long night of casting, Teddy carelessly throwing azaleas and yellow roses into the quench pool along with all the others; azaleas for homesickness and the desire to return to a place of safety, yellow roses for family. Not to mention all the runework they spent hours working on. Draco rolled his eyes at them. Othala. Harry had traced it over and over in the water, and then Draco had hammered the essence of it into the metal with his sweat and his fire. Homecoming. It would be enough.

Because one birthday rec wasn’t enough I am back, this time reccing the fic Tacky gifted me on my last birthday so we’re coming full circle with the love show :D it’s hard to put into words all the feelings this fic inspired in me. I could not believe my sneaky friend (who’s pretty monogamic about their Drarry btw) had crafted something so special bringing together my two OTPs! I remember reading this in a haze, too eager to unravel that delicious summary and get to the promised Teddy kissing, but also not ready for it to be over after 10k and dreading the emotional devastation that was sure to follow. I realize that Harry/Teddy is not everyone’s jam (yet 😏) and might discourage some people to check this out, so I thought I’d follow my previous rec format and list a few reasons why I loved this so much:

1. The world: I kid you not, 10k feels like 30k once you get introduced to this magical world Tacky so masterfully crafted - vibrant, intriguing, creative, a main character in itself. I was already losing my mind over buff blacksmith Draco in a leather tunic (🥵) but then his stance against weaponry and the magical theory behind his forgery?? What an unexpected (but very much welcome) turn on. I am fascinated by this verse and wanna learn all about Draco’s backstory, about this society, its power structure, about Harry and Teddy’s job and the gritty dangers that Teddy is about to face, and whether or not he’ll find his way back home - back to Harry - safe and sound. So many questions left unanswered and this thrill, an adventurous feeling about their quest that kept me engaged until the end. What a masterclass in world building!

2. The tenderness: as per their trademark, Tacky gives this fic a lot of emotional depth and nuance, showing how easily love can multiply when Harry is the recipient (seeing how wanted he is here makes me feral) while keeping this unmistakably a Drarry romance. 40yo fuck buddies who are so obviously into each other they make me giggle and kick my feet, plus a careful balance between all dynamics in play - Teddy’s crush on Harry and respect for Draco, Draco’s longing for Harry and understanding of Teddy, Harry’s trust in Draco and tenderness for Teddy, the overall affection and sexual tension fueling all those relationships making it impossible not to cheer for them. If you’re a Teddy fan like me you’re in for a treat: I adore his edgy personality, bold, brave, painfully young and so damn lovely, a perfect fit for Harry and Draco’s mellow and steady love.

3. The symbolism: this plays into the exquisite lore created within such elegant and contained writing, I just keep thinking about the possibilities, metaphors, the way recurrent themes like family and homecoming show up in Draco’s forgery work intertwining his, Harry’s and Teddy’s lives in such a definitive way you find yourself thinking “well it must be fate so it can’t be avoided, they gotta bang” 🤷🏻‍♀️ okay so maybe not everyone is horny for this triad as I am, but the implications behind the symbology go beyond lust, diving into something deeper and more meaningful like familial love. And because I’ve read everything else from Tacky’s (“Harry deserves roots” / “I’d be your mate” / “I like my choyse” / “Is tú mo Rogha” / “Queen Anne’s lace, it means sanctuary, home.”) and so on, I can’t help but get emotional here. Harry’s longing for a family is such a quintessential Tacky theme and seeing it expand to include my beloved Teddy in their sacred Drarry kingdom makes my heart sing.

TL;DR: I feel like I could spend days talking about this fic but then nobody would read it and I really, really want more people to fall in love with these clever, competent, brave and lovable characters and with the rich, fascinating world that makes you wish you could live inside it forever and see what happens next. So run don’t walk and go treat yourself today!

[innovativestruggles]

Yuta & Rika - a speculative analysis

Like with basically any fandom out there, I'm about 3 years late with JJK 0 😩 Regardless, I finally watched it yesterday and subsequently really, really needed to discuss this topic before I forget.

As an anime only fan, I only heard of Yuta from bits and pieces in the anime and from the fandom. That would go for Rika too so I never really understood the extent of their relationship until I watched JJK 0. But oh man, when I watched it, these two took my entire heart and soul.

And whilst I do get why Yuta is shipped with Maki or Inumaki, Rika wins it for me. And before I jump into my explanation, I want to say it outright - Yuta and Rika gives me strong Obito and Rin vibes 😳

Anyways let's talk about Rika.

This sweet yet psycho girl is a super side character (much like Rin), but I did a bit more research into her and it explained so so much more about her character and why she is the way she is (both as human and cursed spirit). Rika lost her mother unexpectedly at the age of 5 and then her father during a hiking trip together at the age of 11. There are speculations (by paternal grandmother) that she is involved in the death of both her parents. I cannot say too much about whether a 5 year old would have too much influence over their mother, but I will shelve this for now. I want to focus on Rika and her father. There is an explanation that one of Rika's biggest dislikes is older men. Let me tell you this - an 11 year old child with an adverse dislike for a specific portion of the population (older men) points towards one thing - abuse. This is an educated guess on my end (and if I was given a case in real life about this, I would come to this hypothesis as well), but the trauma Rika endured shaped her personality and how she would end up attaching herself to Yuta. We don't know exactly what sort of trauma Rika went through, but my guess is some form of physical or sexual abuse. The development of a 'manipulative' personality towards adults is a form of a survival mechanism developed to keep herself safe. Rika's father most likely had a role in her abuse and hence the mystery of his disappearance (and how it alluded to the fact that Rika had something to do with it, together with the explanation of her manipulative personality).

Let's come back to Rika's mother. There are two theories/hypothesis to this.

A 5 year would have enough cognitive capacity to understand that they are in an unsafe situation. However, it is unclear whether Rika's mother had any involvement in Rika's abuse. But what I presume is that she did not have a close relationship with her mother. The reason? She gave her mother's wedding ring to Yuta. A child impacted by abuse by one parent and not the other means they would naturally be attached to the safe parent, so anything sentimental attached to the safe parent would give the child a sense of safety. To give something special away like her mother's ring means her mother meant very little to her, so Rika decided to re-symobilise the ring into something new - something for Yuta. And because an 11 year old most likely cannot afford a ring

The second theory would be that Rika had a close and safe relationship with her mother, and the giving away of the ring to Yuta symbolises the safety and security she finds in him. I.e. the element of safety and security she found in her mother has been transferred to Yuta (via the giving of the ring).

Regardless of what theory we go with, there is too little information regarding Rika's relationship with her mother. We don't know what happened to her mother, whether she died of natural causes or was murdered. But all we know is that Rika most likely endured severe abuse by her father (that may or may not involve other older men).

Looking into Rika's personality. Her proposal to Yuta is a dead giveaway of her need to locate a safe space. Yuta is Rika's safety net. They met at a time where both were quite vulnerable - Yuta being unwell and Rika having returned from a mountain climb where her father went missing. Rika's proposal is an indicator of her need for a new life, the idea of marriage is to be permanently attached to her safety net and to have Yuta take her away from whatever she experienced. Of course, 11 year old children do have a basic idea of what marriage is, but it seems like Rika has more of an underlying idea of what she would like to utilise the marriage concept for - that is, to escape and re-establish her safety within the one person she loves and trusts. This explains her personality as a cursed spirit - jealous, overprotective, intense, emotional and childish. Through trauma, Rika learnt ways to ensure she is kept safe emotionally, psychologically and physically. She is always having to survive day by day until she is finally able to manipulate her father out of her life (again this seems a likely scenario, given the very little info readers are provided). When the one person (Yuta) who comes into her life finally allows her to be a child - to play, to have fun and give her the life she should have been having, naturally Rika would be overprotective of Yuta. As I mentioned, Yuta is her safety net, and to have him taken away (by bullies, by another love interest etc), is the decimation of Rika's own safety.

We were given only very small snippets into Rika's life and what she was like as a human. But her personality carried over into her cursed spirit form, and the basic information provided in the character profile, are both more than enough to deduce that Rika's background is incredibly complex with multiple layers of trauma.

One really big thing I would like to point out is Rika's comment before she moved into the afterlife - she was happier accompanying Yuta as a cursed spirit than when she was alive. This is another important piece of information that showed Rika most likely experienced a significant amount of trauma as a human. What would force an 11 year old child to come to such conclusions? The only answer is abuse. As a cursed spirit, Rika is able to escape everything and be by Yuta's side (almost like the prospect of marriage - "take me away from all this and let me be by your side forever")

For Yuta, I can't speak too much about him because his background as a child is essentially a mystery. Not sure about his parents and how he grew up. But judging from his bond and connection with Rika, I presume he grew up quite lonely and friendless. Whether there was trauma, I don't know but it did mention he had to distant himself from his family when Rika became a cursed spirit. Regardless, Yuta's acceptance of her proposal and his happiness at the prospect of being together forever with her as they grow older indicates to me that Yuta may have some complexities in his childhood we don't know about. But it could just be that he genuinely had a normal childhood and Rika was the one and only person outside his family he connected with. However, we don't know whether his timid nature occurred before he met Rika or after she became a cursed spirit. There are too many unexplained parts with Yuta. Anyways, we know Yuta loved Rika immensely (as much as Rika loved him), and his refusing to accept her death is an indicator of his feelings towards her. Their love for each other is pure and innocent because they allowed each other to live in safety and to be children.

And even after releasing her spirit, Yuuta still held onto remnants of Rika. I do love the idea of Yuta being able to move on and give himself to someone else, but I feel Yuta has a lot more unprocessed emotions regarding intimacy - that though he freed Rika, he seems forever bounded by being with her and only her.

So here's my conclusion for this pairing - their background and their pure love is what really made me love them so much. Does all this sound very Obito x Rin to you? Whilst Yuta is able to bounce back from the grief with the help of a mentor and friends, Obito never did. But they both shared an immense amount of grief from the loss of their loved one at an early age.

And yes, I seem to love my tragic rare pairs...dear oh dear.

Anyways, these are all speculations based on canon materials. So if you have any interesting hypothesis, I'd love to hear it!

[revvethasmythh]

the thing about imogen saying that "if getting rid of delilah means getting rid of [launda] too, it's not worth it" is that it doesn't really change anything, does it? yes it provides laudna with reassurance that she is loved regardless of what lives in her head, but it doesn't mean that imogen doesn't still have negative feelings about delilah being there. "I love you more than I hate delilah" doesn't mean she isn't still disgusted by delilah. I get the sense that this is not an important distinction for imogen--she's said her piece, she's told laudna that she matters more, and that's the end of it for her. laudna matters more. her meaning is crystal clear: I love you and I'm choosing you.

but laudna has been obsessed with imogen saying she was disgusted by delilah watching them. she said herself she can't stop thinking about it, and marisha has said she can't stop thinking about it either, out of game. as far as they know currently, delilah's soul is twined in and around laudna's to the point where they are indistinguishable. the only way to get rid of delilah is to lose laudna. laudna doesn't know where she ends and delilah begins. imogen loves her, but imogen is disgusted by delilah. how does that work if they are one and the same? how does laudna cope with the fact that an inextinguishable part of herself is both genuinely evil and hated by the person she loves the most? at what point does being disgusted by delilah become being disgusted by a piece of laudna herself?

[cuubism]

hello friends. despite my 9 million existing dreamling wips i'm feeling the need to branch out a bit for the sake of my mental variety. what pairing other than dreamling should i write a little something for? could be romantic or platonic

other way of phrasing i guess: any pairings you really want to see more fics for in the fandom?

[littencloud9]

STOP STOPPP IM SO CONFLICTED OVER WHAT TO SHIP IN THIS DAMN SHOW

[ketchuppee]

During the 2008 recession, my aunt lost her job. Her, her partner, and my three cousins moved across the country to stay with us while they got back on their feet. My house turned from a family of four to a family of nine overnight, complete with three dogs and five cats between us.

It took a few years for them to get a place of their own, but after a few rentals and apartments, they now own a split level ranch in a town nearby. I’ve lost track of how many coworkers and friends have stayed with them when they were in a tight spot. A mother and son getting out of an abusive relationship, a divorcee trying to stay local for his kids while they work out a custody agreement, you name it. My aunt and uncle knew first hand what that kindness meant, and always find space for someone who needed it, the way my parents had for them.

That same aunt and uncle visited me in [redacted] city last year. They are prolific drinkers, so we spent most of the day bar hopping. As we wandered the city, any time we passed a homeless person, my uncle would pull out a fresh cigarette and ask them if they had a light. Regardless of if they had a lighter on hand or not, he offered them a few bucks in exchange, which he explained to me after was because he felt it would be easier for them to accept in exchange for a service, no matter how small.

I work for a company that produces a lot of fabric waste. Every few weeks, I bring two big black trash bags full of discarded material over to a woman who works down the hall. She distributes them to local churches, quilting clubs, and teachers who can use them for crafts. She’s currently in the process of working with our building to set up a recycling program for the smaller pieces of fabric that are harder to find use for.

One of my best friends gives monthly donations to four or five local organizations. She’s fortunate enough to have a tech job that gives her a good salary, and she knows that a recurring donation is more valuable to a non-profit because they can rely on that money month after month, and can plan ways to stretch that dollar for maximum impact. One of those organizations is a native plant trust, and once she’s out of her apartment complex and in a home with a yard, she has plans to convert it into a haven of local flora.

My partner works for a company that is working to help regulate crypto and hold the current bad actors in the space accountable for their actions. We unfortunately live in a time where technology develops far too fast for bureaucracy to keep up with, but just because people use a technology for ill gain doesn’t mean the technology itself is bad. The blockchain is something that she finds fascinating and powerful, and she is using her degree and her expertise to turn it into a tool for good.

I knew someone who always had a bag of treats in their purse, on the odd chance they came across a stray cat or dog, they had something to offer them.

I follow artists who post about every local election they know of, because they know their platform gives them more reach than the average person, and that they can leverage that platform to encourage people to vote in elections that get less attention, but in many ways have more impact on the direction our country is going to go.

All of this to say, there’s more than one way to do good in the world. Social media leads us to believe that the loudest, the most vocal, the most prolific poster is the most virtuous, but they are only a piece of the puzzle. (And if virtue for virtues sake is your end goal, you’ve already lost, but that’s a different post). Community is built of people leveraging their privileges to help those without them. We need people doing all of those things and more, because no individual can or should do all of it. You would be stretched too thin, your efforts valiant, but less effective in your ambition.

None of this is to encourage inaction. Identify your unique strengths, skills, and privileges, and put them to use. Determine what causes are important to you, and commit to doing what you can to help them. Collective action is how change is made, but don’t forget that we need diversity in actions taken.

[ozzgin]

More of the yandere monster???? Like their married life, him being such a cutie cutie and the reader is a willing person to his yandere tendencies. Like him physically fighting someone for flirting with her for .01 second and her just being 😍🥰

Alright anon, seeing as this has once again resurfaced, I'll cover a little bit of marital life as per your suggestion. (I'm hoping you're referring to the older sibling monster)

Yandere! Monster Husband x Reader

A little change of plans and the wedding you've been kidnapped for continued without a hitch, except you married the monstrous sibling instead. Made for an awkward celebratory dinner, but no one dared to oppose the Beast.

Content: female reader, monster romance, mildly NSFW, saga of the monster hoe reader continues

[First part]

The next family dinner was quiet. You couldn't help but wonder if your horniness had gone too far, slowly chewing your food and occasionally peeking at the ex-groom with remorseful eyes. Poor guy, you thought. "Well, it's quite convenient, isn't it?" he finally said, breaking the silence. The cutlery sounds paused, and you lifted your gaze again. The man flashed you a radiant smile, which emphasized his handsome features even more. "I mean, we weren't sure we'd ever find a wife for my brother. He has a bit of an attitude, and even monsters are afraid of him. The only marriage attempt-" his speech was interrupted by a grunt, and you turned towards your monstrous boyfriend. The older sibling was frowning, visibly embarrassed. "Oh, I remember!" the mother of the siblings, a halfling herself, suddenly chuckled into her glass, taking a generous sip before continuing: "We'd arranged for a fellow monster to meet him, and the poor soul got so frightened she blended in with the background! Took us two days to find her! She came from a chameleon family, I recall."

Everyone at the table began to laugh and you joined, although with a mild annoyance tinged into your voice. So what, there was no reason for you to be plagued by guilt? You even refused a night escapade with your boyfriend until things "settled", as a way to be respectful towards the cucked party. All for naught. At least now you could be ravaged without further consequences. When the mother in law had pulled you aside hours earlier to make sure you weren't coerced into this arrangement, you had to hold back from crassly confessing you'd slurp her son empty of fluids at any hour of the day. Some things are better left untold.

Unfortunately, one detail couldn't be changed in time: the guest list. As this had been an event meant to strengthen the ties between humans, no one outside of the immediate family graced the venue with their monstrous presence. Many guests were intrigued by the outcome of the affair, terribly curious to see the famed wife-to-be of the gruesome, feared Head of the royal army. Even more so once they discovered it was a regular human by all means. "Fascinating!", the old ladies would occasionally cry out, clutching the plump, expensive pearls adorning their necks. You had to frequently excuse yourself in order to dodge the rather indecent questions regarding your relationship. Except when you did manage to sneak away, one of the younger men of names and titles you never registered would approach you for a dance. "Truly a pitiful matter", they'd whisper much too close to your ear. "You would've made a lovely bride for a fellow human."

"You're unexpectedly calm about this", the prince mentioned to his older brother at some point during the wedding night. "Are you not bothered by all the acquaintances flocking to your bride?" The monster shook his head with a sigh. He hadn't known you for that long yet, but one thing he was certain of: it's not humans he needed to fear.

Indeed, having a wife with a monster kink is particularly challenging when most of the husband's work involves similar creatures. The first months after the marriage were stalked by the insidious doubt that his luck was just that: mere coincidence. Would you have displayed the same interest had he not been the only beast at the table? Would you still pick him in a room full of monsters? Such questions followed him each day, feeding into an ever-growing jealousy.

"What are you doing here!", he exclaimed in despair once he noticed your arrival at his training camp. "You forgot your lunch", you explained, eyebrows raised in confusion. Oh, for fuck's sake. He quickly pulled you away, glaring at the subordinates startled by the commotion. They must've been eyeing (Y/N) like rabid dogs, he thought. Next thing you know, you'll be scooped away by some horned scoundrel. He can't have that.

Initially, the rage-filled, obsession-driven fuck you'd receive almost daily was welcomed with shameless begging. The way your monster husband would pin you down under his claws and thrust into you so hard, you could see its movement in waves across your stomach. The way he'd forcefully spread your legs, hungrily sinking his nails into the soft flesh of your thighs and gnawing your shoulders in delirious need. The tears that sheepishly formed in the corners of your hooded eyes would only incite him more. "Bite onto my hand if you can't take it anymore", he'd coo without stopping. As much as you liked to be left a limp, drooling mess, the soreness grew unbearable. Enough was enough when you found yourself carrying a cushion to sit down on any surface.

"Listen, we need to have a talk." You greeted him solemnly once he returned from his military duties. Oh, no. Absolutely not. The monstrous husband bit his lips in panic, immediately going through a mental list of all his subordinates. Or was it someone in the family that slithered their way into your heart? Is that what it was about, that you'd found a different creature? No matter, you weren't going anywhere. "I don't want to hear about it", he declared dramatically. "I have a bruised cervix!" you shouted in disbelief. "Huh?" He stared at you. "It hurts even when I lay down, man. You have to tone it down. At least for a little while."

Ah. Awkward. You noticed his flinch, and patted the empty seat next to you. "What did you think I was going to say?" The bench groaned under the weight of his gargantuan body. Hands folded in his lap like a punished schoolboy, your husband began to narrate the tale of his seething envy and frenzied passion for you. You must understand, he's never cared for anyone as much. To hell with duty and honor, he would kill his own father if his touch on you lingered one second longer than permitted. "Alright, but you must control yourself a little", you reminded him gently. "Never, my urge to obliterate any threat in my path is insatiable", he concluded with vehemence. "Yes, yes, that I understand. The sex, I mean", you gesticulated. "Of course. My apologies, I got sidetracked."

Somehow, he didn't expect to leave this conversation with a cathartic approval of his possessiveness. "Surely you must be upset by my fanatical behavior", he suggested meekly. "Oh no, it's part of your charm", you reassured him with a smile. "It's just not that sustainable in bed without the occasional break." You pat your stomach to express your misfortune.

Sadly, your monster fucking dreams must adhere to the laws of biology.

[juleswritesstuff]

Starving

Basically, just Theo being the munch that he is.

theodore nott x fem!reader

warnings: smut

Enjoy💗

You had always hated Herbology with a deep passion.

Not the plants per se, those were rather fascinating to observe, but did they really need to have such a vast variety of species ? Was it actually necessary ?

Apparently it was, or Mrs Sprout wouldn't have given you a whole 600 words essay to write on every type of mandrake known to man.

Those screaming little things got on your nerves, and you could barely understand what the professor was talking about while tending to them. Hence, you were finding it extremely difficult to complete that paper.

The door of your dorm room suddenly opened and you had to restrain a curse from slipping through gritted teeth.

You had really hoped to not get interrupted.

Apparently your prayers weren't heard.

“You busy, dolcezza ?” (sweetie)

A more than familiar voice reached your ears. You lifted your eyes from your paper and they landed on none other than Theodore Nott, who was standing right in front of your door, now closed again, with a faint smirk plastered on his face. 

You rolled your eyes. You knew that little grin all too well.

“Kind of, yeah” you replied, your attention going back to the paper in front of you as you started scribbling again with your quill “Aren't you ? Have you already finished your essay ?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Just turned it in, so I have some time to kill” he said with that cocky attitude of his.

Infuriating and charming at the same time, truly unfair.

“Good for you, then. I don't, so if you could leave me to it, it would be much appreciated” you said as a forced smile curved your lips.

“Oh, come on. You don't even have a little time ? Per me ?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to the side with the most innocent expression he could master. (For me ?)

Which didn't work because his eyes screamed trouble.

Theo looked like an angel with his brown hair curled in soft locks and eyes as blue as the ocean, although dead and emotionless looking.

Actually, he was the devil in disguise. Especially when he acted all coy like this.

“No Theo, I really don't have time for your little antics today” you said huffing.

‘His little antics’ being eating you out till tears rolled down your cheeks and your mascara was smudged and unsalvageable. 

You and Theo were ‘friends’. You got along just fine, you talked, and you bickered like there was no tomorrow. It was part of your friendship, the teasing, the little harmless jokes. It was routine for the two of you.

What was also routine was the flirting. 

Shameless and obvious flirting.

You never thought it would lead anywhere. You were so used to the little Italian endearments he gave you and the ever present smirk on his lips that you didn't really think anything of it.

Until one night, after one of the biggest parties that Slytherin had ever thrown, you ended up in his bed, with him between your legs eating you out like his life depended on it.

You didn't even know how you found yourself in that situation, you just knew that you hadn't minded one bit.

You ended up with shaky legs and a dizzy brain just by his tongue alone.

Saying that you didn't mind it would've been an euphemism.

The day after was awkward as hell, but you both were too direct and honest to not deal with the weird atmosphere immediately.

So you decided to add some…privileges to your relationship. 

You discovered Theo had quite an oral fixation. 

He needed to keep his mouth occupied with something.

Cigarettes were a great way to keep his mouth busy, but they were extremely damaging for his health.

You didn't mean to make him stop smoking, you knew it would've been basically impossible, and, if you had to be completely honest with yourself, he looked so damn hot with those death traps between his lips, but you wanted to at least try to reduce the amount of nicotine that went into his body.

And what better way than to bribe him with the second thing he loved the most in the world ?

Eating you out seemed to be his favorite hobby.

Anytime he felt the need to light one cigarette more than necessary he came to you, with that sinful smirk on his lips and the hottest ‘fuck me’ eyes he could master.

And who were you to say no ? 

You had proposed the deal in the first place.

Plus, he was amazing at it too. The way his tongue worked on your cunt definitely felt like ascending to heaven.

But now you really didn't have the time.

“I'm not here because I feel like smoking, Y/n” he said walking up to you and stopping in front of the desk, leaning forward a little as he supported his weight with his hands on the table. 

You made the mistake of lifting your eyes from the parchment and locking them with his. His gaze was magnetic. Once those pools of stormy sea caught you, you couldn't escape.

“Then why are you here ?” you asked, raising your eyebrows.

“Cause I'm starving, bambolina” he uttered with the calmest and most unaffected tone in his voice. (babydoll)

You narrowed your eyes.

“Then you should be in the kitchen to solve that little problem, don't you think ?” you asked rhetorically, eyes going back to focus on the parchment in front of you.

You heard him scoff, and suddenly he was leaning so much closer.

Your head was still hung low, trying to write that damn essay, but his presence was distracting as hell and you couldn't help but shiver when he leaned to whisper in your ear.

“You're right, that would be the perfect solution if I was hungry for food” he stopped and you could feel the teasing smile plastered on his face.

“But all I'm craving is you and that pretty little cunt of yours, so I don't think the kitchen elves could really help me with that”

You wished you could say his words didn't affect you, you really wished.

But the sudden warmth on your cheeks and the unconscious clench of your legs told another story.

You really didn't have time for this, but your body was craving him and his touch like crazy, and you weren't sure you would've been able to focus if you didn't feel his tongue working its wonders on you.

So you sighed and pushed the chair you were sitting on a bit farther away from the desk, enough to take your knickers off and throw them somewhere behind you, then you sat back, your skirt still covering you up until your mid thighs.

His eyes darkened with lust.

“Make it quick, I have an essay to finish” you said, faking indifference.

On the inside you were burning alive.

“Quick ? It's like you don't know me at all, dolcezza” he said with a scoff as he sank to his knees, crawling until he was right in front of you.

His gaze locked in yours as his hands made contact with the bare skin of your legs, caressing them gently, tenderly.

“I'll take my sweet time with you. Ora fai la brava and open those gorgeous legs for me” you hated how fast you complied, but with the way he was looking at you you really couldn’t help yourself. (Now be good) 

He lifted your skirt and he leaned forward.

As soon as his tongue made contact with your folds you melted.

You choked out a whimper, and you could feel him smirk right against your groin.

"Wipe that grin off your face, Nott, I'm only -ah fuck, I'm only doing it because you begged me” you said as he kept lapping at your core with his tongue, wrapping his lips around your clit to give it a gentle suck.

The moan that rippled out of you was almost pornographic.

“Piccola bugiarda, you know that's not true. You're doing it because you want it too” he moved his mouth from your cunt to your thighs, giving feather light kisses on the sensitive skin. (Little liar)

“You're so wet, you didn't think I would notice ?” he asked with that fucking cocky attitude that made you go crazy.

“Shut up and put that mouth to a better use” you said, but the bite in your voice was definitely toned down by the urgency and neediness of having his mouth back where you needed him the most.

His head tilted to the side as he leaned back just the tiniest bit.

“What's with the attitude, uh ?”

“No, no, no, -shit Theo. Come back here” you said, almost whining.

He was too far, and you needed him.

You needed him closer, way fucking closer.

“E come si dice ?” he teased, his eyes were dark and fogged up by lust and hunger. (And what do you say ?)

“Fuck, why do you always want me to beg ?” you asked, defeated. He leaned forward again, his breath hovering right above the tender skin as you clenched around nothing, feeling the loss of his tongue.

“Because it's fun, I love it when you beg me with that sweet mouth of yours. Plus I like seeing you flustered” he said as he started to kiss every inch and nook of your most sensitive area, avoiding where you really wanted him to.

You wanted to curse so bad, but you knew that was not what he wanted, what he needed.

“Theo -fuck. Please Theo, just touch me. Please” you surrendered, your voice whiny and broken, until a melody of moans and whimpers started to ripple out of your lips as soon as his mouth met your folds again.

And this time he didn’t stop.

He lapped at your juices like a starved man enjoying his meal for the first time in days.

He licked, and sucked, and kissed every centimeter, every inch of tender skin like he was born to do that.

Your hands buried in his soft brown locks and you tugged at them unconsciously after a particularly good roll of his tongue made you see stars.

“Cazzo, se continui così verrò nei pantaloni porca puttana” he said, hissing. His mouth kept working wonders on your cunt, his groans creating delicious vibrations on your clit. (Fuck, if you keep this up I'll come in my pants, holy shit)

“Ancora” he said between ravenous licks and delicate, teasing sucks, guttural moans leaving his lips. (Again)

“What ?” you asked, lost in pleasure. Your little knowledge of the Italian language became nonexistent when he was busy making you cry on his tongue.

“Again, baby. You know i fucking love it” he says, mouthing the words right against your core.

And so you obeyed, tugging at his hair again, a little rougher, a little harder.

A low groan left his lips.

You were close, you were so fucking close.

“Shit, Theo, baby” you moaned out loud, the term of endearment completely slipping out.

Theo seemed to notice, because he started to go faster, tongue flicking desperately at your folds.

Your breath got caught in your lungs, your ears rang and your sight turned black as you got hit by pleasure.

The hand on his hair kept Theo close as you rode your orgasm on his tongue.

He lapped at your juices carefully, to not overstimulate you, leaving sweet butterfly kisses on your thighs, worshiping the skin with his lips.

Once your breathing started to go back to normal and your sight was not blurry from the pleasure anymore you looked at him.

He was still kneeling in front of you, a teasing smile tugging at his lips as his eyes focused on your face.

“You look quite disheveled, principessa” he said with a chuckle, pride oozing from his features for reducing you in that state. All fucked out and breathless. (princess)

“Oh, yeah ? And whose fault is that ?” you asked in mocking shock, but you couldn't help a chuckle from escaping your lips.

“And you're one to talk” you added as you took in his appearance. His eyes were still quite foggy and unfocused, his hair a mess from all the tugging, and his lips.

Oh, his lips. Red and shiny with your essence and the tiniest bit swollen.

He looked too fucking good to be true.

You knew you folded too easily when Theo was involved, but you couldn’t help it.

“I told you I was starving, you underestimated my eagerness to fucking devour you” he said with a shrug, wetting his lips to savor your taste once again, like his words didn’t make you feel like you were catching fire.

That mouth of his was a menace, physically and metaphorically.

“I’m never gonna be able to finish this stupid essay now” you said almost desperately.

He laughed at your pathetic whining, but it was a warm laugh, not one made to mock you but one that was closer to endearment.

“Was it so good that it melted your brain off ?” he asked with that cocky grin of his.

You looked at him with a deadpan expression.

“Your overly confident attitude never fails to amaze me, Theodore Nott '' you said with a chuckle. You straightened your posture on the chair, smoothing out all the wrinkles that he had left from fisting your skirt and holding on for dear life to keep your hips still.

“Now I don’t want to kick you out, but I really need to finish this”

“No need for that, tesoro, I’ll leave you to it. Wouldn’t want to distract you too much” he said, getting back up on his feet and tucking a rebellious strand of your hair behind your ear.

“See you at dinner ?” he asked. 

You simply nodded your head yes.

His hand was still gently caressing your cheek, the pads of his fingers were as light as a feather as they danced on your skin.

His eyes were locked in yours, and you had no idea of what was happening.

Until his fingers reached your chin, tilting your head up the slightest bit. 

Then he leaned in.

For the first time since you had started this ‘arrangement’ his lips met yours.

And they were sweeter than you thought, gentle, but there was an undertone of hunger, of neediness that you couldn’t ignore.

He tasted of nicotine and butter beer, bittersweet and addicting.

His lips were slightly chapped but you couldn’t care less about it as his tongue swiped on your bottom lip, his teeth grazing at it gently right after as he carefully bit the plump skin.

He pulled back slowly and you were left speechless.

He just chuckled at your wide eyes and agape mouth.

“Good luck on your essay, ok ? I’ll see you tonight” he left a quick kiss on your cheek before storming out of the door with a smile on his face.

Your thoughts were all over the place, because what the hell had just happened ?

Did Theodore Nott just kiss you ?

Something a little different from my usual marauders content, but he's been stuck in brain for weeks now, and I couldn't help myself 😔

And honestly, as an Italian girl, I really think Lorenzo Zurzolo should be classified as a national treasure, thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[mariasont]

Okay , so a smutty Spencer x reader fic where is very alternative with tattoos and piercings. Maybe she works with the team as an entomologist or something idk BUT she always wears her contacts and one day she comes in thick black frame glasses. Spencer goes feral, he's never seen her in glasses before and he just kinda drags her into a hall closet and just "keep the glasses on" there's a lot of fanfics about the reader going feral seeing Spencer in glasses for the first time but what if it was reversed.

Framed Fascination

A/N: omggggg i loved writing this, you just know spencer would sooo be a sucker for a woman with tats and piercings, so canon

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING xoxo

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x alt!fem!reader

warnings: 18+ minors dni, glasses kink, praise, p in v, dirty talk, degrading sort of, office sex

wc: 2k

When you began dating Spencer, it raised a few eyebrows. Spencer Reid--reserved, a bit awkward, and endlessly knowledgeable--had ended up with someone who they thought was his complete opposite. And to that he would always say, "while the prevailing research suggests similarity is more common in relationships, there's an interesting phenomenon where sometimes, the very things that differ between two people can create a complementary dynamic, much like how two puzzle pieces with different notches fit."

At times, you would point out your differences solely to prompt this response. But, in truth, aside from your outward styles, you shared more similarities than not. Your tattoos and piercings were the first details Spencer noticed and quickly became his favorite as you strode into the morgue on a particularly demanding case. You were immersed in explaining how arsenic disrupted the body's functions, but Spencer was lost in the visual narrative of your ink, his gaze lingering on every etched symbol and shaded figure. From that moment, he was wholly engrossed, and vowed to eventually explore all the unseen tattoos that your clothes kept from view.

Spencer may have had the whole 'nerdy boy-next-door' aesthetic down to a science, but you? You took pride in being called 'intimidating', knowing it was just a first impression. You knew that beneath that surface lay as Spencer would say, 'a cinnamon roll'. Spencer seemed to see through it from the beginning, which is why he didn't hesitate to ask you out as soon as the case closed.

In the span of eight months, your life had been transformed into its healthiest chapter with Spencer as the culprit. He filled every day with thoughtful gesture--surprise art museum dates, breakfast in bed, flowers that would mysteriously find their way to your desk, notes you'd find tucked inside your coat pockets. In fact, if you had seen it in a cheesy rom-com, he probably had done it. You had been tackling each day with a little spring in your step.

Just like today--you bounded into your office humming—you were humming as you went over paperwork. Tasked with consulting for the consumer safety department, your focus was zeroed in on the pervasive issue of phthalates creeping into beauty products. You adjusted the unfamiliar weight of the thick black frames perched on your nose--an odd sensation since you habitually opted for contacts--as your eyes dragged over the papers.

The hum of the fax machine broke the silence, and you swiveled in your chair, a smile dawning as you recognized the documents from last week's BAU case--giving you a chance to steal a moment with your boyfriend.

Paperwork in hand, you made your way to the BAU office, the click of your heels on marble floors keeping time with your quickening pulse. The bullpen was a whirlwind of activity as you greeted Morgan and Prentiss with a nod and smile, your gaze sweeping through the room until it landed on him. 

"Hi there, handsome," you greeted with a playful lilt in your voice, your fingers rapping gently against the wood of his desk.

"Hi, sweetheart--," he began, but his words trailed off as his eyes met yours. There was a pause, a momentary lapse in his ever-flowing stream of thoughts, as he took in the sight of you.

Glasses? He couldn't recall you ever wearing glasses, yet there they were, and the effect was undeniable. The sight sent a wave of unexpected thrill through him--a visceral reaction that left him speechless, his lips parting in awe. 

Spencer's throat cleared, a subtle sound amid the bullpen's activity. His gaze flickered around the room, a silent plea that his colleagues were too engrossed in their work to notice the way he practically undressed you with his eyes. "Since when do you wear glasses?"

"Since I nearly scratched my eye out trying to get my contacts in this morning," you said with a laugh, though the action of straightening your glasses was more of a nervous tic.

His stare was unyielding--intense and almost piercing. It unsettled you slightly as you studied his expression, your head tilting inquisitively as he said nothing else. 

"Well, uh, anyway I have to drop this off to Hotch," you murmured, your voice trailing off as you felt the weight of Spencer's penetrating gaze. 

You lingered for a heartbeat too long, hoping for a word, a smile--anything. But nothing came. With a shaky breath, you turned away, hands trembling ever so slightly as you handed the paperwork to Hotch. You whisked yourself back to the comfort of your office. The was weird, right? I mean, sure, Spencer had never been one for being overly affectionate in public, but he at least had more to say than that.

You pushed the nagging doubts to the back of your mind, focusing on the monotony data and figures that sprawled across your reports. He was probably just having a bad day, too maybe theoretical thoughts brewing in the beautiful mind of his.

The hours crawled by, each minute punctuated by the drone of the office--uninteresting reports, pesky coworkers, and the persistent buzz of thoughts circling back to Spencer. When it was an appropriate time to take your lunch, you pushed your laptop aside with a little too much eagerness, hands diving into your bag for your food. 

But before you could do that, a soft interruption at the door caught your attention. Your head snapped up, meeting Spencer's gaze as he leaned causally against the frame of the door.

He stood there, watching as you glanced up at him, the rims of your glasses framing your eyes in a way that made an involuntary shiver down his spine, his gaze lingering on your face. You appeared tired, yes, but the image of you like this had been imprinted on his mind all day, rendering his work secondary to the thought of seeing you again. 

"Spence, hi," you greeted, a sweet smile blooming on your lips as you peered up at him. Your brows knit together slightly; his visits were rare unless case-related. "I was just about to take my lunch, wanna join?"

"No," he replied with a swift shake of his head, the corners of his mouth twitching into a knowing smirk. "Could I borrow you for a second?"

Your gaze returned to the lunch that lay before you, untouched and suddenly unappealing. Letting out a small sigh, you nodded. "Sure," you replied, still trying to piece together Spencer's odd behavior today.

He tilted his head back subtly, a silent cue for you to follow him. You obliged without hesitation, following after him, your steps echoing his through the hallway. Your confusion mounted, etched into the deepening furrow of your brows with each corner turned. 

"Spencer," you said, a giggle escaping your lips. "I trust you're not taking me down some ominous hallway to meet my untimely end?"

"Actually, it is an interesting fact that the majority people meet their 'untimely end' at the hands of someone they love." 

"Great, thank you for that, I think that's my cue," you joked, pivoting away in an attempt to make a dramatic exit. But Spencer's reflexes were quick, his grasp secure on your wrist as he steered you into the nearest supply closet. The small space muffled your surprised oomph as you nearly collided with a stack of supplies.

You stumbled into the warmth of his chest, your glasses skewing comically as you steadied them with a fingertip. "Spencer! What has gotten into you?"

"You," came his growl, rough and urgent, while his hands frantically sought your legs, pinning you against the wall.

A soft moan slipped through the surprise of parted lips as his lips found yours. Your fingers tangled in the soft locks of his hair, pulling him closer, your mouth meeting his with the same intensity. 

Your laughter mingles with the kiss as you pull back, lips brushing. "Not that I'm complaining, Agent Reid, but someone is definitely going to catch us."

His eyes meet yours, equally amused as he pins your hands over your head. He makes quick work of open-mouthed kisses on your neck, your body instantly melting into his as his teeth scrape along your sweet spot. "Don't care."

His lips trailed back to yours, his fingers fumbling to push your skirt up to your stomach. You let out a surprised gasp into his mouth, finding the sudden intensity of him incredibly hot. He pressed his thumb into your clit as you dug your fingers into the nape of his neck, your head lolling back as you all but thrusted into his hand. The room swirled with heat, your glasses misting up. You reached for the pesky frames, but his fingers intercepted, pining them against your chest.

"Those stay on, sweetheart." The words tickled your ear, intimate and close, as his fingers traced through your slick folds, coaxing a contented pant from you.

"That's what's got you all worked up, Spence?" You moaned out as his fingers glided over your skin, now slick, drawing a line of warmth up your body. 

He settled his thumb on your tongue, shutting you up as he grabbed a handful of your ass. You wrapped your lips around it, savoring the taste as your eyes locked with his over the foggy veil of your glasses. His gaze held a quiet pride as he smirked. 

"Drove me crazy seeing you like that this morning." He said as he ground his body into yours, his erection settling on your stomach. "Makes you look so fuckable. Couldn't focus on anything else."

Your mouth vibrated softly around his thumb, muffled as he drew it away with pop. He makes quick work of undoing his belt, shoving down his pants and boxers just enough to release his length.

Your mouth watered at the sight, your body instinctively lowering to your knees, but his hand was there stopping you with a firm, "No time."

He pinned your shoulders to the wall with his body, his mouth crashing with yours with desperate need. Your mouth fell open into his as you felt his length press into your opening, his fingers holding your panties aside.

"You feel so good, sweetheart."

You don't think you would ever get over the feeling of him inside you, the way he stretched you out just right. You let out an unrestrained moan as he proceeded to pump inside you, his movements ruthless.

His palm sealed over your lips, a sudden barrier that sent warmth spreading across your face, glasses clouding rapidly, obscuring your view. "Quiet, baby. You want everyone to know how much of a slut you are for me? Letting me fuck you in the office?"

You all but sobbed against his palm, your hands fisting the material of his sweater as he continued to abuse your pussy with deep strokes.

"Sp-Spence, please baby," you managed to breathe out as he released his hold on your mouth, grinding against him in an attempt at friction with your sensitive clit.

"What do you need, sweetheart?" He questioned, almost condescendingly as his fingers traced your cheek gently, a stark contrast to the way he pounded into you. "Need me to take care of you?"

"Please," you choked out.

"You're so good for me, baby." He said, his thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier as he pressed his thumb to the part of you that ached most. You let out a sob of relief as you ground against his movements, the familiar coil in your stomach beginning to wind up as you clutched at Spencer's face.

"Spencer, shit, 'm so close," you babbled, tears welling in your eyes as each of his thrusts seemed to urge the ache.

"Go ahead, baby." He moaned as his you felt his thighs twitch against you. "Come on my cock, sweet girl."

His words were all you needed to push you off the edge, your back arching against the wall as your legs shook, threatening to collapse as a wave of pleasure washed over you. He came shortly after you, his form yielding to gravity as his head nestled into the crook of your shoulder, both of you panting softly as you tried to catch your breath.

After savoring a few heartbeats of content, he gently disentangled himself from you. His fingers deftly rearranging your skirt, with a touch so soft, so different from his demeanor two minutes ago. 

"Guess I need to wear the glasses more often, huh?"

A soft laughter bubbled up from him, his fingers lightly grazing under your eyes, brushing away the stray smudges of makeup. "Please do."

[sepublic]

Fascinating to me how in the pilot, Luz found the Boiling Isles because of AMITY... Because she's trying to return this exchange student's passport to her. She chases a bus on foot the entire way just to repay her kindness. And so she follows her through the door.

I think the final version works just as well, considering it emphasizes Luz's connection to Eda and King, as well as her relationship with her mother. But there's also something special about how in the pilot, Luz's pretty obvious crush, and hopes of finding a friend in someone who unwittingly showed her kindness (though she doesn't realize it was unintentional) is what leads her into the Boiling Isles. It's what begins everything, it's what starts her journey and helps her find the place and people where she belongs.

There's just kind of a parallel between Luz trying to return the passport, and Luz wanting to hold onto the book, her father's last gift to her representing their mutual weirdness and kinship with one another. And there would’ve been another Lumity in parallel in them being students of two worlds. The crush vibes are so much more explicit and present from the start, it's like the queer aspect of Luz and the show is intertwined, since the beginning, since the very inciting incident, with the weirdness of our cast and their found family dynamics and everything. Like you can't discuss the weirdness without mentioning the queerness, without acknowledging it as just as much the foundation to the story and Luz.

Plus there's Amity rejecting the drawing from Luz, only for it to be appreciated by Eda unknowingly... Once again, someone, unwittingly, is kind to Luz. But in this case Eda is more explicit about encouraging and welcoming Luz, and it makes me wonder if Amity necessarily dismissed the drawing as much, or only did so because she was around her peers? She's much more of a traditional, popular girl prep in the pilot. But then she DOES throw away the drawing, and her seeing Luz later could represent the shift in attitude, her reconsideration.

It's just. You have the mother figure. You have the love interest. And they bring and affirm Luz's ties to the Boiling Isles respectively. Luz doesn't get the approval she was initially looking for, but her quest for it leads her to find approval from someone else; And obviously, her chances with Amity aren't entirely off of the table! Her girlfriend brought her here. She lit up Luz's life in a way, as the final version had Luz barge into Amity's life and light up hers without meaning to.

Plus Eda not being the friend Luz expected or was looking for -they cross paths by pure coincidence- but being the one she truly starts off with in the end. Like how in the final show Luz doesn't quite get what she's looking for, but she finds something else just as great and beautiful. Luz braces herself to be mocked through her drawing by Eda only to be supported and encouraged! All three of these characters are cut from the same cloth, tied together. I love it.

[racinggirl]

that's my girl

Lando Norris fic - requested

My inbox for requests

a/n: it took me a bit longer as I have been quite busy this last week, but it's hereeee! I hope you like it, I have to say I love badass Y/N a lot, so thank you for the request! It's a bit shorter, but we need some variation in life, don't we? Let me know your thoughts! It's not proofread, so be aware for any minor mistakes, if there are some. Lots of loveeee. Don't forget to send in requests! I love all the requests I've gotten so far 🫶🏼

‘’What kind of snacks do you want?’’ You asked your boyfriend as you were preparing some somewhat healthy snacks before he would go live on Twitch. You were filling up a bowl with Maltesers because, let’s be honest, who doesn’t like those? You then decided to grab a knife and cut the cheese and cucumber to make the tray snacks somewhat healthier.

‘’Can you lay on the tray?’’ Lando wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, causing you to tilt your head when he planted soft kisses on your neck. ‘’You already had that snack not too long ago, mister Norris.’’ You teased, keeping your eyes closed as you felt his hands making its way under your shirt, close to your bra.

‘’Nah, ah.’’ You put down the knife and took both his hands in yours, moving them down and placing them on your hips before reaching back for the knife. Your action caused him to groan, and you simply smirked as you felt how much he needed you, because let’s be honest here, it was impossible to not feel him through his jeans.

‘’Grapes, mango?’’ You continued, focussing back on the tray of deliciousness in front of you. ‘’Chocolate covered strawberries.’’ He replied, walking to the fridge. ‘’Yeah, ehm, about those…’’ You bite your lip as you looked over at the – way too perfect – McLaren driver, who happened to be your boyfriend.

‘’No, you ate them?’’ He asked, turning 45 degrees to look at you with puppy eyes. ‘’Oh stop it! You ate my piece of cake the other day!’’ You laughed, feeling his hands on your body as he tickled you. ‘’Lando! Stop!’’ You managed to breathe out in between your laughter.

‘’You ate my strawberries!’’ He exclaimed; his arms wrapped tightly around you as you tried to somehow escape his grasp. But he was strong, of course he was, he was a Formula One driver.

Talking about his job, you were proud of him. The two of you had been dating for a few years now, the world only finding out in your 3rd year of dating each other. You had no idea how because you never purposely tried to be secret about it. You never went out in public, never really posted about one another on your socials, either. You only really started doing that when people noticed your relationship.

You were almost done with your degree now, though. Meaning you had more time to come to some of his races. You loved going there, not only to support your boyfriend, but also to learn about all the behind the scenes of the sport. It was something that fascinated you ever since you started dating Lando.

However, you tried to stay out of the camera’s as much as you could. You never held hands when you walked through the paddock with him; if you walked through the paddock with him. Most of the time you arrived after he did because you either had to finish some online work in the hotel room, or because you wanted to stay out of the spotlight.

You never really enjoyed being in front of the camera’s, hence why you were so invested in all the behind-the-scenes stuff. It wasn’t because you weren’t confident enough, not at all, because you were, and that’s something Lando always admired about you, especially when you started to receive hate. You just never thought being in front of the camera suited you, those cameras around you, people asking questions, it just annoyed you, and you decided you didn’t want to take a part of it.

It didn’t mean you never supported him, though. You were always there for him, and he knew. He never complained, he never told you you weren’t supportive, no. He loved how your relationship was different than the ones from all the other WAGS, he felt like he wasn’t sharing you with the entire world, that you were just his, and that’s exactly how you felt, too.

‘’Good evening chat! Long-time no see, ey?’’ You heard Lando’s smile through the words he just spoke, waving at the camera as he leaned back in his chair. He glanced over at you, his eyes gliding over you before quickly shooting you a wink. You laughed and rolled your eyes at his action, simply knowing the chat would comment on his wink.

‘’I’m good, enjoying the off season as much as I can.’’ He smirked. ‘’Aren’t we, babe?’’ He asked and you got up, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. ‘’I for sure am.’’ You winked before walking to the kitchen to get your snacks.

You always were seated outside of the camera’s view. As much as you loved staying out of the cameras at the track, you did the same whenever he streamed. You never did it purposely, though. You never hid away from the cameras; you simply never purposely were in front of them.

‘’Grabbing snacks!’’ You yelled from the kitchen when you heard Lando read the comments. ‘What’s Y/N doing?’ and ‘Where’s your girlfriend going?’

‘’She’s getting snacks, chat. You won’t believe it, but we actually prepared those for tonight.’’ He smirked, sipping his water as he read through the comments. ‘’We?’’ You asked, raising an eyebrow with a smile. ‘’Right, sorry chat, my lovely girlfriend Y/N prepared the snacks.’’ He said, watching you placing the tray of delicious food in front of him.

‘’I’m just missing one snack on here, but sadly there’s not enough room on the tray for that.’’

‘OMG HE DID NOT JUST SAY THAT’

‘HAHAHAHA Lando naughty naughty boy’

‘DUUUUUUDE LANDO WHAT LMAO’

You sat down next to him, your legs over his as you grabbed a Malteser from the tray. ‘’You’re very original with your jokes tonight, Norris.’’ You smirked, reaching for your phone before you opened TikTok, keeping yourself entertained when Lando continued his stream.

He loved this about you, he loved the fact that even though he was live, streaming and being in front of cameras, you never backed down. You never changed when the cameras were there, you always stayed yourself. That was probably the thing he admired most about you, and things he definitely learned from you.

As the hours went by, the tray of food was nearly empty. You got up a few times to go to the bathroom, get something to drink, get some more snacks and so on. Lando got up to go to the bathroom for the second time this evening, leaving you alone with chat.

You kissed his lips before he left the room, you simply deciding to pop up in front of the camera this time. You read some messages, smiling as they told you you looked beautiful. ‘’Aw, thanks guys, or girls, that’s sweet.’’ You replied, leaning your chin on your hand as you continued reading a few more comments.

The second you heard him coming back in the room, you commented on a question in the chat, Lando sitting next to you with a smile on his face. He loved it when you interacted with his fans, which you sometimes did. It’s not like you were completely offline when it came to the fame he carried with him, you just never really bothered to become an influencer like some others did.

‘’Nah, ah, Norris, they are asking me questions now.’’ You teased, holding your hand up when he started to talk again.

‘HAHA Y/N’s such a vibe’

‘Yeah Lando, we’re chatting with your girl now!’

He simply chuckled, pecking your lips when you looked at him and he then enjoyed the scenery he saw in front of him.

After a while, you got up from your chair, going to the kitchen to refill your glass of water for the fourth time that evening, and made your way back to the room when you heard your boyfriend reading some comments out aloud.

‘Y/N doesn’t love him, she never holds his hand in the paddock, what a supportive WAG.’

You furrowed your eyebrows at that comment, and just as Lando was about to say something to defend you, you put your glass of water on the table in front of you.

‘’Last time I checked, my job title wasn’t ‘WAG’. I’m an engineer, not a runway model.’’

Lando looked at you, amazed, proud, and smiling like an idiot. ‘’You heard her, chat.’’ He smirked. ‘’That’s my girl.’’ He whispered happily.

The end of the stream was nearing, and you got up to head to bed. ‘’Goodnight, babe, I’ll see you in a bit.’’ You whispered before placing a kiss on his lips, smiling against them as he returned the favour. You glanced over at chat one last time, feeling Lando’s hand on the back of your upper leg.

‘’Next time I’ll open the ‘WAGs Handbook’ to catch up on some of my duties.’’ You smirked at the chat. ‘’Goodnight chat, sleep tight.’’ You blew them a kiss before walking out of the room, heading straight to bed.

Not long after you positioned yourself in the king-size bed Lando had in his bedroom, you heard the door opening; your boyfriend making his way to you. ‘’You’re amazing, please never change.’’ He whispered and pressed his lips on yours, firmly.

Later that season

[a-lexia11]

The Age of Love (Part 1)

Alexia Putellas x reader

Word count: Around 9k

Warning: age gap,angst,break up

Summary: After your coworker and boss, Eli, invites you to dinner with her two daughters, you find yourself drawn to her eldest daughter, Alexia, who is nearly ten years older than you.

Part 2

Based on this request.

Y/N had always harbored a deep desire to live in Europe, a dream fueled by years of fascination with the continent's rich history, diverse cultures, and artistic heritage.

When the opportunity arose to study history and art at one of Barcelona's most prestigious universities, she knew she couldn't let it slip away.

The vibrant city, with its stunning architecture, world-class museums, and lively atmosphere, seemed like the perfect place to immerse herself in her passions.

Moving from the United States to Barcelona was a bold step, but Y/N had been preparing for it for years.

Her mother, a dedicated Spanish teacher, had instilled in her a love for the language and culture from a young age.

Countless evenings spent practicing Spanish conversations with her mom had given her a solid foundation, but nothing could truly prepare her for the experience of living in Spain.

Now, three months into her new life, Y/N had begun to settle into the rhythm of the city. Her days were a delicate balancing act between her demanding university courses and her part-time job at a quaint café tucked away on a charming side street near the university.

The café had become a second home to her, a place where she could escape the pressures of academic life and connect with the local community.

It was here, amidst the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the hum of quiet conversations, that Y/N first met Eli, the café's owner.

Eli was a woman of warmth and grace, with a kind smile that immediately put Y/N at ease. She was in her early sixties, with a presence that exuded both confidence and compassion.

From the moment Y/N started working at the café, Eli had taken her under her wing, treating her not just as an employee, but almost like a daughter.

Eli's kindness extended far beyond the usual employer-employee relationship. She was attentive to Y/N's needs, always making sure she had time to study, offering advice on life in Barcelona, and even introducing her to some of the café's regular customers.

Eli knew that Y/N was far from home and had only a few friends in the city, so she made it her mission to ensure Y/N felt supported and cared for. In many ways, Eli had become Y/N's surrogate family in this foreign land.

Y/N admired Eli not just for her kindness but also for her dedication to her business and her pride in her family.

Eli often spoke of her two daughters, Alexia and Alba, with the kind of pride that only a mother could have. Y/N had heard many stories about them—Alexia, the eldest, who was a professional footballer for FC Barcelona and the Spain national team, and Alba, the younger daughter, who is working in a school.

Though Y/N had yet to meet them in person, she felt as though she already knew them through Eli's stories.

Life in Barcelona was beginning to feel like a dream come true, and Y/N couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunities that had brought her to this city.

But little did she know, her connection to Eli and her daughters would soon lead her down a path she had never anticipated, one that would challenge her in ways she had never imagined.

——

One evening, as the sun began to set and the last few customers trickled out of the café, Y/N was busy wiping down the tables and preparing to close up for the night.

The gentle hum of the espresso machine was the only sound that filled the cozy space. Just as she was stacking the last of the chairs, Eli approached her with a warm and familiar smile, her presence always bringing a sense of comfort.

“Y/N, ¿puedo hablar contigo un momento?” Eli asked, her tone gentle but eager.(Y/N, can I talk to you for a moment?)

Y/N looked up from the counter, her hands still busy with a towel as she wiped them clean. She could sense that Eli had something on her mind, something more than the usual café chatter. “Claro, Eli. ¿Qué pasa?” she responded, her curiosity piqued. (Of course, Eli. What’s up?)

Eli’s eyes sparkled with a mixture of excitement and affection. There was a certain glow to her face, a kind of maternal warmth that Y/N had grown to appreciate over the past few months. “Me encantaría invitarte a cenar en mi casa este fin de semana,” Eli began, her voice filled with enthusiasm. “Mis hijas estarán allí, y me encantaría que las conocieras.” (I’d love to invite you to dinner at my house this weekend. My daughters will be there, and I’d really like you to meet them.)

Y/N felt a flutter of nervousness in her chest, coupled with a deep sense of gratitude. She had heard so much about Eli’s daughters—especially Alexia, the footballer—and the thought of meeting them felt both exciting and daunting.

But at the same time, she couldn’t help but feel a bit apprehensive about intruding on their family time. “¡Qué amable de tu parte! Pero no quiero causarles molestias,” she replied, her voice tinged with hesitation. (That’s so kind of you! But I don’t want to be a bother.)

Eli shook her head, her expression turning more resolute, yet still gentle. “No es molestia en absoluto,” she said, her tone firm but reassuring. “Eres parte de nuestra familia ahora, y quiero que lo sientas así.” (It’s no trouble at all. You’re part of our family now, and I want you to feel that way.)

Y/N’s heart swelled at Eli’s words. The idea of being considered part of a family in a city so far from her own home was something she hadn’t expected, but it meant the world to her.

Eli’s invitation wasn’t just a casual offer; it was an expression of genuine care and inclusion.

After a moment of thought, Y/N smiled, her apprehension melting away. “Gracias, Eli. Me encantaría ir,” she finally said, her voice filled with sincerity. (Thank you, Eli. I’d love to come.)

Eli beamed, clearly pleased with Y/N’s acceptance. “Perfecto. Será una noche especial. Mis hijas están deseando conocerte.” (Perfect. It’s going to be a special night. My daughters are excited to meet you.)

As Y/N locked up the café that evening, she couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions—nervousness, anticipation, and even a bit of excitement.

Meeting Eli’s daughters felt like a significant step, and though she was unsure of what to expect, she knew that this dinner could mark the beginning of something new and important in her life.

——

When the day of the dinner finally arrived, Y/N stood in front of Eli's apartment, taking a deep breath before ringing the doorbell.

The building was nestled in a charming part of Barcelona, with narrow streets lined with trees and the soft glow of street lamps illuminating the evening.

The scent of blooming jasmine wafted through the air, mingling with the warmth of the Spanish night.

The door opened almost immediately, and Eli greeted her with a broad smile that reached her eyes. “¡Y/N, qué alegría verte! Pasa, pasa,” she said, enveloping Y/N in a tight hug. (Y/N, so good to see you! Come in, come in.)

Inside, the apartment was cozy and inviting, with soft lighting that bathed the room in a warm glow.

The scent of Eli’s cooking filled the air, a blend of saffron, garlic, and seafood—clearly, the famous paella she had heard so much about was on the menu.

Family photos lined the walls, capturing moments of joy and togetherness over the years.

“Qué bien huele,” Y/N remarked as she followed Eli into the living room, feeling both nervous and excited. (It smells amazing.)

“Gracias, cariño. Me aseguré de preparar lo mejor para esta noche,” Eli replied with a wink, guiding Y/N into the room where her daughters were waiting. (Thank you, sweetheart. I made sure to prepare the best for tonight.)

As they entered the living room, Y/N’s heart raced slightly. Alexia and Alba were seated on a plush sofa, engaged in a quiet conversation that paused the moment they noticed her arrival.

“Chicas, esta es Y/N, la joven de la que tanto les he hablado,” Eli announced, her voice full of pride as she placed a gentle hand on Y/N’s shoulder. (Girls, this is Y/N, the young woman I’ve told you so much about.)

Y/N felt the warmth rise to her cheeks as she met the gazes of Eli’s daughters. Alba, with her warm brown eyes and easy smile, greeted her first. “Hola, Y/N. Es un placer finalmente conocerte,” she said, standing up to give her a welcoming hug. (Hi, Y/N. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.)

“El placer es mío,” Y/N replied, returning the hug, her initial nervousness starting to melt away in the friendly atmosphere. (The pleasure is mine.)

But it was Alexia who held Y/N’s attention the most. As she stood up from the sofa, Y/N couldn’t help but be struck by her presence.

Alexia was stunning in person, her long, blonde-colored hair cascading over her shoulders, framing her strong jawline. Her hazel eyes seemed to hold a quiet intensity, yet they softened as they locked onto Y/N’s.

“Hola, Y/N. Encantada de conocerte,” Alexia greeted her, extending a hand with a smile that was both warm and captivating. (Hi, Y/N. Nice to meet you.)

Y/N hesitated for the briefest of moments, taken aback by how effortlessly charming Alexia was. But she quickly recovered, shaking her hand. “Igualmente. Eli habla mucho de ustedes,”she replied, trying to keep her cool despite the flutter in her chest. (Likewise. Eli talks a lot about you both.)

“Espero que sean cosas buenas,” Alba chimed in, her playful tone easing the tension that Y/N hadn’t even realized was building. (I hope they’re good things.)

“Todas buenas, no te preocupes,”Y/N responded with a laugh, feeling more comfortable as she settled into the rhythm of the conversation. (All good, don’t worry.)

As they all sat down for dinner, the table was filled with plates of Eli’s famous paella, fresh bread, and an assortment of tapas.

Eli fussed over everyone, making sure their plates were full and that Y/N was comfortable. The meal was a sensory delight, with the rich flavors of the paella bursting in Y/N’s mouth, the saffron giving it a deep, earthy taste that she knew she would crave again.

The conversation flowed easily, with Eli regaling them with stories from the café and anecdotes about her daughters.

Y/N found herself laughing along with the family, the warmth of their dynamic reminding her of home, though it was thousands of miles away.

Throughout the meal, Y/N couldn’t help but steal glances at Alexia. There was something about her that drew Y/N in—the way she carried herself with such quiet confidence, the way her eyes lit up when she laughed, and the moments when she seemed to catch Y/N’s gaze, holding it just a second longer than necessary.

As the evening wound down and they moved into the living room for coffee, the atmosphere became more relaxed. They talked about everything and nothing—Barcelona’s latest game, Y/N’s studies, Alba’s work. But the conversation that really made Y/N feel seen was the one she had with Alexia.

“Entonces, ¿cómo es que terminaste en Barcelona?” Alexia asked, her voice curious as she leaned slightly forward, her full attention on Y/N. (So, how did you end up in Barcelona?)

Y/N took a moment to gather her thoughts, glad to have Alexia’s undivided attention. “Siempre he amado el arte y la historia del arte , y cuando surgió la oportunidad de estudiar aquí, supe que tenía que aprovecharla. Barcelona es el lugar perfecto para sumergirse en en arte.” (I’ve always loved art and history of art, and when the opportunity to study here came up, I knew I had to take it. Barcelona is the perfect place to immerse myself in art.)

Alexia nodded, her expression thoughtful as she absorbed Y/N’s words. “Eso suena increíble. No todos tienen el coraje de mudarse a otro país para seguir sus sueños,” she said, admiration clear in her voice. (That sounds amazing. Not everyone has the courage to move to another country to follow their dreams.)

Y/N smiled, feeling a sense of pride swell within her. “Bueno, también tiene sus desafíos,” she admitted, her voice growing softer. “Es difícil estar lejos de mi familia y amigos, pero estoy tratando de construir algo nuevo aquí.”(Well, it has its challenges too. It’s hard being away from my family and friends, but I’m trying to build something new here.)

Alexia’s gaze softened as she nodded in understanding. “Eso es muy valiente, Y/N. No es fácil empezar de nuevo, pero parece que lo estás haciendo muy bien.” (That’s very brave, Y/N. It’s not easy to start over, but it seems like you’re doing really well.)

There was a sincerity in Alexia’s words that made Y/N’s heart flutter.

She appreciated how Alexia wasn’t just being polite—she genuinely seemed to care about what Y/N was going through.

The connection between them grew stronger with each exchange, a silent understanding passing between them that neither could ignore.

As the night drew to a close, and Y/N prepared to leave, Alexia offered to walk her to the door. They stepped out into the cool night air, the sounds of the city muted in the distance.

“It was a pleasure meeting you,Y/N,” Alexia said in English, her voice soft and sincere as she looked at Y/N. “I hope we can see each other again soon.”

Y/N smiled, her heart skipping a beat at the thought. “The pleasure was mine. I’d love that.,” she replied, trying to hide the nervous excitement bubbling inside her.

Before they parted ways, they exchanged numbers, a small but significant gesture that hinted at something more.

As Y/N walked back to her apartment, her mind replayed the evening over and over, particularly the moments she had shared with Alexia.

There was something undeniable between them—a connection that felt both exciting and terrifying, like the start of something she hadn’t expected but couldn’t resist.

As she lay in bed that night, Y/N found herself smiling at the memory of Alexia’s smile, her heart racing with anticipation of what might come next.

——

In the weeks following their initial meeting, Y/N and Alexia seemed to encounter each other with increasing regularity.

It was as if fate had a hand in their meetings, which occurred at the most unexpected places—cozy cafés, serene parks, or even while strolling through bustling streets.

These chance encounters felt more like serendipitous moments, and with each one, their bond appeared to strengthen.

One bright afternoon, Y/N settled into a charming little café close to her university. The café, with its rustic wooden tables and cozy atmosphere, was her favorite spot to unwind between classes.

As she sipped her coffee and flipped through her notes, she barely noticed the café’s door swing open.

When she did look up, she saw Alexia walk in, her presence almost magnetic. Their eyes met across the room, and Alexia’s smile was both warm and electrifying.

The way she carried herself—confident yet approachable—made Y/N’s heart flutter slightly.

Alexia made her way over, her long blonde hair catching the light with each step. “Can I sit with you?” she asked, her voice smooth and inviting.

Y/N, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected but welcome gesture, quickly recovered and gestured to the empty seat across from her. “Of course. I’m glad to see you. How have you been?”

Alexia settled into the chair, and they both felt the ease of familiarity that their previous meetings had fostered.

As they began to chat, the conversation flowed effortlessly. They talked about everything from their favorite books and films to their most recent adventures around the city.

Alexia’s laughter was infectious, a melodic sound that made Y/N’s worries from the day fade away.

Y/N found herself enchanted by the way Alexia spoke passionately about her experiences as a footballer, sharing stories of intense matches and humorous anecdotes from training.

Alexia, in turn, listened with genuine interest as Y/N spoke about her studies and the small joys she found in her new life in Barcelona.

Their connection deepened with each word exchanged. They discovered a shared love for art, which led to animated discussions about their favorite museums and exhibitions.

Alexia expressed interest in visiting the local art galleries that Y/N frequented, and Y/N eagerly offered to be her guide.

By the end of their time together, they both felt a sense of reluctance to part ways. As they prepared to leave, Alexia looked at Y/N with a hopeful smile. “¿Te gustaría salir conmigo a menudo, tal vez para explorar la ciudad o simplemente tomar un café?” (Would you like to go out with me often, maybe to explore the city or just grab a coffee?)

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. “Me encantaría. Será genial explorar más de Barcelona contigo.” (I’d love that. It’ll be great to explore more of Barcelona with you.)

After that encounter, their conversations over the phone and through text messages continued to reveal more about their shared interests and personal dreams, drawing them closer together with each interaction.

——

Several days later, Alexia extended an invitation for Y/N to join her for dinner. They decided to meet at a quaint restaurant Alexia cherished. The evening was imbued with a sense of magic, the restaurant’s candlelight casting a warm, soft glow that perfectly complemented its intimate ambiance.

As they sat across from each other at the table, the flickering candles highlighted Alexia’s features, making her gaze even more captivating. Y/N felt an electric tension in the air.

“Me alegra que hayas aceptado mi invitación. ¿Cómo te ha ido en la universidad?” (I’m glad you accepted my invitation. How’s university going for you?)

Y/N’s smile was genuine, a reflection of her growing affection. “Ha sido un poco abrumador a veces, pero me estoy adaptando. ¿Y tú? ¿Cómo van los entrenamientos?” (It’s been a bit overwhelming at times, but I’m adjusting. And you? How’s training going?)

Alexia’s face lit up as she talked about football. Her passion was palpable, and Y/N was entranced by the way her eyes sparkled when she spoke. “El entrenamiento ha sido duro, pero me encanta. Cada partido, cada entrenamiento, me hace sentir más viva. ¿Y tú? ¿Hay algo que te apasione tanto?” (Training has been tough, but I love it. Every match, every training session makes me feel more alive. What about you? Is there something you’re passionate about?)

Y/N’s eyes softened. “El arte y la historia del arte es mi vida. Desde que era pequeña, siempre he soñado con trabajar en museos, o tal vez enseñar historia del arte algún día.” (Art and history of art is my life. Ever since I was little, I’ve dreamed of working in museums or maybe teaching art history someday.)

They continued their conversation, each topic weaving them closer together. The hours seemed to fly by, and when they finally left the restaurant, the cool night air felt invigorating.

Alexia gently took Y/N’s hand as they walked down the quiet, dimly lit streets. The simple touch sent a thrill through Y/N’s body.

“Would you like to take a walk around the neighborhood?”

Y/N’s heart fluttered with excitement. “I would love too”

As they strolled through the serene streets, the soft sound of their footsteps was the only noise that accompanied their growing closeness.

They paused near a small, charming park where the moonlight cast a silvery sheen over the scene.

Alexia stopped and turned to face Y/N, her expression serious yet tender. “Y/N, desde que te conocí, siento una conexión contigo que nunca he experimentado antes. No puedo explicar lo que siento, pero es como si te conociera desde siempre.” (Y/N, since I met you, I’ve felt a connection with you that I’ve never experienced before. I can’t explain what I feel, but it’s like I’ve known you forever.)

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She looked deeply into Alexia’s eyes, feeling an overwhelming sense of vulnerability and hope. “Yo siento lo mismo. Hay algo en ti que me atrae de una manera que nunca antes había sentido.” (I feel the same. There’s something about you that attracts me in a way I’ve never felt before.)

With their emotions laid bare, they leaned in slowly. Their lips met in a kiss that was both gentle and electrifying.

The world seemed to dissolve around them, leaving only the two of them in that perfect moment.

The kiss deepened, as if expressing all the feelings they had been unable to articulate. It was tender yet passionate, a blend of longing and affection.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads touched, and they gazed into each other’s eyes, sharing a silent understanding.

They held hands as they continued their walk, their hearts intertwined in a newfound connection that promised to grow deeper with each passing day.

——

As Y/N and Alexia's relationship grew stronger, they continued to meet in secret, savoring their moments together despite the pressures that surrounded them.

Their time together was a precious escape from the complications of their lives. They discovered hidden treasures of Barcelona, from charming bookshops to quiet, picturesque beaches, finding joy and comfort in each other's presence.

On one particularly beautiful Saturday, Y/N and Alexia chose to spend the day at a scenic park on the edge of the city. They spread a blanket under the shade of a large tree and enjoyed a picnic that Alexia had lovingly prepared.

“This is perfect” Y/N said, her voice full of contentment as she surveyed the tranquil surroundings.

Alexia smiled warmly, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from Y/N’s face. “I know. I love being able to spend time with you without worrying about curious stares.”

Y/N reached out, taking Alexia’s hand in hers, and felt the comforting warmth of her touch. “What’s your life in football like? I’d love to hear more about it”

Alexia’s eyes lit up as she began to talk about her career with enthusiasm. “Es desafiante pero muy gratificante. Los entrenamientos son intensos, y los partidos siempre son una montaña rusa de emociones. Pero al final del día, lo que más me importa es jugar y dar lo mejor de mí.” (It’s challenging but incredibly rewarding. The training is intense, and the matches are always an emotional rollercoaster. But at the end of the day, what matters most is playing and giving my best.)

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the park, they shared another kiss. It was a tender, meaningful moment that felt more profound with each passing day. Their feelings were flourishing, but they both knew that the challenges ahead were significant.

One issue neither of them had anticipated was that the age difference would become a significant problem for others.

——

The first signs of trouble emerged one crisp morning when Alexia decided to visit Eli’s café. The morning sun filtered softly through the café’s windows, casting a golden hue over the cozy, warmly decorated interior.

Y/N was behind the counter, her hands busy arranging freshly baked pastries and preparing coffee.

The gentle hum of the espresso machine and the clinking of cups created a comforting backdrop. When the bell above the door jingled, Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as she looked up and saw Alexia walking in.

The café was bustling with the usual morning rush of customers, and Alexia’s entrance was almost seamlessly absorbed into the flow.

Their eyes met across the room, and Y/N’s excitement was unmistakable. She quickly wiped her hands on a towel, trying to steady her racing heartbeat and maintain her composure.

Alexia approached the counter, her demeanor calm but her eyes full of warmth. “Hola, Y/N. ¿Cómo estás?” (Hi, Y/N. How are you?)

Y/N’s face brightened instantly. “Hola, Alexia. Estoy bien. ¿Y tú?” (Hi, Alexia. I’m good. And you?)

Alexia’s smile was radiant, and her gaze lingered a moment longer than usual. “Muy bien, gracias. Solo quería pasar a verte y ver cómo estás.” (I’m well, thank you. I just wanted to come by and see how you’re doing.)

Before they could dive deeper into conversation, Eli emerged from the back room. Her friendly demeanor shifted to one of concern as she saw Alexia at the counter.

Her expression hardened slightly, a clear indication of her disapproval, and she approached with a purposeful stride.

“Y/N, ¿podrías preparar un café para un cliente?” Eli pidió, su tono casual pero con una urgencia subyacente. (Y/N, could you make a coffee for a client?)

Y/N looked momentarily puzzled but nodded, moving to the coffee machine. As she prepared the coffee, Eli leaned in close to Alexia, her voice dropping to a serious whisper.

“Alexia, necesitamos hablar.” (Alexia, we need to talk.)

Alexia met her mother’s gaze, sensing the gravity of the situation. “Claro, mamá.” (Sure, Mom.)

Eli’s face was a blend of concern and determination. “Alexia, ¿qué está pasando entre tú y Y/N? Y no me mientas, sé que está pasando algo; puedo ver la forma en que la miras.” (Alexia, what’s going on between you and Y/N? And don’t lie to me; I can see the way you look at her.)

Alexia’s expression tightened, and she took a deep breath before responding. “Hay algo entre nosotras. Fuimos a citas. Mamá, realmente me gusta.” (There’s something happening between us. We went on dates. Mom, I really like her.)

Eli’s eyes widened in disbelief. “¡Alexia, ella es demasiado joven para ti! Tiene 21 años y tú tienes 30. ¡Es una diferencia de edad significativa!” (Alexia, she’s too young for you! She’s 21, and you’re 30! It’s a significant age difference.)

Alexia’s face grew more resolute. “Lo entiendo, pero ella es adulta, mamá. No se siente como si hubiera una década entre nosotras. Lo que importa es cómo conectamos y cómo me siento con ella.” (I understand that, but she’s an adult, Mom. It doesn’t feel like there’s a decade between us. What matters is how we connect and how I feel about her.)

Eli sighed deeply, her concern evident. “Alexia, ella acaba de comenzar su vida aquí, lejos de su familia. Ustedes tienen prioridades diferentes. Imagínate lo que dirá la gente cuando descubran que estás saliendo con alguien diez años menor.” (Alexia, she’s just started her life here, far from her family. You both have different priorities. Imagine what people will say when they find out you’re dating someone ten years younger.)

Alexia’s voice grew firm and unwavering. “No me importa lo que opinen los demás. Esta es mi relación, y no le incumbe a nadie más, ni siquiera a ti.” (I don’t care what others think. This is my relationship, and it’s no one’s business but ours. Not even yours.)

Eli shook her head, her frustration palpable. “Esto es una tontería, Alexia. Lo siento, pero no puedo apoyar esta relación,” (This is foolish, Alexia. I’m sorry, but I can’t support this relationship) she said, her voice tinged with disappointment as she turned and walked away, leaving a tense silence in her wake.

With a heavy heart, Alexia took her coffee and left the café. She glanced back at Y/N, who was immersed in the morning rush, her face a mix of concern and confusion. Alexia felt a knot of frustration and sadness in her chest.

She understood her mother’s worries but was determined to prove that her feelings for Y/N were genuine and that she could navigate the challenges ahead.

——

Later that day, Alba made her way to Alexia’s apartment, the tension between them palpable even before she entered. When she arrived, she found Alexia lounging on the couch, scrolling through her phone. Alba didn’t waste any time with pleasantries.

“¿Mamá me dijo que estás saliendo con Y/N? ¿Qué pasa contigo, Alexia? Ella tiene 21 años,” Alba said, her tone a mixture of concern and disbelief. (Mom told me you're dating Y/N? What's wrong with you, Alexia? She's 21 years old.)

Alexia let out a heavy sigh, setting her phone aside as she faced her sister. “Sí, ya lo sé. Mamá ya me dio la charla, y te diré lo mismo que le dije a ella: esto no es asunto tuyo,” she said, her voice tinged with frustration. (Yes, I’m aware of that. Mom already gave me the talk, and I’ll tell you the same thing I told her: this is none of your business.)

Alba crossed her arms, her brow furrowing. “¿Realmente has pensado en las repercusiones? ¿Cómo esto podría afectar tu vida profesional, tu carrera?” (Have you really thought about the repercussions? How this could affect your professional life, your career?)

Alexia’s expression hardened as she sat up straight, her defenses rising. “Sí, lo he pensado. Pero eso no cambia lo que siento por ella. Alba, lo que siento por Y/N es real. No es algo superficial o pasajero.” (Yes, I’ve thought about it. But that doesn’t change how I feel about her. Alba, what I feel for Y/N is real. It’s not something superficial or fleeting.)

Alba shook her head, her concern growing more evident. “No dudo que te importe, pero tienes que considerar las consecuencias. ¿Qué pasa si la prensa se entera? ¿O si esto no resulta? Podrías terminar lastimada, o peor aún, podrías dañar tu reputación y tu carrera.” (I don’t doubt that you care, but you need to consider the consequences. What if the press finds out? Or if this doesn’t work out? You could end up hurt, or worse, damage your reputation and career.)

Alexia’s frustration was clear as she stood up, her voice rising. “Alba, sé que estás preocupada por mí, pero no puedo vivir en constante miedo a lo que piensen los demás. Este asunto con Y/N es importante para mí y estoy dispuesta a enfrentar los riesgos.” (Alba, I know you’re worried about me, but I can’t live in constant fear of what others think. This thing with Y/N is important to me, and I’m willing to face the risks.)

Alba rubbed her temples, trying to absorb her sister’s words. “Solo… ten cuidado, ¿de acuerdo? No quiero verte lastimada o en problemas.”(Just… be careful, okay? I don’t want to see you hurt or in trouble.)

Alexia looked at her sister with a mixture of determination and sadness. “Lo haré, pero entiendo que no estás convencida. Aprecio tu preocupación, pero esto es algo en lo que estoy dispuesta a arriesgarme.” (I will be, but I understand that you’re not convinced. I appreciate your concern, but this is something I’m willing to risk.)

With that, Alexia took a deep breath and walked Alba to the door, both of them feeling the weight of the conversation hanging between them.

——

A few days later, Alexia decided it was time to share with Y/N the full extent of her family's concerns about their relationship.

Sitting together on the couch at Alexia’s apartment, Alexia’s expression was serious as she spoke.

“Y/N, I need to tell you something important,” Alexia began, her voice heavy with emotion. “My family—especially my mom—has been really worried about us. The age difference between us is causing a lot of concerns.”

Y/N’s face fell as she processed this. She looked down, feeling a knot tighten in her stomach. “I didn’t want to be a burden or cause any issues with your family,” she said quietly. “I really care about you, but I don’t want to be the reason for family problems.”

Alexia reached out, gently lifting Y/N’s chin so their eyes met. “No es tu culpa. Ellos simplemente están preocupados por cómo podría reaccionar el público y lo que esto podría significar para mi carrera.” (It’s not your fault. They’re just worried about how the public might react and what it could mean for my career.)

But the situation intensified when photos of Y/N and Alexia out together were leaked onto social media, a couple of days later.

The once-private moments of their relationship now faced the harsh light of public scrutiny. Y/N’s anxiety grew with every new comment and post.

——

One evening, after a particularly grueling day, Y/N and Alexia went to a small, intimate restaurant, hoping for a brief respite.

They had chosen a quiet corner, and the soft glow of candlelight offered a semblance of normalcy. However, their peace was shattered when their phones buzzed simultaneously with notifications.

Y/N’s face turned pale as she read the headlines and comments on her phone. “This is too much,” she said, her voice trembling. “I don’t know if I can handle all of this. The comments... they’re so harsh.”

Alexia’s heart ached seeing Y/N so distressed. She reached across the table, taking Y/N’s trembling hands in her own.

Her touch was warm and firm, a grounding presence in the chaos. “I know it’s hard,” Alexia said softly. “But I’m here with you, and I want you to remember that. No matter what anyone says, we’re in this together.”

Y/N looked at Alexia, tears brimming in her eyes. “Thank you. Your support means everything to me. I just wish this whole situation could be simpler. It feels like we’re fighting against so much.”

Alexia’s expression hardened with determination. “Superaremos esto. Tenemos que hacerlo. Solo necesitamos mantenernos fuertes y seguir apoyándonos mutuamente en todo esto.” (We will get through this. We have to. We just need to stay strong and keep supporting each other through all of this.)

Their hands remained clasped together, the small gesture of solidarity providing comfort amidst the storm of external pressures.

Despite the growing intensity of the scrutiny they faced, the bond between them only seemed to strengthen as they faced these challenges side by side.

——

As the media frenzy surrounding Y/N and Alexia’s relationship continued unabated, Y/N began to face mounting hostility both at her university and from the public.

What was once a space of intellectual pursuit and personal growth became a battleground of whispers and pointed glances

In the university halls, students she once considered friends now avoided eye contact, their conversations halting whenever she entered a room. The weight of their judgment was palpable, and Y/N felt an increasing sense of alienation.

Some obsessive individuals managed to track down her university and began bombarding her with unwanted messages and intrusive comments.

They would frequently show up near her campus, making her feel constantly on edge and unsafe.

The situation became overwhelming, making it difficult for her to focus on her studies and maintain a sense of normalcy in her life.

Outside the academic environment, the situation was no better. Social media was awash with criticism and intrusive comments about her relationship with Alexia.

The constant scrutiny took a toll on Y/N's emotional well-being, amplifying her feelings of isolation. It seemed as if every move she made was under a microscope, and the once-exciting prospect of living in Barcelona now felt like a cage of public disapproval.

At the café, where she had initially found a sense of belonging and warmth under Eli’s care, the atmosphere grew tense. Eli’s demeanor shifted noticeably; she became more reserved and distant, her previously warm interactions now tinged with formality.

It was evident that the strain of the public backlash and the pressure from her family had taken its toll on Eli, affecting her relationship with Y/N.

The café, which had once been a refuge for Y/N, now felt like a place where she was constantly reminded of the growing rift between her and Eli.

The smiles that had once greeted her at the counter were now replaced with curt nods, and Eli’s attempts to distance herself were a stark contrast to the motherly warmth she had shown before.

Y/N found herself navigating a landscape of disapproval and disappointment, grappling with the impact of her relationship on her personal and professional life.

One day, Y/N found herself overwhelmed by the relentless pressure. The negative comments and harsh scrutiny from fans had begun to weigh heavily on her mental health.

Every new post or tweet seemed to amplify her anxiety, and she could feel the strain it was putting on her relationship with Alexia.

Y/N needed to end all of that.

It was late in the evening when Y/N decided to confront Alexia about her growing distress.

They had planned a quiet dinner at Alexia's apartment, hoping for a moment of solace amid the chaos.

As they sat across from each other, the soft glow of the kitchen light did little to ease the tension that had built up between them.

Alexia noticed the unease in Y/N’s eyes and reached out to take her hand. “¿Qué pasa, Y/N? Te veo preocupada.” (What’s wrong, Y/N? You look worried.)

Y/N took a deep breath, struggling to keep her composure. “It’s just that… the pressure is too much. I can’t handle how we’re being treated. All of this is affecting my mental health, and I don’t want it to keep impacting us.”

Alexia’s face fell, and she squeezed Y/N’s hand gently. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m here with you, and we can get through this together..”

Y/N shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. “It’s not just that. People are talking and criticizing all the time. It hurts to see how these comments are affecting us. I don’t want this to end badly for you or for us.Your mom and sister are not okay with us,Alexia, your own family!”

Alexia’s eyes filled with concern and confusion. “¿Qué estás tratando de decir, Y/N? ¿Quieres terminar con nosotros?” (What are you trying to say, Y/N? Do you want to end things with us?)

Y/N took another shaky breath, struggling to find the right words. “Sí, Alexia. Creo que es mejor si terminamos. No puedo seguir con todo esto, y siento que estar juntos solo está empeorando las cosas. No quiero ser una carga para ti.” (Yes, Alexia. I think it’s better if we end things. I can’t keep up with all of this, and I feel like being together is only making things worse. I don’t want to be a burden to you.)

Alexia looked devastated, her voice barely a whisper. “No quiero perderte, Y/N. Podemos encontrar una solución, no tenemos que rendirnos.” (I don’t want to lose you, Y/N. We can find a solution, we don’t have to give up.)

Y/N shook her head, her resolve firm but her heart breaking. “I’m sorry, Alexia. This is best for both of us, at least for now. I need time to get through all of this and find peace.”

With tears streaming down her face, Y/N stood up, her heart heavy with the weight of her decision. Alexia reached out to her, but Y/N gently pulled away, the finality of their breakup sinking in.

“I hope you understand, Alexia,” Y/N said softly, before turning away to collect her things. The room felt colder as she prepared to leave, knowing that this was the end of a chapter she had hoped would be different.

As Y/N walked out of the apartment and into the night, she felt a profound sense of loss, both for the relationship she had cherished and for the future that now seemed uncertain.

——

The next day, Y/N walked into Eli’s café, her demeanor marked by a profound sense of determination. She approached the counter where Eli was arranging pastries and took a deep breath before speaking.

“Eli, necesito hablar contigo. He decidido dejar mi trabajo aquí. No puedo manejar más esta situación.”(Eli, I need to talk to you. I’ve decided to quit my job here. I can’t handle this situation any longer.)

Eli’s eyes widened in surprise, and her face softened with a mix of guilt and concern. “Y/N, no me esperaba esto en absoluto. Lo siento mucho. Sé que mi comportamiento hacia ti fue injusto, pero por favor entiende, estaba muy preocupada por mi hija.”(Y/N, I didn’t expect this at all. I’m really sorry. I know my actions toward you were unfair, but please understand, I was deeply worried about my daughter.)

Y/N’s gaze was steady, though her voice was tinged with sadness. “Ya no tienes que preocuparte por ella. Alexia y yo hemos terminado nuestra relación. Ya no estamos juntas.”(You don’t need to worry about her anymore. Alexia and I have ended our relationship. We’re no longer together.)

The impact of Y/N’s words seemed to hit Eli like a wave. Her mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. She stood frozen, processing the weight of the revelation.

Seeing Eli’s stunned silence, Y/N felt a pang of regret but remained resolute. “Aprecio todo lo que has hecho por mí, Eli, pero necesito alejarme ahora. No puedo seguir trabajando aquí en estas circunstancias.” (I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Eli, but I need to step away now. I can’t keep working here under these circumstances.)

Before Eli could find her voice or offer a response, Y/N turned on her heel and walked out of the café. The cool air outside did little to ease the heaviness in her chest.

Each step felt like a burden, but Y/N knew it was a necessary step for her own well-being.

The decision to leave was painful, but she believed it was the only way to begin healing from the tumultuous events that had unfolded.

——

In the weeks that followed, Y/N sought refuge from the turmoil in her studies, diligently avoiding social media and its relentless scrutiny.

Despite her efforts to bury herself in academic work, her unhappiness was palpable. The joy that once defined her days had been overshadowed by the ache of a love she couldn’t fully embrace.

She felt an overwhelming sense of injustice about the situation, as the age difference that kept her apart from Alexia seemed trivial in comparison to the depth of their connection.

It felt particularly unfair, given that age is just a number as long as it’s legally permissible,obviously.

Eli, feeling a mix of guilt and concern, tried to reach out to Y/N multiple times. She called and sent messages, hoping to mend the rift that had developed.

Her attempts to reconnect were driven by a genuine desire to make amends and understand Y/N’s perspective.

Despite this, Y/N chose to ignore her calls and texts. The situation escalated to the point where Eli showed up at Y/N’s apartment, hoping for a chance to talk things over.

However, Y/N, still grappling with her emotions and not yet ready to confront her, pretended not to be home. The silence that followed was a heavy reminder of the emotional distance that had grown between them.

On Alexia's side, her anguish was clear to everyone around her. She was unfocused on the field and visibly downcast outside of it. Seeing her older sister in such a state, Alba felt the weight of her role in the situation and knew she had to make amends.

Unable to bear watching Alexia like this, Alba was determined to restore the joy and vitality that once characterized her sister.

So one evening, Alba arrived at Y/N’s apartment. Y/N answered the door, surprised to see her standing there.

“Hola, Alba. ¿Qué haces aquí?” (Hi, Alba. What are you doing here?)

Alba looked contrite as she spoke. “He venido a disculparme. Me siento muy mal por cómo salieron las cosas. Alexia está destrozada, y yo también. Me preocupaba mucho la reputación de mi hermana pero eso no debió ser una razón para actuar así.” (I’ve come to apologize. I feel terrible about how things turned out. Alexia is devastated, and so am I. I was just very concerned about my sister’s reputation.)

Y/N sighed, the weight of recent events clear on her face. “Lo entiendo. Todo esto ha sido muy difícil para mí también. No sé qué hacer ahora. La verdad es que tengo miedo de volver a estar con Alexia. La presión y el odio que enfrentamos antes fueron abrumadores. No estoy segura de si puedo soportar eso de nuevo.” (I understand. This has been very difficult for me too. I don’t know what to do now. The truth is, I’m afraid to go back to Alexia. The pressure and hate we faced before were overwhelming. I’m not sure if I can handle that again.)

Alba’s eyes softened with empathy. “No deberías preocuparte tanto por lo que diga la gente. Esta es tu vida, tus decisiones y tu felicidad. A veces, es necesario hacer lo que te haga sentir bien, sin importar las opiniones ajenas.” (You shouldn’t worry so much about what people say. This is your life, your choices, and your happiness. Sometimes, you need to do what feels right for you, regardless of others’ opinions.)

Y/N felt a spark of inspiration from Alba’s words. The sincerity in Alba’s voice made her reconsider her fears. “Tienes razón. Tal vez he estado dejando que el miedo controle mis decisiones. Quizás es hora de que me enfoque en lo que realmente quiero.” (You’re right. Maybe I’ve been letting fear control my decisions. Perhaps it’s time for me to focus on what I really want.)

Alba nodded, her expression encouraging. “Exactamente. A veces, la verdadera felicidad viene cuando te atreves a seguir lo que realmente te importa, sin importar los obstáculos.” (Exactly. Sometimes, true happiness comes when you dare to pursue what really matters to you, regardless of the obstacles.)

Y/N felt a renewed sense of determination, inspired by Alba’s words. She knew that reconciling with Alexia wouldn’t be easy, but the idea of following her heart gave her the courage she needed.

——

After her heartfelt conversation with Alba, Y/N found the courage to visit Alexia’s apartment. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions, but she was resolute in her decision to address the issues that had driven a wedge between them.

When Alexia opened the door, her expression shifted from surprise to a glimmer of hope. “Y/N, ¿qué haces aquí?” (Y/N, what are you doing here?)

Y/N took a deep breath, her voice trembling slightly but filled with determination. “Quería hablar contigo. Sé que estos últimas semanas han sido muy difíciles para los dos, y no quiero que terminemos así. Quiero intentar resolver lo que hemos perdido.” (I wanted to talk to you. I know these past few weeks have been very hard for both of us, and I don’t want us to end like this. I want to try to fix what we’ve lost.)

Alexia’s eyes welled up with tears, and her voice cracked with emotion. “He estado esperando este momento con desesperación. Me duele tanto que todo haya terminado así. Te extraño más de lo que puedo expresar con palabras.” (I’ve been waiting for this moment desperately. It hurts so much that it ended like this. I miss you more than I can put into words.)

The two women settled into the living room, where they spent hours talking through their feelings. They discussed their fears, the external pressures that had impacted their relationship, and the weight of public scrutiny. Each shared their regrets and the profound sense of loss they felt.

As the night grew deeper, the room was illuminated only by the soft light from a lamp, casting a warm glow over their faces. Y/N and Alexia sat close on the couch, their fingers entwined, finding solace in their physical closeness.

Y/N exhaled deeply, her voice steady but full of emotion. “Alexia, quiero que sepas que nunca quise alejarme de ti. La presión, el juicio de los demás… se volvió abrumador. Pero he reflexionado mucho sobre esto, y lo que más deseo en este momento es estar contigo. Estoy dispuesta a enfrentar lo que venga, pero necesito que lo hagamos juntas.” (Alexia, I want you to know that I never wanted to pull away from you. The pressure and judgment from others… it became overwhelming. But I’ve thought a lot about this, and what I want most right now is to be with you. I’m ready to face whatever comes, but I need us to do it together.)

Alexia’s gaze was filled with a mixture of relief and gratitude as she tightened her grip on Y/N’s hand. “No tienes idea de cuánto significa escuchar eso. Durante todo este tiempo, sentí que había perdido la mejor parte de mí misma. Prometo que estaré a tu lado, sin importar lo que pase. Juntas, podemos enfrentar cualquier desafío que se nos presente.” (You have no idea how much it means to hear that. Throughout all this time, I felt like I’d lost the best part of myself. I promise I’ll be by your side, no matter what happens. Together, we can face any challenge that comes our way.)

They drew closer, their embrace enveloping them in a comforting warmth. The weight of their separation seemed to lift as they held each other, their hearts beating in rhythm. In that intimate moment, surrounded by the soft glow of the lamp and the echoes of their heartfelt promises, they found their way back to each other, feeling more united and resolute than ever.

——

The following day, Y/N walked into Eli’s café, her heart racing with a mix of nerves and determination. The café, usually a haven of comfort and routine, felt different today. She had come to address the rift that had developed between them, hoping to mend their strained relationship. As Y/N pushed open the door, Eli looked up from behind the counter, her eyes widening with a blend of surprise and apprehension.

“Y/N…” Eli began, her voice hesitant and uncertain. “No esperaba verte aquí tan pronto.” (Y/N... I wasn’t expecting to see you here so soon.)

Y/N approached the counter with a steady, determined expression. “Necesitamos hablar, Eli. Entiendo que te preocupabas por Alexia y que lo hiciste por amor, pero lo que pasó entre Alexia y yo no debería haber afectado nuestro trabajo ni nuestra relación. Quiero que sepas que hemos hablado y hemos decidido seguir adelante juntas. Pero también quiero que resolvamos las cosas entre nosotras.” (We need to talk, Eli. I understand you were concerned for Alexia, and you did it out of love, but what happened between Alexia and me shouldn’t have impacted our work or our relationship. I want you to know that we’ve talked things through and decided to move forward together. But I also want us to resolve things between us.)

Eli’s face softened, and she took a deep breath, clearly moved by Y/N’s words. “Tienes razón, Y/N. Me dejé llevar por el miedo y no pensé en lo importante que eres para mí, no solo como empleada, sino como alguien a quien considero parte de mi familia. Me arrepiento profundamente de haberte alejado y si me das otra oportunidad, me encantaría que volvieras a trabajar aquí.” (You’re right, Y/N. I let fear get the best of me and didn’t consider how important you are to me, not just as an employee but as someone I consider part of my family. I deeply regret pushing you away, and if you’ll give me another chance, I’d love for you to come back to work here.)

Y/N smiled, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. “Gracias, Eli. Aprecio mucho tus palabras y tu disposición a enmendar las cosas. Me encantaría volver a trabajar aquí y reconstruir nuestra relación. Solo quiero que sepamos que, aunque no será fácil, estoy dispuesta a enfrentar cualquier desafío siempre que tenga el apoyo de las personas que me importan.” (Thank you, Eli. I greatly appreciate your words and your willingness to make things right. I’d love to come back to work here and rebuild our relationship. I just want us to understand that, although it won’t be easy, I’m ready to face any challenge as long as I have the support of the people who matter to me.)

Eli nodded, her eyes shining with gratitude and relief. “Lo prometo, Y/N. Siempre estaré aquí para ti. Lo que ha pasado no cambiará lo que siento por ti ni. Gracias por darme otra oportunidad.” (I promise, Y/N. I’ll always be here for you. What has happened won’t change how I feel about you. Thank you for giving me another chance.)

They shared a heartfelt hug, and Y/N felt a profound sense of peace and reconciliation. The warmth of their embrace seemed to dissolve the tension that had been lingering, and Y/N left the café with renewed hope and a clearer sense of direction.

——

Despite the relentless scrutiny from the outside world regarding their relationship and the age difference, Y/N and Alexia grew stronger and more deeply connected with each passing day.

The once-constant chatter and criticism that had weighed heavily on them now seemed like distant, insignificant noise. They had learned to tune out the negativity, focusing instead on the love and support they offered one another.

Their lives began to settle into a new, harmonious rhythm. Y/N found genuine joy and purpose in her studies and work, her achievements at school providing a sense of accomplishment and fulfillment.

Alexia, meanwhile, continued to excel on the football field, her passion for the sport intensifying with each game. The love she shared with Y/N served as a powerful motivator, driving her to give her best on the field.

They had become each other’s most ardent supporters, celebrating victories and comforting one another through challenges.

Their relationship had blossomed into a source of strength and joy, finding happiness in the everyday moments they shared.

One sunny afternoon, after a particularly demanding match, Alexia emerged from the stadium, visibly tired but exhilarated. She was greeted by Y/N, who had waited patiently outside, her face a picture of concern and admiration.

“How did it go?” Y/N asked, holding out a chilled bottle of water, her voice laced with care.

Alexia’s exhaustion melted away as she saw Y/N, and her face lit up with a tired but genuine smile. She took the bottle gratefully. “We won. It was intense and exhausting, but we managed to pull through. How about you? How was your day?”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled with a mix of pride and affection. “It was good, but honestly, the best part of my day was being here with you. Your presence makes everything better.”

As they walked hand in hand away from the stadium, the cool evening breeze wrapping around them, they felt an overwhelming sense of contentment.

The challenges they faced seemed more manageable with their unwavering support for each other. They knew that, no matter what obstacles came their way, their love and commitment would always guide them back to one another.

FIN

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 1 - Not Quite An Isekai

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

You awake to the sound of your phone ringing. You slap to the edge of your couch, aiming for the rickety side table. Your wrist smacks against the corner, and you hiss in pain. It’s a few inches too high, and wood, not metal. Seems you somehow got to your bed during the night, but you didn’t remember it. Still, you get your phone. Through squinted eyes, you find the screen, its 3:15, far too early for your drunken suffering- Wait no, it’s mid-afternoon. Still, you feel tired, and you want to sleep.

You answer the phone anyway, putting it on speaker and resting your head back against the pillow. Your head doesn’t hurt that bad anyway. God was smiling down on you today.

“Miss, are you awake?” a man’s voice rings through your apartment.

Who was that? Who called you Miss of all things? Your boss didn’t remember your name sure, but he just called you ‘intern’ instead. You’d been an official employee for six months now. Right, conversation, paying attention, replying like a normal person.

“Hm, yeah, I’m awake,” you say, fighting back the urge to yawn.

“You don’t sound very awake, Miss,” the man replies, his tone familiar.

“Who is this?”

He sighs, “Miss, are you being sarcastic?”

“What? No, I’m serious,” you confusedly answer.

“…This is Alfred, Miss. Now, Master Wayne has asked me to-”

“Master who now?” you cut this Alfred off, doubly confused now. Wayne? Like, the Wayne family? The rich, philanthropist one?

He sighs again, “I understand the relationship between the two of you is quite strained, and this is a personally difficult day for you, but he insists on seeing you. Your birthday gala starts at 7, as I’ve told you, and your assistant will be over at 4. I ask that you unblock both their accounts, as I would much rather I didn’t have to talk to you when you’re like this.”

“What?” you repeat, like the idiot you are.

“Good day, Miss. And happy birthday.”

He hangs up. You blink down at your phone. And then you roll your eyes, because oh my god are Molly’s pranks getting ridiculous. You never should have told her about your weird fascination with the Waynes, she was getting back at you hard for your drunken mistake.

You make a lot of those. Well, life goes on. You’ll put glitter in Molly’s car’s vanity mirror or something.

You turn off your phone, and let your face slam right back into your pillow. For a while, you try to go back to sleep.

…Something about this isn’t right. You, like the freak you are, take a deep inhale of your pillow. It smells like you, like the laundry soap you use, but it also smells like… Well, you don’t know. All you can think about is your new boss’s wife and her awful perfume that swallows the office space like noxious gas.

Your pillow… kind of smells like that. Your first ungodly thought is that, somehow, you spent a torrid night with your boss’s wife. The second is that Molly needs to die for her crimes.

You let your crusty, bleary, stinging eyes blink open.

Hm. Why is there a chandelier in your bedroom? You shoot upright in the bed, silk sheets falling to your lap. Silk sheets you can’t afford. You look around the room, eyes widening at the space. The bed is king-sized, while you had barely been able to afford your twin-sized mattress. The living room isn’t in the same space as the bedroom. You can’t see the kitchen and the bathroom to your right has shining marble tiles. And even then, the decoration’s are luxurious and clean, compared to your livable chaos.

You look to your left, and your mouth drops open.

A floor-to-ceiling window, showing the Gotham horizon with the morning sun. Fog and clouds twist around spiralling gothic towers, reaching down to the people down below. You’re looking out over the bay, and you can see the Narrows barely peaking through the mist, desperately clawing for any sunlight.

The sun rises on the right of your building, not the left. You don’t have a view, you’re on the fourth floor and there’s a brick building directly across from your window. You live in the Narrows.

You live in the Narrows. You press your face to the cool glass and look down. Oh my god, you can’t see the streetside. You’re too high up. You’re somehow on the opposite side of Gotham City.

Stumbling away from the window, you do your best not to touch anything, because you know it’s all too expensive for your peasant hand. Let’s start thinking… whatever was happening to you, through. Molly might kidnap you for a joke, sure, but she was barely any richer than you, and that was just because her boyfriend lived with her. She could not afford this level of fuckery.

So… so… is this, what? A big joke from the universe? Did someone else kidnap you? You have to have been kidnapped, right? Why the fuck would someone kidnap you?

Did the Joker kidnap you? Was he coming to finish you off? End your family line?

You reach down and pinch yourself hard enough you yelp. When the dazzlingly perfect apartment doesn’t disappear, it’s much harder to force yourself not to panic. Okay, okay, okay. It’s fine. This’ll be fine, and it could still be a dream. That whole pinching thing was a myth, right? Argh, maybe you should’ve listened to Molly when she was trying to get you into astral projection.

Wait, Molly!

You go back to your bed and pick up your phone.

It’s… it’s not your phone. What was this? The iPhone 27? You didn’t keep up with those sorts of things, but it looked expensive. Everything here looked expensive.

You think you’re going to go into anaphylactic shock. Wait, no, it’s hyper-something. What was it? Argh, you can’t do this right now!

You press your thumb to the ‘on’ button, and luckily whoever this phone belongs to is not worried about their privacy because there's no password. Stupidly, you look for Molly’s name in your list of contacts.

BLOCKED - ‘Bruce Wayne’

BLOCKED - ‘Damian Wayne’

BLOCKED - ‘Dick Grayson’

BLOCKED - ‘Tim Drake’

‘Alfred :)’

BLOCKED - ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’

You drop the phone. Because the floors, even in the bedroom, are marble, it shatters like glass. You make a sound like a dying chicken as you watch the piece of technology make a bouncing break for the bathroom. It slides to a stop against the giant hot tub, and you pick it up and cradle it between your palms like a newborn.

The screen still works. Even if it’s cracked to high heaven and takes multiple attempts to turn it on, it still eventually does. Thanks God, won’t forget this. You hiss as you open the contacts again, pricking your fingers against the sharp edges.

As fate commands, you click on the ‘Bruce Wayne’ contact. The description is very simple.

‘Massive dickhead. Hope you jump off a building and fall like a rock.’

You go back. Click on ‘Dick Grayson’.

‘Massive dickhead’s beloved firstborn. Most annoying man on earth congrats.’

Again. ‘Damian Wayne’ this time.

‘Massive dickhead’s massive dickhead. Demon? Grinch? Somebody kill it with fire please.’

And finally, ‘Tim Drake’.

‘The only acceptable one.’

…Well, at least your kidnapper liked one of the Waynes. Maybe they kidnapped you because you were their opposite or something? You definitely wouldn’t call Bruce motherfucking Wayne a massive dickhead. Or maybe they wanted to kill you.

The Molly prank idea was becoming more sound. Maybe she won the lottery and didn’t tell you.

You click on ‘Alfred :)’. He’s the one that called you earlier and also called you ‘Miss’, for some reason.

It’s just a bunch of heart emojis. Coherent, sure.

You go back, and click on the final of the list, ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’.

‘Don’t listen to Alfred. She wants to eat you.’

She wants to what?

A knock at the door has you jumping a foot in the air and nearly banging your head on the bathtub’s lip. You hear someone call your name through the door, and you freeze. Who… how? They call your name again, this time their voice louder. They bang on the door.

You creep over to the door.

“Ma’am, if you don’t open this right now, I’m quitting! We both know Alfred contacted you this morning, and he’s going to be very upset if I do so. There’s only so many assistants in this city!” from this close, you can recognise the voice belongs to a woman. She rattles the doorknob.

You lean down, peering through the peephole. The woman has a harsh face, a perfect pencil suit and her blonde hair in a pretty updo. Her makeup is impeccable. You get the feeling this woman is also more expensive than you can afford, despite her calling your name.

Bewildered, you open the door. She slams through like a battering ram, strutting 6-inch stilettos into the space.

She huffs, and then turns around. You can see very clearly she’s trying to keep her calm, but you did leave her at the door for like five minutes. It wasn’t your fault, you thought you were hallucinating or something.

“Ma’am,” she stresses the word, “Please unblock me.”

You blink at her, “Uh, sure.”

She waits, her hands clasped together in front of her.

“Oh- oh, right now?” you stutter, pulling the phone out from your noticeably lavish pyjamas.

Wait had someone changed you in your sleep? What the hell was going on? Maybe you should be more concerned about that, honestly. Still, you do as she commands.

She watches you like a hawk as you stare at the cracked phone. Your eyes flick up at her, and then back down at the screen. Slowly, watching for her reaction, you unblock ‘The Wicked Witch of the West.’ She nods, not even commenting on what was apparently her name in ‘your’ phone.

You were still slightly concerned about the ‘She wants to eat you’ thing, but she seemed… alright. Kind of scary. But not cannibalistic.

Still, this was Gotham after all. A healthy dose of fear was what kept people like you alive.

“Ma’am, did you just wake up? It’s already 4 o’clock,” she gives you a subtly disapproving look, and your shoulders sink like you’re being scolded.

“Yeah- yeah, sorry about that,” you stammer, embarrassed for some unknowable reason. This really was just like a dream. You could tell something was very obviously wrong, but you were still going along with everything like it wasn’t. Everyday life.

You were going to focus on that, this had to be just a dream. Just go along with… this, and then you’d wake up. And if you could manage to get over the uncanny valley-ness of the very obvious wealth surrounding you, maybe you could enjoy it.

You had always wanted to be rich. This was just your brain spewing out random information. Better than the nightmares you usually get.

You’re abruptly pulled back into focus when the woman clears her throat loudly. Ah, shoot. Had she been talking? You definitely hadn’t been listening.

“We need to get you ready, Miss,” she says like she’s repeating herself. You nod, because yes, of course, getting ready.

Ready for what? You think if you ask her she’ll yell at you. So when she grabs your arm and tugs you along, you follow. She pulls you into the bathroom, sitting you down in front of the mirror on a stool. Because this bathroom has stools in it. You stare at your reflection warily, before glancing up at her behind you.

“The stylists will be here in about forty minutes, and the makeup artists in two hours,” she pauses, giving you a strange look, “I appreciate you being so cooperative today. I understand this is all a delicate matter, but I am under Mr. Wayne’s orders first and foremost.”

“Wayne… like Bruce? Bruce Wayne?” you ask, even though there’s really no one else it could be. Still, you have to check.

Because it’s impossible. Even if it’s a dream, it still feels completely impossible. There was just something inside you that said ‘that can’t be right’, even if you knew none of this was real.

You realise, quite late, that you don’t even know this lady's name. ‘Wicked witch’

“Yes, Ma’am. Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises,” she answers you, pulling out her phone and flicking through it. She doesn’t even respond to what you have to assume is an inane question. Maybe ‘dream you’ often asks stupid questions.

‘Normal you’ certainly does.

“Oh… okay…” the conversation drifts off, and she makes no attempt to fill it. Aren’t P.A.s supposed to… you don’t know, fix that? Or maybe she’s not your personal assistant, just an assistant. Silly you, making assumptions.

This bathroom deserves assumptions. You wonder if the gold frame of the mirror is, y’know, real.

The blonde woman walks out of the room without speaking another word to you. You think maybe you should follow her, but instead you just sit there with your hands on top of your knees. Your leg bounces up and down, and you glare it into submission, ignoring the way your muscles jump.

You look at yourself. You look… different. The bags under your eyes are worse than usual, and your gaze sunken into your face. Your hair is sad and oily, knotted in places. Your skin is almost waxy.

You look sick. You look like… you remember, you look like…

In the light of the day, you refuse to think about it. You’re not allowed to, you’ll break if you do.

You just don’t. Even if your reflection just confirms that you have to be dreaming.

Instead, you turn your gaze to the tub. You raise your hand to your hair again. Back in your apartment, you’d had a shower. It was a surprisingly good shower because you’d invested in a showerhead with better pressure. Still, it wasn’t a bath.

You missed bathes. You get up, close the door, lock it, and sink inside the tub. You take off your silky pyjamas inside the bath, and then you toss them on the floor beside you. Sitting there, you watch through the giant window at the world down below. At the ravens and pigeons that fly through the fog, at the few people you can see through the windows and balconies.

You press your cheek against the glass. It’s cold. You’re cold.

You’re sitting in an empty bathtub naked. What are you doing?

Rubbing at your eyes, you reach over to what you think are the controls. They all look very complicated, but there’s a switch that goes from blue to red, so you turn that. It takes another button press for the water to start flowing out. Steam fills the room, and you let out a sigh of contentment.

“Ma’am! Ma’am, the stylists will be here in ten minutes, and you need to get out. Ma’am? Ma’am!”

You shoot up in the bath, splashing water over the overflowing sides. Blinking, you turn your head back and forth and then sink back down. Oh. You’re still here. You went to sleep, but you’re still here. Maybe it’s one of those dreams where you think you wake up, but you haven’t. Or, ah, something similar.

You feel so tired. You really, really didn’t miss this feeling.

Quickly, you wash your hair and body, scrubbing furiously at the oily sweat on your skin. You stumble out of the bath on shaky legs, dry yourself off, and almost trip in your haste to get out the door. Showing off your negligible intelligence, you only realise you’re still wearing just a towel till she manhandles you towards the closet.

A walk-in closet, because of course it is. You think it’s bigger than your apartment. It has a flat bench in the centre because evidently all the walking around you’ll be doing will require a fainting couch.

The woman gives you, horrifyingly, a set of lacy, racy underwear. When all you do is just gape at her, she sighs, takes them from your hands and gives you a simple black set with no frills. You look down at them clasped in your wet hands. They’re clean, and they seem to be your size.

Still, this is a bit…

“Are these… new?” you ask, because there’s no tag or anything.

“Yes, Ma’am. But if you want, we do have some sets still unpacked at the back of the closet,” she says, going along with your weirdness. Even if she was a bit scary, you were grateful for that, at least. You guess celebrities were usually quite eccentric, so maybe this wasn’t out of the ordinary for her.

“Yes, please.”

She gives you a pair of Victoria’s Secret bra and underwear, plain beige and still in their plastic packaging.

“Cool, sweet, thanks,” you say, and she shakes her head just slightly.

She puts a white bathrobe down, and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. You lock it, and then you put on the underwear that you did not buy. The whole experience is strange, but still, you just go along with it. You’re a go-along-with-it kind of person.

You were… you were starting to not like that all of a sudden. Still, out of your depth in an odd dream is no place to start doubting your entire personality. You put on the bathrobe too. And the fluffy slippers that are tucked under them, with great pleasure.

You hear the many voices before you open the door. When you step through it, you feel like you’ve stepped onto the set of a movie. Or well, the backstage at least. Women and men are flittering about the chic apartment in the sort of rush you’d only seen working at BatBurger.

The woman from before spots you and you feel like a rabbit under a hawk's gaze when her brown eyes narrow on you. She strides over to you and then, once again, clamps her grip around your wrist and drags you over. You wonder as you stumble after her if she’s got some meta-human in her because no slim, perfectly put-together lady should be this damn strong.

She pulls you towards a set of three people. You can immediately tell they’re the heads of the operation, with an aura that squashes you like a pancake. Two women, one man. They’re all dressed to the nines, in their own unique ways.

They all look at you with assessing glances. You fear you do not measure.

“I’m surprised, Jeanine. You actually got her this time,” a woman with a black bob and a rocker look comments, her red lips twisting into a grin. You realise, with a start, that the blonde woman who was not incorrectly nicknamed ‘The Wicked Witch of The West’ was actually called Jeanine.

Lovely, you were getting the hang of things.

“Yes, she was very agreeable this afternoon. I’d like to apologise once again for any past issues,” Jeanine says, all business. You still have no idea what’s going on, and definitely no idea what they’re talking about. But what you assumed was the jist of it… was that ‘dream you’ wasn’t a very harmonious person.

Lovely, lovely, lovely. This was a bit of a personal nightmare for a people pleaser like you. Actually, it was a literal personal nightmare. Lovely.

“The disrespect I’ve faced is immeasurable. But, Monsoir Wayne pays exceedingly well. Still, it’s nice to actually have our dear client before us,” the other woman says, appraising her french tip nails. Which, considering she said ‘monsoir’ and the whole accent, would make a lot of sense. She’s closer to a classic beauty than her punk rock friend, with brown hair coiled and beautiful pearls across her neck.

“I don’t know, I thought I’d be getting paid for doing no work tonight. Ruins my plans,” the man teases, and you’re relieved at the kindness in his gaze. He’s wearing a suit with a dazzling but trendy red tie. His tie has an odd metallic sheen to it, a fabric your peasant mind couldn’t place.

If Molly were here, she’d jab you in the stomach with an elbow and whisper “One of those homosexuals, me thinks” even if she was bi herself.

You wish Molly were here.

“Yes, well, I’d like it if we could all work together tonight. And get to it quickly, the drive to the Wayne Tower isn’t a quick one with the evening traffic, so, if you’d please.”

And that was that. No introductions, no extra pleasantries. You were swept away in a whirl of fabric and hair products.

They stuff you into a gorgeous evening gown, its colour reminding you of a sparkling midnight sky. Rhinestones dot down the sides, coalescing at the bottom. You hope they’re not real diamonds. Gloves, a bracelet, a necklace, and dripping pearl earrings. It was all impeccably put together, and you felt uncomfortable with such items on you. You didn’t dare ask how much it all cost, despite being desperately curious.

They slip towering 6-inch stilettos on you despite your protests, cake your face in enough powder to make you sneeze. Dramatic liner and eyelashes that felt heavy on your face, a lipstick that had to be coated twice because you chewed on your lip with nerves.

And then you’re done, dizzy and confused but thoroughly made up.

You get one quick look at your reflection before Jeanine is pulling you up and out of the seat.

They’d gotten rid of the signs.

You ignore the part of you that desperately wants them back and follow Jeanine out into the elevator.

Despite the fact that it is, in fact, a very long drive to the Wayne Tower, she does not seem inclined to say a single word to you. The ride is awkward and quiet, broken only by the sound of you pressing buttons in the back of limousine, and even that stops when you get an unimpressed look from her.

So you just sit there, vibrating at frequencies unseen by man.

When you finally arrive at Wayne Tower, the crowd shocks you. There are so many paparazzi, nearly overflowing the flimsy barricades and onto the carpeted marble entryway. The tower itself is a display of outrageous wealth, towering over the rest of Gotham City easily. You think for a while it’d been the tallest building in the world, but you couldn’t remember your elementary school education all that well.

It wasn’t like this information would’ve been useful at any point in your life. You still don’t think it will be, as this is all a very vivid dream.

The door opens, and immediately you’re overwhelmed by the camera flashing. You hunch away from the lights like a vampire, but Jeanine pushes you forward.

“We’re already very late, Ma’am. No time for faffing around,” she says from behind you, hand placed squarely against your back.

What? But all you’d done was rush around all afternoon! You know, if you’d just taken one of the trains or even the Skyrail you’d have been able to avoid this. Still, you’re out the door, up the steps, not given a moment to react to the questions thrown at you.

“Miss! Miss, are you here to celebrate your birthday? Don’t you think it’s a bit callous to ignore the tragedies of today?”

“Miss! Is it true you’ve been disowned?”

“Miss, miss, about your family…!”

Oh, well, even if what they’re saying is awful, it’s a relief. It’s your birthday again. You think the guy who had called you said happy birthday. That meant none of this could possibly be real. See? It had to be a dream. Had to, had to… You decide to ignore literally everything else they say, letting the words float through your very hollow brain.

Life’s a lot easier when you play it a little stupider.

The heels and the stairs are an awful combination, and if it wasn’t for Jeanine’s herculean strength you’re certain you’d be tumbling down them right now. Your assistant… secretary… lady is careful not to let that happen, however.

Maybe you judged her too quickly. You appreciated anyone who made sure you didn’t fall flat on your ass. It was a good quality for a person to have.

You don’t get to appreciate the Wayne Tower all done up. You don’t get to stare at the lights and flowers strung into the art deco rafters. You don’t get to stare and gape and look like an idiot, because Jeanine wants you to look like an idiot elsewhere.

In the middle of all these fucking random rich people you don’t know. Hurray!

You’re shoved into a group of people, with Jeanine at your back. She starts rattling off names and titles and relations, and you can’t make heads or tails of any of it. You turn to look at her with what must be a genuine deer-in-headlights fear, and she stops and then starts speaking slower.

Thank God for that. Well, since she’s making an effort, you do too.

“This is Lianne Jenkins, wife of Senator Jenkins,” Jeanine whispers into your ear, and you nod. You knew him, you’d voted for him, in fact. How the fuck were you here talking to his wife? She’s not looking at you, instead talking to someone beside her. She turns, and you put on the best smile you can.

The socialite physically startles when she sees your face. Great.

“Oh- oh my!” her voice stutters over your name like she can barely even remember it, “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight, it’s a pleasure to see you!”

It… it was your birthday party, right? Your name was on a giant banner at the back of the room, so you had to assume it was. Dream logic. Just- just blame it on dream logic.

“Oh, look it’s Gerald! I’m sorry my dear I really have to-”

And she just ditched you. At your birthday party. You blink at the space she just evacuated and then turn around to Jeanine. You probably give her some sort of weird Kubrick stare, and she winces. She then looks around for someone else for you to talk to. From the growing despair on her face, you can assume she doesn’t find anyone.

“I don’t want to be here,” you say.

“I said I’d quit, remember?” she replies. You think she’s lying to you. She looks about as desperate as you feel, which is a lot. You were seeing a lot of sides of ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’ today. She seemed less wicked and more generally insane. Hey, at least the two of you had something in common.

You turn away from her, eyes roving over the party. You recognise some people, because you know, they’re all rich and famous. That guy over there was in a movie you pirated recently. The one on your right seems to be someone important in online tech spaces. You think he did NFTs or something, which made you sad because you did not want that sort of person at your birthday party. Oh, the woman on the other side of the room eating canapes is an Instagram influencer, you think. The fantasy of a Wayne party gala is fading fast, falling out of the sky like a comet of fire to bring doom and death to mankind.

You are so out of your depth.

You turn back around to Jeanine.

“I really, really don’t want to be here,” you repeat, and Jeanine, shocking you, grabs your hands in hers.

“Please stay. Just for thirty minutes, please,” she begs you, her dark eyes pleading. And because you are the living personification of a doormat, you sigh.

“Alright. But only for thirty. And I’m getting very, very drunk.”

“Thank you, thank you. I’ll be right beside you the entire time-”

You decide, oh so kindly, that you are totally ditching Jeanine, too. Spinning in your dress, you make a grand effort to get away from her, but she dogs you loyally. The goliath-like heels you’re wearing don’t make it any damn well easier. Still, you don’t stop trying to outrun the tiny, control freak of a woman. Because while she definitely seems to desperate to stay near you, you are also very desperate to not be near her.

Your hand itches. Randomly, it itches quite a lot. You don’t know why you only notice what must be a bug bite inside the gala, but you do. Awkwardly, you scratch your palm with your other hand, staring down at the skin. It doesn’t look red yet, but it honestly it’s getting kind of annoying.

You sigh again, and turn to ask Jeanine if she had any lotion or something, because you assume that’s what stalking personal assistants are for and… she’s not there. Somehow you lost her, without even noticing.

You throw your arms into the air. Yippee! Now, it’s time for alcoholism, as is the answer to all problems in life. It’s what the loving and maternal arms of Gotham had taught you, after all.

You stumble your way to a wall where there’s a set of food, and a server with a silver platter carrying a bunch of champagne glasses. You stop the guy before he moves again, your hands in the air like you’re trying to soothe a scared animal.

You point at the tray, “I want that.”

He looks at you with mild horror. You thought rich people were weird, like he’d be used to something like this. It wasn’t like you were asking for the shirt off his back or cocaine or something. If it wasn’t obvious, you really didn’t know anything about what rich people did.

“It’s my birthday. It’s totally cool. I asked Bruce myself,” You bald-faced lie, like you’d ever even met the man. Like a predator, you watch the man carefully put the tray down next to the rest of the food, and then he slowly backs away from you. Well, okay, you could admit that was kind of weird. This night is getting to you. God knows this loud-as-fuck party was more overstimulating than anything you could usually stand. And so bright. What a shitty fairytale ball.

You grab one of the flutes of champagne and swirl it, sniff it, and then once you’ve gone through the polite checklist of drinking you throw it back like it’s a shot of vodka. There were people watching after all. Wait, they’d probably seen you corner that poor server boy.

Hmm, this requires cake. You choose a random slice that looks like it might be strawberry something, and dig in eagerly. It tastes fucking fantastic. The cream is sweet and soft, and the jam has a pop of flavour you totally weren’t expecting. And the cake itself was a lovely, spongy texture.

Grand. Maybe if you just sat here like a wallflower and ate food and drank liquor you could handle this. It wasn’t any different from how you behaved at Molly’s college parties.

So, you decide to work your way up and down the buffet table. Most of it’s delicious, but when you try things you can’t quite recognise, there’s a twenty-percent chance it’ll be disgusting and you’ll have to spit it out to avoid poisoning. You’re careful not to try the caviar, despite your own curiosity. You’d heard that it just tasted like salty water, and that didn’t mix well with whatever you were currently putting in your stomach.

You look down at your hand. It’s another piece of the sponge cake, wedged between a napkin so your dirty fingers didn’t touch it and you didn’t have to bother with another plate. You giggle, because it really is that good.

Ah, this is great. You could do this forever, screw thirty minutes. You eye the entrance the servers keep coming in and out of, and wonder if Jeanine would get mad if you tried to follow them into the kitchens. Probably, probably…

The question was, was it worth it? You’re debating the merits when the sound of someone's shoes stops next to you. You think it’s a man, and you consider barking at him to get away from the buffet, but decide you’ve tried everything and can probably share again. It takes great strength, though. You decide you deserve some more champagne for the kindness.

It’s after a moment that you realise he’s not taking anything.

“Oh, so you actually showed up? Colour me surprised,” a familiar, calm, masculine voice speaks from behind you. Your mouth drops open, and you spin on your heel. If you hadn’t been clinging to the table cloth you’d have fallen over, but still, you drop the champagne flute, and it bursts in a spray of liquid and glass against your dress.

It also splatters on the dress shoes of one Tim Drake.

First the phone, now the delicious drink. You really wished you’d stop dropping things.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[cherryl4na]

❥•°❀"bricks, bytes and bonds"

abstract || lando is streaming as the to of you build legos.

female!reader || cute. fluff. lando in love. 1.3k words

The soft glow of the computer screen illuminated Lando's face as he sat comfortably in his gaming chair, headphones snug over his ears. His fans eagerly tuned in, their messages flooding the chat with excitement and anticipation. Among them was you, the person who made his heart race with every smile and every shared moment.

"Hey everyone!" Lando greeted, his voice warm and cheerful. "Today's stream is gonna be a bit different. I've got someone special joining me." He winked at the camera, causing a flurry of delighted reactions from his viewers.

You appeared on screen, settling into the seat beside him, a large box of Lego bricks between you two. Lando's smile widened as he introduced you, his eyes gleaming with affection. "This is my girlfriend as you all know," he said, "and today, we're gonna build the awesome McLaren Formula 1 car together!"

The chat exploded with emojis and supportive messages, everyone thrilled to see Lando sharing this moment with you. You exchanged a playful grin, fingers already digging into the collection of colorful bricks. Lando picked up the instruction manual, his voice animated as he began guiding the both of you through the build.

"So, darling," Lando began, his voice teasing, "are you ready to witness my amazing Lego-building skills?"

You laughed, nudging his shoulder. "I think I might just surprise you, Lando."

The banter flowed effortlessly as you worked together, occasionally stealing glances at each other that spoke volumes more than words ever could. Lando's chat became a mix of admiration for the Lego set and endless questions about your relationship. Through it all, Lando remained composed, occasionally leaning closer to you to show something in the instructions or to share a whispered comment that made you blush.

As the build progressed, you found yourself engrossed in the intricate details of the McLaren F1 Lego set, each piece fitting snugly into place under your careful guidance. Lando couldn't help but admire the way you approached the task with a mix of focus and joy. Your fingers moved swiftly, deftly navigating the instructions, occasionally pausing to inspect a piece or exchange a playful remark with him.

Lando leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on you with unabashed admiration. As you delicately placed each piece of the McLaren F1 Lego set, his heart swelled with affection. The way your concentration furrowed your brow slightly, the way your hands moved with purpose—it was enchanting to him.

His fans noticed the shift in his demeanor, their comments in the chat taking on a slightly different tone, teasing Lando gently about his focus on you rather than the Lego build. Lando chuckled, unable to hide his smile as he glanced briefly at the chat before returning his gaze to you.

"You're incredible, you know that?" Lando murmured, his voice low and filled with sincerity.

You looked up from the instructions, caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze. A blush crept onto your cheeks as you met his eyes, finding nothing but warmth and admiration reflected back at you. "Thanks, Lando," you replied softly, your heart fluttering at his words.

He leaned closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek. "I mean it," he continued, his breath brushing against your lips. "I love watching you in your element."

Your breath caught in your throat, the closeness of his touch sending shivers down your spine. It wasn't just his words—it was the way he looked at you, as if you were the most fascinating person in the world, the way his smile softened into something tender and genuine.

Unable to resist any longer, Lando leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. It was gentle and filled with all the unspoken feelings that had been building between you throughout the stream. The world seemed to fade away for that brief moment, leaving just the two of you and the warmth of your connection.

When he pulled back, Lando's eyes searched yours, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. "I love you," he said softly, his voice filled with pride. The microphone had still picked up his words, the chat beginning to go crazy at the sweet moment between the two of you. Looking into his gorgeous eyes, with a soft giggle, you reply, “I love you too, Lando,” before getting back to building the Lego.

Hours passed in what felt like minutes, the Lego set nearly complete. Lando glanced at the clock, his eyes widening in surprise. "Wow, time flies when you're having fun, huh?"

You nodded, smiling at him warmly. "Definitely. Thanks for letting me join your stream, Lando. This has been amazing."

Lando beamed, his hand finding yours atop the finished Lego model. "No, thank you for being here," he said sincerely, his voice soft amidst the backdrop of his lively chat. "I always have the best time when I'm with you, love."

The chat erupted in a chorus of 'awws' and heart emojis, showering you both with virtual love and support. Lando leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours for a moment. He proceeds to leave a soft kiss on your cheek before he turns back to the camera, his smile wide and content.

"Well, ladies and gents," he announced, his voice filled with happiness, "that's all for today's stream and I hope you all enjoyed us building and talking to you all. Thanks for hanging out with us! My girlfriend and I are gonna sign off now, but I'll catch you all maybe on the next stream. Who knows, she might be a guest again."

And with that, the screen faded to black as Lando shut down the stream and then the computer. The room around you grew quiet, filled only with the soft hum of the equipment settling into sleep mode. You leaned into Lando's side, feeling a rush of warmth and affection as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

"That was so amazing and fun," you whispered, your voice filled with genuine admiration.

Lando pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment. "Not as amazing as you," he replied softly, his voice tinged with warmth.

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with love. "You're such a charmer," you teased, unable to resist a playful smile.

He grinned back, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "Only when I'm around someone who brings out the best in me," he admitted, his tone sincere.

The room felt cozy and intimate, the air thick with unspoken affection and the shared joy of the day's activities. You nestled closer to Lando, feeling his heartbeat steady and comforting against your side. His fingers brushed lightly against yours, a silent promise of togetherness and support.

As you both sat there in quiet contentment, surrounded by the remnants of the Lego build and the warmth of each other's presence, you knew that this moment would be one you'd cherish forever. It wasn't just about the Lego set or the stream—it was about the bond that had deepened and blossomed between you, a connection that felt like coming home.

"Thank you for today," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper but filled with gratitude.

Lando turned to you, his eyes soft and filled with love. "No, thank you," he replied sincerely. "For being you."

You leaned in and captured his lips in a gentle kiss, a silent affirmation of everything you felt in that moment—love, gratitude, and a sense of belonging. The distractions of the outside world around you, drifted into nothing but peace as you melted into each other's embrace, the loving wholesome sweetness of the moment wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

And in that quiet, perfect moment, with nothing but the beating of your hearts and the promise of tomorrow's adventures ahead, you knew that building the McLaren F1 Lego set together had created something far more precious—a love story that would continue to grow with every brick and every kiss shared. Building Legos together might have been the highlight of your day, but being with him made it unforgettable.

an || okay this one was really cute to write honestly. it's such a contrast to my previous ones haha. anyways, as usual, my ladies i hope you enjoyed this one. everyone else, i hope you enjoyed as well and till the next one!

©2024 cherryl4na. - please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms without my permission.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

to many more | s.r. x liaison!fem reader

“what’s your favorite book?”

spencer looked away from his open files to turn in his chair to see you standing behind him, a couple of manila folders held close to your baby blue long sleeve dress shirt. he had to keep his eyes from dropping lower to get a glance at the curves that hugged to your black pants.

he coughed as he blinked a few times behind his glasses, “uh, well there’s- there’s too many to choose from. if you’re asking about general literature i’d probably say-“

you held a hand out with a shaky smile, “sorry. don’t mean to interrupt. but um, i’m asking if there’s a book or story that’s very meaningful full for you.”

spencer straightened his mouth, feeling it form into that usual line. he let his mind scour for a moment, “uh maybe… alice in wonderland. my mom used to read it as a bed time story from time to time in between narnia and fifteenth century literature. she used to read me valentines poems.”

he saw your brows raise for a moment, “that’s sweet. which did she recite the most?” you readjusted the files.

spencer tapped his fingers over his thighs, “mostly chaucer’s parlement of foules. The poem, which is in the form of a dream vision in rhyme royal stanza, contains one of the earliest references to the idea that St. Valentine's Day is a special day for lovers…” he stopped short when he saw a bored expression draping your face. “sorry, rambling.”

your eyes widen and you took a step closer, “no, no. you’re fine. your voice soothes me, probably looked a bit drowsy.”

spencer scrunched his face, “most people would look tired cause i’m boring them to sleep.” he saw your face fall at his words, he didn’t like the sight.

“well i like hearing your information. i find what you know quite fascinating, like last week you told me that flamingos feathers are actually white or pale gray, but appear pink cause of algae and shrimp. i would’ve never know that.” your smile pushed your cheeks, pupils beaming alight as he felt them ghostly tracing his face.

bashful your eyes directed to your feet, “i enjoyed our date last week.” moving some fingers to run behind your ear, “i’ve always wanted to visit the planetarium, but never found the time.”

spencer smiled fondly, “i’m glad i was able to get you the chance. sometimes they do thirty minute segments on each zodiac sign, it’s when i see a lot of ‘psychics’.”

you chuckled lightly, spencer’s grin widened. “i should take you to one for fun. just to test how real they are.”

he couldn’t help rolling his eyes, “don’t waste your money.” you shrugged simply, “could be a fun third date. she can verify that we’re a match.” giving your upper body a slight twisting at the waist.

before spencer could say anything in reply, you both turned to see hotch calling you from his upper office. “shit, forgot i had to drop these off. i’ll see you later.” and you stepped into his space to lean in an leave a kiss to his forehead. he could feel the residue of your fading gloss. he was happy there wasn’t many people in the bullpen, he didn’t want to deal with morgan’s teasing right now.

the only possible person to have witnessed that display would be hotch. “reid, a word,” his stern voice causing him to flinch in his seat. he quickly made his way up the steps and into the office, closing the door behind him and standing beside you with his hands behind his back. he wasn’t planning to have this conversation a month early.

“is there something you both would like to inform me on?” hotch letting either of you confirm your new relationship instead of assuming.

“uh,” you started to say before spencer interrupted more confidently, “y/n and i are currently seeing each other. it’s only been about two months.” he turned to you, eyes locking and both of you smiled at each other, “but i’d like to believe this will last awhile.”

“well,” hotch cleared his throat, “since you’ve probably read through the handbook spencer, there isn’t anything wrong with fraternization between employees. i would just need both of you to fill out some paperwork.”

you both nodded in agreement. “and please, try not to let this distract you in the field. otherwise you’ll have to be in separate rooms, hotel and assignments.”

“yes sir,” giving a playful salute as he dismissed you both. you decided to pull spencer by his hand in the direction of your, shared office, already knowing jj was busy elsewhere.

“i hope that was-“ you spun into spencer, palms on his cheeks as your lips pressed onto his. he went still for a moment, but you knew he just needed a second to process. his fingers curled along your hips, his warmth seeping through your fabric and onto your skin.

you sighed into his mouth as he worked your lips apart, taking the lead he moved both of you further into the office. your thighs hit the edge, a small gasping allowing for spencer to boldly slip his tongue into your mouth, your heart was pumping in your ears.

if you weren’t in the office you’d let your greedy fingers start to work at unbuttoning his shirt, but instead you were stopped short when someone groaned out, “holy shit!”

spencer was the first to jump away and you saw that penelope and jj were at the threshold with jaws dropped and bugged eyes. “you freaky love birds!” penelope screeched.

“i need to burn this room,” jj groaned as she turned on her heels.

[allbark-no-bite]

which lover will i get today.

elvis presley x reader (wc: 1.2 k)

summary: there were two sides to elvis presley, and you never knew which one you were going to get

warnings: toxic relationship, implied age gap (just mentioned that reader is younger)

authors note: after watching saltburn and priscilla, i can say that i’ve been converted to a jacob elordi fan. he’s a ridiculously tall freak of a man and i love him.

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You see him before he sees you, striding in through the front door of Graceland on those goddamn long legs that carry him twice as fast to the bottom of the stairs.

"Where's my girl?" he barks out, you being the first thing that has his attention about as soon as he enters the house. He stops at the first step, allowing you to meet him a few steps up from the bottom. For once you're just about the same height.

"Hello." You greet him, your voice quiet. It's timid, almost like you're uncertain of whether or not he's even remembered you, like maybe you've just dreamed this whole thing up and he's not really madly in love with you.

At your quietness, his aura changes, and he dims himself a little just for you. As if reminding himself that you're not one of his cousins or the Mafia. You're his girl, his Satnin. His expression becomes more pleased than exuberant, his smile faintly subdued.

"Hello," he says softly, copying your greeting with an air of teasing. Because it's so preciously innocent. Because hello is such a laughable greeting after not seeing each other for months. Because it's absurd how much he adores you.

"Hello," he then repeats, firmer this time. Because Hello, I missed you. Hello, where have you been all my life? Hello, I love you.

Elvis closes the distance between the two of you, one of his large hands pressing into your back to bring you into his chest, the other on your waist. His mouth finds yours, gentle and sweet, smiling privately into the kiss. Not really even kissing you properly because there will be plenty of more opportunities to kiss you in the future.

And he's just so charismatic that you don't even care.

But there were two sides to him.

And you never knew which one you were going to get.

That was the one thing that you kept having to remind yourself about him.

It was so easy to forget all of his faults when a majority of the time he was so utterly boyish. He still had to be reminded to pick up after himself, still had to be reprimanded for rough housing, still cried for his mama sometimes. He was fascinated by everything, and he had a new interest all of the time. First it was the books, then the guns, then the horses, then the sailing cap that he took to wearing at every opportunity.

The two of you had gone up to bed early, excusing yourself to a disgruntled Dodger back at the dinner table. You race up to Elvis' bedroom, both of you giggling like little kids as Elvis fumbles up the stairs after you.

Once inside his bedroom, you shriek when he catches you, his arms wrapping around you from behind. He lifts you off of your feet and hefts you onto the lavish spread of his bed, laughing all the while.

When you manage to sit up, brushing your hair from your face, Elvis is already turned back around, a camera in one hand and the previously mentioned captain's hat perched precariously a top his head. With the world at the tips of his fingers, everything was a game to him. He was always trying to find new ways to make life exciting, and if that meant playing dress up then he was all for it. Therefore his donning of the out of place hat came as no surprise to you.

What does surprise you is his tumbling onto the bed, and you have to duck to avoid his flailing limbs.

"C'mere," he laughs, one hand wrapping around your ankle and the other clutching the polaroid camera. He stands, dragging you towards him across the top of the bed until your hair is fanned out behind your head. Lifting the camera and squinting, he snaps a picture before you're kicking your foot from his grasp.

"Oh no you don't, lil' girl." You wheeze in laughter when he drops the camera and catches hold of your other leg, and you find yourself hanging upside down, your head just barely brushing the bed.

"O...o-kay! Okay!" You exclaim through the bubbles of laughter that escape your throat, trying and failing to hold down the bottom of your baby pink skirt. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please, let me down!"

You tumble back onto the bed with a thunk when Elvis releases your feet from his grasp.

"You're a piece of work, Satnin. You know that?" he says with a huff, fixing the hat that had begun to fall from his head. It's to little avail because it falls off completely when you grab a pillow, swinging it at him before he can dodge it. A scoffing laugh erupts from him at your challenge, and he aimlessly shoves you away so that he can grab his own pillow.

Weak from laughing, you swing at him again, completely missing. Elvis lashes out with his pillow, and it barely catches you, giving you enough of a chance to wind up and swing at him again.

It's harder this time, as hard as a pillow can be, and you suppose it catches him off guard because the smile drops from his face and he shoves you back hard, so obviously not playing anymore. It doesn't hurt as much as it should, his hands on you, but maybe it's your own surprise that prevents you from feeling anything.

"Not so goddamn rough," he snaps, breathing hard.

You've heard him yell plenty before. At his cousins, the Colonel, his daddy, but never you. Especially not at you. It causes something sickening in the pit of your stomach that you don't like.

The shock has quickly evaporated and now you're left cowering at the end of his bed, hugging the pillow close to your chest. You don't know where they've come from but suddenly there are tears burning at your eyes. Embarrassed by his rebuke and angry at yourself for being upset, your voice cracks. "That's not fair. You can't play without winning."

"I don't wanna play with a goddamn man," he retorts, already removing himself from the bed. Elvis roughly tosses the pillow that he had been wielding onto the ground.

You see it then in his narrowed and glinting blue eyes. Not exactly anger but something else. Hurt, insecurity, fear. Then it's gone with the slam of the door.

You wait for the sound of his retreating footsteps down the stairs before you take in a shuddering breath, your chest feeling as if you hadn't been breathing the entire time, and quickly wipe at your eyes. It only made him angrier when you cried.

Certain that there's black eyeliner and mascara smeared under your eyes, you shakily stand up from the bed and go over to the bathroom mirror. There is. You look like a feral raccoon and immediately set to scrubbing it away. Once you've finished, your eyes are still glassy and your nose red, but at least you can't tell if your face is wet from the water or the tears.

The door opens behind you and then his hands are sliding around your middle, Elvis' towering figure a looming presence at your back. His head dips and his lips ghost your exposed shoulder, sponging soft, barely there kisses.

You close your eyes and you let him. This is as close to an apology that you’ll get.

It was just a moment. One moment of misjudgment. One single bad moment.

You’ll spend the rest of your life forgiving his bad moments.