#overthinking explained gently

[thesomethingguy]

Your Anxiety Isn’t Useless—It’s Just Overdramatic and Overcommitted

Imagine having a personal assistant who works 24/7, never sleeps, monitors everything you do, and constantly whispers, “Something’s probably going wrong.” Welcome to the experience of living with anxiety. It’s not useless. It’s not a character flaw. It’s just… dramatic. Overly enthusiastic. Think Olivia Pope meets a malfunctioning smoke alarm. It means well—it really does—it just has absolutely…

[jungwnies]

F1 GRID | there's always a first for everything

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by @sonichkkaaascreams) : you are extremely playful, flirty, and teasing with your formula one boyfriend but when times comes to move to third base, you admit that you're actually quite inexperienced...

୨ৎ : genre : romance & fluff ୨ৎ : tws : mentions of sex, first-time, suggestive themes ୨ৎ : word count : 5289

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : this was such a fun request to write ty!

ʚ・max verstappen

the atmosphere was filled with a faint hum of the harbor mixed with the chatter of distant parties, but all you could focus on was max beside you. he stood just close enough that his arm brushed yours, his piercing blue eyes locked on you with a sly smile tugging at his lips.

"you keep staring at me like that, verstappen… should i be worried?" you teased, nudging his side with your shoulder.

his laugh was low and warm, curling around you like the balmy night air. "worried? no. flattered? definitely."

you rolled your eyes, though your cheeks burned at the way he was looking at you. "you talk a big game for someone who's never beaten me at darts."

"that’s because you cheat," he shot back, stepping a little closer. his voice dropped, teasing but laced with something heavier. "but i’m pretty sure i could beat you at something else."

you raised an eyebrow, keeping your tone light even as your pulse kicked up. "like what? racing?"

he smirked, tilting his head as his fingers ghosted over yours. "i was thinking something a bit more… hands-on."

your breath caught, but you played it off with a quick laugh. "careful, max. you might actually scare me off."

"i don’t think you scare that easily," he murmured, his voice soft and steady as he leaned closer.

the teasing melted into something electric, the space between you shrinking until his lips hovered just over yours. when he kissed you, it wasn’t hesitant or rushed—it was deliberate, like he’d been waiting for this moment and wanted to savor every second.

his hands cupped your face gently, his touch tender even as the kiss deepened. you felt your heart pounding in your chest, heat flooding your veins. but as his hands began to drift lower and his lips trailed along your neck, you froze.

"wait…" you whispered, pulling back just enough to break the moment.

max stopped instantly, his hands dropping as he searched your face. "what’s wrong? did i—"

"no," you cut him off quickly, your cheeks burning. "it’s not that… i just… i’ve never done this before."

it felt clumsy and awkward spilling out, and you kept your eyes fixed on the floor, too embarrassed to look at him. "i don’t really know what i’m doing, and i didn’t want you to think…" you trailed off, unsure how to finish.

"hey," he said gently, his voice pulling your gaze back to him. his expression was soft, his blue eyes warm and understanding. "you don’t have to explain. it’s okay."

"i just didn’t want you to think i’m—"

"don’t," he interrupted, smiling as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "don’t overthink it. there’s no pressure. we’ll go at your pace… or not at all, if that’s what you want."

you blinked up at him, your chest tightening at the tenderness in his voice. "you’re really okay with this?"

he brushed his thumb along your cheek, his smile growing. "more than okay. this isn’t a race, you know. and with you, i don’t mind taking my time."

a laugh bubbled out of you, easing the tension that had built in your chest. "you’re too good to me, verstappen."

"yeah, well," he said, his trademark cocky grin returning as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, "don’t forget it. you’ve got the exclusive version."

you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face against his shoulder as your nerves gave way to something softer—something that felt a lot like love.

"thanks, max… i love you," you whispered.

"i love you too," he murmured, his arms tightening around you. then, his voice turned playful again. "now, let’s go inside before you start using this as an excuse to dodge another darts rematch."

you laughed, pulling back to meet his mischievous gaze. somehow, max always knew how to make everything feel right—like there was no place in the world you’d rather be.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

you sat cross-legged on the plush couch, sipping wine as lewis leaned back beside you, one arm draped casually over the cushions, his other hand wrapped around his glass.

he was watching you again—that familiar, knowing smile playing on his lips.

“you’re quiet,” you teased, setting your glass on the coffee table. “that’s not like you.”

he chuckled softly, his voice low and smooth. “i’m just enjoying the view.”

you rolled your eyes, but your cheeks betrayed you, flushing under his gaze. “you’re laying it on thick tonight, hamilton.”

“am i?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, his grin widening. “maybe i just don’t say it enough.”

“sure,” you replied, trying to sound unaffected as you reached for a throw pillow to hug against your chest. “lewis hamilton, seven-time world champion, and suddenly you’re a poet too.”

he leaned forward, setting his glass down before turning his full attention to you. “you act like you’re not used to me complimenting you by now. do i really need to convince you i mean it?”

his voice softened at the end, and suddenly the playful banter felt heavier, more intimate. he shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours as his fingers traced light patterns on the pillow you were clutching.

“you’re impossible,” you murmured, though your voice wavered slightly, your defenses slipping.

lewis smirked. “you’re still here, though.”

before you could reply, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. it wasn’t rushed or insistent—it was patient, as if he wanted to savor the moment, to make sure you felt it too.

you kissed him back, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, his warmth grounding you as the world outside faded into the background. but as his hand slid to your waist and his lips moved to the curve of your jaw, you stiffened, pulling back just slightly.

“wait…” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

lewis immediately stopped, his hand retreating as he searched your face. “what’s wrong?” he asked, concern lacing his tone.

you swallowed hard, feeling a knot of nerves tighten in your chest. “it’s not you… i just…” you looked down, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “i’ve never done this before.”

it felt like the words were tumbling out of your mouth ungracefully, and you braced yourself for his reaction.

“you mean…” he started, his voice gentle.

you nodded quickly, your cheeks burning. “yeah. i’ve never gone this far, and i don’t really know what i’m doing. i— i didn’t want to disappoint you or make it awkward.”

lewis stayed quiet for a moment, and when you finally glanced up at him, his expression was so soft it made your chest ache.

“why would you think that’d disappoint me?” he asked, his voice calm and steady.

“i don’t know…” you admitted, shrugging as you looked down again. “you probably expected someone who—”

“stop,” he said, his fingers tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “i don’t expect anything from you, okay? this… you… it’s not about experience or any of that. it’s about us, and i’m not going to rush you.”

you blinked at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his words. “you’re not… disappointed?”

“disappointed?” he repeated, shaking his head with a small smile. “not even close. if anything, it just makes this more special.”

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, the weight in your chest lifting slightly. “you’re really okay with this?”

“of course i am,” he said, brushing his thumb over your cheek in that impossibly tender way of his. “we’ll go as slow as you need to. and if you’re not ready, that’s fine too. i’m not going anywhere.”

your heart swelled at his words, and you found yourself leaning into his touch. “you’re too good to me,” you whispered, your voice trembling just a little.

lewis smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “you deserve nothing less.”

you let out a soft laugh, the tension in the room easing as you rested your head against his shoulder. the warmth of his embrace and the steady rhythm of his breathing calmed you, and for the first time that night, you felt completely at ease.

“i love you,” you murmured after a moment, the words slipping out naturally.

his arm tightened around you, his voice low and full of emotion as he replied, “i love you too.”

ʚ・george russell

george laid beside you, his long frame relaxed as he rested on one elbow, looking at you instead of the stars.

“you know, the view up there is stunning,” you said, pointing to the sky, “but you keep staring at me.”

“can you blame me?” he replied smoothly, his lips curling into that signature lopsided grin.

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the warmth from spreading across your cheeks. “you’re ridiculous.”

“i’ve been called worse,” he teased, his voice soft, almost like he didn’t want to disturb the quiet beauty of the night. “but it’s true. you’re impossible to look away from.”

you shook your head, laughing lightly. “you’ve got the stars and the whole milky way up there, and you’re wasting your time looking at me?”

“absolutely,” he said without hesitation, his tone sincere enough to make your breath catch.

before you could reply, george shifted closer, his hand brushing against yours where it rested on the blanket. the touch was small, almost imperceptible, but it sent your pulse racing. when his fingers slowly intertwined with yours, you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his in the dim starlight.

he leaned in then, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was soft and careful, like he was testing the waters. you melted into it, your hand moving to his shoulder as the kiss deepened, his touch both gentle and grounding.

but as his hand moved to your waist, and the kiss became more intense, a wave of nerves washed over you. you broke the kiss, pulling back slightly, your breathing unsteady.

“wait…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

george froze instantly, his brows knitting together as concern flickered across his face. “are you okay? did i do something wrong?”

“no,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “it’s not that.” you looked down, chewing on your bottom lip as embarrassment bubbled up. “i’ve just… i’ve never done this before.”

his confusion gave way to realization, and he sat up a little straighter, his grip on your hand never loosening. “you mean…?”

you nodded, the words catching in your throat. “yeah. i’ve never gone this far, and i don’t really know what i’m doing. i didn’t want you to think i’m… i don’t know… weird, or inexperienced, or—”

“hey,” george interrupted gently, his free hand reaching out to tilt your chin up so you’d meet his gaze. “you’re not weird, and you don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

you blinked at him, surprised by how calm and steady his voice was. “i just… i didn’t want you to be disappointed.”

“disappointed?” he repeated, his lips twitching into a small smile. “the only way i’d be disappointed is if you felt like you couldn’t be honest with me.”

his words were like a balm, easing the knot of anxiety in your chest. “so you’re really okay with this?”

“of course i am,” he said, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of your hand. “it’s not about what we do or don’t do. it’s about being with you. that’s what matters to me.”

your throat tightened at the sincerity in his voice, and you looked away briefly, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill. “you make it sound so simple.”

“because it is,” he said, his smile soft as he leaned in to press a kiss to your temple. “we’ll take things at your pace, okay? there’s no rush. and if you’re not ready, that’s perfectly fine too.”

you exhaled shakily, leaning into him as his arm wrapped around your shoulders. “how are you so perfect?” you murmured, your voice muffled against his chest.

“i’m not,” he said with a small chuckle. “but i’m trying my best for you.”

you tilted your head to look up at him, your chest swelling with gratitude and something far deeper. “thank you, george.”

“for what?”

“for… everything,” you said softly.

he smiled, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “you don’t have to thank me. i’m exactly where i want to be.”

ʚ・carlos sainz

carlos laid beside you on the bed, propped up on one elbow, his dark eyes locked onto yours. the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that mattered—sent your heart racing.

“what are you thinking about?” you asked softly, your fingers playing with the hem of his t-shirt.

“you,” he said simply, his voice low and warm. a small, teasing smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “always you.”

you laughed lightly, rolling your eyes. “you’re such a romantic.”

“i mean it,” he said, leaning in closer until his nose brushed against yours. “you drive me crazy, you know that?”

before you could respond, his lips found yours, slow and deliberate. the kiss deepened quickly, his hand sliding up to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin in a way that made your stomach flutter.

carlos shifted, guiding you onto your back as he hovered over you. his kisses grew hungrier, trailing from your lips to your jawline, then down the curve of your neck. his hands slid to your waist, his touch sending sparks through your body.

you felt the heat between you building, the line between playful and passionate blurring. when his hand slipped beneath the hem of your top, a nervous knot tightened in your chest, and you froze.

“carlos, wait,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

he stopped immediately, his lips stilling against your collarbone as he pulled back to look at you. his brow furrowed slightly in concern. “what’s wrong, cariño? did i do something?”

“no, it’s not you,” you said quickly, your cheeks flushing. you avoided his gaze, embarrassed, as you fidgeted with the edge of the blanket. “it’s just… i’ve never done this before.”

the silence that followed made your heart pound even harder, but when you dared to look up at him, the worry on his face had softened into something tender.

“you mean… nunca?” he asked gently, his voice softer now.

you nodded, swallowing hard. “yeah. i’ve never… gone this far before. i didn’t want you to think i’m… i don’t know, inexperienced or—”

“stop,” he said, cutting you off gently as he cupped your face with both hands. his eyes searched yours, filled with nothing but warmth and reassurance. “don’t do that. don’t feel embarrassed about this. it doesn’t matter to me.”

“it doesn’t?” you asked, your voice shaky.

“no, cariño,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “the only thing that matters is you. if you’re not ready, we don’t have to do anything.”

you hesitated, his words melting some of your nerves. “i want to… with you. i just… i don’t know what i’m doing.”

carlos’s lips curved into a gentle smile. “then let me show you,” he murmured. “we’ll take it slow. i promise. and i’ll make it special for you… the way it should be.”

your chest tightened, overwhelmed by the tenderness in his voice. “you’re sure?”

“i’ve never been more sure of anything,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

he leaned in, kissing you softly, as if to prove his words. his hands moved carefully, his touch unhurried and deliberate as he coaxed you into relaxing. he spoke to you in whispers, his deep voice grounding you as he told you how beautiful you were, how much he cared about you.

every moment felt like it was filled with purpose—no rush, no pressure. he focused entirely on you, watching your reactions and pausing whenever you needed. the world outside faded completely, leaving only him and the warmth of his presence.

and when it finally happened, it was everything you could have hoped for—gentle, intimate, and filled with love. carlos made sure every second was about you, showing you just how much you meant to him.

you tilted your head to look up at him, your heart swelling as his brown eyes met yours. “i love you, carlos.”

his smile widened, and he kissed you again, slow and sweet. “te quiero más, mi amor. always.”

and in that moment, wrapped in his arms, you knew you’d never felt safer—or more loved—in your entire life.

ʚ・charles leclerc

the hotel room was quiet except for the sound of the waves crashing against the shore outside. the moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a silvery glow across the room. you sat cross-legged on the plush bed, your knees brushing against charles’s as he sat opposite you, a lazy grin tugging at his lips.

“you know,” he said, tilting his head, “you’re staring at me an awful lot tonight. do i have something on my face?”

you rolled your eyes, trying to hide your smile. “no, but you do have this annoying habit of thinking the universe revolves around you.”

he clutched his chest dramatically, falling back onto the bed. “mon dieu! you wound me.” (my god!)

laughing, you leaned over and gave him a playful shove. “get up, you drama queen.”

instead of sitting up, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you down beside him, his arm sliding around your waist to keep you close. your breath caught as his face hovered just inches from yours, his green eyes sparkling with mischief.

“you like it,” he murmured, his voice dropping slightly.

“maybe,” you whispered back, your cheeks heating.

the playful teasing shifted as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was soft at first, then deepened as his hand moved to cradle your face. your fingers found their way into his hair, and the kiss grew more heated, his body pressing into yours as you lost yourself in him.

but just as his hand slid down to rest on your hip, you froze.

“wait,” you said, breaking the kiss.

charles stopped instantly, his brows knitting together as he pulled back slightly. “qu’est-ce qui ne va pas? what’s wrong?” (what’s wrong?)

you bit your lip, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were. “i… i’ve never done this before.”

his confusion was almost comical as he blinked at you. “you’ve never…?”

you nodded quickly, your face burning. “yeah. never. and i know it’s probably ridiculous at my age, but—”

“wait, wait,” he said, sitting up suddenly, his hand going to his mouth like he was trying not to laugh. “are you telling me you’re a virgin?”

“charles!” you hissed, swatting his arm, mortified.

“i’m sorry!” he said, laughing now, though his tone was more amused than mocking. “i just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. you, uh… you had me fooled.”

you groaned, covering your face with your hands. “this is so embarrassing.”

“non, non,” he said quickly, gently prying your hands away from your face. (no, no) his grin softened into something more affectionate. “it’s not embarrassing. it’s… cute, actually.”

“cute?” you echoed, narrowing your eyes at him.

he shrugged, his lips quirking up again. “yes, cute. you’re like a little… how do you say… a rookie?”

“charles!”

“okay, okay,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender, though he was still grinning. “i’ll stop. but seriously, you don’t have to feel embarrassed. everyone starts somewhere.”

you couldn’t help but laugh a little, his lighthearted teasing easing some of your nerves. “you’re such an idiot.”

“but i’m your idiot,” he quipped, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead.

as the laughter faded, the room grew quiet again, the air between you shifting. charles’s hand found yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he looked at you, his teasing demeanor giving way to something more serious.

“are you okay?” he asked softly. “i don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

you stared at him for a moment, your heart swelling at how genuine he was. slowly, you leaned in, capturing his lips in a kiss that was more confident this time. when you pulled back, your eyes met his, and you smiled.

“i’m sure,” you said firmly. “if i’m going to do this, i want it to be with you.”

charles’s eyes widened slightly, and then his expression softened into something that made your chest ache—in the best way. “you’re really sure?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“yes,” you said, your hand moving to cup his cheek. “with you, charles. only you.”

“you’re amazing, you know that?” he murmured, his voice thick with affection.

you smiled against his chest, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his skin. “you’re not so bad yourself.”

he laughed softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “so… do you think i will be good enough for your first time?”

“charles!” you said, smacking his shoulder, though you couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped.

“what? i’m just asking,” he said, grinning down at you.

you rolled your eyes but leaned up to kiss him anyway. “perfect. you will be perfect.”

“good,” he said, pulling you closer. “because i'm going to be your first, and your last."

and with that, he kissed you again, leaving you with no doubt that you’d made the right choice.

ʚ・lando norris

the two of you were supposed to go to the team dinner, but after some poor excuses and convincing from lando (“come on, do you really want to sit next to zak while he lectures us on efficiency?”), you’d ended up here instead.

“you’re seriously telling me you’ve never seen shrek 2?” lando asked, his mouth half-full of pizza, his voice dripping with exaggerated disbelief.

you groaned, tossing a crust at him. “why is that so shocking? it’s not like it’s a rite of passage!”

“it is!” he shot back, dodging the crust with dramatic flair. “forget racing—this is what’s wrong with society. people skipping cinematic masterpieces.”

you rolled your eyes, unable to keep from laughing at his antics. “if you care so much, put it on.”

“fine,” he said, grabbing the remote and scrolling through the options. “but don’t say i didn’t warn you when your life changes forever.”

the movie started, but somewhere between donkey’s singing and your shared commentary, you ended up on the bed, legs tangled as you debated which animated character was the best.

“it’s obviously puss in boots,” you said, gesturing at the screen.

“no way. donkey carries the entire movie,” lando argued, his head propped on his hand as he looked at you, his dimples showing with every word.

“you just love chaos,” you teased, poking his cheek.

“true,” he said, catching your hand before you could pull away. his expression shifted slightly, his playful grin softening as his thumb brushed over your knuckles. “but i also like moments like this.”

the teasing reply you’d planned died on your lips as he leaned in, his nose brushing yours. when his lips finally met yours, it was sweet at first, a kiss that sent warmth flooding through your chest.

but then it deepened, his hands finding your waist as yours slid up to tangle in his curls. the kiss turned urgent, and soon you found yourself lying back, his weight shifting over you as his lips traveled to your jaw, then your neck.

your breath hitched, nerves suddenly rushing to the surface. you pulled back slightly, your fingers gripping his shoulders.

“lando… wait,” you said, your voice barely audible.

he stopped immediately, sitting back on his knees as he looked down at you with wide, concerned eyes. “what’s wrong? did i—did i do something?”

you shook your head quickly, sitting up. “no, it’s not you. it’s just…” you hesitated, feeling your cheeks heat. “i’ve never done this before.”

his brows furrowed for a moment before realization dawned. “you mean… like, never ever?”

you nodded, already feeling embarrassed. “yeah. never ever.”

there was a beat of silence, and then—lando burst out laughing.

you smacked his arm, your face burning. “lando! don’t laugh at me!”

“i’m not laughing at you!” he said between breaths, holding up his hands in defense. “i’m just—really? you’ve been holding out this whole time? that’s impressive!”

“impressive?” you repeated, glaring at him.

“yeah!” he said, grinning now. “i mean, i thought i was going to have to work harder for this! you’ve been playing hard to get.”

you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “this is so embarrassing.”

“hey, hey,” he said, his laughter fading as he gently pulled your hands away. “i’m sorry, i’m just surprised. but seriously—it’s not a big deal.”

“it feels like a big deal,” you muttered.

“well, it shouldn’t,” he said firmly, his tone softening. “there’s nothing wrong with waiting, and it doesn’t make you weird or anything.” he paused, a cheeky grin creeping back onto his face. “although, it does make me feel special. i mean, out of all the people in the world, you chose me.”

“don’t let it go to your head,” you teased, though you couldn’t help but smile.

“too late,” he said, leaning in to nudge your nose with his. “but seriously, we don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

you looked at him for a long moment, taking in the sincerity in his eyes, the way his usually goofy demeanor had softened. slowly, you reached out, cupping his cheek. “i’m ready. if i’m going to do this, i want it to be with you.”

his expression shifted, surprise flickering across his face before it melted into a warm, slightly shy smile. “you’re sure?”

you nodded, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “i’m sure.”

lando grinned, his dimples making a reappearance as he kissed you again, his movements more deliberate this time. “alright,” he murmured against your lips. “but if you get scared, you tell me, okay?”

“okay,” you whispered, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer.

as the night went on, the laughter and teasing faded into something deeper, more intimate. lando was attentive, gentle, and when he whispered, “you’re amazing,” it felt like he wasn’t just talking about the moment but about you.

afterward, you lay curled against him, his arm draped over you as the credits to shrek 2 rolled in the background.

“so… was it worth missing the team dinner?” he asked, his voice filled with humor.

you laughed, burying your face in his chest. “definitely.”

“good,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “because i don’t think zak would’ve let me live it down if i brought you back late.”

ʚ・oscar piastri

oscar had always had a way of making everything feel easy. no pressure, no rush, just two people enjoying the moment. tonight, though, the tension was different, something heavier in the air as his eyes met yours with a soft intensity that made your heart race.

"hey," oscar said gently, his voice calm but with an edge of curiosity. "you okay?"

you nodded quickly, but your mind was whirling. he had that effect on you—making everything feel so natural and comfortable, but tonight, you could feel the weight of the moment. his hand brushed against yours, sending a shock through your chest, and you pulled your hand back slightly, biting your lip.

"actually," you started, your voice quieter than you���d intended, "there’s something i need to tell you."

oscar’s brows furrowed in concern, and he turned to face you fully, his body shifting to mirror yours as he gave you his undivided attention. "what is it?"

you hesitated, biting your lip as nerves bubbled in your stomach. "i’ve never…done anything like this before."

there, you said it. the words felt strange, vulnerable as they left your mouth. you could see the surprise flicker across oscar’s face, but he didn’t say anything right away. his expression softened, and instead of pulling back, he leaned in closer, gently taking your hand in his.

"you mean…" he trailed off, searching your face.

you nodded, the embarrassment creeping up your neck as you avoided his gaze. "yeah. i’ve never really… i don’t know how to do any of this."

oscar was quiet for a moment, but when he spoke, his voice was soothing, soft. "it’s okay. really, it is. there’s no pressure."

his words were like a balm to the anxiety that had suddenly surged through you. you had feared he’d think differently, but instead, he seemed genuinely relieved, even protective.

"you’re not… upset?" you asked, still unsure, a tinge of self-doubt lingering in your chest.

"upset?" he chuckled, but there was no mockery in his tone—just warmth and reassurance. "not even a little. honestly, i think it’s kind of sweet."

you blinked, surprised by his response. "sweet?"

"yeah," he grinned, his hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "you don’t have to know everything all at once. i like that you’re willing to take it slow. it makes this… well, it makes this special."

a sense of relief washed over you at his words, your heart lightening. the idea that he wasn’t seeing you as inexperienced or “behind” felt like a weight lifted.

"you’re really okay with this?" you asked, still half-doubting yourself.

"of course," he said softly. "if anything, i’m happy. we’re going to take it at your pace. no pressure."

oscar paused, his gaze searching yours, and you felt his sincerity in every word. the nervous energy you had been holding onto slowly began to dissipate.

you finally met his gaze, his calm eyes locking onto yours as he moved even closer, his hand gently resting on your leg. there was something about the way he was looking at you—something that told you he was as in this moment as you were.

"i want to do this," you said, your voice barely above a whisper but firm. "if i’m going to do this with anyone, i want it to be you."

oscar’s eyes widened slightly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "are you sure?" he asked, his voice soft, almost uncertain despite the way his hand traced small circles on your knee.

you nodded, feeling your heart race in a different way now. "yes. i trust you."

the corner of his lips lifted, and he leaned in slowly, kissing you softly, tenderly. there was no urgency, no rush. just the quiet comfort of two people wanting the same thing in the same moment.

oscar pulled away after a moment, his forehead resting against yours as he breathed deeply. "i’m really glad it’s with you," he murmured.

"me too," you whispered back, feeling completely at ease in his arms.

the moment continued, and while things didn’t escalate immediately, there was no pressure. everything felt right because you were together, and when you were ready, oscar was more than willing to take it slow, to make sure you felt safe, comfortable, and cared for every step of the way.

and when you finally reached that point, it was nothing like you had expected. it wasn’t dramatic or rushed—it was tender, affectionate, and everything you needed.

oscar kissed your forehead, his voice soft as he said, "you did amazing, you know that?"

you smiled, nestled in the crook of his arm. "i think we both did."

and in that moment, you both knew you’d take things as slow as you wanted—together, at your pace, with no rush.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[h1biscusgal]

Tee hee y'all, i'm not back but i loved y'all sm so take this subliminal i took six days to perfect.

I AM NOT BACK, NO, I AM SO SORRY.

my studying session been going good AND YALLLLLLL I MISS YOU SO MUCH, I CAN'T EVEN EXPLAIN.

so, last week, when i closed tumblr, my mind was reeling from one thing it kept repeating itself:

"i wanna give smth to my people in tumblr."

why? i've seen people having problems for the void, i've seen people say they are so close but their "heartbeat" stops them, some say they sleep without knowing.

so i thought.

"mf, why not a subliminal that will fucking guarantee you to enter IN EVERRRYYYY situation?"

think you need to keep awake? this sub

think you need to sleep to enter the void? still this sub

need to enter while using it? this sub

need to enter but can't have your phone with you during sleep? again this sub, you can listen to it during the day and try at night.

like WHATEVER the fuck you do, i have made a loophole for it, now for god's sake please be careful, it gave me such a headache making it my head is still pounding, it has PURE fucking delta waves and 5 set of repeated NON-LAYERED NOT TOO SPED UP affirmations, why?

these are the safest type of affirmations that penetrate the subconscious, i cannot express this enough please.

PLEASE BE FUCKING CAREFUL WITH IT, DON'T LOOP TOO MUCH, DELTA WAVES CAN MAKE YOU DEADASS TIRED.

now this? holy shit this? i call it my beautiful Voided Hibiscus project, and yes i love hibiscuses-

this sub???

here's the benefits:

Voided Hibiscus is a one-of-a-kind, high-power subliminal crafted to guarantee entry into the Void State — no matter your state of mind, environment, or experience level.

Whether you're lying still or fidgeting, wide awake or asleep, listening consciously or with it running in the background — the moment this subliminal activates, the Void becomes inevitable, it is fucking guaranteed and i made so sure of it by science.

During these exact 22 minutes and 22 seconds, your mind will swallow THE LITERAL definition of "master at void." The affirmations are layered with master precision — spoken, whispered, echoed, reversed — to penetrate the deepest layers of the subconscious, bypassing every mental block, doubt, or distraction. Delta isochronic tones pulse beneath the surface, gently entraining your brain to the perfect frequency of surrender, silence, and awareness, like ya'll i am NOT playing.

This is for you if:

You want to enter the Void effortlessly, with full certainty.

You want to enter during the day, or while sleeping — either way works.

You’re tired of trying methods and want results without effort.

You want a subliminal that works permanently — even after you stop listening.

Features:

Affirmations that dissolve fidgeting, overthinking, boredom, and resistance.

Built-in confidence: You will never doubt your ability to enter the void again.

Repetition formula designed to rewrite your subconscious with absolute certainty.

Works even if you accidentally fall asleep.

Activates the Void even when played silently or in the background.

After consistent listening, your command over the Void becomes instinctual.

like mf, you is the bored type? you is the annoyed impatient as fuck type? you is the type to try for 2 minutes and give up? homie this shit will throw you in the void while you move, fidget, breathe hard, feeling bored, sleep accidentally.

like what the fuck am i supposed to do next-

THIS CAN BE USED IN THREE WAYS:

awake method: lay down and have it on your head (no mf you won't sleep accidentally and ruin it bc i backed it up that you'll wake up there) and simply repeat affs for it, watch yourself enter without even knowing how the fuck you entered, i swear if you trust? you'll enter within the duration of those 22 minutes and 22 seconds, there's no "when", it's like a guarantee.

sleep method: if you is the type that yo parents let you have your phone with you? use it overnight and watch yourself wake up in the void.

thru-theday method: just listen to it during the day and do any method before sleep or just anywhere and bam.

there's no "how" here, this sub? almost made me tumble, i am not tryna brag, no seriously, but i thought to post smth that helps ppl, now let me stop yapping the fuck out and take this:

(so sorry for this quick and messy post-)

good luck loves, and send me the asks and messages coming! i'll be on here for a very few minutes and see what asks there is to answer.

EDIT: I AM SORRY WHAT THE FUCK???? LAST TIME I CHECKED I HAD 661 FOLLOWERS NOW IT'S A 1700 SMTH????? I AM SCREAMING PLEASE I LOVE YALL SO MUCH??? I CAN'T BELIEVE IT I WANNA CRY PLEASE.

[paxtito]

‘my beautiful girl’

pairings: jenna x reader (g!p)

wc: 3833

warnings: smut (18+), insecurity, slight praise kink, p in v, kissing, strong language

summary: you and jenna have been dating for a couple years but you’ve never gone further than a makeout session due to insecurity. jenna starts to believe that she’s the problem. (requested by anon which is pasted at the end)

MASTERLIST

Jenna had always been patient with you. Two years together, and she had never once pressured you—never once made you feel like you owed her anything. But lately, something had changed.

You could see it in the way her brows furrowed when she pulled away from a kiss, the way she hesitated before touching you in certain ways, like she was second-guessing herself. You knew she had started to overthink, to wonder if it was something about her. If you just weren’t attracted to her.

And that couldn’t be further from the truth.

But how could you explain that? How could you tell Jenna, the girl who seemed effortlessly perfect in every way, that you weren’t holding back because of her—but because of you?

Because the thought of undressing in front of her made your stomach twist. Because you couldn’t shake the feeling that once she saw you—really saw you—her eyes wouldn’t hold that same adoration. That maybe, just maybe, she’d wish for someone else.

You didn’t even realize how deep in thought you were until Jenna sighed beside you, pulling her knees up to her chest as she sat on your bed. “You can tell me, you know.”

Your breath hitched. “Tell you what?”

Jenna exhaled, her gaze locked onto the sheets like they had the answers. “Why you always pull away.” She paused, voice quieter now. “Why you won’t let me touch you like that.”

Your chest tightened. “Jenna—”

“I mean, I just—” She let out a soft, humorless laugh, shaking her head. “I thought maybe you just weren’t ready. And that’s fine. But then I started thinking… what if you’re never going to be? What if it’s me? What if you just don’t—” She hesitated, biting her lip before finally forcing the words out. “What if you just don’t want me like that?”

Your heart broke at the way her voice wavered.

“Jenna, no,” you said quickly, reaching for her hand. She let you, but her fingers were tense in your grasp. “It’s not that. It’s never been that.”

She finally looked at you, her dark eyes searching. “Then what is it?”

You swallowed, your throat tight. The words were right there, caught between your ribs, begging to be set free.

But saying them meant exposing yourself.

And that? That terrified you more than anything.

Jenna watched you closely, her brows furrowed in concern as she waited for your response. She could see the conflict playing out across your face, the internal struggle that had you trapped between wanting to reassure her and fearing your own vulnerability.

After a long, tense moment, you finally spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm just... I'm not comfortable with my body, Jenna. Not like you are."

Jenna's expression softened, and she squeezed your hand gently. "Hey, it's okay. You don't have to be uncomfortable with me. I could never think less of you, no matter what."

You let out a shaky breath, feeling some of the tension leave your shoulders at her words. "I know. I know you couldn't. It's just... hard for me to feel good about myself sometimes. And I don't want to ruin this, ruin us, by being too... exposed."

Jenna reached up to cup your cheek with her free hand, her thumb brushing lightly over your skin. "You could never ruin us, baby. And I don't want you to feel like you have to be someone you're not with me. I love you, all of you, just as you are."

She leaned in closer, her forehead resting against yours as she spoke softly. "I want to make you feel good, want to show you how beautiful and desirable you are to me. But I can only do that if you let me in, if you trust me with the parts of yourself that scare you the most."

Her words hung in the air between you, a gentle challenge and a tender promise all at once. You knew she was right, knew that you couldn't expect her to be okay with the walls you kept up if you weren't willing to let her in.

Slowly, hesitantly, you nodded. "Okay," you whispered, feeling a flicker of determination amidst the fear. "Okay, I'll try. For you, I'll try."

Jenna smiled softly, her eyes shining with love and understanding. "That's all I ask. Just try, baby. That's all any of us can do."

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself with newfound resolve. Jenna's words had resonated deep within you, igniting a spark of bravery in your chest. She was right - you couldn't keep holding back, not when she deserved to have all of you.

With trembling fingers, you reached for the hem of your shirt. Jenna watched intently, her expression a mix of anticipation and gentle encouragement. You could see the love and acceptance in her eyes, the silent affirmation that no matter what, she would be right here beside you.

Slowly, you began to lift your shirt up, inch by inch. Your heart raced as more of your skin was revealed, your breath growing shallow as you fought the urge to hide yourself away again. But Jenna's gaze remained soft and admiring, spurring you on.

Finally, with a deep breath, you pulled your shirt off completely and let it fall to the floor beside the bed. You sat there for a moment, your arms instinctively crossing over your chest as you waited for Jenna's reaction.

She was silent for a long moment, her eyes roaming over your newly exposed skin. Then, slowly, she reached out to take your hands in hers, gently uncrossing your arms and holding them at your sides.

"Breathe," she whispered, as if reminding you that you were still alive, still present in this vulnerable moment. "You're so beautiful, baby. Have I ever told you that?"

You shook your head slightly, unable to find your voice. Jenna smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your collarbone, right above the swell of your breast.

"Well, you are," she murmured against your skin. "Inside and out."

With that, she began to trail her fingers over your chest, a feather-light touch that made you shiver. She mapped out the curves of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the flare of your hips - every inch of newly exposed skin was worshipped with gentle caresses and tender kisses.

You felt your body starting to relax, the tension bleeding out of your muscles as Jenna's touch soothed and aroused you all at once. For the first time in a long time, you felt seen - truly seen, in all your flawed and beautiful glory.

As Jenna's hands and lips continued their reverent exploration of your upper body, you felt a growing warmth beginning to pool low in your belly. Her touch was igniting a fire within you, a desire that you had long kept banked down out of fear and insecurity.

But as her fingers danced along the waistband of your pants, you tensed slightly, a flicker of apprehension cutting through the haze of arousal. Jenna paused, sensing your momentary hesitation.

"Shh, it's okay," she soothed, her voice a low murmur against your skin. "We can take this as slow as you need to. No pressure, remember?"

You nodded, drawing in a shaky breath as you tried to relax back into her touch. Jenna smiled softly, pressing another kiss to your hipbone before slowly, carefully, popping the button on your pants.

She let her fingers slip beneath the fabric, brushing lightly over the skin there. You shuddered, your body already responding to her touch in a way that made anticipation coil hot and heavy in your core.

Jenna's hand drifted lower, palming you through the fabric of your underwear. You could feel yourself starting to harden, your body betraying the depth of your arousal despite your lingering nervousness.

Sensing your growing excitement, Jenna looked up at you, her eyes dark and filled with desire. "You're perfect," she breathed, her hand beginning to move in a slow, teasing rhythm. "Absolutely perfect."

You bit your lip, a soft gasp escaping you as your hips began to cant forward, seeking more of her touch. Jenna took that as her cue to slip her hand fully into your underwear, her fingers wrapping around your hardening length.

"Jenna," you gasped, your voice strained with a mix of pleasure and trepidation. She stroked you slowly, her grip gentle but purposeful, coaxing you to full hardness.

"Shh, just feel," she encouraged, her thumb swiping over the sensitive head, smearing the bead of moisture that had already gathered there.

Jenna slowly withdrew her hand from your pants, leaving you aching and wanting more. She could see the mix of emotions playing out across your face - the arousal, the nerves, the tentative trust in her.

With a soft smile, she leaned in to capture your lips in a slow, deep kiss. It was a kiss full of promise and reassurance, a silent vow that she would take care of you, would cherish you, no matter what.

After a long moment, Jenna pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss. With a coy smile, she reached for the hem of her own shirt, pulling it up and off in one smooth motion. She tossed it aside, leaving her torso bare, save for the simple lace of her bra.

Jenna lay back against the bed, the dark sheets a stunning contrast to her warm, glowing skin. She looked up at you with a playful, inviting smile, crooking a finger for you to join her.

"Come here, baby," she murmured, her voice low and enticing. "I want to feel you, all of you."

Hesitantly at first, you climbed onto the bed, settling yourself between Jenna's parted thighs. She guided your hips with gentle hands, urging you to settle against her core.

You could feel the heat of her even through your pants, the promise of her arousal evident in the way she shifted her hips to press more fully against you. Jenna's hands slid up your back, mapping the lines of your shoulder blades before coming to rest at your shoulders.

"Touch me," she breathed, her voice a needy whisper against your ear. "Please, touch me like I touched you."

Emboldened by her words, you slid a hand down her stomach, feeling the quivering of her muscles beneath your palm. You paused at the waistband of her pants, looking up at her for confirmation.

Jenna nodded, her eyes dark and filled with desperate anticipation. "Yes," she breathed. "Please, baby. I need to feel you."

With a deep breath, you popped the button on her pants, slowly lowering the zipper. Jenna lifted her hips, allowing you to tug her pants and panties down in one go. She kicked them off to the side, leaving her lower half bare before you.

Jenna watched you intently, her chest rising and falling with each anticipation-filled breath. She could see the hunger in your eyes as you took in the sight of her newly exposed skin, the way your gaze lingered on the swell of her breasts, barely contained by her lacy bra.

Feeling emboldened by your obvious desire, Jenna reached behind her back to unhook her bra. She let it fall away, revealing the soft, full curves of her breasts to your eager eyes. Her nipples were already hardened, a dusky pink against the warm brown of her skin.

Your own breathing grew heavier as you drank in the sight of her, your palms itching with the urge to explore every inch of her exposed skin. Slowly, almost reverently, you raised a hand to cup one of Jenna's breasts, marveling at the weight of it in your palm.

Jenna let out a soft moan as your hand cupped and gently squeezed her breast, her nipple hardening further against your palm. She arched into your touch, silently begging for more.

"You feel so good," she breathed, her voice husky with arousal. "I love your hands on me, baby."

Emboldened by her praise, you let your other hand drift down to the waistband of your own pants, slipping inside to wrap around your hard, aching length. You stroked yourself slowly, feeling the way you throbbed in your own grip.

Jenna's eyes widened as she watched you, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. "Touch me," she pleaded, spreading her thighs a little wider.

Without hesitation, you tugged your pants and underwear down just enough to free your erection. It sprang up, hard and ready, the tip already glistening with arousal. Jenna reached down to spread her lower lips apart, revealing the swollen, needy folds of her pussy.

"Here," she breathed, guiding your hips forward until the head of your cock brushed against her slick, heated flesh. "Rub it against me. Make me feel good, baby."

You groaned at the contact, your hips instinctively starting to move. You rubbed the tip of your erection against her clit, feeling it throb and pulse against the sensitive nub. Jenna cried out, her back arching off the bed as jolts of pleasure shot through her.

Jenna's breath hitched as you began to rub the swollen head of your cock against her most sensitive flesh, her hips rocking instinctively to meet your touch. She could feel the heat and hardness of you, the way you throbbed against her with each pass over her aching clit.

"That feels so good, baby," she gasped out, her fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as she urged you on. "Don't stop. Keep touching me just like that."

You could feel her growing wetter by the second, her arousal coating your tip and dripping down to pool on the sheets below. The scent of her desire filled the air, sweet and heady, making your head spin with lust.

"Fuck, you're turning me on so much," Jenna panted, her eyes squeezing shut as she lost herself in the pleasure of your touch. "I love feeling you against me like this. Love knowing it's you, my beautiful girl, touching me."

Her praise spurred you on, and you doubled your efforts, rubbing faster and more firmly against her slick heat. Jenna's moans grew louder, more desperate, as the pressure built between her thighs.

Jenna's breath came in short, sharp gasps as you rubbed the tip of your erection against her dripping folds, her hips bucking up to meet each pass. She could feel herself getting closer and closer to the edge, her body coiling with tension as the pleasure mounted.

"Please," she whimpered, her nails digging into the meat of your ass as she pulled you harder against her. "Please baby, I need more. I need to feel you inside me."

You hesitated for a moment, a flicker of nerves passing through you. "Are you sure?" you asked, your voice strained with the effort of holding back. "I don't want to hurt you."

Jenna looked up at you, her dark eyes blazing with love and desire. "You could never hurt me," she breathed, reaching up to cup your cheek with a trembling hand. "I trust you, baby. I want this, want you, so much."

She guided your hips with her hands, positioning you at her entrance. "Slowly," she urged, her voice a needy whisper. "Take your time. I want to feel every inch of you as you fill me up."

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest as you began to push forward. Jenna gasped as the head of your cock breached her entrance, her walls fluttering around you. You paused, letting her adjust to the stretch, before slowly, steadily, pushing in deeper.

You felt Jenna's walls stretching around your length as you slowly pushed deeper inside her, inch by hard inch. She was so tight, so hot and slick and perfect. You had to pause a few times, catching your breath and trying to maintain control as her body slowly accommodated your size.

"Oh god, baby," Jenna gasped out, her back arching slightly off the bed. "You feel so big. So good." She looked up at you, her eyes hazy with pleasure and a deep, abiding love. "Don't stop. Keep going."

Emboldened by her words, you pushed on, sinking in a little deeper with each slow, steady thrust. Jenna's hands slid up your back, her nails raking lightly over your skin as she urged you on.

"Fuck, I’m so.. full," she whimpered, her hips rocking up to meet yours.

You could feel the pressure building in your core, the coil of heat winding tighter and tighter. But more than that, you could feel the love radiating off Jenna in waves, the sheer joy and contentment of being with you, of having you inside her.

With a final, deep thrust, you bottomed out, your hips pressed flush against hers. Jenna let out a shuddering moan as you filled her completely, her walls fluttering and clenching around your throbbing length. She wrapped her legs around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

You began to move, slowly at first, savoring the feeling of Jenna's tight heat enveloping you. She matched your rhythm, rolling her hips to meet yours, drawing you in deeper with each thrust.

"Fuck, baby," Jenna panted, her voice ragged with pleasure.

Her hands roamed over your back, tracing the lines of your muscles as they flexed and tightened with each movement. She pulled you down for a searing kiss, her tongue delving into your mouth to dance with yours.

You lost yourself in the kiss, in the feeling of her body beneath yours, surrounding you, accepting you completely. You could feel the pleasure building with each thrust, each roll of your hips, each breathy praise falling from Jenna's lips.

"Yes, just like that," Jenna encouraged, her voice a needy whisper against your ear.

Jenna's fingers dug into the flesh of your ass as she urged you on, pulling you harder and deeper with each thrust.

She rolled her hips to meet yours, taking you in even deeper. The new angle had you both moaning, the pleasure building with each pass over her most sensitive spots.

"That's it, my pretty girl," Jenna praised, her voice a low, lust-filled murmur. "Don't stop. Keep fucking me just like that."

Jenna could feel your length pulsing and throbbing inside her, growing harder and more insistent with each passing second. She could tell you were getting close, your movements becoming more urgent and desperate.

"Baby," she gasped out, her fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as she held you tight.

She brought your forehead down to rest against her own, wanting to watch your face as you lost yourself in the pleasure. Her dark eyes searched yours, filled with a deep, abiding love and a hunger for your climax.

"Let go, my pretty girl," she whispered, her breath mingling with yours.

Jenna's words, spoken in that low, seductive tone, sent a shiver down your spine. You could feel the pressure building to a crescendo, your body tensing and coiling like a tightly wound spring.

"I'm close," you gasped out, your hips starting to stutter and lose their rhythm. "Jenna, fuck. I'm going to come."

Jenna's eyes flashed with a fierce, loving intensity as she felt you start to lose control. She held your gaze, her forehead still pressed against yours, as she whispered urgently.

"Give it to me, baby. Let me have all of you."

Her words, spoken with such raw, desperate need, were the final push you required.

"Jenna!" you cried out, your voice echoing off the walls as you came undone.

Jenna gasped as she felt your length pulsing and throbbing hard inside her, your hot seed spurting forth to coat her deepest depths. She held you tight, her walls clenching down around you, milking every last drop as you rode out the waves of your pleasure.

"Fuck yes," Jenna moaned, her voice ragged and filled with awe. "I can feel you coming, baby. You're so fucking sexy."

She captured your mouth in a searing, passionate kiss, swallowing your cries of ecstasy as you emptied yourself inside her. You could feel her own peak building, your climax pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

Jenna's moans grew louder, more desperate, as she felt your hot seed filling her up. The sensation of you coming inside her, combined with the raw, primal passion of the moment, sent her hurtling towards her own peak.

"Don't stop, don't stop," she chanted, her voice a needy, breathless litany. "I'm so close, baby.”

She wrapped her legs around you even tighter, locking her ankles at the small of your back. Her hands gripped your shoulders, nails digging into your skin as she pulled you down, burying you inside her as deep as you could go.

Jenna's body began to tremble and shake, her walls starting to flutter and clench around your still-throbbing length. She was right on the cusp, teetering on the brink of a massive, earth-shattering climax.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she whimpered, her hips bucking wildly against yours. "I'm coming, I'm coming!"

With a sharp cry of your name, Jenna came undone. Her orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave, her body convulsing and shaking as pleasure exploded through every nerve ending. Her walls clamped down around you like a vice, rippling and pulsing as she rode out the intense, mind-numbing ecstasy.

Jenna clung to you tightly as the aftershocks of her intense orgasm washed over her, her body still trembling and quaking with the force of it. She buried her face in the crook of your neck, her breath coming in ragged, shuddering gasps as she slowly came down from her high.

For a long moment, you simply held each other, basking in the afterglow of your shared passion. The room was filled with the sounds of your mingled breaths and the soft, sated sighs of contentment.

Finally, Jenna leaned back slightly to look up at you, her dark eyes glazed but shining with a deep, abiding love and satisfaction. A slow, lazy smile spread across her face as she reached up to cup your cheek with a trembling hand.

"My beautiful girl," she murmured, her voice a low, intimate rasp. "That was... incredible. Better than anything I could have ever imagined."

She took a deep, shuddering breath before continuing, her smile softening into something more tender and affectionate.

"I waited so long for that moment, baby. Two long years of wanting you, of dreaming about having you like this. And it was worth every second of the wait."

Jenna leaned in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, pouring all of her love and gratitude into the gentle caress. When she finally pulled back, she rested her forehead against yours, her eyes fluttering closed as she savored the closeness and intimacy of the moment.

"I love you," she whispered, her voice filled with a fierce, unwavering devotion.

“I love you too.”

—

REQUEST: can you do smut with Jenna Ortega—it’s been two years since her and reader have been dating yet she doesn’t know why reader keeps refusing her when shes trying to go further than a makeout, it was fine until Jenna started to overthink, if she was pretty or attractive in reader’s eyes, but in truth, reader is just insecure about her body (top reader, female or gp but preferably gp!reader)

[angelsafa]

How to "enter" the void

Hello loves!

When I posted my void success story I really did it just because I wanted to share it with someone. I haven't expected it to get so successful.

Anyways, now a lot of people have been asking me how to do it and stuff. I replied as much as I could, but I decided to make this blog to make it more detailed for those who havent quite understood it yet.

First things first, I want you to realize that we do not enter the void. We ARE the void. We ARE pure conciousness. That's not something you get to or induce, that's literally something you remember. It's you. That's why it's called the I AM state too.

With this being said, I want you to gently remind yourself that you are the void, and that there is no need to put it in a pedastal. Honestly, that's one of the main reasons I think people "fail" when trying to do it and stuff.

Now with this clear, I will explain to you step by step how to I personally did it. Disclaimer, it worked for ME. So if it doesn't work for you (which let's be real, you're already the void, you got this, and there's no way that such a master manifestor like you fails!), please don't start saying that this is fake and stuff. Any disrespectful comment that might demotivate or hurt anyone is NOT appreciated, thank you.

Get in a comfortable position. A lot of people lay in their backs, but I personally don't think it's thaat comfortable, so I simply laid on my side. You can do any pose as long as you're comfortable!

Relax and get sleepy. Can you induce the void anytime anyway? Yes. But being sleepy is what works for most people, especially the ones that want to try it for the first time. I personally think it works better.

Do any method that works for you. Wether it's affirming or getting distracted or any other method (let's remember that methods are a tool and they simply help us, but there's no need for them and the only one that has the power is you), anything that you like and works for you, do it. I personally did the distraction method by @luckykiwiii101. It's basically relaxing and stuff, and if a tought comes to your mind, you do not try to ignore it and continuously affirm that you are the void and stuff, but do the opposite and let your mind get distracted by them. This will make you not obsses about the idea of getting into the void, make you feel like floating and simply relax you even more. You can even play a song in your mind too, if that works for you and makes you relaxed and distracted.

You're there. Affirm your dream life and that's it. No, like literally. That's it. It's as easy as that.

And it's just that easy, my loves. Don't overthink it, don't obsses, and definetly do not put it on a pedastal. Remember YOU are the void. You are a master in this. You literally get whatever you want just because you said so. You got this! It's your life, your rules. Don't let the circumstances tell you otherwise. Remember that the 'imagination' is the real reality, not the other way around.

Lots of love and lots of good luck (but let's be real, you do not need it because you are already that pro),

Safa

[rafessecret]

I have a request so Rafe and reader are together and Rafe is very sweet at the start of their relationship, but then he starts turning creepy and a stalker and follows her everywhere without her knowing and just gets very possessive and controlling when she confronts him he always denies it

⋆˚࿔ girlfriend¡ reader && obsessed¡rafe cameron

YOU'LL ALWAYS BE HIS.

Rafe was golden back then—clean-shaven and smelling like sea salt and sun. He’d drive out to your place just to sit in your driveway and leave notes in your mailbox with folded little hearts. He memorised your coffee order, kissed your hands, and made you playlists like it was 2010. He’d look at you like you were it. Like every other girl, she disappeared when you walked into the room. He’d tear up during sex sometimes—whisper how you were everything he never thought he’d deserve. ❝Don’t ever leave me, okay?❞ he’d say, his voice cracking. ❝I won’t survive it.❞ And you believed him.

You miss that version of him sometimes. The soft one. The sweet boy who sent you songs at 2AM and held your face like you might break. But now, all you feel is this constant pull in your chest—fear laced with something darker. You borrow his laptop. Just for a second. You weren’t snooping—you swear. But you click the wrong folder and see pictures of yourself. Hundreds. Some from weeks ago, some… from moments you never even noticed being watched. Your bedroom. Your dressing room at the boutique. In your towel. Asleep.

You freeze.

Your throat tightens, heart thudding so loud it drowns out the world. You can barely breathe. You want to scream and throw something, but your hands just tremble over the keys. He’s behind you suddenly. You don’t even hear him come in. ❝Why are you looking through my stuff, baby?❞ he asks softly, voice low and measured.

You change your locks. You ghost him for a week. You need time. You need air. You barely sleep, your heart racing every time you hear footsteps behind you, every time your phone lights up. You tell yourself you're overthinking. You want to believe he didn’t mean it. That you’re just imagining things.

But Rafe shows up at your job with your favourite drink, smiling like nothing’s wrong. ❝Thought you’d need a little pick-me-up, angel.❞ You force a smile, but inside, your stomach churns.

When you get home that night, there’s a gift waiting inside your apartment. A necklace you mentioned once in passing. A note in his handwriting that reads, ❝I missed you.❞

You know you locked the door.

Your heart is in your throat. Your eyes sting, your hands shake. You press your back to the door and slide down, trying to breathe, trying not to fall apart. You don’t call the cops. You don’t tell your friends. Because you don’t know how to explain it. Because some small, sick part of you still remembers the way he used to cry when you kissed him.

The next night, you hear something. A creak. The tiniest sound. And when you turn around, Rafe is standing in your kitchen like he’s always belonged there. Like he never left. Like you didn’t ask him to. ❝Don’t push me away again,❞ he says sweetly, like you didn’t just cry the whole cab ride home.

❝You’re just anxious. I hate when you get scared. Come here.❞ You back away, voice cracking as you tell him to leave. But he doesn’t. He tilts his head, that soft smile stretching into something darker.

❝I’d never do that to you. You know me, baby. You trust me, right?❞ You try to break up with him. You cry, gently, like you’re scared he might shatter. You say it’s not working. That you need space. He listens and nods, eyes glassy but calm. Doesn’t yell. Doesn’t grab. Just nods. But that night, your bedroom window creaks open. You wake up with Rafe in your bed, holding you like nothing happened.

❝You don’t mean it,❞ he whispers, brushing your hair back. ❝You’re just upset. You’re mine, baby. You’ll always be mine.❞ You try to pull away, but his grip tightens around your waist. ❝Don’t make me remind you who you belong to.❞ And he will—slow and rough, all night long, until you’re too wrecked to argue. Until your body remembers what your mind wants to forget.

You’re at a party. You swore Rafe wasn’t invited; you made sure. You laugh too loud at some guy’s joke and sip a drink someone else poured. And then you see him—leaning against the wall across the room, watching you. Not blinking. Not smiling. Your blood runs cold.

You check your phone. A text lights up: ❝Funny joke. Not as funny as I’ll look with my cock in your throat tonight. Leave now.❞

You freeze. He shouldn’t know you’re here. But he always knows. When you finally run outside, heart racing, he’s already waiting by your car—smiling like he’s been there the whole time. ❝I told you, angel. You’re mine. I’ll always know where you are.❞

You try to scream, but the sound catches in your throat. You want to run, but you know it’s pointless. He’ll always find you. And the worst part? Some part of you still remembers the boy who used to cry when he kissed you. The one who called you his miracle. The one who held your hands like they were made of glass.

But that boy is gone.

Now you’re left with this.

── ⋆ 𝐲𝐚𝐩 : hey guys, i’m feeling a little unmotivated right now, not gonna lie . . . this piece was a bit of a struggle for me. i had a hard time with it and honestly, i hate it a little because i feel like i should’ve just picked one section and made it its own fic. but i still really wanted to get it out there for you, so thank you so much for the request and for being patient. i really hope at least some of you like it

── ⋆ 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 : @scne-vampire @browniepop62 @urcoolgf

©RAFESSECRET ⋆˚࿔ est. 2025

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Family Expansion

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x reader

Warnings: none

Bea series continues

After Bea was born, you and Carlos both knew you didn't want to stop at just one child. You wanted to have at least three, although you didn't know that one little girl like Bea would be such a handful.

Bea is a little girl with character, very attached to both of you and especially to Carlos. Since Bea was already three years old, you didn't want there to be a big age difference between her and the second child, so you decided to start trying for another baby.

About three weeks ago when Carlos came back from the race in Singapore you welcomed him in your home with a pregnancy test in your hands and his eyes started to water with how happy he was. Since that night he couldn’t keep his hands off you and your stomach. He loved being a dad and he was the best at it. Bea was his whole world (and you of course), and the fact that he will have another little being with you sent him over the moon.

Anyway, tonight is the night you decided to break the news to Bea, explain to her in the simplest possible way that she is going to be a big sister. You were very nervous about it because you didn't know how she would react, and Carlos found it funny that you were afraid to tell a three-year-old that you were pregnant.

“Don’t laugh, Carlos! It’s not funny at all.” You sigh crossing your arms and looking away from him.

“Mi amor, you’re overreacting. I don't know why you keep thinking that another baby in the family will upset her.” He says placing a hand over your stomach and gently rubbing it.

“Well, that is exactly why! She will no longer be an only child and you know what our daughter is like. Very possessive, especially about you, and she likes all the attention to be focused only on her.”

“Baby, we have to tell her sooner or later. We might as well tell her sooner so we can start talking to her about it more often and start getting her used to the change.”

You sigh running your hands over your face then through your hair.

“Hey, look at me” Carlos says taking your chin between his fingers making you look at him. “Everything’s going to be okay. Don’t overthink this so much, she’s just a kid. Even if she doesn’t understand some things now that’s okay because she’s not supposed to. We’re in this together, always.”

“You’re right” You say leaning your head against his chest and he places a kiss on top of your head. “I’m sorry I’m making such a big deal out of this.”

“It’s okay, baby. I’m gonna go get her from her room.” He says getting up and leaving you on the couch in the living room.

While you were waiting for Carlos to come back with Bea, you thought that maybe you were exaggerating a bit, that you were making a bigger deal out of it than it actually was. Maybe Bea will be overjoyed to have a best friend for life. Maybe she will enjoy sharing everything with the new baby.

But then again, you knew your daughter very well to know that Bea doesn’t share things.

“Mama!” She exclaimed happily reaching out to you from Carlos' arms.

“Hey, baby” You smiled taking her in your arms. She sat in your lap wrapping her tiny arms around you and leaning her head on your chest. “Did you play with the new kitchen that daddy got you?”

“I did”

“What did you cook today, hm? What did chef Bea make for dinner?” You asked her.

“I..I made a soup. And a chicken. And potato.” She explained, counting on her fingers.

“Good job, baby.” You smiled kissing the tip of her nose.

“Okay, princesa, mommy and daddy have something to tell you, okay?” Carlos started and your heart rate increased. He took her from your lap and seated her between the two of you on the couch.

“Okay”

“Remember how we used to talk about having a baby brother or a baby sister for you?” Carlos asked her moving her curly hair out of her face.

“No” She simply said.

You and Carlos quickly both looked at each other and clamped your mouths shut to keep from bursting out laughing right at the start.

“Ay, nena no digas que no.” (Baby, don’t say no) He says pinching her nose. “Well, mommy has a baby in her belly. You’re going to be a big sister.”

He put his hand over your stomach and you put yours over his. Bea’s eyes just followed your movements without saying a word. Her expression was unreadable, but you could tell she wasn't thrilled with the news .

“How does that sound, mi amor?” Carlos asked her trying to snap her out of her thoughts.

And just like that hr lower lip started to twitch and she started to cry. She opened her mouth and cried inconsolably. You looked at Carlos and mouthed “I told you so” and threw your head back sighing.

He quickly took her in his arms and started rubbing her back as she hid her face in the crook of his neck.

“Bea, don’t cry, bebe” He tried. “You’re going to have so much fun with the baby brother or baby sister. You’re always going to have someone to play with, maybe share a room together. Isn’t that so much fun?”

“I-I don’t-” She sobbed. “Don’t need it”

“It's not a matter of whether you need it or not. Mommy and Daddy want you and another baby. You will still be our little girl, forever, only we will have one more baby.” He was choosing his words carefully making sure to include her in every sentence that left his mouth.

Once she calmed down a bit and stopped crying she said “But-but I wanted an ice cream, not a baby brother or a baby sister”

Both you and Carlos laughed squeezing your eyes shut at her nonchalant statement.

“How about you get an ice cream and a baby brother or a baby sister?” Carlos asked her.

She took some time to think and soon agreed to the proposal. “Okay..”

“Entonces tenemos un trato, si?” (Then we have a deal, yes?) He hugged her tightly kissing her cheek and she nodded her head yes. “Go get your shoes because I’m taking my girls out for an ice cream right now.”

“Can we get a puppy too?” Bea asked.

“Well..” Carlos laughed looking at you.

“Carlos!” You warned him with your eyes knowing that he has trouble saying no to his favorite girl.

“We’ll see about that, let’s get some ice cream first”

[justanotherrpmeme]

"Shut Up" Kiss starters

"You talk too much." 💋 "Just… stop talking." 💋 "This is getting us nowhere. Let me show you instead." 💋 "Enough words, more action." 💋 "Shhh, don't say anything." 💋 "You know what? Let's just…" 💋 "I've been waiting for this moment, no more interruptions." 💋 "Save your breath." 💋 "Words won't fix this, but maybe this will." 💋 "Stop overthinking it and just…" 💋 "I'm tired of hearing excuses. Let me show you how I feel." 💋 "For once, let's communicate without words." 💋 "I don't need to hear it. I just need…" 💋 "I don't want explanations. I want…" 💋 "Actions speak louder than words." 💋 "Quiet now, let me do the talking." 💋 "I've heard enough. Let me take over." 💋 "No need to explain. Just…" 💋 "You don't have to say anything. I understand." 💋 "I love you. That's all that matters." 💋

[GRAB] The sender gently grabs the receiver's face and pulls them close. [PRESS] The sender presses their lips firmly against the receiver's, silencing them. [INTERRUPT] The sender interrupts the receiver's speech by initiating a kiss. [HUSH] The sender places a finger over the receiver's lips before leaning in for a kiss. [SILENT] The receiver's kiss renders the sender momentarily speechless. [CALM] The sender's kiss calms the receiver's nerves, quieting their speech.

[httpsserene]

Lando smut driveroom after hia dnf🫠🫠

dnf therapy — 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐝 #1 | #4 | #16 | #44 | #55 | #81 x fem!reader blurbs. requested! explicit sexual content. hurt/comfort. sexual propositions. depressed charles. mercedes f1 team slander. sir kink. face-sitting, vaginal sex, masturbation, voyeurism, blowjobs, cunnilingus, angry sex, shower sex (all light or implied).

synopsis: what goes down in their driver’s room with you after a dnf.

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. river baby, this one’s for you xxx we all know what inspired this one lmao !!! i will not be doing extended fics for any of these, they are quick drabbles as a little writing exercise for me!

⌕ join taglist | requests & feedback | upcoming chapters | table of contents ↻

𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧, 𝐦𝐚𝐱 #𝟏

You’ve never found Max’s skill for talking endlessly annoying or draining. In fact, you can recall telling him that hearing him eagerly explain about racing or other topics that interest him is attractive, multiple times. However, you’re not sure if you can withstand much more of him rambling through a retelling of every single lap he raced before he had to retire, looking for any possible point where he could’ve done something different to prevent it. 

The two of you are sitting on his small couch, pressed side to side, and you’re offering small nods of agreement and hums of understanding during his pauses between words that echo in the small private room. His helmet was shoved in a random cubby, his balaclava draped on top of it but, he hasn’t made any other progress in taking off his race gear. His gloves are still covering his hands as he fiddles with the straps around his wrists, his race suit and boots still properly secured, the smell of sweat and gasoline–the scent of man alluring to your nose–the heat of his body radiating against your side instigating the warmth that floods your cheeks, and the sound of his lisp curling seductively around his speech prompting less than pure thoughts as your heart flutters and thighs press together.

Max is unaware of the sudden twist in your thoughts as he verbally attempts to calculate just exactly where he could’ve improved his outcome, his voice rumbly with an undertone of displeasure, when you cut him off.

“Let me make it better,” you offer.

The Dutch driver cocks his head at you, his expression confused and humored, “How can you make my DNF better? I do not think you can go back in time and—”

“No, Max,” you interrupt, teeth tugging at your bottom lip gently, “Let me sit on your face.”

Visibly, you see his breath catch and eyes widen. His mouth opens and closes as he tries to formulate a response, tongue flicking out to dampen his lips as he thinks—before his pupils blow large, and he swallows audibly.

“Oh,” Max starts, finally tugging his gloves off and tossing them to the floor, then moving to undo the strap of his race suit, “That would make it better.”

𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬, 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 #𝟒

He’s pacing the small length of the room angrily, ranting about his retirement loudly enough that you know it’s seeping through the thin walls. You stare at him with a slightly concerned gaze, getting slightly annoyed as his race suit tied low on his hips threatens to smack you in the face every time he turns around. 

You’re well aware that Lando is quick to anger and brood as he freely makes everyone aware of where the blame needs to be placed. But, the dark and unyielding look in his eyes leads you to believe that he’ll be a little too real to the press today and you would hate to have to deal with a simultaneously enraged and ashamed Lando once he realizes what he said. Then, you’ll have to comfort him as he overthinks his words and doom scrolls through Twitter to see what people are saying about him. You would like to sleep tonight, so you can’t have him embarrass himself today. Thankfully, Lando’s a man, a very simple man at his core. 

You stand up from the couch and pull off his hoodie that you stole. Lando continues to rage and pace, not aware of your movement. You undo the buttons of your shirt, shrugging it off to stand in your bra and jeans. Lando doesn’t notice your state of undress until he spins around to find you topless and shimmying your jeans down your hips.

“Um,” Lando stutters, eyes fixed on your tits, “Why are your clothes off?”

“Get over here and fuck your anger out,” you command, “So when you talk to the press, you don’t say the stupid shit you're telling me now.”

Lando mumbles and pouts offended as he scrambles to lose his race suit, “‘s not stupid shit.”

You roll your eyes and reach out to tug him forward strongly, humming as the length of his body knocks against yours, easily stuffing your hand down his fireproofs and kissing on the meat of his neck, “mhm–I’m sure it isn’t.”

𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 #𝟏𝟔

The room is silent as Charles blankly stares at the wall, you’re not sure if he is aware of your hand comfortingly scratching along his back. He only offered words of exhaustion and depression as he slipped quietly into his room and curled next to you as he dissociated from his retirement.

You’ve tried everything. You cooed soothingly, you complained about the result, and you even loudly expressed how terrible you think the car and Ferrari are and he didn’t say a single word. He simply continued to stare at the wall, his suit and helmet still on, visor down, and expression unreadable. Anxiously, you shifted next to him, not used to experiencing Charles this out of it. And suddenly, the idea came to you. Breaking the silence, you suggested giving him head to relieve his stress. Charles said no. Your brow furrowed perplexed at his denial; he’s never rejected a blowjob before. You took it one step further and offered to let him fuck it out of you (you were previously adamant on the “no sex in the driver’s room” rule because sound carries), and you were sure the Monegasque was about to say yes before he shook his head violently like he was forcibly removing the thought, and mumbled something along the lines of, “I don’t deserve it.” 

That is something you will not let slide. Charles doesn’t need to punish himself after he’s already out of the race, but if he won’t allow himself to indulge in you, you’ll strongly encourage him to.

“Okay, Charlie,” you whisper, “If you’re sure.”

He doesn’t zone back in until he hears your whimpers seep into the air, snapping his head to look at you. He finds you with one hand tugging at your nipple and your other hand shoved under your skirt—from the movement, he can guess that you’re two fingers deep. You hear Charles choke audibly and you can’t help but toss your head back and giggle, the laughter turning into a moan of pleasure as your fingers pass over a sensitive spot.

“I-I think–merde,” Charles cuts himself off as he stares at your show, “I think I’ve changed my mind.”

The helmet stays on.

𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐨𝐧, 𝐥𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐬 #𝟒𝟒

You’re unsure if Lewis is even mad about his retirement. The man seems mentally deranged as he laughs gleefully about ending his race early. Understandably, he is complaining about the bottoming of the car and the hell it’s wreaking on his back–so, maybe the joy is justifiable, your man is…older.

The thing is, Lewis switches from rambling about his back pain to complaining about Mercedes and repeating how he can’t wait for a change in scenery at Ferrari. In the Mercedes motorhome. Loudly. You know he’s doing it on purpose based on the vengeful look in his eyes. He recalls almost every single moment the team dismissed his critiques and suggestions, every single moment they didn’t appear at his podiums, every single moment they thought he wouldn’t leave, every single moment they took him for granted. And, Lewis is more than welcome to express his grievances—but you would still like him to leave on good terms as Toto did promise you a custom G-Wagon (not that Lewis can’t get you one himself; you would just hate to see him ruin his connections).

Lewis also can’t help being hot. He sits comfortably splayed out on his couch, a towel tied loosely on his hips from his shower, chest bare as beads of water fall downwards and get caught in the maze of his toned abdomen, his tattoos become art pieces as you appreciate the sight fully. He continues to partake in his amusing one-man conversation as he clasps his chain around his neck—and you break.

“Let me suck your dick,” you blurt out, cheeks flushing, surprised at your own words, “...sir?”

Lewis pauses, raising an eyebrow at you from where you’re leaning on the room door. 

“Well, I don’t know why you’re still standing over there if that’s what you want. Kneel.”

The sound of your knees hitting the floor sings in the air, “Yes, sir.”

𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢, 𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 #𝟖𝟏

Oscar’s already sequestered himself away in his room before you were able to intercept him on his way. The mechanics are lowly gossiping about how mad he was when he pulled himself out of the car and they watch after you in fear as you make your way to your boyfriend.

Oscar? Mad? He’d never take it out on you, there’s no reason for the mechanics to be worried. Except when you enter the room, the vibes are peculiar. Oscar’s calmly folding his race suit, boots tucked away into their proper place, standing in just his fireproofs—they compliment his body well, extremely well. He turns to look at you and there’s a smile on his face as if he hasn’t retired from a race. He opens his arms for a hug, and you hesitate for a moment before fulfilling his request. His arms wrap around you warmly and he nuzzles his face into your hair, pulling back briefly to press a kiss on your forehead before tightening his embrace. It feels more like he’s comforting you than you’re comforting him. He walks the two of you backward to his couch and pulls you down to sit on his lap. 

Somehow, Oscar brightens more, “Hi, baby,” he grins, hands moving to fiddle with the hem of your shirt.

“Uhh, I’m sorry about your race?” Your tone of voice is unsure.

“Oh,” he laughs dismissively, “It happens sometimes–it was listed in the job description.” His right hand slips underneath your shirt as he speaks, moving calmly to tug the cups of your bra down underneath your chest, squeezing lightly at the plush weight in his hand. 

You’re convinced he’s severely concussed, but it doesn’t stop you from arching towards him, your hips rolling forward unconsciously, “Ummm— ‘s there a-anything I can do to help?”

Oscar’s hand draws out of your shirt and halts the grind of your hips in a flash, he coos at you, “Aw, that’s so sweet of you to offer…let me fuck your tits—please?”

What were you going to do, tell him no?

𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐳 𝐣𝐫, 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐬 #𝟓𝟓

You’re going to slam your head on the corner of the sink and hope it knocks you out. You’ll do it if means the sounds of Carlos’ whining stop. He forcibly pulled you up on the counter of the sink and told you to stay put as he showered so he could talk it out to you.

Naively, you thought the sound of the shower running would muffle his words and you were wrong. On any other day, you would be fine to support him through his complaints but your period is due to start in a couple of days and the irritation and sore muscles are already affecting you. Originally, you were eager to watch Carlos shower—that’s a sight plenty of women and men alike would kill you for. Then, the glass fogged with steam depriving you of something to ogle. And, if there’s one thing a woman is experiencing besides pain, sensitivity, and anger before her period, it’s being horny. You rationalize your thought process as you get undressed; Carlos gets some stress relief and you get to hear moans and grunts of pleasure instead of his huffing, grumbling, and whining. 

You slide the glass door open and closed as you step in the shower, completely bare except for the necklaces, earrings, and anklet with the #55 charm he gifted you randomly, “Carlos, por favor, be quiet.”

The Spanish man’s mouth is agape as he stares at you, frozen in the middle of his motion of scrubbing soap along his arm, “¿Qué?”

You roll your eyes, tugging the soapy cloth out of his hand and setting it on the shower shelf, “There’s better things you could be doing with your mouth.”

Carlos blinks, returning to the present and sinking to his knees in the too-small shower. 

He stares up at you with his big, sweet, lust-drenched, brown eyes, his hair a mess from the spray of the shower, and his voice cracking as he speaks, “Yes, definitely.”

© httpsserene — do not reupload. photos used in header are from pinterest. divider from @cafekitsune.

[lov3lyl3tters]

“Something like love”

Summary: A quiet night in Spencer’s apartment, a slow song playing, and the way he looks at you like you hung the stars.

warnings: pure fluff, lovesick spencer, slow dancing but nothing sexual

The record player crackles softly, the sound of an old jazz melody filling the small apartment. It’s the kind of song meant for slow dancing, the kind that makes the rest of the world disappear.

Spencer’s apartment is dimly lit, the only glow coming from the lamp in the corner and the faint golden hue of the city lights bleeding through the curtains. It’s quiet, peaceful—just you and him, wrapped up in the warmth of the moment.

Spencer shifts awkwardly, fingers fidgeting at his sides. “I, um—I don’t really dance.”

You smile, stepping closer. “That’s okay. You don’t have to be good at it.”

You hold out a hand, a silent invitation. He hesitates for just a second before taking it—his palm warm against yours, his grip careful, almost tentative.

He lets you guide him, his free hand resting awkwardly at your waist. “What if I step on your feet?”

You laugh, swaying both of you gently. “Then I’ll survive, Dr. Reid.”

He huffs out a small chuckle, but he’s still nervous—his movements stiff, his mind overanalyzing every step. Of course he’s overthinking it.

“Spence,” you murmur, squeezing his hand. “Relax.”

He exhales slowly, trying to let himself fall into the rhythm. It’s not perfect—his movements are clumsy, unsure—but you don’t care.

Because all you can focus on is him.

The way his hair is a little messy from running his fingers through it all day. The way his shirt is wrinkled, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, exposing his forearms. The way his eyes, those warm, earnest eyes, flicker between your face and your joined hands, like he still can’t believe you’re here, like he still can’t believe this is real.

But the thing is—

You can feel it.

In the way his fingers tighten just slightly against your waist. In the way his gaze softens when he looks at you. In the way he lets himself sway with you, trusting you to lead him through something he doesn’t quite understand.

And Spencer?

He’s completely, utterly undone.

Because you’re glowing—bathed in the dim light, smiling at him like he’s something worthy of being smiled at. And he knows—he just knows—that if he tried to explain how he feels in this moment, no amount of words would ever be enough.

So instead, he just looks at you.

Like you hung the stars.

Like you are the stars.

And maybe, just maybe—he’s finally starting to believe he deserves to have you in his orbit.

He swallows thickly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re beautiful.”

Your breath catches, your steps faltering for just a second. “Spence—”

But he just shakes his head, a soft, lovesick smile pulling at his lips. “Just… let me admire you a little longer.”

You don’t argue.

Instead, you let yourself melt into him, resting your forehead against his as the music plays on.

And in that moment, Spencer thinks—

If this is what love feels like, then he never, ever wants it to end.

[chenlezip]

first time with dreamies

⤷ summary : how your first time with dreamies goes.

warning : fluff but mixed with smut sorta, there’s nothing really wrote out but it’s hinting to it so.. will be a read more added.

MARK LEE :

“Fuck, I’ve never— I’ve never done this before—“ “That’s fine. We can take it slow. It’s all about you, okay?” Mark reassured you lightly as he placed your back against the mattress. You felt comfortable with him obviously but you just were so nervous about having sex with him for the first time time - especially since he was experienced and you weren’t. Your fingers were gently playing with his tshirt, you avoided eye contact.

He could tell you were too in your mind - overthinking so much. He shook his head and tilted your head up so he could meet your eyes, “You’re thinking too much..” He whispered. You sigh, “I-It’s just your experienced and I’m—“

He quickly shut you up by pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “I don’t care, this is about us, not my past. That doesn’t matter. Just tell me to stop and I will, okay?”

HUANG RENJUN :

“If it’s too much, tell me. I don’t want you being overwhelmed okay? And I don’t want you forcing yourself to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” Renjun explained, he could see that you were nervous. God, it was written all over your face. It was worse that you couldn’t even spit it out to him that you were comfortable- you were very comfortable with him.

“I’m sorry- I’m so sorry I’m like this.” You look down, playing with your fingers and Renjun just chuckled, “Shush, don’t apologise about something that isn’t your problem. I’d wait forever if it meant that you’d be comfortable enough for this.”

“I’m comfortable.. I just..” “Not the right timing, hm? Don’t worry. We’ll take our time.”

LEE JENO :

“We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready…” Jeno murmurs, and you shake your head, arms only tightening around his neck. “I’m ready. And I trust you,” You whisper, pulling him down for a kiss by the nape of his neck. He hummed in response and smiled, pulling back so he could look at you properly. He moved between your legs, “Yeah?” he murmured, voice so low it was almost lost between you two. He lifted his hand to your cheek, stroking his thumb gently across your cheek, “Yeah.” You whisper.

Jeno moved his hands down to your waist, taking a gentle grip and moving your hips closer to his, “Tell me if I hurt you, alright, pretty?”

LEE HAECHAN :

“I don’t know if I can do this.” “That’s okay. We don’t have to do this. You want to cuddle instead?” Haechan suggested, he didn’t want to force you into anything you didn’t want to do. That would be the last thing he would do on earth. That offer made something in your chest unclench; relief, gratitude, love even.. you felt yourself getting choked up.

Haechan reached for your hand, his fingers curling around yours with such tenderness. “I mean it, seriously, we do not have to do this. I’d hate to ever put you in a situation that makes you uncomfortable when I want the best for you- for us. C’mon, put something nice on.” He chuckled as he moved you to his side, placing your head on his shoulder.

“I love you, hyuck.”

NA JAEMIN :

You let out an unrestrained whimper and then slap a hand over your mouth, your cheeks reddening in embarrassment, and jaemin just chuckled softly, leaning down to press a kiss to your blushing cheek. “Don’t be shy baby, it’s normal to let noises out like that when you feel good, ‘kay?” He continued rubbing small circles to your inner thigh, gripping tightly once again which made you whine and buck your hips.

He loved seeing you like this, he had to bite his lip and control the thoughts swirling around his head, reminding himself that you’re new to this and to not put you through so much already.

ZHONG CHENLE :

“I’m so embarrassed—” “It’s okay, you don’t have to be embarrassed with me. It’s a safe space, okay?” Your boyfriend mumbled as he held you tightly against him, his voice calming to you. You tried to cover yourself up but Chenle took your hands and pinned them up against your head, “Don’t hide yourself. You’re beautiful..” He whispered, placing soft kisses from your lips trailing down to your collarbone.

“You’re so, so perfect..” He continued, moving further down to your chest. You blushed, looking down at him as you moved a hand to his hair, “Le..”

PARK JISUNG :

“Is this okay?” “Yeah, that— that’s okay. Please— keep going.” Jisung pleaded with you as he threw his head back, a whimper exiting his lips. You gulp, watching him with dazed eyes as you made sure he felt comfortable and that you were doing things right. Jisung helped you through it, you stroked his thigh and leaned in closer to where he wanted you the most. “Mhm..” He hummed, slipping further down the chair he was sat in.

You smile at the male, “let me know if i don’t do something right, okay? want you to feel good..” you whisper.

[hh-jackie]

Buck and Tommy attend a “family dinner” at Maddie and Chim’s place, where the Buckley parents are also present. Buck is tense the whole evening, but he does a decent job of concealing it. Still, Tommy knows. Every now and then, he sneaks his hand down under the table to give Buck’s thigh an encouraging squeeze, to let him know he’s got support.

For the most part, Margaret and Philip behave. Tommy engages them in a polite conversation as they all eat, talking about his life and career. They’re very much impressed by his stories from his days in the army, and they don’t make their opinions about the nature of his relationship with their son (which they don’t actively disapprove of but find rather strange) known.

Everything seems fine but every now and then, Margaret will make a rather backhanded mean-spirited comment about Buck, as if reminding Tommy that her son is prone to hurting himself and thus attention-seeking, that he has a tendency to overthink things and panic about the smallest of issues, or that he’s generally a lot to put up with.

Several times, Tommy corrects her gently and diverts her attention by adjusting the topic of their conversation, until he’s had it with her rudeness when she once again points out one of Buck’s flaws.

Tommy pauses, placing his knife and fork down, and looks at her with poorly masked disgust.

“I love him anyway,” he says and turns his attention back to the remaining food on his plate, not even noticing the effect he’s had on everyone present, because he used the exact words Buck had once directed at his parents. He barely realises that he’s just confessed his love for Evan.

Once they’re back home, having spent most of the drive in comfortable silence, with Tommy’s hand resting on Buck’s thigh and Buck’s own hand covering it, Tommy notices the glassy look in Buck’s eyes. Once he points it out, asking what’s wrong, Buck laughs happily through the tears and proceeds to explain the sheer impossibility of the situation happening exactly as it did.

They spend the night together and even though Buck isn’t ready to say the L-word out loud just yet, he makes sure that Tommy knows how he feels nonetheless.

[fear-is-truth]

imagine… being rafe cameron’s anxious gf.

RAFE CAMERON notices your nervous ticks before you even realise you’re doing them. it’s not something you point out or explain to him—he just picks up on it. it starts with your lip-biting. the way your teeth tug at your lower lip whenever you’re deep in thought or battling anxiety in your chest. at first, he only watches, the corner of his mouth twitching in a way that’s almost… amused. but it doesn’t take long before he steps in, gently pressing his thumb to your lip to free it from your teeth. he never says much about it. just a quiet “don’t,” followed by a kiss that makes your knees weak and your mind to quiet down. sometimes, if he’s feeling playful, his teeth graze the plush of your bottom lip just enough to leave a reminder that your lip isn’t for chewing—it’s his to kiss.

then there are your nails. rafe notices how you pick at them when you’re zoning out or trying to manage the jumbled thoughts in your head. he doesn’t call you out for it, but he hates seeing you tear at yourself like that, even if it’s unconscious. he takes his time with this one, dropping hints until one day he flat-out tells you that you’re getting your nails done. it’s not a request—it’s a “we’re going now”. he doesn’t even give you time to overthink it. he’s already picked out the colour, your favourite shade, and watches with satisfaction as the nail tech transforms your hands. when you walk out with perfect, glossy acrylics, you simply can’t take your eyes off them, marvelling at how pretty they look. the first time you go to pick at your nails and stop yourself, rafe notices immediately. the small, triumphant smirk that spreads across his face is impossible to miss.

[its-avalon-08]

Hello, my favourite Lando Norris writer. Can I request something with Lando where Reader has a son from a previous toxic relationship and Lando thinks she's like hiding something from, like cheating but she confess everything and Lando becomes the dad that stepped up. 🫶

miracle family (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - neglected child, tears, comfort

Lando sat at his dining table, staring at his phone. It had been a few days since he last saw Y/N, and though they’d spoken, something felt… off. She’d been distant, always rushing through their calls, making excuses to cut their time short. He told himself he was imagining it, that she was just busy, but a nagging voice in the back of his mind wouldn't let it go.

He thought back to their last date. They had planned to spend the entire evening together, but halfway through dinner, Y/N had gotten a call. She stepped outside to take it, her expression unreadable, but when she returned, her mood had shifted. Her usual brightness had dulled, and she seemed distracted for the rest of the night.

"Sorry, Lando, just some work stuff," she had said with a quick smile when he asked about the call. He didn’t press further, not wanting to seem pushy, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

Then there were the texts. Every time they were together, Y/N seemed to be checking her phone, typing quickly before locking the screen and setting it aside. She never let him see who she was messaging, and when he casually asked if everything was okay, she’d brush it off.

"Yeah, all good. Just a friend going through something," she had said once, her eyes darting away as if she couldn’t meet his gaze.

But the real moment that had started gnawing at him happened the previous weekend. Lando had invited Y/N to one of his races, excited to have her there with him. She’d always been supportive, her energy infectious, but this time, she’d been oddly quiet. When he asked if everything was alright, she just smiled tightly and said she was tired. But after the race, instead of joining him for drinks with the team, she had left abruptly.

"I’ve got to go, Lando. Something’s come up. I’ll explain later, okay?" Her voice had been apologetic, but her eyes… something about them seemed conflicted, like there was something she wasn’t telling him.

He didn’t know why, but in that moment, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was someone else. Was she hiding something from him? Maybe she was seeing someone behind his back, someone she wasn’t ready to tell him about. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask her directly.

Instead, Lando had chosen to observe, watching her carefully over the next few weeks. The phone calls, the quick glances at her screen, the random moments of detachment—it all added up. But every time he was about to say something, the words got stuck in his throat. What if he was wrong? What if she wasn’t cheating, and he was just overthinking everything?

Yet the doubts remained. He found himself scrolling through their old texts late at night, trying to pinpoint when the change had started. He remembered how things used to be—how open and carefree Y/N had been with him. But lately, it felt like there was a wall between them, one she wasn’t letting him break through.

And then, there was that one time she came over to his apartment, looking tired and worn out. She had barely spoken, her eyes heavy with something she wouldn’t share. He had asked her if she wanted to talk, but she had only shaken her head.

"I’m fine, Lando. Just a lot going on."

"Is it work?" he had asked, gently pushing, hoping to understand what was weighing her down.

"It’s… complicated," she had murmured, avoiding his gaze.

Lando hadn’t said anything more that night, but the silence between them had been louder than any words could have been. He had held her close, but even then, she had felt far away.

Now, as he sat alone in his apartment, his mind spinning with unanswered questions, Lando couldn’t help but wonder: was Y/N hiding something from him? Or was it something bigger—something she was afraid to tell him?

Either way, he knew he couldn’t keep pretending everything was normal. Not when it felt like he was losing her, piece by piece.

time skip

Lando strolled through the supermarket aisles, humming softly to himself as he checked items off his shopping list. It was a rare day off, and he decided to take care of some errands. He rounded the corner into the cereal aisle when a small, energetic blur collided with his legs.

"Oh, sorry!" Lando exclaimed, looking down to see a young boy, probably around five years old, grinning up at him.

"It's okay, mister!" the boy chirped. "I was just trying to find the cereal with the marshmallows. Do you know where it is?"

Lando chuckled, kneeling down to the boy's level. "I think it’s a couple of shelves down. What's your name, buddy?"

"I'm Ethan!" the boy said proudly. "What's yours?"

"Lando. Nice to meet you, Ethan," Lando replied, ruffling the boy's hair.

Ethan's eyes widened with excitement. "Like the race car driver?"

Lando laughed. "Exactly like the race car driver."

Ethan's eyes sparkled with wonder. "Wow! My mummy loves race cars! She watches them all the time."

Lando smiled, charmed by the boy's enthusiasm. "Your mum has good taste. Speaking of which, where is she? Shouldn't she be keeping an eye on you?"

Ethan pointed towards the end of the aisle. "She's over there! Mummy! Mummy!"

Lando turned his head in the direction Ethan was pointing, his heart skipping a beat as he saw Y/N standing at the end of the aisle, a look of shock and surprise on her face. She quickly made her way over, her eyes wide with a mixture of emotions.

"Lan?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Y/N, uh baby," Lando replied, equally stunned. "I didn't know… I mean, Ethan is your…?"

Y/N nodded, kneeling down to scoop Ethan into her arms. "Yeah, ummm this is my son, Ethan."

Ethan beamed, oblivious to the tension in the air. "Mummy, this is Lando! He's the race car driver!"

Y/N managed a weak smile. "I know, sweetheart. Why don't you go pick out the cereal you wanted?"

Ethan nodded eagerly and ran off, leaving Lando and Y/N standing there, an awkward silence hanging between them.

"Why didn't you tell me, Y/N?" Lando asked softly, his eyes searching hers.

Lando stood frozen, Y/N’s words echoing in his mind.

“I have a son.”

The bustling supermarket seemed to fade into the background, the soft hum of conversations and the clinking of shopping carts drowned out by the weight of her confession. Y/N stood before him, her hands trembling slightly as she held onto the shopping basket, her eyes wide and filled with fear, as though she was bracing herself for his reaction.

Lando blinked, trying to process the information. “You… you have a son?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with disbelief.

Y/N nodded, biting her lip, and that was when her composure began to crack. Her eyes welled up, her breath hitching in her chest as the emotions she had tried so hard to suppress finally surfaced. "Lando, I didn’t know how to tell you. I was so scared you’d leave if you knew. I’ve been hiding it, and I’m so sorry. I—"

Her words choked off as tears streamed down her face. She dropped the basket, her hands covering her face as she sobbed, right there in the middle of the cereal aisle.

“I didn’t want you to think I was hiding it because I don’t trust you, it’s just… Ethan is my whole life. His father was—he was awful, and I didn’t know how to protect us. I’m so sorry, Lando, I should’ve told you sooner—”

But before she could finish, Lando was there, dropping everything as he closed the space between them. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, pulling her into his chest as her body shook with sobs.

“Hey, hey,” Lando whispered, his voice soft and soothing. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Y/N.”

Y/N clung to him, burying her face in his chest, her tears soaking through his shirt. "I'm so sorry," she cried, her words muffled against him. "I didn’t want to lose you. I was so scared."

Lando tightened his embrace, his hand gently stroking the back of her head. "You’re not losing me. You could never lose me."

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at her tear-streaked face. He cupped her cheeks in his hands, his thumbs wiping away the tears that continued to fall. “I wish you’d told me earlier, but I get it. I get why you were scared. But I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. You and Ethan—you’re part of my life now. I want to be here for both of you.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes wide with disbelief and hope. "You really mean that?"

Lando nodded, his voice steady and full of conviction. "I do. I love you, and if Ethan’s a part of your life, then he’s a part of mine too."

Fresh tears filled her eyes, but this time they weren’t from fear or sadness. They were from relief, from the overwhelming realization that she wasn’t alone anymore. "Lando… I don’t even know what to say."

“You don’t have to say anything. Just… trust me, okay? We’ll figure this out together.” He pulled her back into his arms, holding her tightly as her breathing slowly steadied, her sobs turning into soft sniffles.

In that moment, surrounded by the quiet chaos of the supermarket, Lando knew that nothing else mattered. Not the people passing by, not the curious glances from other shoppers. All that mattered was Y/N and the promise he had made—to be there for her, to be there for Ethan, no matter what.

And as he held her, he realized that this was what love was about. Not just the good moments, but the hard ones too—the moments where you drop everything to be there for the person you love, no questions asked.

At that moment, Ethan came running back with a box of cereal, his face glowing with excitement. "I found it, Mummy! Look!"

Y/N and Lando both laughed, the tension dissipating as they turned their attention to the enthusiastic boy.

"Great choice, Ethan," Lando said, giving him a high-five. "How about we go check out and then grab some ice cream?"

Ethan's eyes lit up. "Yes, please!"

As they made their way to the checkout, Lando glanced at Y/N, his heart swelling with love and commitment. He knew that their journey together wouldn't always be easy, but he was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. For Y/N, for Ethan, and for the family they were about to become.

--- extra scene p.s.a - abusive partner ----

As the sun began to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the park, Ethan ran ahead to the playground, his laughter filling the air. Lando and Y/N watched him for a moment, their hands intertwined as they sat on a nearby bench.

"He's really something," Lando said softly, a smile playing on his lips.

Y/N nodded, her eyes fixed on Ethan. "He is. He's my whole world."

Lando glanced at her, squeezing her hand gently. "Y/N, can we take a walk? There's something I want to talk to you about."

Y/N looked at him, a hint of worry in her eyes, but she nodded. "Sure, Lando."

They stood up and began to walk along the path that circled the playground, the sounds of children playing fading into the background.

"Y/N," Lando began hesitantly, "I want to understand more about Ethan's father. About what you went through. But only if you're ready to talk about it."

Y/N took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around Lando's. "It's… it's not easy to talk about. But you deserve to know."

She paused, collecting her thoughts as they walked. "Ethan's father, Mark, was… he was charming at first. But it didn't take long for his true colors to show. He was controlling, manipulative, and it only got worse over time."

Lando's grip on her hand tightened in silent support as she continued. "He would get angry over the smallest things, and his anger… it was terrifying. He hurt me, Lando. Physically, emotionally. I stayed because I thought I could change him, that things would get better. But they never did."

Y/N's voice broke, and she wiped away a tear that had escaped. "When I found out I was pregnant with Ethan, I knew I had to leave. I couldn't let him grow up in that environment. I was scared, but I knew it was the right thing to do."

Lando stopped walking, turning to face her. "Y/N, I can't even begin to imagine how hard that must have been for you. You're so strong."

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face now. "I don't feel strong, Lando. I felt broken and alone. But I had to protect Ethan. I had to give him a chance at a better life."

Lando pulled her into a tight embrace, his own eyes glistening with tears. "You did the right thing. And you're not alone anymore. You have me, and I'll be here for both of you. Always."

Y/N sobbed against his chest, the weight of her past finally lifting as she felt the warmth of his love and support. "Thank you, Lando. Thank you for being here, for understanding."

He kissed the top of her head, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you, Y/N. And I love Ethan. We'll make this work, I promise."

They stood there for a long moment, wrapped in each other's arms, the world around them fading away. When they finally pulled back, Lando gently wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"Let's go back to Ethan," he said softly. "He's probably wondering where we went."

Y/N nodded, a small but genuine smile forming on her lips. "Yeah, let's go."

As they walked back to the playground, hand in hand, Y/N felt a sense of hope and peace that she hadn't felt in a long time. She knew that the road ahead wouldn't be easy, but with Lando by her side, she was ready to face whatever challenges came their way.

[missarchive]

american jesus³ ☆

spencer reid

part one part two part three part four

summary; The delicate veil of secrecy is torn, unraveling a truth neither were prepared to face.

A fleeting mistake reveals their intertwined worlds, forcing them to confront the forbidden desire that binds them. Love and restraint wage a quiet war, their connection teetering on the edge of discovery, threatening to unravel everything they’ve built.

cw; angst, spencer yells at the reader, age gap, sugar daddy/baby dynamics, big big feelings = big big argument, lots and lots of yearning, student/teacher relationship (ezra and aria who?) no smut in this part (i know, disappointing), you'll have to wait for part 4 ;)

an; as always, thank you for taking the time to read my work, i hope you all enjoy. please consider leaving feedback in the form of a comment or an ask if you did enjoy, i always love hearing from you <3

“Can’t believe how lucky I am,” Spencer murmurs, his voice low and steady, almost like he’s thinking out loud. He’s not saying anything groundbreaking, just a simple truth, but you can feel the sincerity in every word.

You’re lying next to him, the warmth of his body pressing gently against yours, the world outside his apartment fading away. There’s no rush, no urgency. It’s just you and Spencer, the quiet hum of the city muted by the walls of the apartment. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your arm, the touch both soothing and reassuring, like a silent promise.

You turn your head slightly to look at him, catching his gaze, and his eyes soften when they meet yours. “Lucky?” you ask, a small smile playing on your lips. “Why’s that?”

He shrugs, his expression relaxed, but there’s something in his eyes that you can’t quite place—something that makes your chest tighten in a good way. “I don’t know. You’re... everything. You just get me, you know? You always know when I’m overthinking or when I need a minute, and you’re there without making a big deal out of it.”

You chuckle softly, rolling onto your side to face him more fully. “You make it sound like I’m some kind of mind reader.”

“I don’t know how you do it,” he continues, his hand resting lightly on your hip now, fingers gently tracing along your skin. “You’re so... intuitive. So much more than I ever expected.”

You’re not sure why, but something about the way he says it makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world he could say that to. It feels real—genuine, even. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you say, your voice quieter now, the smile still lingering on your lips.

Spencer laughs softly, his fingers brushing over your hair. “I don’t know about that,” he says, though the affection in his voice is undeniable. “But I’m definitely glad you’re here. Glad it’s... us.”

“Me too,” you whisper back, settling a little closer to him, resting your head against his chest. It’s easy, this thing between you. Comfortable in a way that doesn’t need to be overanalysed or explained. You both know where you stand, and that’s enough.

He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his voice barely above a whisper. “I really like being with you. More than I can say.”

You close your eyes, letting the simple words wash over you, content in the quiet of the moment. The world outside can wait. Here, with him, everything feels just right.

So as you crossed the campus the next morning, your bag tucked tightly against your side like a fragile secret, you couldn’t help but think of him. The air was crisp, carrying the faint tang of autumn, and the hum of the campus buzzed around you. Laughter echoed from a nearby bench, the scrape of skateboard wheels over concrete punctuating the morning stillness. It was a world in motion, but for you, each step felt heavier, each breath tighter.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, jolting you from your spiralling thoughts. A welcome distraction. You stepped into the shadow of a quiet corner in the quad, your back leaning against the cool brick of a building as you pulled it out. The message preview glowed softly on the screen, taunting you with its simplicity. Just a few words, but enough to make your stomach twist. You hesitated, the pad of your thumb hovering over the notification, before swiping it open.

@ thefourthdoctor; Big day today, right? How's it going so far?

You smiled to yourself. He had a way of grounding you, even when the chaos of life seemed overwhelming. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as you typed back quickly.

@ laceandliterature; Surviving so far. One more class. Supposedly the professor is a genius or something.

@ thefourthdoctor; Genius professors are overrated. Bet you'll end up teaching them something.

You let out a soft laugh, earning a curious glance from the student beside you. You put your phone away as the chatter in the room began to quiet. The door at the front of the classroom opened, and a tall, slightly disheveled man stepped in.

"Good afternoon," he began, his voice smooth and steady, carrying just enough authority to quiet the murmur of the room. "My name is Dr. Spencer Reid, and I’ll be your professor for this semester."

A cold shiver ran through you, the words hitting you like a punch to the gut. For a moment, your brain refused to process them, to connect the dots. It was like a veil had dropped over the classroom, the world outside of him fading into a muffled blur. He was your Spencer—your secret, your late-night confidant, the person who had slowly crept into your thoughts, into your heart.

And now, as you looked up, there he was. Dr. Spencer Reid. The very thought of it made you freeze.

The world around you seemed to tilt, gravity losing its hold, as if the earth had somehow shifted beneath your feet. The air in the room thickened, and your pulse hammered in your ears. You could feel every eye in the room, but all you could focus on was him—on the way his gaze flickered over the crowd, on the moment he paused as if feeling your presence before his eyes locked onto yours.

It couldn’t be. This couldn’t be happening.

Recognition flashed in his eyes, swift and sharp like a lightning strike, followed by something darker—something that mirrored the panic rising in your chest. His steps faltered, a momentary loss of composure. For an agonizing second, he looked like he might trip over his own feet, his hand reaching instinctively to grip the edge of the podium, as though it were the only thing keeping him from falling apart. His lips parted, as if he meant to speak, but the words didn’t come.

The room around you blurred, every sound drowned out by the rushing roar of your heart, by the sudden weight of the truth crashing down on you. Dr. Spencer Reid, the man you had been talking to for weeks, the one you had come to trust with pieces of yourself you’d never shared with anyone, was standing in front of you—your professor. The line between you had just dissolved into nothing, and the implications hit you all at once.

His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were filled with something raw and unsettled—confusion, maybe even disbelief, a look that mirrored the one you felt inside. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. You were so close to something, to something more, to a feeling you’d been fighting to define, but now… now it all felt tainted. The connection you had with him was something that had blossomed in the quiet, the secrecy, and now it felt so exposed, so fragile, hanging on the edge of something you couldn’t control.

You watched him struggle to regain his composure. His face was flushed, his brow furrowed with tension, but there was something else beneath it—something deep, something that had been there all along, though you hadn’t dared to name it. The reality of the situation hit you with crushing force: the late-night conversations, the casual affection, the way he made you feel seen and heard… It had all been real. But so was this.

He opened his mouth again, but it wasn’t to speak to you—not directly. He cleared his throat, pulling himself together with shaky breath, and in that instant, you knew that everything had changed. He was no longer the man you had been texting, the one who had shared things with you that felt impossible to tell anyone else. No. Now, he was your professor, the person whose authority you were supposed to respect, the person who had the power to affect your future in ways you hadn’t even considered.

You tried to steady your racing thoughts, but the reality of what was happening, what had just happened, pressed down on you. This wasn’t just an awkward surprise. This was a violation of all the boundaries you thought you could keep between your personal life and the rest of the world. You felt your chest tighten as the dread crept in.

You had been so close. So close to something real, something that had started to feel like it could actually be more than just a fleeting connection. But now? Now, you were staring into the abyss of what could only be a mess. His eyes kept flicking to you, but he didn’t speak directly to you again. Instead, he turned his attention back to the class, clearing his throat one more time before continuing, his voice more composed but still carrying an undercurrent of something strained.

"...I’ll be teaching cognitive development this semester," he said, his tone firm but not quite steady. "It’s a challenging course, but I’m confident you’ll all be able to keep up."

His words felt hollow, detached, as though he were going through the motions, but every syllable felt like an echo of everything you could no longer ignore.

You stayed rooted in your seat, a cold heaviness settling over you, your heart racing, your mind reeling. The world had just shifted, and you weren’t sure how to catch your breath.

"Uh," he stammered, his voice betraying a crack of unsteadiness. "As I said, I’m Dr. Reid. I, uh, specialise in behavioural psychology and philosophy. If you need anything, my office hours are listed in the syllabus, which you should have received by email."

He spoke too quickly, the words tumbling out like they might shield him from the reality of the moment. His hands gripped the podium tightly, and though his eyes swept over the room, you could tell he was avoiding looking directly at you. His composure was a fragile thing, threatening to crumble with every second that passed.

Your stomach churned as the implications of this impossible situation sank in. The air in the room felt stifling now, too warm, too heavy. You were hyperaware of him—of the way he stood just a little too rigidly, the faint flush creeping up his neck, the way his voice had wavered when he said anything.

This was the man who had been your confidant, the one who made you feel seen in a way no one else had. And now, he was standing in front of you, holding a position of authority that made every shared moment, every word exchanged, a dangerous secret.

He risked another fleeting glance in your direction, his expression unreadable. The air between you felt charged, like the space before a storm, filled with things left unsaid and too many emotions packed into too little time.

Your mind raced, a tangled mess of shock, dread, and something heartbreakingly close to longing. How could this possibly work? Could it even work at all?

Spencer turned back to his papers, his shoulders tight as he forced himself to continue. But the damage was done. The moment had shattered the fragile wall between your two worlds, and now you were left to navigate the wreckage.

And now, he was standing here, just feet away, your professor.

You could still feel his eyes on you, even when he wasn’t looking directly your way. You knew he felt it too—the electricity, the undeniable tension.

As the class dragged on, each word Spencer spoke felt like it was coming from miles away. You couldn’t focus, couldn’t absorb anything except the overwhelming weight of the truth. Dr. Spencer Reid. The realization kept replaying in your mind like a broken record, the echo of it rattling your thoughts until everything else faded into white noise. You tried to look at him objectively, tried to see the professor in front of you, but all you saw was the man who had become your secret, your late-night refuge. The man who, just hours ago, you had felt yourself slipping closer to, only to have the ground ripped out from under you.

When the lecture finally ended, the final bell a dull thud in your chest, you stayed in your seat for a beat too long, uncertain. The others filed out, chattering and laughing, their voices lost to you as if you were underwater. You debated, internally torn between confronting him—demanding answers—or simply running the other way and never looking back.

But before you could decide, before you could move, you caught his eye. Just for a second. It was brief, fleeting, but in that shared glance, you saw it—the acknowledgment, the silent recognition that you were both trapped in the same web of confusion and unspoken desire. His gaze held something more: a question, a plea, a silent call for understanding. You weren’t sure which one it was, but you felt it.

Neither of you said a word, but the air between you grew thick with it, with everything you weren’t saying. It hung there, heavy and suffocating, the invisible barrier that now separated you. You wanted to speak, to ask him what this meant, to demand the answers that both of you seemed too afraid to say aloud. But you didn’t. And neither did he.

This was going to complicate everything.

The days after that first class passed in a blur. The initial shock had dulled, but it had left behind an uneasy tension, a strange sort of tightness in the air between you and Spencer. Something had shifted between you both, but neither of you knew how to handle it, how to navigate the mess of emotions and risks.

In lectures, Spencer kept his gaze trained firmly ahead, rarely letting it wander to your corner of the room. When he did glance in your direction, it was quick, as if he feared even that brief moment of connection might undo him. The smooth flow of his lecture, once so natural, now had a stutter to it when you raised your hand, your voice, anything. The usual rhythm was broken, disrupted by the constant awareness of each other. Every word you spoke seemed to have the weight of a thousand unspoken things behind it, like every sentence was a landmine that could blow everything apart.

Outside of class, things were no easier. The messages between you and Spencer, once frequent and filled with ease, had become painfully measured. You had both learned to carefully choose your words, as if a wrong one could expose everything—the feelings you were hiding, the longing you couldn’t keep at bay, the dangers that now clung to every thought and touch. Every interaction felt like it was wrapped in a shroud of what ifs—what if someone found out? What if this all fell apart? What if it was too late?

But despite the careful distance, despite the impossible situation you found yourselves in, you couldn’t stay away. There was something magnetic between you, a pull that neither of you could resist. Each encounter, each brief exchange, only made it worse, only made you want him more.

And yet, you couldn’t have him. Not like this. Not with the risk of everything unraveling in an instant. But every part of you screamed that you couldn’t walk away, that you couldn’t let go of the thing that had begun to feel so real. And every part of him seemed to feel the same way.

There’s something almost sacred in the way he moves, the way he speaks, each word falling from his lips like it’s meant only for you, like you’re the only one who can truly hear it. You can't help but trace every line of his face, from the sharp curve of his jaw to the faint scrunch of his brow when he's lost in thought. His every gesture seems like poetry, something you could study for hours, even days.

You idolise him in a way that feels almost holy, a quiet reverence in the way you let your gaze linger on him, not just as your professor, but as someone untouchable. Every time his eyes sweep the room, you hold your breath, hoping, praying that maybe this time, they’ll land on you—just you. But they never do.

And still, you can’t stop. He’s your obsession, your quiet prayer whispered to the stars. You don’t just listen to him; you drink in every syllable, every inflection of his voice, as if his words are the only truth worth knowing. And in those moments, the world falls away, leaving only you and him—alone, even if you’re not.

It started in whispers, in moments so small they were almost imperceptible. A lingering glance after class that held for just a second too long. The way his fingers brushed yours when he handed back a graded paper, the touch fleeting but electric. You told yourself these gestures didn’t matter, that they were coincidences or figments of your imagination. But you knew better. You felt it in your chest, in the way your breath caught each time his eyes met yours and lingered.

Then one evening, as you packed up your notebook and pens after a lecture, his voice stopped you mid-motion.

“Y/N,” he said softly, careful not to draw the attention of the few students still milling about. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

You froze, your heart skipping, then nodding as you tried to keep your face neutral. His eyes darted around the room, scanning for onlookers, before he gestured toward the hallway.

The atmosphere in Spencer’s office was tense, a quiet unease pressing down on both of you. The faint hum of the overhead light mixed with the distant sounds of the campus outside, but neither did much to distract from the gravity of the conversation.

Spencer sat behind his desk, his fingers lightly drumming against the edge as he stared at the scattered papers in front of him. His gaze was unfocused, the weight of what he needed to say pulling at his normally composed demeanor. You leaned against the closed door, arms crossed, your posture guarded.

“This isn’t just risky,” he said after a long silence, his voice steady but low. He glanced up at you, his eyes serious. “If anyone finds out, it could ruin both of us.”

You straightened, arms dropping to your sides. “I know the risks, Spencer. But walking away isn’t an option for me, and I don’t think it is for you either.”

He leaned back in his chair, letting out a quiet sigh. “It’s not. But that means we have to be careful—really careful. We need rules. Boundaries. Something to protect us.”

You stepped closer to his desk, pulling a chair to sit across from him. “Okay,” you said, keeping your voice even. “Let’s figure it out. What’s non-negotiable?”

He hesitated, his fingers lacing together as he thought. “First, no public displays of affection. Not even subtle things. On campus, we have to act like nothing’s going on. No lingering looks, no casual touches—nothing.”

“Agreed,” you said, though the thought of keeping that distance stung. “We can’t give anyone a reason to suspect us.”

“And no communication about us through email or official channels,” he added. “If we need to talk, it has to be in person or through something secure.”

You nodded. “There are private apps we could use, encrypted ones. Only for emergencies, though. No casual texting.”

The practicality of it all settled over you both, the careful parameters of what you could and couldn’t do drawing a stark line around the relationship.

Spencer looked at you, his expression softer now, though no less serious. “If at any point this feels like too much—if it starts to put pressure on your life or your future—you have to tell me. I don’t want you to feel trapped in this.”

You met his gaze, holding it firmly. “That goes both ways. If you start to feel like this is putting your career in jeopardy, you need to tell me.”

He nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Deal.”

The conversation felt clinical, like drawing up a contract, but it was necessary. The risks weren’t hypothetical—they were real, and you both knew what was at stake.

“Do you think this will work?” you asked after a pause, your voice quieter now.

Spencer didn’t answer right away. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk as he looked at you. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I know I’m willing to try. For you.”

His honesty grounded you, cutting through the uncertainty. “Then we’ll make it work,” you said simply.

You found ways to navigate the tightrope of your relationship, though every step felt like it could be the one that sent you both tumbling into ruin.

You started meeting in places where no one would recognise you. A quiet café on the outskirts of town. A secluded bench in the park. The conversations were tentative at first, but the connection between you refused to fade.

One night, as the rain pattered softly against the windows of his apartment, you found yourself curled up on his couch, your head resting on his shoulder.

“You know this is insane, right,” he muttered, though his arm tightened around you.

“Probably,” you admitted, tilting your head to look up at him. “But doesn’t it feel worth it?”

His gaze lingered on yours, conflicted but warm. “It does,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your forehead. “And that’s what scares me.”

The line between you and Spencer was razor-thin, a fragile, trembling thread neither of you dared to define. It felt like standing on the edge of a precipice, the dizzying height both thrilling and terrifying. You both knew the fall was inevitable, yet neither of you could step away. Instead, you lingered there, savouring the tension in those fleeting moments before gravity claimed you.

One late afternoon, as the sun dipped low and painted the campus in gold and shadow, you found yourself outside his office door. The brass plaque bearing his name gleamed faintly, a stark reminder of the boundaries you were about to cross. Your pulse quickened as you raised a hand and knocked softly, the sound barely louder than your breath.

“Come in,” he called, his voice muffled, distracted.

You slipped inside, closing the door behind you with a quiet click. Spencer sat hunched over his desk, papers sprawled across its surface like a chaotic map of his thoughts. His tie hung loose around his neck, and his hair fell untamed over his forehead, catching the fading light.

When he looked up and saw you, the tired lines of his face softened. His lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile, one that chased away some of the tension in his shoulders. “You’re here,” he said, his voice warmer now, but still tinged with a nervous edge. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I couldn’t stay away,” you admitted, stepping closer. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

He stood slowly, his movements hesitant as though torn between his delight at seeing you and the weight of the risks that lingered between you. “I’ve been thinking about you too,” he confessed, his hand moving to the back of his neck. “But this... it’s complicated.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” you replied, your voice steady but gentle.

He shook his head with a quiet laugh, though it lacked humor. “You make it sound so simple.” His gaze dropped to the floor before returning to you, his expression earnest. “I’m glad you’re here—I always am—but... we have to be careful.”

“I know,” you said, your tone softer now. “But I needed to see you.”

He exhaled, taking a step toward you, the space between you narrowing. “This is dangerous,” he said, though the warmth in his eyes betrayed the firmness of his words. “For both of us. You understand that, right?”

“Yes,” you replied, your gaze locking with his. “I understand. But that doesn’t change how I feel.”

The honesty of your words hung in the air, heavier than the silence that followed. Spencer’s breath hitched, and he hesitated for a moment before closing the remaining distance between you.

His hands came to rest gently on your waist, his touch light but steady, as if testing the limits of how close he could let himself be. “You make it impossible to think straight,” he murmured, a faint, self-deprecating smile on his lips.

“Then don’t think,” you whispered, your hand rising to cup his face. Your thumb brushed against the stubble along his jaw, the touch grounding. “Just let yourself feel, Spencer.”

His resolve faltered, and after a brief, wavering pause, he gave in. His lips met yours in a kiss that was both tender and urgent, as though trying to convey everything he couldn’t say aloud.

When you pulled back, your breaths mingled in the space between you, your foreheads resting together. His hands tightened slightly on your waist, reluctant to let you go.

“This is reckless,” he murmured, though his tone lacked any real conviction.

“Then tell me to leave,” you said softly, challenging him with your eyes. “If you really believe this is a mistake, say it, and I will.”

Spencer’s silence stretched, his gaze searching yours for an answer he couldn’t bring himself to speak. Then, instead of pushing you away, he leaned in, capturing your lips in another kiss—slower this time, more deliberate.

In that moment, the rest of the world faded away. It didn’t matter that this was risky or complicated. All that mattered was the way his arms felt around you, and the way he whispered your name like it was the only thing tethering him to the ground.

But even as you clung to him, the weight of reality loomed just beyond the door. You both knew the balance wouldn’t hold forever. Every stolen moment brought you closer to the edge, but neither of you was ready to let go. Not yet.

The weeks that followed were nothing short of surreal, a delicate haze of stolen moments and whispered confessions that felt like they existed outside of time. For a brief, golden sliver of your lives, the rest of the world melted away. The tension and danger that had once defined your relationship softened, and in its place grew something that felt achingly close to normal—a fleeting illusion of safety in a house of cards.

During the day, Spencer was every bit the professor. His lectures were sharp, his insights unmatched, and his demeanour coolly professional. He kept his distance, his gaze skimming over you with the same neutrality he granted every student. But in the evenings, when the classroom emptied and the cloak of twilight fell over the city, those carefully maintained facades slipped away.

You found solace in the quiet intimacy of those stolen hours, the shared secret between you and Spencer feeling like a delicate, shimmering bubble that shielded you from the outside world—if only for a little while. His apartment, modest and unassuming, became your sanctuary. Under the cover of darkness, you would arrive, greeted by the soft, golden glow of a desk lamp that bathed the room in warmth. The light cast long, flickering shadows across the walls, giving the space an almost dreamlike quality.

He’d sit at his desk, his slender fingers skimming over pages of handwritten notes or flipping through the well-worn pages of a book. Papers were scattered in controlled chaos before him, but his focus would inevitably drift to you. Meanwhile, you lounged on his worn, olive-green couch, the fabric soft from years of use, a book resting in your hands. The faint scent of old paper mingled with the subtle aroma of his cologne, wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

One evening, the air felt particularly still, broken only by the soft scratch of his pen against paper and the occasional rustle of pages as you turned them. The tension between you wasn’t heavy—it was something quieter, more tender, like the gentle pull of a tide.

“I’m starting to think you’re only here to distract me,” he teased, his voice breaking the silence. His eyes flicked up from his notes, catching yours across the room. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, his expression a perfect blend of amusement and affection.

You looked up from your book, tilting your head with a playful grin. “Maybe I am,” you replied, your tone light but laced with an unmistakable warmth. “But you don’t seem to mind.”

He leaned back in his chair, the smirk softening into something more vulnerable, more honest. “I don’t,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, carrying a sincerity that made your chest tighten. His gaze lingered on you, filled with a kind of unspoken gratitude, as though you were the one thing anchoring him amidst the chaos of his thoughts.

The moment stretched between you, delicate and unbroken, like the fragile stillness before a storm. In that space, with only the golden lamplight and the quiet hum of shared presence, the world outside faded away.

Some nights, you’d find yourselves in his small, modest kitchen, an intimate space that seemed to wrap around you like a cocoon. The countertops were cluttered with mismatched utensils and a few carefully chosen cookbooks, their spines cracked from frequent use. The narrow layout forced you close, your movements effortlessly weaving around each other, as though this was a dance you’d been perfecting for years.

You’d stand at the counter, chopping vegetables with a focus that was occasionally interrupted by his amused glances. Meanwhile, he’d hover over the stove, stirring something fragrant and humming softly under his breath. The warm, savoury scent of simmering herbs and spices filled the air, mingling with the faint crackle of oil in the pan.

“Reid, you’re a genius, not a chef,” you teased, pausing to nudge him gently with your elbow. The touch was casual, yet the closeness sent a subtle thrill through you.

Without missing a beat, he glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his lips curving into a playful smirk. “I think genius qualifies me for multitasking,” he retorted, his tone light and laced with dry humor.

The way he spoke, so earnest yet teasing, made you laugh—an easy, carefree sound that filled the small space. His smile widened at the sound, the fondness in his expression unmistakable. He turned back to the stove, stirring the pot with careful precision, as though the act of cooking together was as much about the process as the meal itself.

Occasionally, his arm would brush against yours, the fleeting contact as natural as it was electric. He’d reach over you to grab a spice jar, murmuring an absent “Excuse me,” though his hand would linger just a moment too long against yours.

He told you stories about the BAU, his voice animated as he recounted Morgan’s relentless pranks or Garcia’s exuberance. You’d laugh until tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, your sides aching from the joy of it.

“This feels too good to be true,” you murmured one night, leaning against the counter as you watched him stir a pot of pasta.

“It does,” he replied, glancing at you with a small, almost shy smile that made your chest tighten. “But I don’t want to think about that right now. I just want to enjoy this.”

And you did. You savoured the moments as though they might slip through your fingers at any moment. But beneath the surface, there was always a quiet awareness—a faint, unspoken dread. You both knew this fragile peace couldn’t last forever. The bubble you lived in was too perfect, too delicate, and the outside world was never far away.

The nights were the best, the moments you cherished most. Wrapped in his arms, the world outside ceased to exist. Time itself seemed to slow down, fading into the background as everything else fell away. The warmth of his skin against yours was enough to make the chaos of the day disappear. He’d trace lazy patterns across your back or along your arms, the soft rhythm of his touch sending a sense of peace through you, grounding you in the present moment. His voice would hum softly, a low murmur that carried the oddest mix of comfort and distraction. He’d recite obscure facts with the same earnestness he applied to everything else, his words a strange lullaby that somehow felt both educational and intimate.

“Did you know that octopuses have three hearts?” he said one evening, his body pressed close to yours, limbs tangled together like the quietest dance. His voice was warm, the amusement in it making your pulse quicken slightly.

You laughed softly, feeling the slight vibration of his chest against your cheek. You buried your face against his skin, closing your eyes for a moment to soak in the sense of peace that only seemed to exist here, with him. “And here I thought you didn’t have one at all,” you teased, a playful smirk pulling at your lips.

His fingers brushed against your cheek, a soft, almost reverent touch that stilled your teasing. His expression shifted, becoming something quieter, something that caught you off guard. The warmth of his breath against your skin softened, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade.

“I do,” he whispered, the words a soft confession, barely audible but filled with weight. “And it’s yours.”

The words hung in the air, more potent than anything he had said before. The way he said them, so sure, so vulnerable, made your heart skip a beat. You wanted to respond, but the truth was—there was nothing to say. The vulnerability in his voice, the sincerity in his touch, said everything you needed to know.

The bubble burst on an otherwise ordinary evening. You’d fallen into an easy rhythm with Spencer, your shared secret giving you a sense of intimacy that felt almost unbreakable. But the thing about bubbles is that they’re fragile, no matter how much you want them to last.

It started with a message.

Spencer had been quiet all day, his usual goodnight text conspicuously absent the night before. When you finally worked up the courage to check your phone, there it was.

@ thefourthdoctor; We need to talk. Can you come over?

Your heart sank as you read the words. “We need to talk” was never a good sign.

The walk to his apartment felt longer than usual, your mind racing with all the possibilities of what he might say. By the time you arrived, your hands were trembling as you knocked on the door.

He opened it quickly, stepping aside to let you in without a word. His expression was tense, his usually warm eyes clouded with something you couldn’t quite place.

“What’s going on?” you asked, your voice barely steady.

He closed the door, running a hand through his hair. “Something happened,” he said, his tone clipped.

The weight of his words settled heavily in your chest. “What do you mean? Did someone—”

“Someone knows,” he interrupted, his voice sharp. “Or at least, someone suspects.”

You blinked, your stomach twisting. “How? Who?”

“I don’t know who,” he said, pacing the small living room. “But today, a coworker asked me why I’ve been acting distracted. He didn’t say anything outright, but I could tell he’s suspicious. And if he’s suspicious, it’s only a matter of time before someone else starts asking questions.”

You felt the blood drain from your face. “What did you say to him?”

“I brushed it off,” he said, his voice strained. “But this isn’t just about the team. If the school finds out…” He trailed off, his hands clenched into fists.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating.

“So, what are you saying?” you finally asked, your voice trembling.

He stopped pacing, his eyes locking onto yours. “I’m saying we need to stop this. Whatever this is, it’s not worth the risk.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “Not worth the risk?” you repeated, your voice rising. “Is that all this is to you? A risk?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said quickly, but the damage was done.

“Then what did you mean, Spencer?” you demanded, your voice cracking. “Because it sounds a lot like you’re saying I’m not worth it.”

His jaw tightened, and he looked away, his silence louder than any words he could have said.

“Unbelievable,” you said, shaking your head. “I thought—” Your voice broke, and you had to swallow hard before continuing. “I thought this meant something to you.”

“It does,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “You mean something to me. But this—us—it’s reckless. It’s dangerous. And if we keep going, we’re both going to get hurt.”

“So, what? You’re just giving up?” you asked, tears stinging your eyes. “You’re walking away because it’s easier than fighting for me?”

“I’m trying to protect you!” he snapped, his voice louder than you’d ever heard it.

“Protect me from what?” you shot back. “From caring about you? From wanting to be with you?”

“From yourself!” he yelled, his words cutting through the air like a knife. “You don’t think things through! You’re impulsive and immature, and you don’t understand the consequences of your actions!”

The room went still, his words hanging heavy between you.

For a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your chest heaving as the weight of his words crushed you. “Is that what you really think of me?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

His face softened for a split second, regret flashing in his eyes, but it wasn’t enough.

“Maybe we should’ve never started this,” he said quietly, the words like a final blow.

You felt something inside you shatter. Without another word, you turned and walked to the door, your movements mechanical as you grabbed your coat.

"I'll write you a check, Spencer," you spat, your voice trembling with anger and hurt. "You can have every cent back, every single dollar you ever gave me. I don’t want it anymore—I don’t want any of it. Not the money, not the memories, not you.”

“Wait,” he called, his voice desperate now. But you didn’t stop.

As the door closed behind you, the tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the hallway as you walked away.

This time, you didn’t look back.

Spencer stood frozen in the middle of his living room, staring at the door you had just slammed shut. The silence in the apartment was deafening, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.

He felt hollow, like the argument had carved out a piece of him and taken it with you when you left. His chest ached, and his hands hung uselessly at his sides, still trembling from the heat of the fight.

Anger flickered in him—not at you, but at himself. The words he’d thrown at you echoed in his mind, sharp and bitter. Impulsive. Immature. Reckless. He had said them to push you away, to make you understand the gravity of the situation. But now they tasted like poison, regret seeping into every corner of his mind.

What have I done?

Spencer ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. He sank onto the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. His mind replayed the look on your face when he had yelled at you—the way your eyes had glistened with unshed tears, the tremble in your voice when you asked if that was what he really thought of you.

He didn’t mean it. Not any of it.

The truth was, you weren’t reckless. You weren’t immature. You were brave in a way he couldn’t comprehend, willing to take risks for what you wanted, for what you believed in. And Spencer admired you for it, even if he couldn’t admit it aloud.

But admiration wasn’t enough to protect you.

That was what haunted him the most. He had been terrified—not of you, but of what your relationship meant, of the potential fallout, the consequences that could ruin both your lives. He thought pushing you away was the right thing to do, the only thing to do. But now, sitting alone in the empty apartment, all he felt was loss.

Spencer’s throat tightened as he leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. He wanted to call you, to apologize, to take it all back. But the rational part of him held him back. You were right to leave, he thought bitterly. I’m no good for you.

Still, the thought of never seeing you again, never hearing your laugh or feeling the warmth of your touch, was unbearable.

The apartment felt colder, emptier, without you in it. Spencer closed his eyes, his heart heavy with the weight of everything he had said and everything he hadn’t.

And for the first time in a long while, he felt utterly, devastatingly alone.

You got me red, white, and blue

Pledging my allegiance to you

Tell me you believe in me too

next part

[starmaidengarden]

since we have masterchief and some details about our boys cooking skills, could i request what will he cook for s/o on their first night date, maybe focus a bit on his cooking process? i would like to see Riddle, Jack, Idia and Sebek (aww i love how they trying best to make wonderful night for their beloved) (〃 ́▽ )

— Riddle : Jack : Idia : Sebek : x gn!reader. no cw/tw. established relationship. dividers: uzmacchiato.

Riddle Rosehearts ༉⋆｡˚

Riddle meticulously plans every detail. Receive a beautiful invitation, tied with a vibrant red ribbon, inviting you to dinner in the Heartslabyul kitchen. Though he feels nervous, he conceals it well—everything must go off without a hitch. When you arrive, he greets you in a crisp apron layered over his dorm uniform, carefully plating each dish.

The table is beautifully arranged with delicate lace napkins, polished cutlery, and a charming vase of red roses as the centerpiece. Riddle shyly but proudly explains each course, and as dinner unfolds, he begins to relax. The tea he brews afterward is nothing short of exquisite, and he wraps up the evening by gently offering you a slice of cake, accompanied by a shy yet genuine smile.

Jack Howl ༉⋆｡˚

Jack invites you to a spot where he trains—secluded, with a firepit and a view of the stars. He’s set up a makeshift grill, and everything smells like spices and smoke. He’s a bit awkward when you arrive, scratching his neck and muttering something like “Hope this is okay for a first date.”

He grills everything himself, making sure your portion is cooked exactly the way you like it. He even lets you help make the foil-wrapped peach cobbler and you both laugh when he gets cinnamon on his nose. After dinner, you sit together on a blanket, talking and watching the stars. He’s quiet but listens intently, occasionally offering small but sincere compliments that hit hard.

Idia Shroud ༉⋆｡˚

Idia was pacing around for hours before you were supposed to arrive. He had spent the day trying not to overthink, but, of course, he overthought everything. He even rehearsed how he would explain the dish—knowing he would get flustered the moment he saw you. The meal? Homemade oyakodon. He added a side of miso soup, and for dessert, a simple bowl of cut fruit with chilled syrup.

As Idia pushed up his sleeves and nervously presented the meal, he avoided eye contact at first. “It’s not fancy or anything… but I wanted to make something that feels warm,” he said. As you both ate, Idia finally began to relax, watching you closely from behind his blue fringe. His usual nervous laughter faded into quiet conversation, and he found himself smiling for real. “You know… I didn’t think I could do something like this," he admitted.

Sebek Zigvolt ༉⋆｡˚

Sebek insists on showcasing his cooking skills. He’s wearing formal attire with a cooking apron. He announces the menu with the seriousness of a knight declaring battle plans. Despite the theatricality, he’s put real care into every step of preparation.

During dinner, he keeps checking to make sure you’re eating enough, nervously watching your every bite. When you compliment the stew, he bursts out with pride—“As expected of the cuisine of Lord Malleus’s homeland!” You end the night with tart and tea, and while his posture is stiff, his eyes soften whenever he looks at you.