#but it just came to my mind and like I said yeah dude this is fire

[aryadelvich]

Here’s a story from this request

Summary : Luigi has a secret crush on you. Both of you attending the same university. When you ask him for help with math, what starts as a simple study session quickly gets spicy !!

Warning : explicite content 🔞🔞

I don’t know why this song feels like Luigi in college.

Others Luigi’s parts not related to this one :

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Luigi stood in the university hall, leaning casually against a wall as his friends joked around. Though he appeared to be listening, his focus shifted the moment he saw you descending the staircase.

His gaze lingered longer than it should have, tracing the determined set of your jaw and the way you clutched a paper tightly in one hand. There was something different about you today—your usual cheerful demeanor had been replaced by a tense, distracted air.

Then your eyes met his.

Caught off guard, Luigi looked away quickly, his pulse quickening.

"Oh, look. It's Y/N," one of his friends said with a teasing grin, just loud enough for you to hear.

As if on cue, the group turned to look at you. Luigi let out a quiet sigh, his jaw tightening. He had noticed you from the very first day of class but hadn't said anything to his friends. And now, they were practically gawking.

You stopped mid-step, offering the group a polite smile. "Hi, guys."

Your gaze flickered briefly to Luigi, and this time, you greeted him with a smile that held just the faintest edge of teasing.

"Hi, Luigi," you said, your tone light.

His throat tightened, and his response came out awkwardly, barely audible. "H-hi Y/n"

You stepped closer, holding out the paper in your hand. "I need help with applied mathematics. You're taking it as a minor, right? And from what I hear, you're pretty good at it."

"Oh... yeah," Luigi stammered, unprepared for your directness.

Before he could offer a proper response, one of his friends cut in, raising a hand dramatically. "I can help you too, Y/N!"

"Yeah, me too," another added, clearly trying to impress you.

Luigi shot them both an annoyed glance. "Back off," he muttered, though his tone remained light enough to pass as joking.

You raised an eyebrow, amusement flashing in your eyes. “I’m gonna choose whoever scored the highest on the last test gets to tutor me."

The group fell into a brief silence, and then the scores started coming in.

"71."

"82."

"89."

"80."

Finally, Luigi spoke, his voice calm and steady. "95."

Your lips curved into a grin. "Well, looks like we have a winner. Luigi, you're my tutor."

The subtle pride in his expression didn't escape you, though he tried to play it cool.

"How about tomorrow at the library?" he offered.

You shook your head. "I need to study tonight—my retake is the day after tomorrow. Your place or mine?"

Luigi froze, your words echoing in his mind. Around him, his friends erupted into laughter, elbowing each other and exchanging smirks.

"M-my room... if that's okay with you," he managed, his voice suddenly tight.

"Perfect," you said with an easy smile. "I'll see you after class, then."

As you turned and walked off, Luigi stared after you, his thoughts racing.

"Dude, did you hear that? She literally said, 'Your place or mine.' That's your chance !" one of his friends teased, slapping him on the shoulder.

Luigi shoots them a sharp look. "Shut up. She just needs help, that's all."

"Sure, sure," another friend says, smirking knowingly.

But Luigi doesn't respond. He's too preoccupied with the thought of spending time with you alone. Ever since you entered his life, you've had a way of unsettling the calm, logical order he's used to.

[7 PM]

Luigi paced nervously in his room, adjusting the books and papers on his desk for what felt like the hundredth time. He smoothed the creases in his shirt, glanced at the clock, and took a steadying breath.

A soft knock at the door snapped him out of his thoughts. He opened it to find you standing there, arms full of notes, a faint smile on your lips.

"Ready for an intense night of applied math?" you joke.

He steps aside to let you in, trying to mask his nervousness. "I hope you're prepared to work hard because I'm a tough teacher," he quips.

You laugh as you take a seat at his desk, spreading out your notes. Luigi watches you discreetly, wondering why your presence alone is enough to make his heart race. He pulled up a chair beside you. He sits next to you and opens a notebook filled with neatly organized notes. His subtle cologne lingers in the air, and you can't help but notice how focused he looks when he starts explaining.

"Alright, show me what's giving you trouble," he says, gesturing to your notes.

You flip to a particularly challenging problem. "This one. Honestly, equations like this make me want to quit. Differential equations are a nightmare."

Luigi chuckles softly. "They seem daunting, but once you understand the logic, it's not so bad. Let's break it down step by step."

He explains with patience, his calm voice guiding you through each line. As complicated as the topic is, his methodical approach makes everything click.

"Oh! I get it now!" you exclaim, your face lighting up. "Why didn't anyone explain it like this before? It's so obvious!"

He grins, clearly proud of your progress. "See? I told you it wasn't as hard as it looked."

You work together for a while, your confidence growing with each solved problem. At one point, as you reach for his notebook, your fingers brush against his. The brief touch makes you pause, and you notice him quickly look away, his ears turning red.

"Sorry," you murmur, pulling your hand back.

"It's... it's nothing," he replies, his voice quiet.

The atmosphere grows heavier as you both become more aware of the growing tension between you.

At one point, your hands brushed as you both reached for the same pen. You pulled back quickly, but not before your gaze met his. A flicker of something passed between you—brief, but undeniable. Luigi looked away again, clearing his throat.

Luigi leaned closer to point out an error in your notes, his shoulder brushing against yours. You froze, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was.

"Here," he murmured, his raspy voice lower now, almost intimate.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, taking in the slight crease in his brow as he concentrated. The sharp lines of his jaw, the faint curl of his hair—it all felt too distracting.

"Got it?" he asked, his tone snapping you out of your thoughts.

"Y-yeah," you stammered, focusing back on the paper.

But even as the night continued, the unspoken tension between you lingered, growing in the quiet spaces between words. Neither of you dared to name it, but it was there—electric and impossible to ignore.

A few minutes later, after tackling another problem, Luigi leans closer to explain a particular detail. His proximity sends a wave of nervous energy through you, but you fight to keep your focus. When his elbow accidentally brushes against the side of your chest, warmth spreads through your body, pooling low in your stomach. 

"Sorry," he murmurs, his voice tinged with embarrassment. 

"It's fine..." you reply softly, your voice barely above a whisper. 

But your concentration falters as your thoughts begin to wander. Your eyes trace the lines of his hands—large and strong, with long, deft fingers. Veins crisscross his forearms, disappearing into the back of his hands, and the way he grips the pen exudes a quiet confidence. His arms are muscular, his collarbone defined, hinting at the sculpted frame beneath his shirt. 

Your gaze dips lower, involuntarily lingering at his crotch for a moment too long. You can't help yourself. Luigi has always been a contradiction: introverted and composed, yet brimming with a quiet fire, a confidence you've never fully understood but can't help wanting to unravel. 

Your eyes shift back to his face, and you find yourself studying him anew. His profile is striking—an angular jawline, lips that seem almost too perfect, and a thick beard that he likely trims every day. His brows are bold, framing a gaze that is somehow both piercing and gentle. There's an elegance to his nose and a wildness to his untamed curls, as though he doesn't care enough to control them. 

You're not sure what's happening, what this magnetic pull between you means. And judging by the faint tension in his movements, neither does he. 

"Alright," Luigi says, his voice breaking through your reverie. "I'm going to give you an exercise now. It'll cover everything we've gone over so far. You'll work on it yourself while I keep an eye on your progress." 

"Okay," you reply, nodding eagerly, grasping at the distraction. 

He steps back, giving you space to focus. For a few minutes, you immerse yourself in the task, scribbling out equations and trying to channel all your thoughts into solving the problem. But then you feel him again—standing behind you, his presence throwing your concentration into disarray. Your mind strays to places it shouldn't, thoughts you can't control flaring to life. 

Luigi crouches down beside you, his arm resting on the back of your chair. The closeness feels almost deliberate, his movements steady yet unassuming, as if he's unaware of the way he's affecting you. 

"Look here," he instructs, his voice low and firm. 

He reaches for your pen, his fingers brushing against yours once again. The contact feels electric, sending a jolt through you. He corrects the mistake with a confident stroke, then places the pen back in your hand. 

Your eyes lift to meet his, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you. The air between you feels charged, heavy with something unspoken yet impossible to ignore. You both break the gaze at the same time, awkward and unsure. The tension hangs there, undeniable yet unaddressed.

He leaned closer, his curly brown hair falling into his face as he pointed at a particularly confusing problem. "Okay," he said, his voice soft but confident, "tell me what the derivative of this function is."

You hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip. Your eyes flickered to his face—his sharp jawline, the faint stubble, the way his lips curved into that patient smile. He caught your gaze and tilted his head, his brown eyes narrowing playfully.

"Focus," he teased, tapping the page with his pen.

"I... I don't remember," you admitted, flushing slightly under his scrutiny.

"Hmm." He clicked his tongue, feigning disappointment, but there was a sparkle in his eyes that made your stomach flutter. "Wrong answer. But don't worry, we'll get there."

He scooted closer, his thigh brushing against yours, and you felt a jolt of warmth shoot through your body. His voice dropped lower, almost conspiratorial. "Let's break it down step by step. Think of it like building something from scratch—you start with the foundation, right?"

You nodded, though your attention was less on the math and more on the way his hand gestured animatedly as he explained. God, why does he have to be so damn attractive? His rolled-up sleeves revealed the veins running along his forearms, and you couldn't help but imagine how they'd feel under your fingertips.

"So, if f(x) equals 2x squared plus 3x minus 4," he continued, writing out the equation neatly, "what's the first step?"

Your mind went blank again, but this time it wasn't just because of the math. The proximity was getting to you—his woodsy cologne, the warmth radiating off his body, the way his leg pressed against yours. You shifted slightly, trying to focus, but it was impossible.

"Uh..." you stalled, glancing up at him.

His lips quirked into a knowing smirk. "Wrong again," he murmured, leaning in even closer. His breath ghosted over your ear as he whispered with his raspy voice, "You're not paying attention, are you?"

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "Maybe I need a different kind of lesson," you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Luigi froze for a moment, his pen hovering mid-air. Then, slowly, he set it down and turned to face you fully. His expression was unreadable, but there was a heat in his gaze that sent shivers down your spine. "Oh?" he said, his voice low and velvety. "What kind of lesson did you have in mind?"

You hesitated for only a second before reaching out and placing a hand on his chest. His heartbeat thudded beneath your palm, steady and strong. "One where you show me exactly how much you know," you said, your voice trembling slightly despite your boldness.

His lips parted in surprise, but then his eyes darkened with something primal, something hungry. He leaned in, his nose brushing against yours. "Are you sure about this?" he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

"Positive," you breathed, closing the distance between you.

The kiss was slow at first, tentative, as if both of you were testing the waters. But then his hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and everything changed. His lips moved against yours with a fervor that left you dizzy, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, claiming you in a way that made your toes curl.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were hooded, his pupils blown wide with desire. "If I'm going to teach you anything," he murmured, his voice rough, "you're going to have to follow my rules."

You nodded, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. "What are they?"

A wicked grin spread across his face. "Every time you get a question wrong," he said, trailing a finger down your arm, "I stop. No touching, no kissing, nothing. Until you get it right."

"And if I get it right?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

His grin widened. "Then I'll reward you appropriately."

Before you could respond, he grabbed the textbook again and flipped to a new page. "Alright," he said, his tone suddenly serious, though his eyes still burned with mischief. "What's the integral of sine x?"

Your brain scrambled to recall the formula, but all you could think about was the way his thumb was tracing circles on your thigh. "I don't care."

He shook his head, clicking his tongue again. "Nope. Wrong." And just like that, he leaned back, his hands dropping away from you.

You groaned in frustration, but there was a thrill in the challenge, a fire igniting deep within you. "Fine. Try me again."

This time, when he asked another question, you forced yourself to focus, determined not to let him win so easily. And when you finally got the answer right, the look of pure satisfaction on his face was worth every second of torment.

"Good girl," he purred, pulling you back into his arms. His lips crashed against yours, his hands roaming your body with possessive intent. His touch was electric, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you as he explored every inch of your skin.

But just as things were heating up, he pulled away again, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Next question," he said, his voice thick with arousal. "What's the limit as x approaches infinity of 1 over x?"

You bit your lip, your mind racing. "Zero?"

He smiled, slow and dangerous. "Correct."

And then his lips were on you again, his hands everywhere at once, until the only thing you could think about was him—his taste, his touch, the sound of his ragged breathing as he whispered your name.

But just as you reached for the hem of his shirt, he stopped you, his grip firm. "Wait," he said, his voice hoarse. "What's the area under the curve of y equals x squared from 0 to 2?"

You blinked, your brain struggling to catch up. "Uh... 8/3?"

He grinned, his hands sliding up your thighs. "Exactly right."

And then he kissed you again, harder this time, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you onto his lap. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you, lost in each other, desperate and wanting.

But before things could escalate further, he broke the kiss, his chest heaving as he stared into your eyes. "Last question," he said, his voice shaking with restraint. "What's the probability of us finishing this without any interruptions?"

You laughed breathlessly, your hands tangling in his hair. "Slim to none."

"That's what I thought," he growled, pressing his forehead against yours. "But I'm willing to take the risk if you are."

His hands slid up your thighs, the warmth of his touch sending shivers through your body. The air in the room was thick with tension, every breath you took filling your lungs with the scent of him—clean sweat, cologne, and something uniquely Luigi. His brown eyes locked onto yours, dark with desire, but still glinting with that playful intelligence that always seemed to disarm you. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "What's the derivative of e^(2x)?"

You froze for a moment, your mind struggling to focus on anything other than the way his fingers were now tracing circles on your inner thigh. Think, think. You bit your lip, trying to recall the formula. "Uh... 2e^(2x)?"

A slow, approving smile spread across his face. "Perfect," he murmured, his voice low and smooth like honey. His hand moved higher, his fingertips grazing the edge of your panties. You gasped, arching into his touch, but he paused, his smile turning teasing. "Next question. What's the integral of sin(x)? If you get it wrong, I stop."

"Luigi," you whined, squirming under his hold. His thumb pressed against the sensitive spot just above your knee, making it nearly impossible to concentrate. "That's not fair."

"All's fair in love and math," he teased, leaning back slightly to give you space to think. His confidence was infuriatingly attractive, and you couldn't help but laugh despite the ache pooling between your legs.

"The integral is -cos(x)," you said quickly, hoping to end the torture.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Brava," he said as he pulled you closer. His hands slid up your sides, lifting your shirt over your head before you could even process what was happening. The cool air of the room hit your skin, but his body heat chased away any chill. His lips found yours again, hungry and demanding, while his hands explored every curve of your torso.

Your fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel more of him. He chuckled against your mouth, letting you undo them one by one until his chest was finally bare. Your hands roamed over his abs, tracing the ridges and feeling the tightness of his muscles. He groaned softly, his hips pressing up into yours, and you could feel how hard he already was through his pants.

But before you could take things further, he pulled back again, his breathing ragged. "One more question," he said, his voice rough. "What's the limit as x approaches infinity of (3x^2 + 2)/(4x^2 - 1)?"

You groaned, dropping your forehead to his shoulder. "Are you serious right now?"

"Dead serious," he said, his fingers trailing down your spine, making you shiver. "Answer correctly, and I'll make sure you forget your own name."

You could barely think straight, but you forced yourself to focus. The answer came to you in a haze. "Three over four?"

His smile was wicked as he leaned in close, his lips brushing against your neck. "Very good baby," he breathed, his hot breath sending goosebumps across your skin. "Now, let me show you how well I can reward good students."

In one swift motion, he stood, lifting you with him as if you weighed nothing. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and he carried you to his bed, laying you down gently before climbing over you. His kisses trailed down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, each one leaving a trail of fire in its wake. When his lips closed around your nipple, you gasped, your back arching off the bed.

His hands worked quickly, pulling off the rest of your clothes until you were completely bare beneath him. His eyes drank in the sight of you, and the hunger in his gaze made your stomach twist with anticipation. "So beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Before you could respond, his lips descended lower, kissing a path down your stomach until he reached your core. You tensed, your hands gripping the sheets as his tongue touched you for the first time. The sensation was electric, sending sparks through your entire body. He licked slowly, deliberately, driving you insane with the unhurried pace. Just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, he pressed two fingers inside you, curling them in a way that made you cry out.

"Luigi!" you moaned, your hips lifting off the bed as he worked you with his mouth and fingers. Every stroke, every lick felt like it was unraveling you piece by piece. You were close—so close—but then he stopped, looking up at you with that devilish smirk.

"What's the value of pi to five decimal places?" he asked, his voice steady despite the slickness on his chin.

"Are you fucking kidding me—" you started, but he cut you off with a pinch to your thigh.

"Answer correctly, and I'll finish what I started," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You clenched your fists, frustration and desperation warring within you. "3.14159," you spat out, glaring at him.

His grin widened, and he didn't waste another second. His tongue dove back in, and this time, he didn't stop until you were trembling beneath him, your orgasm crashing over you in waves. You cried out his name, your voice breaking as pleasure consumed you.

When you finally came down, he kissed his way back up your body, his lips claiming yours in a searing kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and it only heightened the ache between your legs. His cock pressed against you, hot and heavy, and you reached between you to free him from his pants.

As soon as your hand wrapped around him, he sucked in a sharp breath, his hips jerking forward. "Y/n" he muttered, his voice strained. "You're going to kill me."

You stroked him slowly, savoring the way his eyelids fluttered and his breath hitched. But before you could tease him further, he grabbed your wrist, pinning it above your head. "My turn," he growled, settling between your legs. The tip of his cock pressed against you, and you both groaned as he pushed inside, inch by inch.

It was almost too much—his size stretching you in the best way possible—but he gave you time to adjust, peppering your neck with soft kisses. When he finally bottomed out, he stilled, his forehead resting against yours. "Tell me this is okay," he whispered, his voice uncharacteristically vulnerable.

"More than okay," you replied, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Please, Luigi. Don't stop."

He didn't need to be told twice. His hips began to move, each thrust hitting that perfect spot deep inside you. His rhythm was relentless, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. You clung to him, nails digging into his back as you urged him on. His name spilled from your lips like a prayer, and each time he swallowed your cries with a kiss.

The coil in your stomach tightened again, your second orgasm building faster than you expected. "I'm close," you gasped, your legs shaking around him.

"Me too," he panted, his movements becoming erratic. "Where do you want me to—"

"Inside," you interrupted, the word coming out as a desperate plea. "Please."

He groaned, burying his face in your neck as his thrusts became harder, deeper. With one final push, you shattered, your climax tearing through you like a storm. He followed moments later, spilling himself inside you with a guttural moan. For a long moment, neither of you moved, too lost in the aftermath to care about anything else.

Finally, he rolled onto his side, pulling you with him so you were curled against his chest. His heartbeat was rapid under your ear, and his fingers traced lazy patterns on your back. "Thank you," he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You looked up at him, grinning despite your exhaustion. "For what? Being a genius at math?"

He laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "For trusting me." His expression turned thoughtful, and he tilted your chin up so you were looking directly into his eyes.

You stride confidently through the university hall, a triumphant smile lighting up your face. Spotting Luigi, you rush toward him and throw yourself into his arms without hesitation. 

"So, what did you got ?" he asks, barely able to contain his excitement. 

"Ninety-seven! Luigi, you're incredible!" you exclaim, wrapping your arms tightly around him. The curious stares from other students don't faze you in the slightest. 

"I'm proud of you, Y/N!" he says, his tone full of warmth and pride. 

"Well, I had the best tutor anyone could ask for," you reply with a teasing grin. 

Not far away, Luigi's group of friends watches the scene, their confusion evident as they exchange glances, silently trying to piece together what they're seeing. 

"How about we celebrate properly? Dinner's on me," Luigi suggests, his smile growing wider. 

"Absolutely!" 

Without thinking, you lean in and kiss his cheek, the gesture natural and full of gratitude. Luigi chuckles softly, his ears turning just a bit pink, but he doesn't pull away. The buzz of the hall seems to fade, leaving only the two of you in your little bubble of joy.

GIRLS IF YOU HAVE ANY REQUESTS ASK ME I WILL DO IT WITH PLEASURE !!!! FEEL FREE TO ASK !!!

[maretinelli]

TURNS FROM THE PAST

Oscar Piastri X Engineer!fem!reader

Summary: Y/n and Oscar Piastri were once young lovers, but the pressure of racing and the distance between them tore them apart. Years later, they meet again when Y/n is hired as a Mechanical Engineering Assistant for McLaren. The tension between what once was and what is now puts them both to the test, as past feelings begin to resurface.

Words: 7K+

Warnings: Mentions of breakups, bottled up feelings, mentions of mechanical engineering jobs, and happy endings.

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any mistakes that may be in the story. And I think the best way to write for pilots is to have the protagonist be an engineer hahaha I love it, you know.

MASTERLIST

The McLaren HQ boardroom was buzzing with activity. Engineers, strategists and the two drivers, Oscar Piastri and Lando Norris, were gathered together, listening intently to Zak the team boss as he discussed the second half of the season. The team boss was keen to stress the importance of staying focused and consistent.

However, before closing, he made an announcement that caught everyone's attention even more.

"I want to take this opportunity to talk about something historic for our team," Zak began, with an excited smile. "For the first time, we will have a female mechanical engineer working with us in the races. She will be an assistant for now, but based on her resume, I am fully confident that in a few years she could become one of the team's chief engineers."

The comment drew murmurs of approval and enthusiasm from around the room. Lando was the first to speak up.

"This is amazing! It's about time we had more brilliant women around here. I can't wait to meet our new engineer."

Oscar chuckles softly, knowing how Lando was around women.

"Lando, Lando!!" Oscar says singing to his friend who was in front of him and makes the team laugh.

"Hey! I'm really excited. This is a historic moment for the team." He kicks Oscar's leg under the table and smiles. Oscar glares at him for the kick and laughs at the comment.

"She'll be joining us in the races, starting now in the second part of the season," Zak continued. "She recently graduated from university. And her name is Y/n...!" He turned a sheet of paper in his hand, to make sure he got her last name right. "That's right, Y/n Vanpelt!"

Oscar's smile fell. He could feel time stopping.

The name echoed through the room. To everyone else, it was just the name of a new classmate. But to Oscar, it was like he was in a dream. He froze in his chair. Y/n VanPelt. His Y/n. Or rather, the Y/n who used to be his.

Images from the past flashed through Oscar’s mind: the trips to the junior teams, her in the pits cheering him on, the quiet moments they shared when they were together. The memory of how they had ended came back to him like a punch, even though the end had been amicable. Still, the void she had left was never filled.

"Dude, what's up?" Lando asked quietly, leaning forward in his chair across from Oscar. Noticing his friend's unusual silence.

Oscar blinked rapidly, coming back to reality.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Just... thinking. It's great to have another engineer on the team."

But it wasn't all right. His heart was pounding, and he could barely concentrate on what Zak was saying as he talked more about her.

It was then that a knock on the door interrupted the meeting. The door opened, and there she was.

Y/n walked into the room wearing the McLaren uniform, the papaya t-shirt that looked like it was made just for her. Oscar could hardly believe how she looked even more beautiful than he remembered.

The years hadn’t dulled her shine. On the contrary, it seemed as if life had only enhanced what was already perfect. How could she transform even a work outfit into something so charming?

"Guys, I'm sorry I'm late for the meeting," she said with a light, genuine smile, the same smile Oscar remembered so well. "I got lost around here."

The room laughed, breaking the formality.

Y/n took a few more steps, not yet realizing he was there.

"Zak has probably already introduced me, but my name is Y/n Vanpelt and I'll be joining you for a few years as a mechanical engineering assistant at the races." She smiled, and Zak spoke again to emphasize again how happy he was to have her on the team.

It was then that her eyes met Oscar's. For a second, time seemed to stop again.

Oscar felt his heart race in his chest, almost as if he were on the starting grid. It was as if everything he had kept deep down for years was coming to the surface all at once. Yin froze for a moment. It was him. Oscar. The boy she had loved when she was younger, who she had watched grow up and who had supported him as he pursued his dreams.

The man she left behind but could never completely forget.

"Y/n will be working directly with Norris' car and its engineers, but of course, in times of need, she can also be called upon to assist with Piastri's car. This will be great for her initial learning and to get to know the dynamics of racing better."

Y/n nodded politely, maintaining a calm smile.

She had known since she accepted McLaren's offer that Oscar was part of the team. She had mentally prepared herself for it, but nothing had prepared her for the overwhelming feeling of seeing him again, there, in the same room, after so many years.

She adjusted the smile on her face, trying to hide any emotion. Luckily, no one seemed to notice. No one except Oscar. He continued to glance at her, and that small but familiar smile brought back memories he had tried so hard to push to the back of his mind.

Zak, oblivious to what was happening between the two, ended the meeting on an upbeat note.

"So, everyone, let's welcome Y/n! I'm sure she'll be a valuable addition to the team."

The engineers and strategists began to stand, some already going to greet her. Lando was one of the first, of course. He approached with a warm smile, extending his hand.

"Welcome, Y/n! It's great to have you here. I hope you can keep my car ahead of Oscar." He joked and got a few laughs from everyone around.

She laughed at the comment and thanked him for the welcome. "Thank you, Norris."

"Oh, you can call me Lando. We'll be working together now." He smiles friendly.

"Of course, Lando!"

Lando turned, clearly pleased with the first interaction, and looked to the side, expecting to see Oscar nearby.

"Hey, Oscar, come tell me..." He stopped mid-sentence when he realized his teammate was no longer there.

Y/n, curious, followed Lando's gaze, only to notice Oscar outside the room, walking down the hallway that was visible through the glass wall. He left discreetly, without drawing attention, but she saw him.

For a brief moment, her eyes locked onto him again, and a small smile escaped before she could stop herself.

Not wanting to show anything, Y/n turned her attention to the people around her, greeting the engineers and other team members who approached to welcome her.

•••••••••••••••••••••

It was Y/n's first time participating in a Grand Prix as an engineering assistant, and despite the typical Belgian cold, she felt an internal warmth, a mixture of anxiety and excitement.

I was in the McLaren garage, talking to Lando and three engineers about the final adjustments to his car.

"If something goes wrong, I'll only blame you, Y/n," Lando teased, winking at her.

She laughed.

"No pressure then. I'll make sure you at least get past Q1."

The engineers around them laughed, and Lando shook his head, clearly enjoying her sense of humor. Y/n felt more and more comfortable with the team, and the lightheartedness of the employees made it easy.

After they finished discussing the last details, she said goodbye to the group and left the garage. I felt like I needed a moment to breathe before the adrenaline of qualifying started. He decided to go to the team hospitality to get something hot.

Tea always helped her calm down.

When she entered the VIP room, she expected to find the seat empty, but instead she saw Oscar there, sitting near the window, looking out. He seemed to be enjoying a moment of peace before the hustle and bustle began.

He noticed her presence and turned his head towards the door. Their eyes met, and they both smiled, but the silence that followed was heavy, laden with things unsaid.

Y/n hesitated, but walked in, trying to look natural as she walked to the table where the tea options were. She was about to say something when Oscar finally broke the silence.

"Hey, Y/n..." He began, his voice calm but with a hint of nervousness. Piastri stood up and took a few steps towards her. "I'm sorry I didn't welcome you back at the meeting. I...I had something to take care of."

It was a lie, of course. But he didn't know how to admit that he had been taken aback by seeing her again.

Oscar held out his hand to her, his eyes fixed on hers. "But really, I'm so glad you're here. Welcome to McLaren."

Y/n smiled, squeezing his hand firmly.

"Thank you, Piastri. It's good to see you again."

When he heard her call him Piastri, Oscar felt a tightness in his chest, as if the sound of that name, so impersonal, created an abyss between them.

He was so used to hearing nicknames like Osc - Love - Darling - Sweetie. That Piastri seemed wrong coming from her voice.

The use of his last name was a painful reminder that they were now just colleagues, far removed from what they had once been. He kept the smile on his face, but inside, that word echoed, carrying an unexpected weight.

Y/n smiles and returns her focus to the hot water of her tea. The small physical contact between them made her heart beat fast inside her ribcage.

"So, how... how are you?" Oscar asked, his voice softer now. "How's life? I mean, in general."

She glances quickly at Oscar and then looks back at her cup.

"Oh, I'm fine. I'm adapting to the new city where I bought my apartment, but it's good to have changes, isn't it?" She smiles. "I'm enjoying working here, even though...even though it's strange." She pauses and laughs awkwardly. "Strange because I used to run in the past, you know, but from a different perspective."

Oscar smiles and feels a pain invade his chest: Racing was also the reason for their breakup. And now, look, they both work with it and on the same team.

"And how are your parents?"

Y/n looks up, caught off guard. "Oh, they...they're doing well. Their jobs are pretty hectic, working at the CBI is tough though." She chuckles softly. "But they're doing really well. Really proud of me being here, you know how they are. Vanpelt being Vanpelt."

Oscar nodded, a slight smile forming on his lips.

"I'm glad. I've always liked them a lot."

Y/n felt her heart tighten. It was impossible not to remember how he was part of her family, how they spent four years together, from the beginning of his career to a part in Formula 2.

So many shared memories, so many conversations about dreams and fears. So many nights when she would wake up in the middle of the night to drink water and see Oscar in the living room talking to his father. Laughter, jokes and funny conversations were shared between father-in-law and son-in-law.

She looks away at the clock on the wall and sighs. "Well, I should get going... I need to help some more engineers with the cars." She drinks the rest of her tea. "Good luck qualifying!"

Oscar smiles and thanks her, following her with his eyes until she disappears from the room.

He felt his heart pounding and tears threatening to fall. The pilot raised his head a little, trying to make the tears come back. He sighed heavily and then went down to the garage too, he had to be in the car in a few minutes.

Hours passed, and the McLaren garage was in high spirits. Lando was on the track, qualifying. While Oscar was at the back of the garage, anxiously waiting for his turn.

Y/n had her headphones on, leaning on a bench as she looked at the monitors and saw data from Lando's car and how he was doing on the track.

"He's losing a bit of time in the medium corners. He could be in the top 5 in qualifying, but if we make this change he could get some hate tomorrow!" Y/n commented, pointing to the graphs. "Maybe tweaking the rear suspension setup a bit could help maintain more stability."

The engineers exchanged quick glances and nodded, already reviewing the settings.

"Sure!! We'll do it when he arrives!" Says one of the older engineers, writing on a tablet and smiling.

Y/n turned her gaze to the graphs and tables on the monitors. From afar, Oscar admired her.

It was fascinating to him to see how Y/n was in control, shining as an assistant, even in such a competitive environment. He saw her speaking with confidence, pointing out technical details that only someone with true passion and dedication would notice.

The way she interacted with the other engineers, how they seemed to respect her, made Oscar proud, but it also made his chest tighten.

When Lando returned to the pits, she waited for him next to the car with an encouraging smile. The driver takes off his helmet and Y/n smiles, patting him on the back.

"Hey, very good! Top 5 huh!" Lando smiles and pats her on the back as well. "You're in fifth place for now, but I doubt the next teams will be able to overtake you."

Lando smiles. "Hey, thanks. You're doing a great job here. You might even steal one of their jobs!" He turns playfully and points to his engineers.

They laugh.

Y/n walked back to the main dashboard, where the charts and graphs of Oscar's car were already starting to update. She adjusted her headset, trying to stay focused on the data, but it was impossible to ignore the familiarity of that name flashing on the screen: Oscar Piastri.

Her heart beat a little faster. Working so closely with Oscar was affecting her more than she cared to admit.

When Oscar appeared in the garage, ready to get into the car, Y/n was organizing the equipment next to his seat. He walked past her and, for a moment, it seemed like time stood still.

"Here..." She said, picking up the helmet beside her and handing it to him. Their fingers brushed lightly, and their eyes met for seconds that felt like minutes.

Oscar thanked him with a slight smile, his voice low. "Thank you."

They continued to stare at each other, a mix of tension and familiarity hovering between them. Y/n felt heat rise to her face, but didn't look away immediately, while he also seemed reluctant to break eye contact.

Lando, who was removing his gloves near the side of the car, noticed. He raised an eyebrow, noting the way they seemed trapped in that moment. It was subtle, but enough to be noticed. Lando didn't say anything, just went back to what he was doing, but a slight smile appeared on his lips.

He thought Oscar was into the new engineer. Not that they dated in the past.

Y/n composed herself, finally breaking contact and taking the wheel of Piastri's car, while he himself put on the balaclava.

When he got into the car, Y/n put the steering wheel and looked at Oscar, who had his visor up. Their gazes held for a while longer.

"Good luck, Piastri!"

"Thank you, Y/n." She sees him smile under his helmet and then lowers the visor.

The engine roared as he started and pulled out of the garage, leaving Y/n behind, feeling her heart beat wildly.

Oscar was on the track, completing his fast laps as the thunderous sound of the engine cut through the air of the circuit. In the garage, Y/n was focused on the graphics that flashed on the monitor, showing the data of his car in real time.

She analyzed every detail: the temperature of the tires, the speed on the straights, the behavior of the car on the curves.

Chatting briefly with the engineers around her, suggesting small adjustments to the front wing and differential. Her posture was serious, but there was a sparkle in her eyes—she was completely immersed in her work, as if every detail was part of a puzzle she loved solving.

As soon as the car returned to the garage, Oscar stepped out of the cockpit, removing his helmet with quick movements. He looked around, visibly anxious to know his position.

One of the engineers approached with a smile. "Sixth place, Oscar. A great lap."

Oscar breathed a sigh of relief and smiled, running his hand through his sweat-dampened hair. He was satisfied, although he was already starting to think about what he could improve for the next day.

Across the garage, Y/n watched the scene. When Oscar's eyes briefly turned to her, she smiled genuinely, that encouraging smile she always had, even in the old days.

"Good job, Piastri. Sixth place is a great starting point," she commented, her tone light but firm.

Oscar smiled back, still holding his helmet. "Thank you, dear." He said quietly, but Y/n could read his lips.

•••••••••••••••••••••

Y/n was already adapting to the exhausting routine and intense environment at McLaren. She got along well with the team, her technical knowledge and dedication were already being recognized, but whenever she had to interact with Oscar, the tension would set in again.

She knew he was handling the situation impeccably, maintaining professionalism in every exchange of words, but it was impossible not to notice the lingering glances or the pauses between responses.

It was as if they were both constantly treading on an emotional minefield, where any slip-up could bring to light the past they both avoided.

And even though the breakup ended with them being friendly. No fighting, arguing or finger pointing, just saying what would be best for them at the moment, the tension of seeing the love of their life in front of them again was overwhelming.

It was like reliving memories they had never been able to erase, even after so many years. They missed each other. A lot, a lot.

While Y/n was adjusting Lando's graphics, one of the engineers asked her to get some equipment from the back of the garage.

Walking back, still remembering the numbers she needed to analyze, she hurriedly turned the corner and bumped into someone. The force of the impact almost made her drop what she was holding, but it was the familiar face that made her gasp.

Oscar stood there, equally surprised. He reflexively grabbed her arm, helping her steady herself. For a moment, they both stood still, their eyes fixed on each other. And then it dawned on Piastri.

She still wore the necklace he had given her as a gift, with his first salary as a pilot. The jewel was silver, delicate with small red hearts. Simple, but with great emotional impact.

Oscar felt his heart squeeze. But it was out of love, he could feel his heart beating so fast because of how much love he still had for her.

They stood still, their eyes fixed on each other, as if there was a silent conversation going on between them, full of words neither of them had the courage to say out loud.

Oscar swallowed hard, trying to shake off the whirlwind of emotions that hit him. He forced a smile, his voice slightly teasing.

"In a dream world, as always, huh?"

Y/n blinked, snapping out of her own trance. She laughed, embarrassed, adjusting her necklace almost unconsciously.

"And you're still the most distracted driver off the track. You should be watching where you're going too," Oscar smiled, chuckling softly at the comment.

They exchanged one more look, and then Y/n muttered an "Excuse me" before walking past him and heading back to her station.

Lando, who was nearby, watched the scene from afar. He frowned, curious. As soon as he got the chance, he crouched down next to Y/n, lowering his voice so that no one else would hear.

"What's going on between you two? Ever since you arrived, you could cut the tension in the air with a knife."

Y/n looked at him, pretending to be confused, and laughed softly. "Nothing, Lando. We're acting completely normal."

"Normal?" Lando arched his eyebrows, a mischievous smile appearing. "This is far from normal. There's something going on. Feelings, tension... I don't know."

She choked on the words, looking at him in surprise. "Lando, it's nothing like that. I swear."

"Oh, really? Then why do you two look like shy teenagers every time you're in the same room?" He tilted his head, waiting for an answer.

Y/n defeated, drops her tablet on the table and looks at Lando, with an expression like she was about to tell him everything. "Okay, okay. We... dated... For four years."

Lando's eyes widened, surprise written all over his face. "FOUR YEARS? You were together for four years and you're saying it's no big deal?"

"Shh! Keep your voice down!" Y/n looked around to make sure no one else was listening. "It's no big deal now. It was a thing...of the past."

No, it wasn't just one thing and it wasn't just in the past.

Lando laughed in disbelief. "You still love each other, trust me."

Before she could respond, he raised his hands in surrender and returned to his seat, leaving Y/n to stare uncomfortably at the monitors.

She drummed her fingers on the table, thinking about it. Her eyes were fixed on the data tables of Oscar's car.

Time passed, and the Monza Grand Prix race was already underway. Everyone in the McLaren garage had their eyes fixed on the big screen and the engineers on the graphs and numbers that the drivers' cars were transmitting.

Y/n was helping with both Lando's and Oscar's cars. She had her headphones on, but could only hear the instructions from Lando's engineers.

As he analyzed the data on the monitors, he noticed Oscar's engineers beginning to fidget. They were talking rapidly into the radio, trying to deal with something urgent.

Curious, Y/n took off her headphones and approached the group. "What's going on?"

One of the engineers explained that they were dealing with overheating brakes, something that could force Oscar to abandon the race if it wasn't fixed quickly. She frowned, thinking of a solution.

"We can adjust the air intake to increase cooling. It will be risky, but it could work until the end of the race."

The engineers exchanged glances before nodding. They quickly radioed Oscar into the pits.

"Hey, could I adjust the data?" She asks shyly, to one of the chief engineers of Oscar's car. He smiles kindly.

"Sure, sure! Feel free."

Y/n excuses herself and thanks her, before sitting in front of the panels and starting typing numbers and formulas to change the data.

She saw Oscar's car pull into the garage, and within 2 seconds he was gone, heading back to the track. She was still sitting near the dashboard of his car, and as one of the Australian's engineers walked by, she turned with a smile, peeling off her nail polish before gently asking,

"Could...could I follow the charts here? Just...just in case." It was a professional excuse, but deep down, she knew she wanted to be closer to Oscar.

"Yes, yes. I'll get you a headset."

She felt grateful. Then she took the headphones that one of them gave her and made herself more comfortable, watching the numbers and data that Oscar's car updated every second. Her heart was beating faster than it should have, but she forced herself to stay focused.

It was just work, she repeated to herself.

But being there, watching the numbers that reflected her ex-boyfriend's performance on the track and hearing his voice on the radio from time to time, brought a feeling that was hard to ignore.

Even so, Y/n concentrated, mentally noting small adjustments that could be useful, knowing that she couldn't let her emotions interfere. But, deep down, being there, so close to him and at the same time so far away, was more difficult than she imagined.

Halfway through the race, as the cars slid down the track, Y/n noticed something unusual on Oscar's graphs. Some of the data was out of the ordinary, and she frowned, analyzing the information quickly.

"Something's wrong here," she muttered, attracting the attention of one of the engineers. "Can you tell Piastri about this? He needs to adjust-"

Before he could finish, the engineer smiled encouragingly. "Why don't you speak yourself? You can use the radio. It's faster."

She blinked in surprise. “Me?” Her voice sounded more nervous than she would have liked. Her heart immediately raced, but she hid it by nodding firmly. “Okay. I can do that.”

Y/n adjusted the microphone, taking a deep breath as she gathered her courage. After all, it was just work, nothing more.

Her voice controlled, she spoke into the radio, professional but with a slight hesitation: "Piastri, this is Y/n. I'm seeing something on the graphs. If you could adjust the rear differential slightly for the next corner, it should help with stability. Got it?"

And there was the last name again. She had been working with them for four races, and whenever she talked to Oscar or referred to him, Piastri was the name. It made the younger driver feel crushed and on the verge of tears.

On the other side, there was a brief but meaningful silence. Oscar was so focused that for a moment his mind was lost when he heard that voice.

In Y/n's voice. Your beloved, Y/n.

He didn't expect this, and for a moment he stopped paying attention to the next turn, feeling a different warmth spread through his chest.

"Plasters? Do you understand?"

"Oh, yes, yes. Understood. I'll make the adjustment now. Thanks for the suggestion."

He knew he was supposed to sound casual, but the slight pause in his response gave away the impact of that interaction.

On the other side, Y/n just breathed a sigh of relief, focusing on the numbers again, while trying to ignore the sound of her own heart, which seemed as loud as the roar of the cars on the track.

The race ended with a mixture of tension and joy in the McLaren garage. Oscar crossed the line in second place and Lando in first, securing their places on the podium.

The team burst into celebration, but Y/n, even smiling at the result, preferred to remain in the background, busy analyzing the final data and updating graphs. She did not go to the podium.

Not that she wasn't happy, but because she thought it was better to stay focused on work - or at least that's what she told herself.

As the minutes ticked by, Y/n kept herself busy, but she couldn't help but feel flashes of happiness as she remembered how her advice had helped ensure that outcome. Deep down, she felt proud, but she didn't want to stand out. It was her job, after all.

After stepping down from the podium, still with his racing suit half open and his hair damp with champagne, Oscar walked back to the garage. He looked tired, but radiant. As soon as he spotted Y/n in the back, his smile softened, and he walked over to her.

"You were amazing today," he began, stopping a few feet away from her. "Seriously, that suggestion on the radio... it was crucial. I wouldn't have made it to the podium without it. Thank you, Y/n."

She looked up from her charts, surprised by his direct gratitude. A shy smile played on her lips. "I was just doing my job, Oscar. But I'm glad it helped."

Finally she hadn't used the driver's last name. Oscar. The name itself made the McLaren driver's heart race.

Oscar's gaze softened even further, and for an instant, the world around them seemed to disappear.

They stared at each other, as if there was something unsaid, something that only they understood. There was an intense emotional charge to the connection that they both thought they had left in the past, but which was still very much alive.

Before anyone could say anything, a voice called Oscar to the media appointments. He sighed, lowering his head to hide it, before smiling again at Y/n.

"Thank you once again... My sunshine." The word came out softly, almost like a whisper.

The nickname he used when they were dating made Y/n's heart race. She stood frozen, watching as he walked away, his hand sliding briefly and gently over her shoulder, a touch almost imperceptible, but full of meaning.

As soon as he disappeared from sight, Y/n stood there, motionless. The nickname echoed in her mind, along with the memory of everything they had shared in the past. Her heart clenched, and tears began to well up in her eyes. She took a deep breath, struggling to maintain her composure.

Then one of the engineers called out to her, bringing her back to reality. She quickly wiped her eyes with the palm of her hand and adjusted her posture before turning around and answering. She went back to work as if nothing had happened, but inside, she knew something had changed.

The noise of the rush had finally died down, and the garage was nearly empty. Only a few people were still working, dismantling equipment or organizing tools.

Y/n was sitting on a counter, her feet dangling as she typed on the computer the modifications she had made to the cars during the race. With her headphones playing music, she was immersed in her own bubble, focused on her work and oblivious to the rest of the environment.

Oscar entered the garage silently. He watched Y/n for a moment, her face illuminated by the laptop screen, her hair falling lightly over her eyes as she typed. A small smile appeared on his lips at the sight of her so focused.

He walked up to her and, without saying anything, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump slightly in surprise.

She looked up at him and smiled shyly before taking off her headphones. "Hi," she said, still a little surprised to see him there.

"Hi!" He replied with a small smile, before pulling out one of the high-backed engineer stools and sitting across from her.

He made a casual comment about the race, something about how second place was a good result, and she responded with a smile, closing her laptop as she nervously bounced her feet.

His eyes fixed on his own sneakers, avoiding direct eye contact.

Silence settled between them, heavy with something they could both feel but neither knew how to break. Finally, Oscar took a deep breath and asked, his voice low and careful.

"Can I talk to you?"

She looked at him, surprised, but nodded slowly. "Sure. It's okay."

Piastri hesitated for a moment, running a hand through his hair before continuing. "It's about... about us, actually."

The surprise in Y/n's eyes was evident, but she kept her tone calm. "You can talk," she said, trying to ignore the lump that was starting to form in her throat.

Oscar looked at her, his eyes reflecting emotions he rarely expressed. "What was it like for you... the breakup?"

Y/n felt her heart sink. She took a deep breath, gathering the courage to answer. "It was hard," she began, her voice cracking. "Really hard. But I knew that... that at the time it was what needed to be done. We were both on such different paths, and it was all so complicated." A lone tear escaped, but she ignored it, focusing on what she was saying. "It's still hard sometimes. Thinking about everything we've been through, how it felt so right, and yet..." Her voice trailed off, but she took a deep breath to continue. "It still didn't work out."

Oscar felt his chest tighten as he saw tears begin to form in her eyes. He was silent for a moment, processing her words, before finally confessing.

"And you?"

"For me, it was devastating. It was like... like I lost a part of myself. I tried to focus on work, but nothing seemed to make sense. I tried to move on, but... I think about you every day. Seeing you here now, every week, helps a little bit. It's like a part of me is whole again." He looked directly into her eyes, vulnerable. "It was painful, Y/n. Much more than I imagined it would be."

Y/n blinked rapidly, trying to hold back her tears, but they fell anyway. Oscar noticed and, without thinking twice, got up from the bench and approached her. He raised his hand hesitantly and, when he realized she wouldn't move away, he gently wiped the tears from her face.

"Sorry" the pilot said softly, his voice full of regret.

She gave a weak smile, knowing that was a characteristic of him. Always apologizing, even when it wasn't necessary. "You always apologize for everything, you know?" She said, her tone soft.

He laughs softly.

Before they could say anything else, someone came into the garage, announcing that the lights would be turned off in ten minutes. They both nodded, slightly embarrassed, coming back to the present.

Y/n closed her laptop and tucked it under her arm. Before leaving, she patted his shoulder lightly, smiling. "See you at the next race."

Oscar smiled at her, watching as she walked away down the driveway. Even after she was out of sight, he stood there for a few moments, feeling the weight and intensity of the conversation.

•••••••••••••••••••••

The weeks passed, and the end of the season was fast approaching. Between traveling, strategizing, and intense racing, Y/n and Oscar seemed to have found a rhythm amidst their constant coexistence.

In the moments spent together with the team, the jokes flowed, the laughter escaped naturally, and the tension of the past seemed almost forgotten. But when they found themselves alone, even briefly, Y/n felt her heart race, as if the control she was trying to maintain over her feelings was hanging by a thread.

In the quick glances and the small moments when their paths crossed, it was evident that the past was still there, alive in both of them.

Over the last few GPs, Y/n has started to focus more on Oscar's car, a natural move given his growing technical knowledge and his ability to analyze performance data in real time.

Lando noticed the change and was happy to see the closeness between the two. He didn't know the details of their past, but something in the way Oscar looked at Y/n and her smile when she answered was enough for him to silently root for the couple.

Now at the race in Brazil, Y/n was on Oscar's radio, following the car's graphs and data.

"Oscar, you're losing time in sector 2. You could try using the middle of the track more in turn 8 to gain stability on the exit."

Her voice was professional, calm, but Oscar felt a slight warmth when he heard it. He replied firmly, “Understood, I will adjust it.”

A few laps later, she spoke again: "Your pace is good, but watch out for rear tire wear. Slow down on the tighter corners."

Oscar responded with a light tone of humor, breaking the tension a little: "So, no exaggerations? Understood, boss."

Y/n smiled, even though he couldn't see it. "Exactly, no exaggeration. We're watching."

And then, on the last lap, Oscar crossed the finish line first.

The garage exploded in joy, screams and applause echoing throughout the space. Y/n felt tears start to form, a mixture of relief, pride and something deeper that she couldn't explain.

For the first time, Y/n followed the podium closely. He stood alongside the team, watching as Oscar lifted the trophy. He looked at the audience and saw her there, a little more comfortable in his presence, applauding along with the others and the tears were falling. The smile on Oscar's face seemed brighter at that moment.

Y/n returned to the garage before the excitement of the podium ended. She was gathering her things from a workbench, organizing papers and turning off the computer, while the adrenaline from the race still pulsed through her veins.

Oscar, stepping down from the podium, looked around, searching for her. He spotted Y/n in the background, almost hidden in the corner of the garage, and something in his chest tightened.

He didn't think; he just acted.

With firm steps, he left the first place trophy on the nearest table and walked straight towards her.

"Y/n!" His voice cut through the muffled sound of the conversations around them.

She turned at the sound of her name, a soft smile appearing on her face as she recognized the voice. But before she could say anything, Oscar was there, right in front of her. Without hesitation, he cupped her face with both hands and pulled her in for a kiss.

The world seemed to stop. The heat of his touch ran through Y/n's entire body, making her forget where she was. The kiss was full of accumulated feelings. longing, passion, relief, and a mix of all the things they never had the courage to say. For Oscar, it was like coming home; for Y/n, it was like finding something she didn't even know she was still looking for.

For a moment, they were lost in each other, feeling everything they had repressed for so long. Y/n's hands rose to his shoulders, while Oscar leaned in even closer, as if afraid she would slip away.

A passionate kiss with a taste of champagne.

When they finally separated, they were both panting, their foreheads almost pressed together. The look in Oscar's eyes was intense, and Y/n could barely process what had just happened.

Before they could say anything, a voice echoed through the garage. "Oscar! Come on, they're waiting for the interviews!" It was Lando, calling him from afar.

Oscar looked at Y/n, who was still stunned, and a smile played on his lips. "I'll be back. Wait for me, okay?"

And with that, he walked away, leaving Y/n there, her heart racing and her lips still tingling from the kiss.

Lando saw her smile as the girl leaned against the table, trying to absorb what had happened.

"Are you okay?" He asks with a laugh and Y/n looks up at her friend and teammate.

"We kissed!" She smiles.

Lando laughs and gives a thumbs up. "Great! I'm happy for you guys!" He sends her a sincere smile and walks away, laughing at his friend's silly comment.

After the kiss in the garage, Oscar's words still echoed in Y/n's mind: "I'll be back. Wait for me." She tried to focus on her work, but every detail seemed distant, as if the world around her was blurry.

As soon as he finished his tasks, he asked someone from the team to tell Oscar that he had already returned to the hotel.

Hours later, while relaxing in the hotel lobby, Y/n was enjoying the warm Brazilian breeze. She was in a casual conversation with some of the girls from the media team, trying to distract her mind and avoid thinking about the kiss.

It was then that she saw him.

Oscar walked through the front door with Lando, his confident posture contrasting with the slight blush that rose when he noticed Y/n.

Their eyes met, and he smiled, beckoning her with a subtle movement of his finger. Her heart skipped a beat.

Excusing herself from the girls, she walked towards him, feeling Lando's encouraging gaze, who soon headed towards the elevators, leaving the two alone.

Oscar smiled, his voice gentle as he asked, "Can we talk for a bit?"

She nodded with a shy smile, leading him hand in hand to the pool area, where the lights reflected on the water in an almost magical way. The soft sound of the water was a perfect contrast to the whirlwind of feelings inside her.

The air was warm, but Y/n felt butterflies in her stomach, as if she knew something important was about to happen.

Oscar broke the silence first. "I wanted to apologize for the kiss."

"You don't need to apologize. If I didn't want to, I wouldn't have continued." Her words brought visible relief to him.

"Y/n... I can't keep it in anymore. Ever since you showed up on the team, it all came back. I tried to ignore it, I tried to be professional, but... I can't. I still love you. I always have. All these years I thought that with time it would pass, but it didn't. And now, seeing you every week just showed me that it will never pass."

Y/n felt her eyes water, but she kept her gaze fixed on him. "Ouch... I know. I tried to convince myself that our story was over, that it was the best thing for both of us at the time.

But every time I see you, I realize I was wrong. Our love is not dead. I know that."

He took a step closer, his eyes shining in the pool lights. Slowly, Oscar lifted one hand and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, the gesture so simple yet so intimate.

"Our love will only die when we both die of old age."

She laughed passionately, and before she could respond, he leaned in and kissed her again. It was a different kiss, calmer, but full of promise and certainty. When they broke apart, they both had tears in their eyes and smiles on their lips.

"I love you, my sunshine." He said, his voice firm.

"I love you, love," she replied, her voice choked with emotion.

He held her hands gently. "I want to try again. Both of us. No matter what comes, I want to be by your side. Can we go back?"

Y/n nodded, tears streaming down her face as she smiled. "Yes, Osc. I want to go back. I want our story back."

They embraced, a gesture full of relief, love and hope. Under the lights of the hotel, with the soft sound of the pool and the Brazilian heat all around them, they knew they were taking the first step towards a new beginning.

This time, there was no doubt. What they had was real, strong, and meant to last.

[spencewalterreid]

The Red Means I Love You

Summary: Spencer came into the restaurant you work at when you were in a bad mood, but nonetheless he has to see you again.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female First-person POV

Category: Fade to Black Smut (TV-14)

Warnings: dirty talk, switch!Reid!!! switch!Reader, first person pronouns no use of y/n, date nights,hair pulling, neeeerd spencer, reader works at a truck stop, fade to black smut, smooches, second base. I think that should be it?

Word count: 4.3k

Author's Note: Hello again ladies!! I'm not sure how I haven't yet come across a riff fic off of Spencer and Cat's scenes, but here it is!! Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying they were a good pair, but the way their characters played off of one another was positively scrumptious. Here's an indulgence into that.

The first time it happened, I was working a 14-hour shift at a truck stop diner. I’d started my shift right out of school, and I was working until the next morning. Just an hour before he’d come in, we were slammed – every table in the store was full, and I’d only just gotten all the tables bussed. I was exhausted, my manager was hounding me, and I was on the verge of a full-blown breakdown. When refilling a Dr. Pepper for the jackass at table 32 who I had to argue with over the burger that he specifically requested onions on, I glanced up at the door as the bells rang. Oh.

He is... stunning.

My attention was abruptly yanked out of my daydream about the gorgeous boy that had just walked in with a handful of other people, and I looked down at my right hand wrapped around the plastic cup, which is now cold and drenched in the sticky beverage. Goddamn it.

“Boys, are you dining in?” I asked cheerfully as I grabbed a new straw, a smile plastered across my face. Stay professional. Stay professional. Stay professional.

“Yeah, we’ve got–” he paused to turn around and count heads– “six,” said one of the three men. Not the pretty one, though he was by no means ugly. He was tall, but not the tallest of the group (that title belonged to the one that caught my eye), with broad muscles laced under dark skin. He had a great smile. 

I glance back at table 32, who was rolling his eyes at the few-second delay. “Wherever you like,” I reply, swiftly returning to this grumpy-ass trucker. “Your refill, sir! Anything else I can get for you?”

He blatantly ignores me.

“If you change your mind, just holler,” I added, and as I turned to walk away:

“You can get me a new fuckin’ burger, this one got cold while I was waiting for you to finish flirting.” He slammed the second burger I’d brought to him back down onto the tray. Fuck you, dude. I’m already getting chewed out by the kitchen, but cool! Yeah! Okay!

“Yes, sir. I apologize, I’ll be right back out.” As I walked away with his tray, shifting it between fingers so as not to scald my fucking hand, I let a subtle sigh escape from my lungs.

10 seconds at the door. 30 seconds at the table. 15 minutes for food. 1 minute to bus.

I remind myself for the umpteenth time today of what’s supposed to be the restaurant policy. That had been out the door since 4:30 that afternoon and it is now… I glanced at the clock above the window as I slid the tray back onto it… 12:57 in the morning. Sick. Can’t wait to see the reviews.

“What was wrong with it this time?” The chef snapped, yanking the tray back.

“I’m just as annoyed as you are, I promise. He said it got cold. Just…”

She cuts me off. “Leave it there for a few minutes and come back. I’m not making a whole new burger.”

I did not roll my eyes, thank you very much.

Wheeling around on the balls of my feet and carefully controlling my breath, I picked up 6 menus and a matching number of silverware on the way to the round booth the group had settled into. I flip[ed on a positive tone to greet them. “Howdy, howdy! How are you folks-”

“Just say the word, and I’ll see him out,” the dark man interjected. The rest stared at him in partly shock, partly reprimand. I think the silver-haired one was his superior, he was carrying the ‘don’t interrupt her, asshole’ look.

“Uhm, sorry?” I glanced around the mostly-empty store, divvying up the hardware on the table in the meantime.

“The old fuck over there. If you want him to leave, I’ll make it happen.” He crossed his arms over his chest, looking me dead in the eyes. I chuckled uncomfortably.

“No, that’s okay.” I have a feeling he was not kidding. I swept my eyes along the table to make eye contact with each person as I introduced myself, but I risked a few seconds longer for the boy on the far left. “I’m gonna be your server tonight. You folks know what you’d like to drink?”

They rattled off their drink orders one by one (The dark-haired woman asked for scotch and I’m only a little sure she wasn’t being serious, and the one with the colourful clothing almost squeaked in joy when she saw strawberry lemonade on the menu), but the sweet-looking boy on the end took the longest.

“Sir?” I nudged, tilting my head down to catch his gaze under his hair.

“Yes, uh, what kind of coffee do you serve?” he inquired, pushing his menu in front of him on the table, trying to straighten the edge flush against the side of the table.

I stammered. “It’s just black coffee…” I replied uncertainly, glancing at the other members of the group.

“They don’t serve frappuccinos, Reid. Do you want the coffee or not?” the second blonde woman sighed, and I think she was probably just as far down her rope as I was. That slips from my mind, though, at the mention of his name. Reid. Cute.

“No, I just meant the roast,” he clarified, but at the uncomfortable look on my face, he conceded. “Yeah. Black coffee, please.”

If he slumped any further down, I think the booth would swallow him.

—-—-

The second time it happened, he caught me on a better day. Our breakfast rush wasn’t too bad, and I actually had a second server helping me that day. It was almost noon, and I was feeling far lighter than I was the last time. When I glanced up at the chime by the door, a smile far more genuine than last time crossed my face.

“Hello again!” I chirped, wiped my hands on my apron, and pretended not to notice his flinch. “Just you today?”

He returned my smile, albeit feeble. “Yes. It’s just me.” 

“It’s Reid, right?” Grabbing a menu and silverware, I followed him over to the same booth he’d occupied with the other five people last time.

“No, I- Well, yes. Derek uses my surname. It’s Spencer,” he replied, sinking into the fake leather and glancing around the store. “It’s busier than last time.”

Setting the menu in front of him, I followed his gaze. “Well, yeah, it was the middle of the night.”

“The coffee was Colombian roast with hazelnut,” he said. Huh? “You seemed confused when I asked what kind it was.” He nodded, like he was trying to remind himself. “That’s what it was.”

“Oh.” Did his lips look that soft last time? His sleeves are folded up his arms this time. “Your hair looks pretty,” I said before I could stop myself. Shut up, shut up, shut- “It matches your eyes.” My smile softens the compliment, but I don’t think that made him any less confused.

“T-thank you,” he replied softly, pushing it back on instinct. Change the topic.

“Do you, uhm.” I clear my throat and shift my weight. “Would you like a coffee, then?”

He shook his head with a grimace. “Absolutely not. It was awful.”

He’s funny. I guess I didn’t throw him too far off-course.

“Why did you order it, then?” I asked, not unkindly. He turned pink. Pretty.

“I didn’t want to make you more stressed than you already were.” Reid– No. Spencer adjusted the strap of his cross-body bag. 

“Did I seem stressed?” I asked, quickly chancing a look behind me to check for my manager. We’re in the clear.

“Ye- No, not like that. I’m, uh. I’m trained to read people well. You were walking at an abnormally quick pace, and you kept looking around when you were at other tables, even though there were very few, as though any second you’d be pulled away." He straightened slightly, setting his shoulders, as if he were in his element, but he still doesn't look at me, his eyes cast down. "When you were filling our drinks, you poured some out and refilled it more than once, which I assume was to achieve a perfect ratio, or at least one you perceive as such. And–” he looked up from his menu that I’m positive he wasn’t reading to look me in the eyes. “And the man at table 32 was being very curt with you. That would cause stress. Your manager behind the window wasn’t making it any better, I bet.”

I scoffed incredulously. “Good memory,” I said with a smile. “That was impressive. Yeah, I wasn’t in the best mood that night.” My voice lowered to a conspirational whisper, but I didn’t let my facial expression change. “But you helped. You have no idea how far a little bit of kindness goes. And hey, I never got the chance to tell you I was sorry for messing up your order.”

Spencer shook his head, stretching and relaxing his fingers above the table for something to do. “It was just a salad. I just took the tomatoes off, it was no problem.”

I smiled softly. He’s so sweet. “Do you know what you’d like to drink, Spencer Reid?”

He let himself genuinely laugh. “Good memory,” he repeats, an air of light-hearted sarcasm to his tone. “I’d like a sweet tea with lemon and– actually. I know I shouldn’t ask, and you absolutely do not have to answer, but uhm… when do you have a lunch break? Maybe we could-”

“Right now. I’ll be right back,” I replied, taking off my apron and walking to the back to alert my manager (thankfully, a different one than the overnight one.) They could manage without me for an hour. I was not passing him up a second time.

——

The third time it happened, we were on our third date. Spencer wanted to go to a museum, I wanted to do something a bit more interactive. We agreed on an aquarium.

“Actually, Parrotfish are one of my least favourite of the wrasse family, and definitely least favourite of the Labridae,” he countered when I insisted their colours were pretty.

“I didn’t say they were my favourite, Reid, I said they were pretty."

“No, I know, but I’m just saying.” He was practically vibrating, balling a fist and unballing it, and I could tell he needed to tell me number 1,001 of his facts in the last hour.

I sighed, an affectionate smile on my face as I turned around and leaned on the rocky wall. “Why are they one of your least favourites?”

Reid offered me a toothy grin. “The parrotfish has a tendency to coat itself in a bubble of its own mucus and saliva in order to protect itself from parasites and predators. It’s intended to mask their scent. Many refer to it as an underwater sleeping bag,” he explained with a grimace. Oh, that’s why. “I’m positive it only spreads bacteria, and if fish could get sick in the same way as homosapiens, they would all be sick all of the time.”

“You know, not for nothing, but I wouldn’t mind your saliva all over me.”

“Ugh! Gross!” Spencer staggered backward, glaring at me. “Don’t say things like that.”

I pout. “You’re not even a little curious what I taste like, Dr. Reid?” I stalked up to him, mocking a femme fatale in one of those cheesy black-and-white spy movies.

“Stop it.” He swallowed thickly and when I went to lay my hands on the sides of his neck, his instinctively found my hips. He glanced at my lips. I stared at his.

“Make me,” I whispered, deciding eye contact was a better choice. Good god, his face was red.

His mouth parted slightly and he squeezed my hips, then adjusted his bag. “Enough,” he asserts, and I’d be lying if that didn’t turn me on. In all honesty, I was totally doing a bit and I was just about to back off anyway, but yeesh. For the sake of my own sanity, I giggled and pushed off of him. He sighed in relief.

“Fish can get sick,” I said, changing the topic back to what he'd said about the parrotfish to ease his nerves. When he took more than a half a second to reply, I started to doubt myself. “Can’t they?”

“Well, yes, but not… not ill. They can’t have a sickness like we can. They just feel sick. Like, if they swim upside down, or have issues breathing, or if the water quality is poor.”

I pushed myself off the wall and linked a finger around the strap of his bag, dragging him along behind me. “Alright, last section. Lock and load, you’ve got…” I glanced at my phone. “13 minutes to give me as many facts as you can. Go.”

–

Spencer insisted (according to Date Etiquette 101 from Professor Derek Morgan) that on the third date, he had to take me to a romantic dinner. He still wants to stop by his apartment to get changed, so we’re on the way there now, and have 1 hour, 42 minutes and counting to get to our reservation. I brought a bag with makeup and a change of clothes so I could get done up too and not have to go all the way across town to my place.

Y'know, you wouldn't think it, but he's really a reckless driver. It isn't that he doesn't understand the rules of the road or how to follow them. It's more that he knows them well enough that he feels confident in breaking them. It's kinda sexy. He drives with his left hand only barely touching the wheel and his right hand in mine. It took him a long time of being around me to be okay with physical contact, but now that he's to that point, he's incredibly clingy. He turns a 25-minute drive into 18, and I guarantee that's only because there was a fair amount of traffic.

–

“Are you almost ready?” I hear a rustling sound on the other side of the door, then a muffled, soft scraping noise that suggests he just sat on the floor (which by the way, is clean enough you could eat off of it) against the door. I’m in his room also sitting on the floor, utilizing a full-body mirror against his wall, carefully tweaking my eyeliner. Reid didn’t want to see me before the date, said it was bad luck. It’s strange what he chooses to be superstitious about.

“Almost. 1 minute.” I lean back, raking my fingers through my hair and checking my appearance. Not to toot my own horn, but toot fucking toot, I look downright strapping. “Okay!”

Just as the word leaves my mouth, the bedroom door is flying open and he’s barrelling in, but he stops dead in his tracks as he sees me. “Wow.”

I spin in a little circle, my black, mid-thigh corset dress making a dome around me. “You like?”

Spencer approaches slowly, his eyes scanning me head to toe, right to left, and everything in between. “You… are magnificent.” His fingers twitch when he’s about a foot away from me as though he wants to touch me but chickens out. I gently take his hands and place them on my hips, emboldening him to slide his touch upward, over my waist and around to my back. I pretend not to notice his repeated glances at my breasts, as does he.

“Et toi, mon amour,” I reply, a fresh grin painted across my lips. “You look hot.”

He makes a sour face. “You ruined it.”

My jaw drops and I take a step back, feigning offence. His grip falls from my sides. “Fuck did I do? I can’t call you hot now? I’ve said that a thousand times, calm down.”

“I was being a gentleman,” he pouts. “You’re just being crude.”

“That’s not crude, Dr. Reid. If you want crude-”

“No! No, don’t do that. Save it.” He chuckles, stepping forward again and putting his hands right back where they were. I don’t stop him. “Just hush.”

I let him look at me for a few seconds, and I, him. Just a few until I started getting squeamish under the scrutiny. “Okay. Enough, we need to go,” I interject, pressing against his chest gently with my fingers splayed out. With a glance at the clock behind me, he nods.

“Après toi, ma chérie.”

–

Fancy, fancy FBI boyfriend-not-boyfriend rented out a whole room for us. Candle in the middle of a two-seater table, a window into the main room so we can see what’s going on, and a record player in the corner. The decor is upscale, but not obnoxiously proud. Lots of wood, mostly dark, but light walls. He even goes so far as to pull out my chair for me. 

We’re almost to the end of our meal and I’m taking pin-sized bites to try and draw it out. Reid has already called me out for it twice, but I have blatantly ignored him.

“Spencer,” I begin, cutting off a conversation about the history behind the Hays code and its relevance in a specific episode of Supernatural.

“Hm?” He straightens up, clearing his throat.

“I have a stupid question. You don’t have to answer it.”

“Go ahead.”

“What was your first impression of me?” My voice is low, unsure. I have time to cross my legs, then uncross them, then look at him, then back at my lap before he begins to reply.

“I thought you were pretty. You seemed agitated,” he says, slow, haltingly, like he isn’t sure if that’s the answer I wanted. It wasn’t.

“No, after that. When we started going out. What kind of person do you think I am?”

Spencer hums, folding his hands and leaning back. The seconds tick by like minutes, and god he looks delectable.

“You’re self-assured and conduct yourself as though you think you’re the greatest person in the world. You hand out compliments like candy and you flirt like you’re dying tomorrow because you want people to find you exciting. You think you have to have major sex appeal to attract a partner, which isn’t true, it’s actually quite off-putting.”

“You think having major sex appeal is off-putting?” I interrupt.

“No, I think overdoing it to the point of-”

“I’m not overdoing it! It’s just the way I am.”

“I’m not saying-”

“It’s just that-”

“If you’d stop interrupting me, I’d answer your question.”

I shut my mouth. That was hotter than it needed to be.

“Thank you. As I was saying, it’s clear to others, or at least to me, that you do not feel that way about yourself in the slightest. For the sake of honesty and because I always answer your questions to the fullest of my abilities, I’d say you find yourself almost repulsive."

My stomach twists. Does he find me repulsive? Why would he think I feel that way? Better question: How does he know I feel that way?

"When you first began getting into relationships, you were probably up-front about that because you didn’t know any better, but quickly learned people internalize what you tell them. So, to combat that reaction, you started acting like all you wanted from people was sex so it didn’t matter whether they liked you or not, which led to a lot of meaningless flings that left you feeling worse than you did when you were single.”

If my jaw were any lower, it’d be on the floor. I swallow my arguments.

“Tell me more about my sex life, then, Dr. Reid. Since you know so much.” I’m hoping he knows me well enough to know I didn’t mean that to be as bitter as it sounded. He does.

“You project dominance because you fear loss of control, not to mention your hatred of your own body. You wouldn't ever want to be the receiver in a sexual situation, or at least you wouldn't ask for it for worry of your partner finding you less-than-satifactory."

I fight the urge to ask if he'd feel that way, even as I know his answer.

"You only lightly dabble in more aggressive sexual habits, but your enthusiasm whether or not it comes across as joking suggests there’s more truth in it than you’d like for there to be.” He pauses, and I’m not sure whether it’s because he’s trying to remember his next line or it’s because I distracted him when I leaned forward to lean my chin against my palm. I forgot how much of my cleavage this dress shows. He licks his lips and moves on more elegantly than I thought he would. I take advantage of his silence.

“What about you, Dr. Reid?”

He blinks. “What?”

“What about your sexual habits?”

“I, uhm-”

I stand up and walk over to him, placing my hand on his shoulder before I settle on his knee. His hand goes to my thigh nearest to him and he catches my eyes, careful not to look away.

“Well?”

His composure repairs itself like magic.

“It depends on my partner,” he says, his voice lower than it was before, and I swear his eyes are darker than they were a few minutes ago. “I tend to let my partner set the pace. I can embrace aggression if the circumstance proves it necessary.”

Holy shit.

This, my dear reader, was the third time I thought: I’d really like to see just how red I could make you.

“What about me?” I ask, my throat dry. I think I’m more nervous than he is, but I’m taking it like a champ. I look down at Spencer’s hand (his very pretty hand, his very big hand, across my entire thigh. Has it moved up?), but he’s not having it. His free hand goes up to hold my chin firmly, and with utter and total reverence, he lifts my face to look him in the eyes again.

“What about you, beautiful?" He watches me carefully, brown eyes full of intent. My self-control right now is dazzling.

And if I said a little thank-you prayer to God for not giving me a dick with which I would be cursed with a boner right now, then maybe that’s nobody’s business.

“What kind of aggression would you use with me?” I bite my lip and swallow, staring at his lips. Perfect, perfect boy.

He studies me for a moment, and I think he’s trying to make me squirm on purpose. His hand hasn’t left my chin, the bastard.

“Keep talking," he prompts. Yes, sir.

I could not tell you, gun to my head, where the fuck I got my bravery from, but hallelujah holy shit.

“Would you grab me by the throat and hold me against a wall?" Woah, where did that come from? Go me. "Would you hold onto me so hard it bruised? Would you leave marks that wouldn’t go away for weeks? Would you ever hurt me, Dr. Reid?” If he notices my face getting so hot it would rival the sun, then it was sweet of him not to address it.

“Is that what you want?”

“I guess I just want to know if you could,” I reply, my left hand coming up to his face, my fingertips tracing his bottom lip, my eyes glued to the point of contact.

“You have no idea what I could do, given enough provocation,” he whispers, finally allowing his eyes to fall to my mouth, parted slightly in awe.

“Are you gonna kiss me or not, Spencer?”

Rather than responding to me, his grip on my chin loosens for favour of travelling down my jaw, then to the back of my neck, curling into my hair, pulling just hard enough for me to feel the tension. “Fix your attitude,” he asserts, and then his lips are on mine and it’s all passion and fury and the taste of chocolate. I moan into his mouth on instinct, and his grip on my hip tightens.

If there’s one thing about Spencer Reid, it’s that he exists as a multitude. And if there’s two things, it’s that he kisses like a man fucking starved. Like he’s been suffocating slowly in a room with no oxygen, and once he gets a mask, he’s not letting it go. He’s teeth in lips, he’s hands roaming, he’s furrowed brows and mouths parting.

His right hand roves over my thigh furthest from him, dipping under my skirt just barely. He stays under the fabric and moves his hand to the top of my thigh, then braving the inside. He’s squeezing once or twice everywhere he touches, like the cliche of saying pinch me. I spread my legs instinctively.

As quick as it started, it stops.

I whine, my eyes opening slow like molasses.

“This is an incredibly uncomfortable position,” he pants. I only just realized the poor thing is not exactly on a sofa made for two. I may be snug as a bug in his lap, but the arms of the chair are digging into the sides of his legs. The recollection of our being in a fucking restaurant right now hits me in the face like a fresh bucket of ice water. 

“Fuck. Sorry,” I breathe, my hands tangled in his hair, and I’m not sure when they got there, or when they managed to unbutton the top half of his shirt, or how the straps of my dress are halfway down my arms.

“Bathroom?” I propose, glancing at the adjoining one that I am thanking my lucky stars for as we speak.

“Bathroom,” he agrees.

[cherie-luvv]

Newt is not a jealous person, at least that’s what Thomas thinks. One day the blonde haired boy starts to get annoying, angry and insufferable, what could be happening to him? Maybe Thomas will find out the wrong way.

Or

Newt is actually not what everyone thinks he is, but he hides it too well. He’s obsessive, and Thomas is his obsession.

Guys should I write this or it doesn’t feel like Newt at all

[im-no-jedi]

so like I know everyone is up in arms about the supposed incoming romance between Bo-Katan and Din, and I get that (I’m personally indifferent)

but also I had a dream last night that I was Bo-Katan, and I was upset about something, and Din was there, and he literally came over and just kinda held me while I was on the verge of tears (in armor of course LOL)

all I’m saying is that if that man does anything remotely similar in the show, Bo better GET IT 👀

[libraford]

It is possible to interact with people whom share opposing views and no this is not about pineapple on pizza. In fact, it is imperative that you learn how to be civil with some people who you may find difficult to agree with.

At work, Youngin would often tell me that the guy that trained him (Ginger) was a misogynist. I had never met Ginger, and I had very little to say on this matter. But I would ask Youngin some questions about him because I like to know the other seasonal workers a little. I ask about Ginger- first words from Youngin's mouth 'he's a misogynist.'

I asked him why he thought that. (There are many misogynists at this location, as someone that is woman-shaped I see it often, I am comparing notes.)

"We were on our way to a location and a driver was going really slowly. When he got around her he said 'fucking women drivers.' Like he was going out of his way to prove that the driver was a woman."

The last month or so, Youngin worked exclusively with me because I knew that it was a matter of time before he said something that pissed off one of the guys. He was not going to get along with people here, it just wasn't happening.

When he left, everyone wanted to know what he was like to work with. And I finally got to have a conversation with Ginger.

"I'd like to ask you something a little strange- he said that on his first day there was an issue with a driver going slowly. Can you tell me about that?"

"Oh yeah! She was going super slow and when I got around her I said 'yup- little old lady driving.' And he was like 'what's that supposed to mean?' And I just kind of dropped it, but I hear he was saying I was a misogynist over it?"

So I give Youngin some grace because he's young, he's got a social bubble that's very liberal, he has not met very many people that weren't part of that kind of scene. But he often talked about how every person here has said something that pissed him off and he seemed really surprised that I (woman-shaped queer liberal) would be okay working with all these sexist homophobes.

And I give grace to Ginger because he had no reason to think that his words would be interpreted like that. What he was saying was normal to him. This is... somewhat the culture of landscaping jobs. And its not even close to the worst thing I've heard out of these dudes mouths. (Literally had one of the dudes comment that he would like to 'motorboat' one of the pedestrians.)

It was weird for Youngin to carry that with him for the whole two months that he worked here, over a very... small comment.

Every single person I've worked with here has said something that has given me pause and I tuck it away to rant about later and then I let it go. If it gets out of hand, I talk to one of the bosses about it. I know how to contact HR. I came into this place knowing that I was going to disagree politically with most of the people that I work with because I'm coming in to a culture that is fundamentally different from my own.

If I am being frank, I find the overt bigotry somewhat better than the corporate bullshit of 'we value your contributions, but won't be granting your accommodations request out of fairness to other workers' or the glass cliff or literally being fired for my sexual orientation but phrased with 'oh you just weren't a good fit for the culture here.' I at least know what I'm getting into when I come to work. I know what not to talk about. Last time I thought I was safe to talk about something queer with my boss she blindsided me with some transphobic garbage.

Its admirable to stick up for the marginalized people in your life, but part of changing minds is knowing the time and the place to comment. I think I've changed more minds at this warehouse by being a visibly out lesbian at work than I have by making carefully crafted speeches.

That is fine. It is fine to disagree. Sometimes you have to work with racists, homophobes, and assholes. That is part of being an adult. You talk about things like... sports or TV or weather or some cool bug you saw. Finding common ground with people who are different from you in many ways is an important part of socialization and it sucks to think you have anything in common with a jackass but look- you're spending 7-ish hours with these people and at some point some of them are going to say stupid shit. You are going to say stupid shit also. I have said my fair share of stupid shit. Deal with the fact that you're all stupid shits.

And for fuck's sake, wear your hardhat.

[javiscigarette]

Teacher's Pet

Joel Miller x virgin f!reader

Summary: 25 years old, anxiety-ridden, and still a virgin, you ask your friend Joel for advice on your upcoming date. But you're more of a...hands-on learner. And he's more than happy to help. 

Warnings: PWP, unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, first kiss, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), frequent check-ins, soo much banter and Joel is a menace also so soft and sweet :')....(ends on a cliffhanger but there will be a part two I swear).

w/c: 7.7k idk what happened

a/n: I am resurfacing for your monthly reminder that I do in fact still write!! Inspiration for this came out of literally nowhere but I took it and RAN with it and I think I like it?? As always, thank you to my baby love @undrthelights for helping me with this and always listening to my rambling and for being my biggest enabler Ilysm

Part Two

my masterlist

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever." Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck pound in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed. "A what?" "Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head.  "No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?” 

"Seriously, Joel. Fuck off" you snap but with no bite or heat behind it. You bring the sweating bottle of beer to your lips and finish the rest of the now lukewarm liquid off in one gulp. 

"What? I just find it hard to believe that you've never even had a kiss. Didn't you go to high school? Didn't you ever get invited to a party? Didn't you go to college? College kids do the do like all the time” 

"Clearly not all the time" you mutter, a tad bitterly.

Joel raises his hands defensively and takes a sip of his own beer. "Just seems crazy is all. There's gotta be some chick or dude out there willing to take pity on you and pop your cherry."

You audibly gag at his choice of words. "I don't need a pity fuck, thanks." You stand from the couch and head over to the fridge. The bottles of cold alcohol inside are calling your name and you want something that will help soothe your nerves. You're not a big drinker, but when Joel is prying into your love life like he is now, you wish you were.

"Okay,” he starts from the living room. “Maybe I worded that wrong. What I meant to say was, there's gotta be someone out there who would be more than willing to show you a good time."

You groan and let your forehead fall against the fridge door. "That's the whole point! I came here to get advice for my date, someone who might actually be interested in me, and all you've done is make fun of me for not having fucked anyone yet. So thanks, Joel. You're a real pal."

You push away from the fridge and slam the door shut, a second beer in hand.

"Alright, alright, calm down." He says, hands in the air as if you were holding him at gunpoint as you head back to the couch. "Look, if this guy really likes you then he's not gonna care. Probably won't even be able to tell if you are or aren't."

"You think so?" You ask hopefully.

"Well, I mean, unless you're like... super bad."

Your heart drops into your stomach and you glare at him, "Joel."

"Oh come on, I'm kidding. You're not gonna be bad, okay? Just, go into it with an open mind and just relax. If he tries something you're not comfortable with or makes you feel weird, tell him. And if he gets pissy, dump his ass."

"That simple, huh?" You scoff.

"Well, yeah. You're the one who made it complicated by thinking it was a big deal."

"It is a big deal, Joel! I know nothing!

"Nothing? You ain’t ever watched porn? Jesus, I had no idea you were such a prude."

You can't stop yourself from rolling your eyes and slapping the back of your hand against his arm. He yelps and laughs, rubbing his arm.

"I've watched porn before" you retort. 

"What kind?" he asks with a wiggle of his brows.

"None of your fucking business" you respond, feeling your face heat up.

Joel's lips quirk into a shit-eating grin and you're quick to smack him again.

"Okay okay, sorry!" he says through his laughter. "So what exactly are you afraid of?"

You're not really sure how to answer. It's a combination of so many things, most of which are irrational fears and insecurities. Sure you've seen it all done before, but you're well aware that none of it is realistic. At least, not completely. And just the fact that you're freshly 25 years old without a single notch in your bedpost makes you dizzy with anxiety. It's not like you're saving yourself or anything, it's just that hook up culture has never agreed with you and there's never been an opportunity that made you feel like it was the right one. That is until now, with your cute coworker who you thought was miles out of your league asking you out on a third date. And now, the prospect of being in bed with him is looming over you like a dark cloud and the last thing you want to do is mess it up.

"I guess, I'm just afraid that he's gonna be disappointed, or I'm gonna weird him out, or I'm gonna do something wrong and embarrass myself.” Joel nods along and listens. "And if it is bad then we still have to work with each other and then what if it's awkward and everyone knows about it and then he hates me and--"

"Okay, whoa slow down there, buddy" Joel says, putting a hand on your shoulder. "One, you're overthinking this. You're literally thinking like, five steps ahead of what's actually going on. It's a date. And even if it does end up in the bedroom, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. No one's forcing you, okay? He can't. No one can."

"I know, but I want to," you reply quietly.

"Alright. Then do."

"I don't know howwww!! " you whine, flopping backwards into the couch.

Joel groans and sits up a little straighter, scrubbing a hand down his face. 

"Well, there's no magic trick, I don't have a secret sex manual I'm holding out on ya."

You sigh, shoulders sagging as you look over at him. The idea comes out of nowhere, well, not exactly from nowhere, but it pops in your head so fast that you then have to bite your tongue before the words bubbling up from your throat come tumbling out. 

It's not a bad idea, not necessarily. 

You've been good friends with Joel ever since you moved in next door last year. An unlikely pairing, a 40 year old contractor and an almost 25 year old office worker. But after offering him a six pack as part of introducing yourself to the neighbors, you'd gotten along fabulously. He fixes things around your house and you send him home with hot dinners and warm, gooey cookies and you watch movies together almost every Friday night.

 It's an easy friendship, open and honest and supportive, and Joel has never given you reason not to trust him. He's a good guy, if not a little brash, but you know deep down he means well. And it doesn't hurt that he's objectively attractive, with his tall and sturdy frame, strong, calloused hands, dark messy curls....It's not a bad idea.

It's an absolutely insane idea. 

You continue to stare at him, clenching your teeth together to hold back the question sitting on the tip of your tongue.

"What?" he says, looking back at you.

"Nothing" you mutter, eyes flicking away.

"You've got that face you make when you're about to say something really stupid, so just get it out."

You glare at him again, not enjoying the way he can read you so well.

"I wasn't gonna say anything."

"Well now you're lying."

"I'm not."

"You're doing it again!"

"Doing what?!"

"That face!"

"I'm not making a face!"

"Yes you are! Just spit it out!"

You groan and hide your face in your hands. You blame it on the one beer even though you know you’re not anywhere close to being drunk because how else would you justify what you’re about to say? You wait a moment, thinking about the weight of it but your mouth opens before you can stop yourself. 

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever."

Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck and hear it in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed.

"A what?"

"Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head. 

"No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?” 

His eyes are wide, and he looks incredulous. You can't blame him, because the more time that passes between your suggestion and now, the more ridiculous the idea seems.

"I’m sorry, that was…It was stupid. Pretend I didn't say anything. Let's just watch a movie." You move to grab the remote, but Joel's hand covers yours, stopping you.

"Is that what you want?"

You look at him, searching his expression for any sign of disgust or apprehension. But all you can see is the same Joel you've known for months, patient, warm, and understanding.

"I know. I know it's stupid. But I can't get this date out of my head, Joel. It's all I can think about and the more I do, the more worried I get and I just don't want to fuck it up. And I know we're friends and this is weird and gross, but I just thought that... maybe, I could have some practice, so to speak."

He doesn't say anything. Just keeps looking at you, the panic rising in your chest the longer the silence stretches. You start to fidget, wringing your hands together in your lap.

"I'm sorry, that was way out of line" you say, moving to stand up, your skin sweaty and hot with embarrassment and your feet ready to run out the door and never come back. 

But Joel catches your wrist, gently pulling you back down to sit next to him.

"Joel" you whine, not wanting him to humiliate you any further.

"It's okay, come here."

His voice is softer than before, and his eyes are kind. You let him pull you closer, the two of you sitting knee to knee. You can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes, not with your cheeks and the tips of your ears burning like they are, but Joel doesn't push. He simply moves his hand from your wrist, sliding it into yours. His palms are rough and warm, and the simple touch alone is comforting.

"You really wanna do this?” he asks softly. You can feel his eyes boring into you. “I mean, I'm not exactly a prize winning catch. And it's not like there's a shortage of willing men out there."

You shrug and chew the inside of your lip.

"Yeah, but you're my friend and I...I trust you."

There's another pause, and you wish that you could just disappear into the couch and erase this moment from your memory.

"How drunk are you?" he asks, glancing at the beer bottle on the coffee table.

"You saw me finish one bottle. And half of another. I’m barely tipsy."

"Not drunk?”

"Nope."

"You're gonna remember this tomorrow."

"Uh huh."

"And you still want to?"

You groan for the millionth time and squeeze his hand.

"Yes I want to! Look, if you don't want to then that's fine. It was just a dumb suggestion and we can just forget this ever happened."

He hums, considering your words. His hand slips out of yours, and you think that's it, you've scared him off and washed the friendship down the drain. That you'll have to hide from him from now on, that you'll have to pack your things up and move because the mortification would be too much, and that he'll hate you, and—

His two fingers sliding under chin surprise you, and he tilts your head up. He's looking down at you with that same even expression, eyes big, soft, and warm as he slides his hand over to cup your jaw in his palm. 

"If you want to stop at any point, just say so, okay? I won't be upset and we can go back to the way things were before. Got it?"

You nod, your throat suddenly too tight to speak. His thumb sweeps over your cheekbone, the tender touch is enough to make your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this is actually happening. That your first kiss is going to be with your 40 year old menace of a neighbor. That you’re going to, how did you put it, get a sex lesson from him. His gaze flicks down to your lips and back up to your eyes and you’re positive you’re no longer able to breathe. 

"Can I kiss you?" he asks softly. You nod. 

You're sure he can hear the thumping of your heart in his own ears as he leans down. His other hand comes to rest on your hip and when his lips touch yours, a soft, tentative pressure, you're not prepared for the electricity that shoots through you.

He's barely done anything and already you feel like you're floating. Your own hands reach out to clutch his shirt, keeping him close, afraid he'll pull away and leave you cold and wanting if you don't. But he stays put, pressing himself against you, his lips working gently against yours. You follow his lead, kissing him back while trying not to overthink it.

It's nothing like the kisses in the movies or the books, where fireworks explode behind your eyelids or where your foot pops up in the air. It's far more subdued, more quiet and subtle. But the warmth that pools low in your belly and the goosebumps that erupt on your skin when his tongue slides against the seam of your lips, light and quick, makes you absolutely melt. 

He pulls back before you can really react, and you're left with a dizzying rush of both blistering desire and excruciating anxiety. You want to pull him back in and never let him go. But your heart is beating so fast you can hardly breathe, your nerves are buzzing, and the urge to run and hide is nearly paralyzing. 

"Was it bad?" you ask tentatively, cheeks heated.

"No" he replies, giving your hip a squeeze as a smirk plays on his lips. "It was fucking awful. Worst kiss of my life"

"Shut up!" you hiss, pushing him away with a hand on his chest. He laughs, the sound easing some of the tension in your body. 

"I'm just teasing" he says, voice dropping lower. "C'mere, we can work on it."

His lips find yours again, and you try not to smile into the kiss but it's hard when you can feel the way his lips are quirked up as well. It doesn’t take much else to get you to relax and let yourself fall into the moment, into the gentle press of his mouth and the warm hands on your hip and your cheek. He swipes his tongue against your lips again, his fingers pressing lightly into the hinge of your jaw to tilt your head back and coax your lips apart.

You let him, sighing as his tongue glides across yours, hot and smooth and sweet. Your hands slide up his chest, finding purchase around his shoulders, and when you move forward, pushing yourself against him, he grunts softly but lets you. He kisses you until the both of you are gasping for air, and when he pulls back, his lips are wet and red and you're certain yours must be as well.

"Better?" you ask, a bit breathless.

"Getting there" he answers with, his breath warm where it fans across your cheek. 

"You're such a liar" you say with a goofy smile.

"Yeah, I know. Now try again, practice makes perfect.” 

You roll your eyes but lean back in nonetheless. It's a bit more heated this time, the feeling of his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip making you squirm. His hand rounds over your hip, palm smoothing to the small of your back to pull you closer, the heat of his body radiating through your clothes and warming your skin. Your hands move on their own accord, no thought behind the action as they slide up to his shoulders and then his neck, your fingers finding home in the curls at the base of his skull. When you give them a slight tug, you're rewarded with a muffled grunt from Joel. Emboldened, you pull back, lips swollen and tingling.

"You’re a good kisser,” you pant. "Is that something people usually say?"

"When it’s true" he says, grinning at you. "And since I know you're gonna ask, I'd say that was a C+, maybe a B-."

You scoff but blush furiously at the smile he flashes, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Well then, tell me what to do next. What do I need to know?"

Joel hums as he thinks for a moment. 

"What do you want to do?"

You stare at him for a second, blinking.

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you" you say, shaking your head a bit.

"Well, how far do you want to take this?"

You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy. You can’t deny that when the idea popped in your head it was accompanied by the mental image of you naked, spread out on his bed, but the actual act of asking him, or better yet, actually doing it is... intimidating to say the least. Are you really about to let him go all the way, to see you bare and vulnerable, let him pop your cherry as he would disgustingly put it? All just to “prepare” for a date with a guy who might not even like you that way?

Yeah, probably.

"All the way" you answer. “I want to go all the way” 

He doesn’t pounce on you like you expected, doesn’t press his lips against yours in a frenzied kiss that you had half hoped for. Instead, he simply looks at you, his brown eyes boring into yours, searching.

"Are you sure? You can always say no and you're not gonna lose me as a friend if this isn’t what you actually want. I don’t want you thinking that."

You can't help the laugh that bubbles up and slips out, because of course Joel, your kind, thoughtful Joel, would say that. He's a good man. A great one, even.

"Yes, I'm sure. But if you don't want to, I get it, I can just leave and-"

Joel laughs, the sound traveling up from deep in his chest, the rumble vibrating against you.

"Sweetheart, I wouldn't be doin’ this if I didn't want to. Just makin’ sure this is what you really want."

"I want it.” 

He squeezes your hip and swipes a thumb over your cheekbone once again. 

“Alright then.” He nods, firm and resolute, and then looks around the room. “ We’re not doing it here, though. If you're getting the full Joel Miller experience, we're gonna do it right.” 

Your eyes roll reflexively, but your heart picks up its pace regardless.

"I’m not gonna do anything if you call it that ever again."

"Fine, fine,” he relents. “Let me show you what a good, thorough fucking feels like. Better?"

Your jaw drops, and he's laughing at you, his body shaking with amusement.

"Fuck you" you grumble, shoving him away while trying to hide your coy smile. 

"Yeah, that's what I'm hoping for," he says with a wide, self-assured grin.

"I'm leaving" you declare with a false sense of offense as you rise to your feet. Joel is quick to do the same and before you can take a single step away, he slips a finger through the belt loop of your jeans and tugs you back into him, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"I’ll stop, I’ll stop. I'm sorry" he says, not sounding it one bit.

You huff, but let him pull you closer until you’re pressed against his chest and you have to tilt your head back to look at him.

"I’ll be good. I promise."

"Liar"

"Well, yeah. But I can promise that I'll make you feel good."

You can't help the giggle that spills out and he kisses it away, his lips warm and plush and sweet against yours. The hand not resting on your lower back comes up, curling around the nape of your neck and keeping you close. You sink into him, and the fog creeps in again, dulling the rest of the world, making it seem fuzzy and distant, like the memory of a dream. All you can focus on is him, the warm solid weight of him against you, the strong arms holding you, the way his mouth moves against yours. And then he’s pulling back all too soon and you have to stifle a whine.

"Come on" he says, tugging at your hand.

His bedroom is dim, the little lamp on his nightstand and the faint glow of the moon through the curtains providing the only light. You swallow and take a deep breath as you step inside, your bare toes digging into the plush carpet, his hand warm and large where it grips yours.

He holds onto you as he sits on the edge of the bed. You step forward, letting him pull you between his knees. His hands settle on your hips, and you can feel their heat through the fabric of your shirt.

He doesn’t ask if you're sure again and you’re grateful because you’re not sure if you could form any kind of response right now. Instead, he slides his hands up and under your shirt, fingers dancing across your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps. Your breath hitches as his hands smooth over your ribs and around to your back, the tips of his fingers mapping out the curve of your spine, skimming over each notch and bump. They climb higher, the fabric of your shirt bunching around his wrists. 

“Can I take this off, baby?”

Your heart jumps to your throat but you nod anyway. He grabs the hem and tugs your shirt up and and you lift your arms so he can slip it off over your head. He tosses it aside, the fabric falling to the floor beside the bed. You’re left exposed, vulnerable and bare, save for the worn out bra you wear, a few too many washes and a few years past its prime.

Your hands itch where they hang by your side with the instinct to cover yourself, hide the imperfections that you know so well, the stretch marks, the softness of your stomach, the way the cups of your bra are just a bit too small and spill over the tops.

But then he’s pressing his lips to the space just above your navel, his scruff tickling your skin and making the muscles in your abdomen jump and twitch. His hands find your waist again, and when his lips continue their path upwards, his palms follow, skimming up your sides, thumbs tracing the outline of your ribs before stopping at the band of your bra.

"This too?" he asks, voice quiet and husky.

"Yeah" you answer with a squeak, and he grins like a kid in a candy store.

His fingers undo the clasp deftness that makes your knees go weak, the straps slipping from your shoulders and the whole thing sliding down your arms, landing somewhere near your shirt. 

"God, baby, look at you" he murmurs, his hands cupping the underside of your breasts, his thumbs sweeping over the tops and then down the slope and around your nipple. Your breath hitches, the gentle touch sending a shiver up your spine. "You're fucking perfect."

The praise is unexpected and it sends a jolt of heat through your core. You whimper quietly and his hands are on you again, the calloused palms rough on the soft skin of your breasts. He kneads the flesh, squeezing gently before rolling your nipples between his fingers, pulling and pinching and teasing. 

He pulls you closer and ducks his head, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes dark and hooded, and his pupils blown wide with desire.

"Can I?" he asks.

"Please."

He leans in and wraps his lips around a peaked nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, the gentle heat of his mouth on your skin making your knees weak.

His mouth works on one breast, tongue flicking and teasing while his free hand continues its work on the other. Pleasure builds and coils deep inside, the sensation unfamiliar but certainly not unwelcome. You whimper and he pulls away, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before giving it a sweet parting kiss.

He turns his attention to the other, his teeth grazing over the stiff peak and drawing a whine from your lips. He sighs when your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling at the strands until he groans softly against you. He sucks your other nipple into his mouth, the flat of his tongue pressing against it and dragging up and around, swirling and flicking. You’re already breathless, panting, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead.

"Feels good, Joel," you whisper shyly. 

"I know, honey" he says, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he pulls away. "Feel good anywhere else?"

He doesn't wait for a response, simply slips a hand between your thighs, cupping you through the denim, the simple action making you squeak.

"Here, huh?" he says, the heel of his palm pressing against you.

You gasp softly and nod, biting your lip, too shy to say anything.

"Get on the bed, baby."

You comply, crawling onto the mattress and scooting backwards towards the pillows, sitting at the head of the bed as you watch him. His eyes never leave you as he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Your heart thumps as you stare at his bare chest, his tanned skin dotted with a light dusting of salt and pepper hair. He's broad, his shoulders thick and chest solid. Your fingers burn with the urge to reach out and touch him, so you do, extending a tentative, slightly shaky hand.

He watches you closely, eyes flitting down to the palm pressed against his chest before meeting yours again, his mouth curling into a smile.

"You can touch" he says, reaching down to curl a hand around your wrist and bringing it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the center of your palm before guiding your hand back down to his chest. "I think most people would enjoy that."

"You're having entirely too much fun with this,” you mumble while your fingers spread out across his pec.  

"It is fun" he counters, his own hand sliding up the inside of your thigh, thumb pressing against the seam of your jeans and rubbing up and down. "But it'll be more fun once these come off"

Your lips part, a puff of air rushing out.

"You gonna take them off?" you ask, the words slipping out, bold and unbidden.

He grins, his brow quirking up.

"Look at you, being all bossy"

"You like it" you say, finally feeling some of the anxiety slipping away, the familiar and comfortable banter between the two of you slipping into place in a new, unfamiliar situation.

His smile takes up nearly his whole face as moves closer. 

“I sure do.” 

He looms over you, bracing himself on an elbow next to your head before ducking down to kiss you, his tongue easily slipping into your mouth, warm and insistent. You sigh into it, your hands finding the warm, bare skin of his back, muscles gliding beneath your palms as you slide them up and around, fingertips digging into his shoulders. He's so warm and solid and you can't help the little noise that slips out, a soft, needy moan. You're about to break the kiss and beg him to touch you, give you something, anything, but he pulls back before you can. 

"Impatient. I like that too" he says, voice barely above a whisper.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then down your neck, his beard scraping against your skin. He continues his path, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses across your collarbones and down the valley between your breasts, his beard tickling your sternum.

His palm presses into the top of your thigh, and you instinctively open your legs for him, his hand immediately moving to cup you through the denim, thick fingers pressing against the seam and the bundle of nerves just below. Your hips rock up, seeking more pressure and he grins, entirely too pleased with himself right now.

You huff, and he laughs, the sound rumbling in his chest, but he relents, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans and tugging the fabric down, revealing the pair of pink panties underneath. 

Joel sits up, pulling your jeans down your legs and letting them drop off the side of the bed, the sound of the denim hitting the floor indicating that you've officially crossed a line that neither of you can come back from. But if the hungry, desperate look on his face and the way you're practically vibrating underneath him are any indication, neither of you want to.

"I'll start with just my fingers, yeah?" he says, his hands running up the insides of your thighs, touch light and teasing, the tips of his fingers brushing the edge of your panties. You nod dumbly, at a complete loss for words right now.

He ducks his head, his lips landing on the smooth skin stretched over your hip bone. You squirm, ticklish, and he grins. His mouth is a great distraction from his hand, which has found its way back in between your legs, his fingers now pressing against damp fabric.

"Shit" he curses, his touch firm. "Fuckin' soaked already. Am I just that good?" he quips with a smirk.

"Jesus do you ever shut up" you gripe, but the effect is ruined by the whimper that escapes you when his thumb sweeps up, pressing hard against your clit. 

"Oh, that's a pretty sound" he murmurs, repeating the motion to pull out another one, your hips bucking against his hand.

"Now," he starts, his tone shifting to the same one he uses when he's about to impart some life lesson. "This guy you're gonna see, or any man for that matter, should always take care of you before himself. That's just common fuckin' sense. And if he doesn't, you send him on his way" he continues. "Because a man that don't wanna see a woman get off is no fuckin' man at all"

You're about to interrupt, tell him he's an idiot and ask him to please, please, get on with it, but his fingers sliding under the elastic of your panties, swiftly pulling them down your legs steals the breath from your lungs. Your pulse sky rockets and you shift underneath him, crossing your thighs in instinctual effort to hide yourself from him. 

"M'sorry I didn't shave or anything" you blurt out, your throat tight with anxiety and embarrassment once again 

Joel just shakes his head as he pries your legs apart.

"Baby, I could not give less of a shit about that."

"But-"

"No" he says, the word firm, an edge of command to his tone. "You’re not apologizin’ for that. And if a man gives a shit, he's a fuckin' child who doesn't deserve the honor of bein' between these thighs" he says, pushing your knees further apart.

You nod and bite your lip, the words that are just so very Joel, settling in your chest and easing the tension in your body. You let out a long, slow breath and relax, trying to ease the nervousness.

"There ya go" he says, his fingers dancing along your slit, gathering the slick pooling there. You shudder at the gentle touch, your hips rolling up just a bit before you force them back down into the mattress, trying to keep yourself still.

"Nuh-uh. None of that" he says, immediately noticing the movement. He slides his free hand under you, his palm pushing into the small of your back and encouraging you to move again, to lean into your pleasure. "You take what you want, baby. Show me how good it feels. That's all I wanna see."

You squirm and whimper, the simple, almost lazy touch driving you insane. You've touched yourself before, brought yourself over the edge while imagining what it would be like to have the things you read about and watch in videos happen to you. But you've never managed to make yourself feel this good, never felt pleasure so intense, never felt a burning pressure in your abdomen so demanding that it radiates all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.

And he's barely touched you.

"How's that feel?"

You can't even form the words, so you just nod and hum, the sound a mix of a whimper and a moan, your hips rolling up against his palm. He chuckles, and then the pressure increases, the friction building, his fingers slipping down, collecting more of your wetness to ease the drag against your skin.

He moves his fingers down, down, down, the tip of one circling your entrance, gathering the wetness pooling there. You whine loudly, any shame and modesty you once had replaced entirely with desperate need and pure desire.

"Please, Joel" you whisper, voice shaky.

"I gotcha" he says, dipping his fingertip in, just barely, and pulling a moan from deep in your chest. "Gonna give you what you need"

You groan, a long, low sound as he slowly sinks his finger into you. It's nothing like your own, so perfectly thick and long/ And you found the spot before, the spot that he curls his finger up into, but never at this angle, never with the perfect amount of pressure that he's applying right now. 

"Mmm, look at that" he coos as you clench tightly around his finger.

"Joel, god, feels so good" you whimper pathetically. 

"I know, honey, I know."

You clench again, the cockiness and self-assured attitude that usually gets under your skin now ignites your whole body in an entirely different way. He keeps his eyes on your face, watching as your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drops open, your head tipping back as the pleasure builds.

"Another" you beg, the fullness not nearly enough.

"Greedy girl" he chides, but he pulls his finger out, and slides two back in. You swear that you could come from this alone, but he doesn't let you, the hand that was supporting your lower back disappearing, only to reappear between your thighs, his thumb circling your clit with firm, steady strokes.

White hot pleasure wraps around the base of your spine, the dual sensations of his fingers and his thumb sending you spiraling. The sounds falling from your lips are unrecognizable, high and desperate as your mind goes blissfully blank, your entire focus on the heat coiling in your abdomen. Your eyebrows pinch together and you bury your face in the pillow next to your head, trying to hide the ridiculous expression you're surely making, but you inhale the traces of his shampoo and cologne that cling to the fabric, the scent pushing you even closer to the edge. 

You try to hold back. Surely you're not supposed to come this quickly, not just from two fingers and a thumb. Surely that's a sign that you're an easy lay, or too inexperienced, or-

"Just let it happen, baby. I can feel it, Just let go" Joel says, his voice cutting through the thoughts racing through your mind, his fingers crooking inside you and dragging across the spot that makes your hips stutter and a cry fall from your lips.

You can't hold back any longer, the pleasure cresting and crashing down around you. You squeeze his fingers, your back arching, the heels of your feet digging into the mattress as you roll your hips up into his touch, seeking more and more and more. And he gives and gives and gives, working you through it and drawing it out for as long as he can before you melt into the mattress, bones and muscles liquid and warm and satisfied.

He pulls his fingers out, and the sudden emptiness draws a disappointed whine from you, his answering chuckle making you smile.

"That was- fuck" you sigh, not quite capable of coherent thought.

"Absolutely mind-blowing? Yeah I know" he teases. You roll your eyes but don't say anything because it's true, and his cocky grin fades into a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches you return to Earth. 

"Can I- can I return the favor?" you ask, your gaze flicking down to the noticeable bulge in his jeans.

He grunts and shakes his head.

"Not yet. Got somethin' else in mind."

You frown and push yourself up onto your elbows, watching as he shifts from his position. You're about to ask what he's going to do until he's settling himself on his stomach between your thighs. You suck in a sharp breath as you realize exactly what he's got planned and your heart jumps, anxiety clouding your mind once again. 

He rests his cheek on your thigh, his eyes meeting yours.

"Alright?"

You swallow and nod, licking your lips.

"Yeah. Just... no one's ever-"

"Yeah, I got that much, that's why we're here" he says, smiling smugly when you glare at him. 

"But what if it's not good? Or I don't taste good? Or-"

"Stop" he says, the single word halting your runaway train of thought. "You need lessons in relaxing, not sex. You're so fucking tense all the time"

"Sorry" you say, immediately cringing.

He sighs, his breath ghosting over the skin of your inner thigh, making you shiver. "What did I say about apologizin'?" he says, his tone slightly sharp.

"I know. Sorry- shit, sorry! Fuck!"

He barks out a laugh and you huff, bringing up both hands to scrub over your face.

"See what I mean?"

"Yes, yes, you're very smart and know everything"

He hums and nips at your thigh.

"Damn right I do."

You want to snark back, but his mouth is moving, his lips trailing down the inside of your thigh and towards where you're aching for him, slick and wet and throbbing. He takes his time, laying kisses on your thighs, hips, and stomach, his scruff scraping the sensitive skin, huffing out a laugh when you start to squirm, your patience wearing thin.

His hands smooth over the soft flesh of your inner thighs, urging you to spread them wider before spreading you open with his thumbs, exposing you completely. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and the urge to close your legs and hide yourself from his gaze is overwhelming, the embarrassment making your skin burn. But before you can even think about closing them, his tongue is on you, sliding up the length of you and circling your clit. The moan that escapes you is embarrassingly loud and high pitched, but the mortification is easily swallowed up by the pleasure.

He hums against you, the sound and the feeling sending a shudder through your body. Your hands grip the pillow behind your head and you try not to buck up into his mouth, but your attempts are futile. He doesn't seem to mind though, in fact you think it spurs him on, his tongue flattening against you and lapping at you messily, the wetness he's coaxed from you smearing across his mouth and chin.

The sound is lewd and obscene, the sloppy, slick noises and the soft grunts and groans that rumble in his chest as he works you up. He pulls back, his breath coming out in pants, his chest heaving as he looks up at you, his eyes dark and hooded.

"Don't know what you were worried about" he says, his voice low and raspy. "You taste fuckin' divine"

His beard is shiny and damp, his lips glistening, hair messy from where your fingers were tangled in it. The sight of him looking so completely disheveled and filthy has you clenching around nothing, the ache almost too much to bear.

He doesn't say anything else, just ducks his head and gets back to work, his mouth moving with a renewed urgency, his hands gripping your thighs and pushing them further apart, allowing him better access.

Your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open, a constant stream of moans and whines and babbling pleas and praises falling from your lips, but you're not really sure what you're saying, not really sure of anything except the intoxicating pleasure coursing through your veins.

You hear him moan, can feel the vibration against your skin, and you glance down at him, and that's a mistake. The sight of him, his eyes closed and brows drawn together in concentration, his cheeks hollowed out as he sucks and nips and laps at you and– is he fucking grinding his hips into the mattress?

You're fucked.

A throaty moan tumbles past your lips as your hips start to rock, a rhythm forming as you chase your orgasm. His hands leave your thighs and he slides one arm up, the weight of it resting against your abdomen to keep you still while his other hand snakes down, fingers dipping inside again, finding the spot that makes you see stars.

"Fuck, Joel, please, oh my god, I'm so- please"

He groans in response, the hand on your stomach pressing down harder to meet the two fingers curling and stroking inside of you. You cry out at the increased pressure right as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the bud, his fingers moving faster and faster. Flames lick up your spine and spread throughout your body, threatening to burn you alive. 

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, knocking the wind out of you and turning your limbs to jello. Wave after wave of blinding euphoria crashes over you and all you can do is cling to the pillow and arch your back, your toes curling as he continues to work his fingers and tongue, happily letting you ride his face and grind into his mouth.

He doesn't let up, not until you're a whimpering, trembling mess, physically pushing his head away when it becomes too much. He pulls back reluctantly, a wicked grin plastered to his face, his chin and mouth absolutely soaked. You're panting, struggling to catch your breath as the aftershocks make you shiver despite the content warmth spreading throughout your entire body.You feel sated and sleepy, a bone deep satisfaction making you feel boneless. 

But as you come down from your high, rational thoughts start to filter in and you suddenly remember the reason this all started in the first place.

You're here to learn, he should be teaching you how to please a man.

How to please him. 

You watch as he gets off the bed and wipes his chin with the back of his hand. Your eyes shamelessly rake over him, the dusty pink flush that decorates his neck and chest, the curve of his belly down to the impressive bulge in his jeans. 

You push yourself up, ignoring the way your arms tremble with the effort. He looks at you, his eyes scanning your face no doubt looking for signs of distress.

"You ok?" he asks, eyebrows pinched together in his typical concerned Joel fashion.

"Yeah" you say, a little breathlessly. "But I still want to..."

Your voice trails off and you glance down at his crotch, hoping he gets the message.

"That's alright, baby. It's a lot, we don't-"

"No" you interrupt, a hint of desperation in your voice. "You said you would teach me. Please, Joel. I-I wanna learn" You hope it's a good enough cover to the fact that you really just want him, your original goal forgotten. "I just don't want to embarrass myself" you add, pouting slightly for good measure, praying to god that he can’t detect the underlying want for him and him only.

He watches you for a moment, seemingly contemplating his decision. And then his eyes narrow, because of course he knows. There's never been an instance where you succeeded in lying to this man. He always, always knows when something is off.

"Alright" he says, a slow smile spreading across his face, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. "Dick sucking class is now in session"

You groan, your face twisting with visible disgust.

"Oh my god, that was terrible."

"What? It's true" he says with a shrug.

"That is- no, no way. Never say those words ever again. Ever." you say, pointing a finger at him accusingly.

"Or what?" he challenges, taking a step towards the bed.

You gulp and lick your lips.

"Or..."

He waits expectantly for a response. You have none, so you just shake your head and look away.

"Yeah, that's what I thought"

You glare at him and then sigh.

"You're a bully"

"Am I?” He asks, taking a step back to give you more room. “ 'Cause you're the one that asked me to teach ya. On your knees, kid. Let's see whatcha got."

You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress a grin. You don't know how he does it, but his ability to make a joke or a quip out of anything always has a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, even when the jokes are awful and the puns are terrible. Even when the joke is about you getting ready to suck his dick. 

"You're a bully and a pervert" you say, sliding off the bed and sliding to your knees, the plush carpet doing a decent job at protecting your joints.

"And proud of it.”

"Pride is a sin."

"So is premarital sex, so I'll see you in hell, honey"

You snort and look up at him from your place on the floor, grinning widely.

"You're ridiculous"

"You love it"

And that's the thing, isn't it?

Because you do. You love his innate ability to make you laugh, to make you smile even when he's about to take your fucking virginity. He knows how to comfort you, how to put you at ease, when to push you with his teasing and when to pull back and let you take control. You've never met a person who has so effortlessly made their way into your heart.

And here you are, on your knees for him under the false pretense of practicing for a man who's name you can't even remember right now.

You shake your head, the motion clearing the thoughts and the emotions that were swirling in your head, the ones that make you want to stand up and kiss him, kiss him until your lips are numb and you're left gasping for air.

"Joel?" you say his name softly.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Teach me."

Part 2 is already in the works I promise hehehe thank you for reading I hope u all enjoy!!

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

THE PRANK THAT BACKFIRED (sort of?)

drew starkey x fem!reader

SUMMARY: reader and drew decide to play a prank on the obx cast for her youtube channel. they do the “asking to have another girl over” prank, which results in a very angry obx cast who are out to get drew😅

based on this ask !! i hope this is what you asked for @xoxosblogsblog !! i had so much fun writing this and it was ADORABLE, i hope you like it :)) <3

WARNINGS: pure tooth-rotting fluff, slight angst (not really), like one (?) curse word, insinuation of cheating (the prank), chase & rudy threaten to “throw hands” with drew lmao. (lmk if i missed anything!)

WORD COUNT: 1.25k

THIRD PERSON +

Y/N adjusted the camera, angling it perfectly to catch the cozy backdrop of the apartment she shared with Drew during her surprise visit to the set of Outer Banks season four.

The faint hum of laughter and chatter outside hinted at the cast heading out to grab food, giving her the perfect opportunity to set her plan into motion.

"Hey, guys!" she began with a bright smile, wiggling her fingers to the camera. "Welcome back to my channel. Today, I've got something hilarious planned. You've seen those TikTok pranks where someone asks if they can bring another girl over while their partner's friends or family are listening, right? Well, I'm doing it today—with Drew."

She smirked, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I've got the cast in on this. Well, not really in on it—they think I'm at a friend's place for the night, so this is going to be pure gold. Let's see how much they love me and how far they'll go to defend me from Drew's, um... betrayal."

She turned the camera to Drew, who sat beside her on the couch, half-smiling, half-shaking his head.

"I can't believe I'm agreeing to this," Drew muttered, running a hand through his hair. "They're going to kill me."

"Kill us, you mean," Y/N teased, poking his side. "But it'll be worth it. Trust me."

"Uh-huh," Drew replied, arching a skeptical eyebrow. "When JD and Rudy show up with pitchforks, you're taking the blame."

Y/N laughed, her grin widening as she leaned into him. "Oh, come on. You know they love me too much to actually hurt me. You, on the other hand..."

Drew sighed dramatically but couldn't hide the small smile tugging at his lips.

A few minutes later, Y/N tucked herself behind the camera, keeping it trained on Drew. Drew pulled out his phone and dialed JD's number, putting the call on speaker. The phone rang twice before JD answered, his voice lively with the sounds of clinking plates and background chatter.

"Yo, Starkey!" JD greeted. "What's up, man?"

Drew exchanged a quick glance with Y/N before diving in. "Hey, would you guys mind if I invited someone over?"

The line went silent for a beat, then JD's confused voice came through. "Uh... sure? Who?"

"Just a friend," Drew said casually.

"Cool, yeah," JD replied, his tone nonchalant. In the background, Madelyn could be heard asking, "Who's he inviting over?"

"Oh, she's just someone I met recently," Drew added, making his voice as nonchalant as possible.

Madelyn's voice sharpened. "Wait, she? Did he say she?"

JD stammered for a moment, then said, "Uh, Drew, man, what are you talking about? You have Y/N—why are you inviting another girl over?"

"It's not that deep," Drew said smoothly, earning a wide-eyed stare from Y/N as she struggled to keep from bursting into laughter.

"Not that deep?" Madelyn's voice rose an octave. "Are you fucking insane? Y/N is literally the best thing that's ever happened to you. You're just going to, what, throw her away for some random girl?"

"Yeah, Drew, what the hell?" Rudy's voice chimed in. "Y/N's gonna find out, dude. She always finds out."

"She's not even here," Drew argued. "And I just want some alone time with this girl. Is that so bad?"

Madelyn's voice was nearly a shriek now. "YES, IT'S BAD! You're in a relationship, Drew! A really amazing one, with an incredible person who, by the way, loves you more than anything!"

"And we love her!" Carlacia added. "You're crazy if you think we're not calling her right now."

"Right?!" Chase's voice joined the chorus, sounding equally appalled. "Drew, what is wrong with you?"

JD sighed loudly. "Man, I'm so disappointed right now. Y/N's, like, the nicest, funniest person ever. She's practically family. I don't even know what to say to you."

Y/N clamped a hand over her mouth, tears forming in her eyes from trying not to laugh. Drew, ever the actor, kept his tone neutral but shot her a playful glare.

"You guys are overreacting," Drew said, feigning exasperation. "I mean, Y/N doesn't have to know, right?"

The collective gasp from the group was loud enough to make Y/N choke on her laughter.

Madison started a rant so fierce it almost made Drew break. "First of all, how dare you? Second of all, Y/N deserves so much better than this! She's gorgeous, sweet, funny—literally the whole package! And you're just going to throw that away? For what?!"

"I can't believe you right now," Rudy chimed in. "If you're serious about this, I'm calling her. Like, right now."

"No, don't—" Drew began, but Y/N couldn't hold it in anymore.

Her laughter burst out like a dam breaking, echoing through the room. Drew immediately broke character, laughing along as he waved his hands at Y/N’s camera.

"Wait, wait!" Y/N called out, coming into view of her camera. "Guys, relax! It's a prank!"

There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line, followed by a cacophony of voices.

"Are you serious?!" Madelyn exclaimed. "You scared the crap out of us!"

"You both are the worst," JD groaned.

Rudy's laugh boomed through the speaker. "I was about to knock some sense into you, man."

Chase chimed in with mock indignation. "I was ready to drive back and throw hands, Drew!"

Y/N giggled, holding her stomach as she leaned against Drew. "I'm so sorry, but I couldn't resist! I saw it on TikTok and knew you guys would freak out. And you did not disappoint."

Madelyn groaned dramatically. "You two are so lucky we love you."

JD sighed. "I'm not speaking to you for a week."

"Okay, that's fair," Drew said with a grin.

Eventually, after more playful scolding and laughter, the group hung up, leaving Drew and Y/N alone again. Y/N turned off the camera, still giggling as she leaned back against the couch.

"That was amazing," she said, wiping tears from her eyes.

Drew shook his head, his expression somewhere between amusement and exasperation. "You're lucky they love you. If it were just me, they'd probably disown me."

Y/N smiled, sliding closer to him. "Well, can you blame them? I mean, look at me. I'm kind of a big deal."

He laughed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "You really are. They adore you, you know that? It's one of the things I love most about us—how easily you fit into my world."

Her teasing smile softened as she gazed up at him. "It means a lot to me, too. They're like family. And so are you."

Drew leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "You're everything to me, Y/N. I hope you know that."

Her heart melted as she cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing against his jawline. "I do. And you're everything to me, too."

They stayed like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other. The laughter, the teasing, the chaos—it all melted away, leaving just the two of them in their shared little world.

"You think they'll forgive us?" Drew asked after a moment.

Y/N smirked. "Oh, they'll forgive me. You, on the other hand..."

Drew groaned, burying his face in her shoulder as she laughed.

"Totally worth it," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple.

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was so so adorable and so much fun to write !! i hope you all enjoyed, and please please please like and reblog, it means the world when you do <3

my asks are still open so please don’t hesitate to send any in !! i’m in the mood to write some angst, hurt/comfort if you have any requests for drew or rage <3

[astrxealis]

amongst all my interests the struggle of being under 18 but into ff(xiv) and wanting to make friends is an absolute pain

[jo-com]

₊˚.🎧 ✩｡☕ ➛ So this is love?

Max Verstappen x Fem!Sainz reader

Summary: The man who always put racing above anything else; not even caring or investing about others because he thinks it’s a waste of time—What did you do to him to make him change his mind?

Genre: Cold!Max x Persistent!reader

Note: Grammatical errors and this is not proofread!! Enjoy thoo

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist

─────── ─ ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚💕 ─ ───────

Max stared blankly at his mates as he tuned out the noises that they spoke. His eyes narrowed and brows knitted in a frown— obviously not invested in their conversation.

“Yeah, she’ll be coming here, so be nice guys” Carlos spoke,his tone laced with a warning, glaring back at other drivers who he thinks will scare you off.

And of course he was staring directly at max.

Max cocked a brow,“What?”,he was clearly not listening to them, so why the hell are they looking at him?

The other driver rolled his eyes, “i said don’t be batshit crazy and be nice to my sister”.

“Crazy?” Max scoffed, “i don't even give a damn about her, so why do i have to be nice?.”

The room then fell quiet at his words; no one even muttered a single sound as the heavy atmosphere intoxicated them—awkwardness spreading across the drivers as they stare back and forth at each other.

For a whole five minutes, none of them had the courage to speak up and end the insufferable silence.

Not until Charles let out a scrappy cough, making the others sigh in relief from his boldness.

“Carlos didn’t mean it like that, he meant that you should just be a little nice, his sister's pretty sensitive, you see” Charles exclaimed, his voice shaking from the previous tension.

Max tutted in response, mumbling a low ‘whatever’ before standing up and leaving the Ferrari garage.

…

It was finally the day of your arrival, everybody were excited to meet the you… well almost everybody.

Max just slumped in the corner, his body leaning against the wall with his usual scowling face— avoiding others that tries to converse with him.

He was minding his own business and letting his mind wander off.

What’s so special about her that people kept fussing over her.

His train of thought quickly got interrupted as people swarmed the front door, their voices echoing and colliding with one another making a god awful sound.

He rolled his eyes with judgement as he stared abruptly at the doorframe— not even bothering to check or give the slightest interest on you.

But as you walked closer to his eye range, his breath seemed to hitch and his jaw slowly hung opened.

He doesn’t know how or why, but as soon as his eyes met yours it felt like his world suddenly turned in slowmo and all the others that surrounded you, now disappeared— it was like there were only the two of you.

Max never felt something like this before, it’s a weird and uncomfortable feeling. How the hell do you make it stop?

His once cold and composed look now turned into a love sick fool expression.

“Hey man you okay?” Logan asked, his tone dripped with pure concern over his fellow driver.

Max suddenly jumped from Logan’s presence. He never even saw that he came and leaned besides him. It was so unusual for him to be that unattentive.

Max lets out an awkward cough, “yeah, i am good, just looking like everyone else.”

“Looking? Dude you look like you want to get down on your knees for her” the other joked, easing up to max.

But to him it wasn’t a joke, he was conflicted on why he looked like that and was it obvious to everyone?. What the actual fuck is happening to him.

He then raised his hand and gently lay it to his forehead to check whether or not he has a fever. Damn no fever.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Logan responded, his eyes curled into a soft concern gaze.

Max didn’t answer and flickered his eyes back to yours. His face suddenly heats up as you stare back and smile at him. Your smile that was radiant like the sun and eyes soft like sky.

After that short and subtle interaction, he can’t seem to keep his focus and just let his thoughts wander off that lead to that moment.

…

“You’re max right?” You greeted, tugging the excess hair to your side and smiling softly at him. Having him a clear view of your angelic appearance.

Max could feel his whole face being flushed, god he wishes you don’t notice, “uhm yeah” he spoke, his tone that was always high and mighty now turned into a low and shy ones.

You hummed in response and puckered your lips with a pop, “well I’ve been seeing you all day and you’re always avoiding me, is there something wrong?”

Max’s eyes widened, “no..i-uhm there’s-“ he stuttered; trying to find the right words but nothing came out right.

You examined his actions and then let out a few giggles at his antics. You didn’t understand why they call him mean, to you he was just adorable.

…

After that day, the two of you often hang out with each other and would hear whispers and murmurs about you guys, but always brushed it off and ignore people.

“Here try this max” you beamed, handing him the mango that you were holding— smiling from ear to ear as you share your favorite fruit to someone speacial. You loved mango, i mean how could you not? It’s tasty and delicious.

He gave you a look of uncertainty, he never liked mango, it’s weird looking and nothing will ever change his mind about it, even you.

But maybe one bite won’t hurt.

“Haha sure” he replied, taking the fruit from your hand and gently taking a bite out of it. He then gulped it down his throat and stared back at you— your eyes sparkled with joy and excitement, as you await for his response.

“It’s alright” he answered, giving you a thumbs up to which you retorted with a happy clap.

“Thank god you like it, I wasn’t sure whether or not you’d like one of my favorite fruits”

Hmm maybe mangoes aren’t that bad.

…

It didn’t take long before max realized how inlove he was with you and as soon as he did, he asked to court you.

Of course you agreed to it, you as well fell for him but you also wanted to get the approval of both your parents and brother.

That’s why Max took it upon himself to make your parents like him, though he knew that the real obstacle was Carlos.

“So, you’re telling me that you want to date my sister?” Carlos asked, his voice dripped with sarcasm and anger.

Max smiled nonchalantly, “yes”

“You want to date her with that attitude?” Carlos spat, his teeth gritted with each word.

“Yes” he answered again bluntly.

He was getting on Carlos nerves and you could tell.

“Haha uhm Max can you come here for a sec?” You laughed dryly, grabbing Max’s sleeves and dragging him to the side.

“What did we talk about? I told you to be nice” you scolded, rubbing the bridge of your nose to ease your stress.

“I was being nice” max grumbled, his brows knitted in a frown out of habit.

Unbeknownst to them, Carlos was in the sidelines listening, laughing silently at his fellow driver, ‘hehe he’s done for, he never admits his mistake and apologize’ he thought.

“Sorry, I’ll try okay?” Max mumbled, making you smile and kiss his cheeks in response.

Carlo’s jaw dropped, What the fuck, why was THE max verstappen apologizing, is this real??

The two of them came back hand in hand and faced Carlos once again.

“I am sorry for being rude, and yes i am dating her so please approve”.

Carlos was still in shock, never in his life had he seen Max act like a puppy and apologize to anyone.

“No uhm it’s okay we’re good” he replied, his voice shaky from disbelief.

So that’s what max is like when inlove. Damn he’s like a lost puppy.

…

Sorry for not uploading too much🥹🥹 I’ve been busy but i hope you enjoyed this!!💋

[mayanneaa]

hits different - ᴊᴊ ᴍᴀʏʙᴀɴᴋ.

PAIRING : jj maybank x ex!reader

SUMMARY : jj broke up with you two months ago, but this one party makes him truly realize what he’s done.

WARNING(S) : swearing, jealous and super drunk jj, a little angst, fluff, minimal use of y/n (like once), might have some grammar errors, english is not my first language

A/N : first fic on here heheh obv inspired by 'hits different' by taylor swift. i recommend listening to it while reading :) dividers by @roseraris !! not proofread dont kill me

WC : 1.7k

masterlist.

After a fourth beer, the party got too loud and the lights too bright. Normally, in a moment like this, he would run to you, wrap his arms around you, and inhale your sweet, calming scent. Just as he’s about to do it, the realization hits him like one of the waves nearby.

You aren’t together anymore.

He sharply inhales and looks around. His vision is softly spinning, but it’s no problem for him. JJ spots you in a second. With another boy.

You two are just talking. You don’t even know this guy, he came up to you to ask about something so random it got lost in your chat long ago. You give him one of those kind smiles, and JJ feels his fists clench. “Fuck.”

The music changes. As if he wasn’t already miserable, the speakers let out the first notes of your song. The one he first kissed you to. The one you two always played, alone at the chateau dancing on the back porch.

The memories flood his mind, and he can’t take it anymore. Jj feels his heartbeat loud in his ears, and he wants to leave. To go to any of the pogues, or, even better, drive away in the Twinkie. But his eyes cannot move from your face, and his legs just don’t work.

It baffles him. Not once in his life, he couldn’t move on. But this time, with you, it's different. It hits different.

You finally catch him. The guy is still talking to you, but your attention is on the other side of the beach. Before you can interrupt, you see John B. coming up to JJ. He tells him something, grabs his arm, and leads his best friend somewhere. You feel your heart sink. “Are you okay?” you hear the guy ask, making you turn your head.

“I’m so sorry, I have to go,” you quickly say, leaving him alone. You have to find JJ.

“Dude, stop this shit right now,” John B.’s holding the steering wheel, making his way to the Chateau. JJ's taken the passenger seat, shoulders slumped, and he runs his hand through the blonde strands.

"Yeah, easy for you to talk." he snarls, "You and Sarah are all happy together, you don't know how it's like-"

"I don't know because I don't just randomly break up with my girl over a bad day I had." John B. cuts him off and lets out a deep sigh. "JJ, you should talk to her. Everyone's done. You are constantly miserable."

JJ doesn't say anything. The words hit him like a slap, unnecessarily hurtful. Outside the window he sees the familiar place - they are at the Chateau.

"Get some rest, okay?" John B opens the door and helps JJ get in the house. "Call me in case something happens."

The blonde nods his head and plops on the couch, legs stretched out. Minutes pass, and he finds himself whispering your name, over and over again, as if he's scared he'll forget it.

His mind still replays that cold May night.

You two agreed to meet at the dock. The wind softly overflowed your face as you were waiting for him. When he finally came, you felt something was wrong. His usual smile was gone, and he didn't even look at you. You hugged yourself in your hoodie, "JJ? Is everything alright?"

He let out a shaky breath, leaning over the railings. "I think we should break up."

You blinked in surprise, your heart feeling heavy. "What?"

Your voice sounded smaller than you intended. You reached out for his hand, your own shaking.

"It will be better for both of us." JJ dismissively said, swallowing hard. A shiver ran down his body, and his throat tightened, but he brushed it off.

You felt so much hitting you. Tears burned under your eyelids, and anger started to bubble up. Did you do something? Or maybe he just decided you weren't good enough for him anymore?

"No," you whispered at first, but your voice was growing louder, "You don't get to just... just decide on my behalf!"

The moonlight fell on his face, and you tried to find any answers in his eyes. He stiffened, shaking his head before he repeated, "It will be better if we end it now."

You opened your mouth, but not a word came out. The tears threatening to fall finally flooded your face, a quiet scoff escaping your lips. "I can't believe this. This is how much it meant for you?"

You were met with silence. The atmosphere on the dock could be cut with a knife, and you couldn't just stand here. Before you registered it, your legs led you down, far from your boy- well... ex-boyfriend. JJ's eyes followed your every step. He wanted to run after you, to wrap you in his arms and never let you go. But he didn't.

It wasn't just a one-day whim he had. It stuck with him ever since you two decided to make it official. It grew with every late night you spent not on something you like, but on cleaning him up after another fight. You didn’t say anything—but he knew. He knew that sooner or later, it will be too much. He will be too much to handle.

The sweetest girl walking on the earth, a literal angel and him. A failure, a Pogue whose fate it was to end up just like his father—always drunk, always angry.

His heart ached at this thought. You had so many opportunities, and if you decided to let it go because of him, he would never forgive himself.

Breaking up before he got even more attached was for the better. It had to be. Right?

JJ doesn’t know how long he’s been lying like this. His breathing is now steady and slow, and he has to remind himself to breath in again.

He closes his eyes, but can’t escape you. The memories come fast—not giving him much time for defense.

Your face. Always in the sun, glowing as if you were a goddess. The lips glossed from the cherries you’ve been eating. Your eyes, the creases forming in the corners almost constantly from smiling.

Your touch. All these quick brushes, the way you traced your soft fingertips over his forearm every time you sat nearby. The long, tight hugs during which JJ’s hands wrapped your waist, him hungrily inhaling your perfume.

His breath hitches. Is it truly the best this way?

Before he can answer, the quiet crack of a key opens the door. He darts up and immediately regrets it, as the whole room starts spinning.

“JJ?” he hears a soft whisper, and his heart skips a beat.

The warm lights of the Chateau reveal your face. He feels the heat rising to his cheeks, “What are you doing here?”

His voice is quiet, almost as if he’s scared you’ll disappear. You step closer, with a cautiousness that kills something inside him. He avoids your gaze, staring at the suddenly interesting floor.

“You’re not doing great, huh?” you say, but there’s no mockery or anger in your voice. There’s just… worry.

JJ turns around on his heels and sits down on couch, fearing that if he stands for a minute longer, he might just fall. He runs a hand through his hair, a habit that intensified over the two months.

“Stop it, Y/N.” he finally replies looking at you for the first time. The light reflects of his watery eyes, and his voice breaks when he continues, “Go back to the party and your new stupid little boyfriend.”

Your eyes widen. “Are you fussing over me talking to a guy after you broke up with me?”

JJ shakes his head, looking at the floor again, “Doesn’t matter. Not anymore, I guess. You really should go—”

“Why did you end this?”

The question feels like an arrow through his heart. You’re standing with your hands crossed, not planning on going anywhere. “Why, J? We were happy. Did I do something…?”

“It wasn’t you.” In the response, he hears a snort.

Your gaze is heavy, with your eyebrows arched up. “Classic. Then what was it, JJ?” The tone of your voice is pushing, and you don’t even try to control it, “What happened that you decided to just leave me?”

“I was scared!” he snaps before he can think of anything better to say. “How do you imagine it? You… you can’t suffer with me forever. It’ll break you one day and—”

“JJ.”

The way you say his name pulls him out of the spiral. It slips off your tongue smoothly, just like it used to. You grip his arm, and JJ forgets what he was even talking about.

“You don’t get to make this decision without talking to me. Did you ever asked me how I feel about this?”

A blush creeps up on his cheeks, and whether you want it or not, the corners of your lips rise.

He tries to make any sense, the tears dangerously close to falling. “I mean— You deserve someone better. Someone who will keep you safe and… I’m not that person. And I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

You sigh. “Maybe. But I don’t want anyone better, baby. I want you. That’s my decision.”

With these words, with what you called him, his walls crash. You pull him closer, your bodies touching and he can’t take it anymore. JJ lets out a muffled sob into the crook of your neck, gripping you like he’s never letting you go.

Your fingers find their way up to his hair, running through the golden strands as he’s shaking.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “I’m so sorry. So sorry—”

“Shhh,” You draw small circles on his back, and his breath slows down after some time. “We will talk about it tomorrow, ’kay? You’re super drunk right now.”

“Promise you won’t leave.” JJ sniffles, the tip of his nose pink. You giggle, but he pulls away to look at you, a serious expression on his face. “I’m not joking! Promise me you’ll still be here in the morning. Please.”

You gently squeeze his shaking hand and can’t help but smile. “I promise.”

[the-offside-rule]

Lando Norris (McLaren) - Two Hands pt. I

Requested: yes

Prompt: this ask

Warnings: tensionnn and Im making this a two part series

Part 2

The sun was barely peeking over the Hollywood skyline when Y/n arrived on set, coffee in hand and a spark of excitement in her step. The concept for her and Tate McRae’s new music video, Two Hands, had come together beautifully, sleek visuals, a sultry tone, and a storyline that mirrored the tension in their song. Y/n adjusted the strap of her dress as she walked onto the music video set, the sound of crew members shouting instructions filling the air. Tate McRae was standing off to the side, scrolling through her phone. She looked up and waved, her usual bright smile lighting up her face. "Hey, you made it!" Tate greeted as Y/n approached.

"Yeah, traffic was insane, but I'm here." Y/n replied, setting her bag down on a nearby chair. "What's the plan for today?" Before Tate could answer, a familiar voice cut through the air. "Y/n?" Her heart dropped as she turned around to see him. And there he stood, hands casually tucked into his hoodie pockets, his signature grin plastered on his face.

Lando fucking Norris.

Her breath hitched at the sight of him, his familiar mischievous grin lighting up as he looked her up and down. "It’s been a while." He said, striding toward her. Y/n froze, coffee nearly slipping from her grip as her mind flashing back to the string of nights they’d spent together during last season. Miami. Montreal. Silverstone. Austin. Vegas. Each memory was vivid and unshakable, and now here he was, standing on the set of her music video like it was the most normal thing in the world. "Uh, yeah, it has." She replied, attempting nonchalance.

Tate, always attuned to Y/n’s moods, sidled up beside her. "Y/n? You good?" She whispered. "Can we- can you come with me real quick?" Y/n asked, dragging Tate along to the other side of the parking lot. "Dude. What’s wrong?" Tate asked. "What's wrong?" Y/n hissed back. "What’s wrong is that Lando Norris is here, and I wasn’t told he’d be in this video." Tate smirked. "He’s the cameo. PR gold. You didn’t know?"

"No!" Y/n exclaimed under her breath. "And, oh my god- jesus- Tate, we’ve slept together!" Tate’s eyes widened before her lips curled into a sly grin. "Oh my god! Like a one might stand sorta thing?" She chuckled. "More like five seperate nights." Tate raised an eyebrow. "Five? Wow, okay, overachiever."

"This isn’t funny." Y/n groaned. "What are we supposed to do now?" Tate sighed. "It’s a little late to change things. He’s already here. Besides, we’ll just cut his scenes later if it’s too weird. PR can spin some excuse for why he’s missing in the final cut." Y/n groaned but nodded reluctantly. "Fine. But if this blows up, you owe me."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The shoot began smoothly enough. The video was set to showcase Tate and Y/n doing what they do best; giving their fans an iconic music video, with a storyline involving sleek cars, night drives, and bold choreography. Lando's role was to add a touch of glamour as a cameo, driving a papaya McLaren around the streets at night.

The day progressed faster than Y/n anticipated. Tate was her usual cheeky self, keeping the mood light despite the awkward tension simmering whenever Lando was around. The big moment came as the crew prepped the McLaren for a scene where Y/n would ride in the passenger seat while Lando drove through neon-lit streets. "Just lipsync the lyrics while he drives." The director instructed. "We’re going for sexy but understated." Understated. Sure. Y/n climbed into the car, her heart pounding.

The beat thumped in her ears as the car accelerated. She turned to Lando, his hands confidently gripping the steering wheel. His smirk was still there, but something new flickered in his gaze as her lips curled into the sultry line: "I want them all to see, you look good on top of me." Lando’s jaw tightened, his eyes darting to hers as she sang. "At this time, at night I need. Not one, not three." Y/n caught the way his lips twitched, almost imperceptibly, and then, he bit his lip.

Oh, so we’re doing this?

Fine. If he was flustered, she’d make it worth his discomfort. Y/n leaned in, her hand sliding up to tangle in his hair as she pulled his face toward her. Their eyes locked, her lips barely brushing his ear as she whispered the lyrics. "Just your two hands on me. Like my life needs saving." His breath hitched audibly, and for a split second, she wondered if he might slam on the brakes. "Let 'em all know. Can you do it like that?"

"Cut!" The director’s voice crackled through the radio. They broke apart instantly, and the silence that followed was deafening. Y/n avoided his gaze, fixing her hair and pretending nothing had happened. When she returned to set for the dance break, Tate was waiting with her arms crossed and a knowing smirk. "You two looked awfully comfortable." Tate teased, bumping Y/n’s shoulder. "Almost like you’ve done it before."

Y/n shot her a withering glare. "Shut up."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The buzz of the set hummed around Y/n as she sat on the sidelines, watching Tate film her solo dance scene. The spotlight followed Tate’s movements, her fluidity captivating, but Y/n’s focus wavered when she caught a glimpse of Lando approaching out of the corner of her eye.

Damn it.

"Fancy seeing you here." Lando said, casually sliding into the chair beside her. His voice was light, but his eyes held an intensity that made her pulse quicken. "It’s not like I had a choice." Y/n replied flatly, crossing her arms. "I have a job to do and you just so happen to be here." He chuckled softly, the sound low and familiar. "Still, feels like fate."

"More like bad luck." She shot back, keeping her tone cool even as her stomach fluttered. Lando leaned in slightly, his cologne teasing her senses. "You’re as sharp as ever." He murmured, a smile tugging at his lips. "I missed you." Y/n snorted, more out of defense than amusement. "Missed me? Please. You missed me in your bed, maybe." His grin faltered, replaced by something more serious, more vulnerable. "To be fair, you never gave me the chance to miss you anywhere else."

The weight of his words hung in the air, and Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. She turned to look at him, his face so close she could see the faint stubble on his jaw. He wasn’t joking. "Look, I know this is...complicated. But I want to see you. Away from all this; no racing, no music videos, just us." Y/n blinked, stunned. Her lips parted to respond, but before she could form the words, Sean, the choreographer, clapped his hands loudly from across the set. "Y/n! Let’s go! Dance break!" She exhaled sharply, grateful for the reprieve, and turned on her heel. "Duty calls." She said briskly, walking away before Lando could reply.

As she approached the center of the set, Tate intercepted her, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

"I’m fine." Y/n lied, waving a dismissive hand. Tate’s smirk told her she wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t push. Instead, she gestured toward the floor. "Alright, let’s get this over with. Sean’s in full perfectionist mode." Y/n nodded, forcing herself to focus as Sean began shouting instructions, his energy bouncing around the room. She positioned herself in front of the camera, her muscles tightening in anticipation.

The music started, the beat pounding through her body, and she threw herself into the choreography, letting the rhythm drown out the lingering tension in her chest. But as her feet moved and her body swayed, her mind betrayed her, replaying Lando’s words over and over like a melody she couldn’t shake.

Just us

[sinofwriting]

4 plus 1 - Max Verstappen (I ❤️ MILFS verse)

Words: 1,499 Summary: Four times Logan celebrated mothers day and the first time he celebrated fathers day (part of the I ❤️ MILFS verse)

Masterlist | Support Me! | I ❤️ MILFS verse

One

The first time Logan celebrated Mother’s Day, he was five. His grandpa had stolen him away from his momma, which had made him pout, but then he had crouched down in front of him and quietly asked if he wanted to buy his momma a present for Mother’s Day.

His grandpa, whenever he told the story, always liked to joke that he was surprised that Logan’s head hadn’t fallen off with how hard he had nodded yes.

He had gotten taken to the store where Logan picked out a card that apparently said world’s best mom on it, which had made his grandpa grumble that he was way too young for his daughter to be a mom before letting him pick out a big bouquet of flowers.

Scrambling out of the car and into the house, Logan struggled to hold the flowers that were nearly bigger than him and the card, just barely able to see the way his momma’s jaw had dropped seeing him and the ways tears came to her eyes when he cheerfully wished her a happy momma’s day.

Two

In 2014, Logan got to celebrate mother’s days twice for the first time. His momma not even knowing or realizing that England celebrated it on a completely different day, her bemused expression at him giving her candy and a card staying in his mind.

She had still hugged him tight, pressing kisses all over his face and telling him she was the best son, which had made him squirm, telling her that she was the best momma, the two going back and forth until Logan gave up because she had started to tickle him and his stomach ached from laughing.

Three

Logan stares at the display in front of him, trying not to feel awkward with the eyes boring into him.

“Dude, these are like fifteen grand.” Oscar hisses under his breath.

“Yeah and none of them are the one.” He hisses back, giving the employee a polite smile. “Do you have anything else?”

Their eyes narrow a little, but they nod, an emotionless smile on their face. “Of course, Sir. Our next display.”

Following them over to the next display, his eyes immediately land on a necklace and he instantly points at it. “That one. I’ll take that one, please.”

“Are you sure?”

He frowns, “Yes. I’m sure.”

He turns to Oscar as they start to open the case. “Momma is gonna love that one.”

“Do you have the money for that?”

“Of course.”

Oscar’s eyebrows raise. “Are you sure? Because if those were twenty thousand, I can’t imagine how much these will be.”

Logan nods, shrugging. “Yeah. I’ve got money.”

The clearing of a throat makes Logan turn back around, the necklace is sitting on the counter in its opened box.

“This necklace is forty thousand pounds.”

Logan hears Oscar taking in a sharp breath of air, but Logan is already reaching for his wallet. “I’ll take it. And no gift wrap please.”

They blink at him before nodding. “Of course.”

Oscar hits his arm when they disappear with the necklace behind a curtain.

“Are you kidding me? Forty thousand pounds for a necklace? Pan is going to kill you! Mother’s Day gift or not!”

Logan scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I’m eighteen now and it’s my money. Momma can’t kill me for buying her this. Besides, I haven’t given her a gift under a thousand dollars since I was like six. And she’ll love that necklace.”

Oscar looks at him in disbelief, shaking his head. “Okay, it is way too easy to forget that Harry is a billionaire and by proxy you are.”

“Something tells me you don’t want to know how much your birthday present was.”

“What does that mean?”

Logan smiles at Oscar, shrugging.

“Logan, what does that mean?”

Four

“Can I help with anything?”

Logan jumps at the sound of Max’s voice, nearly banging his head into the opened cupboard door if not for Max, quickly yanking him back.

“Shit.” He curses, turning Logan around and running a hand over his forehead and head, checking for bumps. “You okay?”

“I’m okay. You just scared me.” He chuckles. “Help with what?”

Max eyes him for a moment. “Mother’s Day. I know that it’s in between Miami and Imola for you guys, and I didn’t know if you wanted help with anything.”

“Oh.”

Logan looks at the older man, he doesn’t need any help with Mother’s Day. Already has his momma’s gift sitting in his closet, but Max is asking if he can help. Max cares about their relationship, so he finds himself nodding.

“Actually yeah.”

Max’s whole face lights up. “What can I do?”

Logan quickly says goodbye to his momma’s Christmas gift, but he guesses that what was supposed to be her Mother’s Day can just be her Christmas gift. “There’s this watch she likes, but there’s maybe ten available in the world right now.” He starts to tell Max.

Plus One

Logan has never had a father. And as much as he loves his grandpa, he wasn’t really a father figure for him. The closest he got was maybe Oscar’s dad, but even then he never really saw him enough for that. Max though… Max feels like his dad.

He cares about him, and not just because he’s dating his mom. He talks to Logan, checks in on him, before the first session of every day, Max always ducks into the Williams garage to hug him. He brings him water every time he does media, even when he isn’t scheduled for media for a few hours.

It hasn’t yet been a year, but Logan already can tell he’s fighting a losing battle of not just calling Max his dad. And he knows that Max hasn’t let himself think of himself like that. He’s heard him call him his kid a hundred times, but never once has he called himself Logan’s parent or dad. Always respecting the relationship between his mom and him and the boundaries that Logan has set.

But Logan wants Max to call himself Logan’s dad. Wants to call Max dad to his face and not just to Oscar when he’s too tired to filter or to the media to make the journalists go a little crazy.

So he finds himself laying on the couch, head in his momma’s lap as she runs her fingers through his hair.

“Can we talk?”

“Always.”

His lips quirk up a bit at the quick response. “It’s about Max.”

Her fingers still for just a second before resuming. “What about Max?”

Her voice is measured, smooth, and it gives Logan the courage to say the next words. “I want to call Max dad.” His voice goes quiet. “I want him to be my dad.”

“Oh, baby.” And her voice breaks around the words.

He sits up to look at her. “Are you mad?”

“No.” She smiles, reaching forward to cup his face. “No, baby. Not at all. I’m happy. I’m so happy.”

“So, it’s okay?”

She laughs, her free hand brushing away her tears. “Logan, you can call anyone you want dad, that’s not my choice, that’s yours.”

“Do you think he’ll be okay with it? I want to do it on Father’s Day. Give him a card too.”

“I think Max will be over the moon.”

A week later, Logan shuffles into the living room, a breakfast tray in his hands, where Max is sitting, watching the recap for Le Mans so far.

“Hi.” He greets.

Max smiles at him, “You didn’t need to bring me breakfast.”

He shakes his head, stopping Max from getting up. “I wanted to. It’s a special day.”

“I mean, Le Mans isn’t this kind of special.”

Logan huffs out a laugh, handing over the tray to Max, who places it on the coffee table before sitting on the couch next to him.

“Get enough sleep?”

Logan nods, running a hand through his hair, the other clutching at the card he has for Max. “Wasn’t too bad. I actually have something else for you, because y’know special day.”

Max’s eyebrows raise and Logan can feel nerves fill him. “I still have no idea what you are talking about.”

He shrugs and after a moment he passes over the card, carefully watching Max’s face.

Max looks delighted at getting handed the card, but Logan can see the moment he realizes what kind of card it is. His eyes going wide, his whole body stilling. The room would be quiet if not for the Le Mans highlights playing.

The older man carefully opens it up after a long moment, his breath catching as he reads the written words from Logan.

“Logan,” he starts, and his voice is thick.

“Happy Father’s Day, dad.” Logan speaks before he can say anything else.

“Come here.” He finishes, opening his arms, and Logan dives into them. “I love you so much, kid. So fucking much. I’m gonna be the best dad for you.”

“You already are.”

[boysmentfs]

The trip to the beach.

A collaboration with @misctf .

Steve was the most cliché of the word "nerd" with only 5'4 tall, with pimples and with irritating little voice he was the target for the jock boys in his university. But despite being victim of sneers and bullying, he was the happiest student in college, he always smiled, helped people and was quite studious. So the mockery towards him mattered little to him. Today was a beautiful Saturday afternoon, Steve was studying hard in his room, he didn't have any plans for today and he didn't care to have one either, his parents were not home so he enjoyed being alone quietly until someone knocked on his house door.

"Who could it be?" Steve sighed, “I’m really behind on my work.” He looked at the essay he was in the midst of completing, “I should...” The second knock was louder, “Must be important.”

Steve quickly made his way to the front door. As he went to open it, he paused. He could hear the boisterous laughter from the other side, the frequent use of the word ‘bro’, and a few belches. His stomach dropped.

“What could they possibly want?” Steve thought miserably, “I should really...” He sighed. It wasn’t in his nature to just ignore someone. What if they needed help?

“Oh shit! Look who it is! What’s up lil’ bro?” Garrett laughed, emphasizing the word ‘lil’. He put his arms behind his head, his biceps bulging.

“Uh hey.” Steve stammered, “Uhm, I...I...” His mind was racing, trying not to stare. Garrett was rather good-looking- dark hair and eyes, his chiseled face framed by a well-groomed, short beard. And looking further down, it was obvious that his years on the baseball team did wonders for his body- all of which was framed nicely in his tight tank-top, “Sorry, just studying today.” Steve blushed, mentally admonishing himself for making it so obvious that he had a thing for the star pitches on the team.

"Studying?! Lil’ dude, come on.” Garrett groaned, nudging one of the other jocks, “Seriously dude, how lame. How about this? We came here to invite you to the beach.” He placed his firm rugged hand on Steve’s shoulder and grinned, “Lil’ dude, it’s gonna be fuckin’ lit. Cheerleaders, booze, you name it. When’s the last time you did something like that, huh lil’ dude?”

Hearing this, Steve raised an eyebrow. None of these things were as appealing to him as Garrett likely thought they’d be. Although, the naively optimistic part of Steve wanted to imagine this could be the start of a friendship with Garrett. Part of him yearning for closeness with the jock. But Steve shook his head before adjusting his glasses- on what planet would he ever be friends with Garrett?

"I don't want to be rude or offensive, but why are you inviting me?” Steve questioned, “Jake and Logan were just bullying me the other day.” The two jocks behind Garrett snickered, earning them a disapproving look from Garrett.

"I know... Dude, but believe me we want to make peace, me and my bros promise we won't make fun of you again!” Garrett replied, no hint of insincerity in his tone, “Besides, it's Saturday and being at home? It's boring as hell."

Steve sighed, mulling over the offer. Would it be nice not to be bullied by these meatheads? Yeah. Would it be nice to spend time with Garrett? Yeah. Did he really think they’d make peace after this? Steve sighed again- the rational part of him saying to shut the door. The other saying to give these bros a chance.

"Okay, okay... I’ll go.” Steve said, the uncertainty of his choice evident in his voice.

“Oh sick lil’ bruh, but like, don’t sound too disappointed.” Garrett laughed, slapping him on the back and knocking the wind out of his small frame.

“But really, I’m doing this to make peace.” Steve insisted, “No funny business.” He tried to sound confident and stern. Garrett smiled and gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up, “Oh and..." Steve bit his lip, “This is so embarrassing but it’s been so long since I’ve been to the beach. I don’t really have any appropriate swimwear.”

"That shouldn't worry you bro! Give me a second." Garret grinned, “You’re just in luck, lil’ dude.” Garrett seemed way too excited, “Check out these!” His bro reached into a bag and handed him some green shorts with a bit of blue and gave them to Steve. "Here! These shorts belonged to one of our bros. Well former bro. He went on to bigger and better things.” Garrett sighed, “Internship or some shit. Brains and brawn, can you believe it?” The other jocks snickered.

Steve looked at the shorts and made a face of disgust. Did Garrett and his bros really think he would wear someone else’s shorts? Why did they seem to have them ready too? Steve awkwardly grabbed the shorts, and looked back over at the group of jocks.

"Garrett... I uh." Steve could see the look of excitement in Garrett’s eyes. Like he was proud of something, “I don’t really feel comfortable wearing another guy’s shorts. And besides, these aren’t going to fit me."

“And why not, lil bro? I wear my bro’s stuff all the time.” Garrett grinned, “I understand that you don't have the same muscle mass as us, but they’re shorts, shorts look good on everyone."

"Yes... but..." Steve sighed- how was he going to make these oafs understand his discomfort when they clearly had no shame?

"Dude, just get changed. We’ll wait here for you." Garrett grinned, “Come on bros, I’ll get the car started. I got a bomb playlist.”

Steve watched as they walked back to their car, all chuckling and talking about their beach plans. And before long, loud obnoxious music filled the air. Steve cringed, worrying what his neighbors might think of the loud music.

“The faster I get this on, the faster we get out of here.” Steve figured, walking back to his room.

Once there, he quickly undressed and examined himself in the mirror. He frowned as he examined his short and lanky frame- his skin pale from the hours spent indoors studying. His brown hair a curly mess atop his head. Nothing compared to the healthy tans and meaty muscles Garrett and his bros sported. Steve shook his head, ignoring these negative thoughts. Instead, he turned his attention to the pair of shorts in his hand.

"This is so disgusting...” Steve mumbled, taking a whiff of them, “Oh god, did they even wash this?” Steve was instantly teleported back to his high school locker room- the smell wafting from these shorts an unpleasant reminder of his days in gym class, “What have I gotten myself into?”

He grimaced as he slowly pulled the shorts up his skinny legs, where they rested over his Marvel boxer briefs. Yet despite his initial disgust, he was surprised to see how well they fit. He figured he owed Garrett some credit- shorts do look good on anyone. Steve walked over to his closet, rummaging around until he found on of his old discarded tank-tops. After placing that over his skinny frame, he smiled.

“Okay, I kind of look the part.” He commented, flexing his skinny arm, “Almost.” He laughed, thinking how ridiculous he must’ve looked.

And as he turned away from the mirror, he felt a wave of vertigo wash over him. He stumbled forward, catching himself against a wall. Steve groaned and wiped some sweat from his forehead, trying to make sense of the sudden dizziness. But as quickly as it had come on, it had passed. And Steve awkwardly walked to the front door, each step feeling somewhat heavier and requiring more focus.

“Oh lil’ dude, you look great!” Garrett said, approaching him, “You’re more than ready for the beach.” He raised an eyebrow, “Ah wait, lil’ dude you forgot your shoes. Logan! Grab ‘em a pair from the trunk.”

Steve only nodded, not really paying all that much attention. His mind felt foggy, his body heavier. When Logan threw the pair of worn-out sandals at his feet, Steve just slid them on. They were clearly too large for him, but he didn’t have the mental bandwidth to make a comment.

“Lookin’ good on ya!” Garrett grinned, putting an arm around Steve’s shoulder and leading him to the car, “God, you reek, lil’ dude.”

Steve shook his head, “No... it’s... it’s the shorts.” He replied, “They smell...”

“Sure, sure lil’ dude.” Garrett chuckled.

Steve wanted to say something in response, but he felt a slight achiness in his feet. And when he looked down, he could have sworn that they looked bigger and now sporting tufts of hair. In that moment, Steve could’ve also sworn that his nostrils were being invaded by an increasingly intense odor- reminiscent of the locker room but somehow worse. Sour and musky, all at once.

“Alrighty lil’ dude, get in.” Garrett said, "Let's go!"

Steve could barely focus. The smells, the boisterous laughter, and the blaring laughter from the bros around him. He grimaced as a can of beer rolled around in the backseat, hitting his foot. He watched as Logan reached down and smirked, before shot gunning the can of beer while his bros cheered.

“Lil’ bro, why don’t you try one?” Garrett asked from the driver’s seat, “Pregame for me, since I’m drivin’ and shit.”

“I’m good.” Steve replied, clearing his throat. His voice sounded off, “I’m not feeling too...”

A beer was thrust against his skinny chest and he looked over at Logan, who had a wide grin on his face. Steve held the beer, staring at it closely. And with his meatier hands, cracked it open. Steve never drank- it wasn’t his thing. But as he cracked open the can, he felt compelled. He was gonna chug it. And as the bros cheered him on, Steve did just that. As he did, he couldn’t possibly realize the bulge in his shorts was growing. His member growing in size, going from a measly 5 centimeters to an astonishing 14 centimeters, a dense forest of pubes sprouting around his new member.

“Buuuuuuuurrrrrppppppppp.” Steve grinned slightly as he crushed the can in his hand as his bros cheered, “That wasn’t so bad.”

“Fuck yeah lil’ dude!” Garrett cheered from the front.

“That was sick bruh!” Logan playfully punched Steve’s arm.

Steve looked down at where Logan punched him and his eyes widened. His arms... his skinny arms... they looked bigger? More defined. Muscles Steve knew he had but never saw were suddenly becoming quite obvious to the naked eye. He looked up at Logan and then up to Garrett.

“Hey somethin’s...” Steve froze. That baritone voice couldn’t possibly be...

But no one paid him any attention. They were going on about the cheerleaders, although Steve noticed Garrett was oddly quiet during the conversation. Occasionally glancing at Steve through the mirror. Steve stirred uncomfortably as Garrett stole glances at him. Why did he keep looking at him? He blushed slightly, trying to appear smaller, but his growing pecs and widening frame made that difficult. He was taking up more space now, becoming uncomfortably close to Logan.

“Dude, can you...”

“Not my fault this car’s so fuckin’ small.” Steve’s eyes widened. He would never talk like that, “What the fuck?” The fogginess in his mind was starting to dissipate. He was becoming acutely aware of his newly massive frame, enlarging pecs, and arms that looked more like tree-trunks than sticks.

Garrett turned to look at him and smiled. "What's wrong bro? You look good.”

“I... don’t... fuckin’...” Steve groaned as his tank-top ripped and he tossed the ruined fabric into the trunk.

He grunted as his muscles pulsed again and again. His frame expanding larger and larger, while Logan just grinned, despite losing more room in the back of the car. Steve gasped as small blond hairs erupted from his massive arms and traveled up. And when they finished coating his massive forearms, the hair in his pits exploded into a dense, musky forest. He grimaced at the smell wafting from them, yet at time went on, the smell was becoming familiar. Somewhat nice actually. He brought his hands to his head as his head started pounding. And in the car’s mirror, he saw that his hair was becoming blond. His curly locks reshaping into a sporty cut. His face becoming sharp and defined, his lips puffing up and forming into a permanent smirk.

“Eric, bruh, you good?” Garrett asked.

Steve let out a baritone groan, “Nah bruh, who the fuck’s Eric?” He grabbed his head again, “That’s... not... my... name...”

As he made eye contact with Garrett, he could feel it. A set of memories. Gym sessions with Garrett. Going to sporting events. Playing videogames. Waking up in each other’s arms... tearing each other’s clothes off... fucking... Steve realized in that moment. Garrett and Eric. They were more than frat bros... they were... A small smile formed on Steve’s lips as he felt Eric’s personality and mind overtake his. And in that moment, he came. The climax so intense that he passed out in the back seat.

“Took him long enough.” Logan chuckled, “You happy Garrett?”

Garrett nodded and parked the car, “Alright bros, give him some time to rest.” Garrett smiled at his sleeping boyfriend, “I’ll be right behind you all.”

As his bros started walking to the beach, Garrett opened backseat door and smiled at his hunk of a boyfriend. He ran a hand down his jaw and gave him a quick kiss, before grabbing his cum-soaked shorts.

“Was hoping you’d save that for me.” Garrett smirked, “But all good, bruh.” He kissed him on the cheek, before quietly shutting the door. He’d let Eric get some rest- besides, they had a long night ahead of them.

[meltinglatte]

Bestfriend's Sister

Pairing : Mingyu × afab reader

Synopsis : in which mingyu has a crush on his best friend's sister but is too scared to ask her out ;)

Genre : short story, smut

Warnings : size k!nk, creampie, boob play, drinking, masturbat!on

[ New author, so if there are any mistakes let me know, will try to improve ]

-------------------------------------------

Chapter 1 : Meeting you again

Mingyu sat at his desk, the glow of his laptop illuminating the darkened dorm room. His notes sprawled chaotically across the table, mirroring the chaos in his mind. College life wasn't the smooth path everyone had promised.

"Just get into SNU," they said.

"Life will be set." Those words now felt like a cruel joke.

Surrounded by prodigies and overachievers, he often wondered if he truly belonged. Balancing academics, friendships, and the rare moments of self-care had become an exhausting juggling act.

And just when he thought it couldn't get more complicated, fate threw him a curveball.

At the 2024 fresher's party, amidst the crowd of enthusiastic new faces, his heart froze. There she was—his crush. The girl who had unknowingly stolen his heart years ago now stood a few feet away, laughing effortlessly with a group of freshmen. Mingyu's pulse quickened as a wave of disbelief washed over him.

"What is she doing here?" he muttered under his breath. For years, he'd assumed she would follow her brother's footsteps and study abroad. Her brother—his best friend—had often talked about how their family prioritized prestigious overseas education. Seeing her here, in his university, was the last thing Mingyu expected. It wasn't just her presence that threw him off. It was the tangled web of emotions that came with it.

Mingyu had long accepted that his feelings for her were off-limits. She wasn't just any girl; she was his best friend's sister. And if there was one unspoken rule in his life, it was this: never break the bro code.

He could already hear his friend's voice in his head, joking yet firm: "You even think about my sister, and I'll kill you, dude." It wasn't an actual threat—probably—but Mingyu had never dared to test it. Yet, seeing her now, radiant and completely unaware of the storm she'd just stirred in his heart, made things infinitely harder. As the evening wore on, he tried to act normal. To blend into the crowd. But his eyes kept drifting back to her. She looked different—not the high schooler he remembered but someone more confident, more vibrant. 

"Why now? Why here?" he thought. Life was already overwhelming, and now he had to deal with this? But deep down, he knew the truth. He wasn't mad because she was here. He was mad because, for the first time, he couldn't ignore the possibility of something more. And that scared him more than failing his next midterm.

"Eoh? Mingyu oppa?" Sera's voice broke through the noise of the crowded room. Her eyes lit up as she smiled at him, her face the perfect blend of surprise and warmth.

"It's been so long, right?" Mingyu froze for a moment, caught off guard by how effortlessly she drew his attention. Rubbing the back of his neck—a nervous habit he couldn't seem to shake—he managed a coy smile.

"Yeah, it has," he replied, his voice quieter than he intended. A brief silence settled between them, the kind that felt heavier than it should. Mingyu scrambled for something to say, anything to fill the growing gap. "Congrats," he finally offered, his tone sincere. "Getting into SNU's med school isn't easy. You must've worked really hard."

"Thank you, oppa." Sera's smile widened, her cheeks slightly tinged with pink.

Before either of them could say more, a loud voice cut through the moment. "SERA-YAH!" Her friends were calling from the other side of the party, their laughter and energy adding to the lively chaos of the party. Sera glanced over her shoulder before turning back to Mingyu.

"I think they're waiting for you," Mingyu said, his tone gentle but his expression unreadable. She hesitated for a moment, as if weighing whether to stay or go. "You're right. I'll see you later, oppa," she said with a small nod before heading toward her friends.

Mingyu watched her retreating figure, her laughter blending into the noise of the party. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair again, the familiar ache in his chest returning.

------------------

Some weeks later

"Bro, let's win this game," Joo Hyuk said, clapping Mingyu on the shoulder, his eyes brimming with determination.

"Yeah, let's do this!" Mingyu replied, his voice full of energy as he tightened his shoelaces and jogged onto the field.

The match between SNU's engineering department and the medicine department had drawn a sizable crowd, the atmosphere electric with cheers and chants. From the whistle's blow, it was clear this wasn't going to be an easy game. Both teams played fiercely, each pass and tackle charged with adrenaline.

It was neck-and-neck, the score tied until the final moments. Then, with a perfectly timed pass from Joo Hyuk, Mingyu seized the opportunity. With a sharp kick, the ball soared past the goalkeeper and into the net.

The engineering department erupted into cheers, their players rushing to huddle around Mingyu, who was grinning ear to ear. "We did it!" he shouted, his voice barely audible over the roar of celebration.

On the sidelines, Sera watched the scene unfold with a smile. The medicine department's supporters were quieter now, some already drifting toward the exit. She turned to her friends and laughed lightly, saying, "I guess we'll have to cheer a lot louder for our medicine department next time."

Mingyu, still catching his breath, heard her words over the noise. He glanced toward her, his grin softening. Her laugh, her effortless charm.

It wasn't the words that caught him off guard but her outfit — her cheerleading outfit. 

The way the uniform fit her, or how the vibrant red skirt clung to her thighs, drawing his eyes in an almost magnetic pull. It was the sheer presence she exuded from across the field that captivated him.

Mingyu had always been aware of her beauty, under the stadium lights, she was a vision that sent a rush of heat through him. Every leap, every sway of her hips was a siren call, pulling him in deeper despite the distance.

He gulped hard, trying to focus on the other celebrating their victory, but distraction had a way of creeping in when least expected. Mingyu felt an undeniable pressure building within him, an urgency that demanded his attention. "Oh shit, not now," he muttered under his breath, realizing he couldn't ignore the undeniable reaction his body was having any longer. The heat radiating from his cheeks was felt in more than just his face.

He excused himself, the camaraderie of his teammates drowning in the chaos of his thoughts as he slipped away towards the washroom. Once inside, he swiftly closed the door behind him, locking it with an almost desperate urgency. The small space was eerily quiet, but in the stillness, the rush of blood in his ears was deafening.

With shaky hands, he fumbled with his pants, feeling the strain of his arousal pressing tightly against the fabric. The image of Sera in that unforgettable outfit - the way it hugged her curves, the glimpses of her pale skin - played behind his eyelids. It was intoxicating, igniting a fire within him that was impossible to suppress.

As he freed himself, his breath quickened, the need to release the tension almost overwhelming. He thought of her laughter, the way she sparkled with energy, and the sight of her moving gracefully with each cheer. Each thought sent shivers through him, and he couldn't help but quicken his pace.

Mingyu leaned against the cool tiles of the wall, consumed by the moment, lost in his mind as the outside world faded away. In that tiny sanctuary, he allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy, letting the image of Sera dance across his thoughts, a vibrant whirl of red and gold that pushed him closer to the edge.

Chapter 2 : Pride First

Mingyu stepped out of the washroom, his face flushed, beads of sweat dotting his forehead. He ran a hand through his damp hair, avoiding Joo Hyuk's gaze as he leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed.

Joo Hyuk shot him a side-eye, his expression somewhere between amused and exasperated. "Seriously, dude? GET SOME PUSSY MAN," he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I didn't come to the washroom to hear my roommate release himself in the university washroom," Joo Hyuk continued. 

"Sorry", Mingyu mumbled, his ears burning as he hurriedly brushed past Joo Hyuk.

Behind him, Joo Hyuk shook his head, muttering to himself, "This guy... hopeless.". 

-----------------------------

Two weeks had passed since that day, and Mingyu had made it his mission to avoid Sera. He steered clear of the med department entirely, choosing routes and spots where he knew he wouldn't run into her. It wasn't easy, but he convinced himself it was necessary.

That afternoon, he sat in the bustling campus canteen, savoring his boba and relishing a rare moment of peace. The sweet tapioca pearls were a small comfort in an otherwise chaotic schedule.

But peace was fleeting.

"Mingyu oppa!"

Her voice rang out, bright and unmistakable. His heart sank as he looked up to see Sera rushing toward him, her long hair flowing behind her, her smile as radiant as ever.

Mingyu forced a small, polite smile, his grip tightening on his drink. "Oh, hey, Sera."

"This weekend, can I go home with you?" she asked, her tone casual but her eyes hopeful. "My mom sent something for your mom, and she told me to give it to her directly."

Mingyu hesitated, the words catching in his throat. He scratched the back of his head, trying to buy himself a second to think. "Oh, um, sorry, but I'm not going home this weekend," he said, his voice as nonchalant as he could manage.

Sera tilted her head, her expression puzzled. "Huh? But you go home every weekend," she said, her brow furrowing slightly.

"Yeah, I know," he replied, quickly averting his gaze. "But I've got this big project to work on. You can go without me, though."

Her smile faltered for a moment, but she quickly recovered, nodding. "Oh, okay. I see."

Before she could say anything more, Mingyu stood, grabbing his cup. "I've got to get going. I'll see you around, Sera," he said hurriedly and walked off, leaving her standing there. 

----------------------

That weekend, Sera found herself standing in front of the Kim family's home. She rang the doorbell, clutching the small package her mother had given her. Moments later, the door swung open.

"What took you so long?" came a familiar voice, half-scolding, half-teasing. Mingyu's mother stood in the doorway, her expression softening the instant she saw Sera. "Oh, it's you, Sera! I thought it was Mingyu."

Sera offered a polite bow and a small smile. "Hello, auntie. Sorry to drop by unannounced."

"Nonsense! Come in, come in," Mrs. Kim said warmly, stepping aside to let her in. "It's always a pleasure to see you."

Once inside, the comforting scent of freshly brewed tea filled the air. Mrs. Kim led Sera to the living room, gesturing for her to sit. "Honey!" she called out toward the garden. "Look who's here!"

Mr. Kim emerged a moment later, wiping his hands on a towel. His face lit up when he saw her. "Ah, Sera! What a nice surprise. Come, have a seat," he said, pulling out a chair for her.

Sera couldn't help but smile at their warmth. "Thank you, uncle. I came to drop something off from my mom," she explained, holding up the package.

"What is it?" Mrs. Kim asked, curiosity flickering in her eyes as she watched Sera carefully unwrap the package.

As the final layer of wrapping came off, Mr. Kim leaned in for a better look. "Omo!" She exclaimed, her tone filled with surprise and admiration.

Inside lay a pristine, carefully preserved 30-year-old ginseng root, its rich golden hue a testament to its value.

"Mom heard that you weren't feeling well recently," Sera explained with a soft smile. "She said this 30-year-old ginseng would be perfect for you and insisted I bring it over."

Mrs. Kim's hand flew to her chest, her eyes widening. "Omo, Sera! This is so expensive. You didn't have to go through all this trouble!"

"Please, just take it," Sera said, her tone gentle but firm. "Mom would be upset if you didn't."

Mrs. Kim glanced at her husband, who nodded approvingly, a proud smile playing on his lips. "Your family is always so thoughtful," Mrs. Kim said, her voice tinged with gratitude. "Thank you, Sera. This means so much to me."

"Of course, auntie," Sera replied. "Mom said your health is more important than anything."

Mr. Kim chuckled warmly. "Looks like your mom has great timing. This will definitely help her feel better."

Mrs. Kim placed the ginseng back into its wrapping with care, her expression softening. "You must stay for dinner, Sera. I won't take no for an answer."

Sera laughed lightly and nodded, her heart warmed by the sincerity of their gratitude.

"I don't understand why Mingyu didn't come home," Mrs. Kim said, her brows knitted as she placed another dish on the dinner table. "He told me just last Monday that he'd be coming back to pick up some important things."

She sighed, her frustration evident. "He should have at least given us a call," she added, shaking her head.

Sera, seated across from them, glanced up from her plate. "Oppa said he had a project to work on," she said casually between bites, trying to downplay the situation.

"Project?" Mr. Kim interjected, his fork pausing mid-air. "What project? He told me just last week that he was finally free because his project was done." He frowned thoughtfully. "Did the professors give him another one so soon?"

Mrs. Kim crossed her arms, her expression softening into mild concern. "Something doesn't add up. He's usually so responsible about keeping us informed."

Sera's thoughts clouded as she processed the conversation. Mingyu was avoiding her—she knew that much—but to go to such lengths to steer clear of her? That realization hit harder than she expected.

She forced herself to finish dinner quickly, the food tasting bland against the turmoil in her mind.

"It would've been nice if you stayed the night," Mrs. Kim said warmly as Sera got up to leave.

"Next time, Auntie," Sera replied with a polite smile, bowing deeply before stepping out of the house.

The moment she was outside, the weight of her thoughts bore down on her. "Does he really hate spending time with his best friend's little sister this much? Am I... that embarrassing?"

"Fine," Sera muttered under her breath, clenching her fists as she walked to the bus stop. "If I'm that embarrassing, then I'll avoid him too. I'm Jeon Sera, after all."

Her voice carried a defiant edge, as if saying it aloud would make her resolve stronger. She straightened her shoulders, forcing herself to hold her head high as the bus pulled up.

The ride back to the college dorms was quiet, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional chatter of other passengers. Sera stared out the window, the city lights blurring past her.

"If he doesn't want to see me, then so be it," she thought, though a small pang of hurt lingered in her chest. "I've got my pride too."

Chapter 3 : Make Him Jealous

Three weeks had passed since Mingyu last saw Sera. At first, when he was avoiding her, he'd still catch glimpses of her around campus—a fleeting silhouette in the crowd, her laughter echoing in the distance. But now, it was as if she had vanished into thin air.

Not once did he see her near the library, the canteen, or even the med department corridors.

Mingyu adjusted his bag on his shoulder, glancing around the campus grounds as he walked to class. The familiar buzz of students chatting and rushing past him felt oddly hollow. He shook his head, trying to push the thought away.

"I guess it's for the best," he muttered under his breath, his words lacking the conviction he wanted them to carry.

"Bro, wanna party after class?" Joo Hyuk leaned over, grinning as he nudged Mingyu.

"Nah, I'm fine," Mingyu replied, shaking his head.

"Come on, man," Joo Hyuk pressed, but before he could push further, the professor entered the room, silencing the chatter. Mingyu turned his attention to the front, zoning in on whatever physics the professor was explaining.

When the bell rang, signaling a break, Joo Hyuk was already on his feet. "Oh, finally a break! Come on, let's roam around the campus."

"It's just 15 minutes," Mingyu argued, opening his book. "What's the point of going out?"

Joo Hyuk rolled his eyes. "I'm not hearing all that." Without waiting for another word, he grabbed Mingyu's arm and dragged him out of the classroom.

"Damn, it's sunny," Joo Hyuk groaned, shielding his eyes as they walked toward the canteen. Once inside, he headed straight for the cashier. "Two iced Americanos, please."

While Joo Hyuk waited, Mingyu wandered near the seating area, his eyes scanning the room. He paused mid-step when he saw her. Sera.

"Oppa?" Her familiar voice rang out, accompanied by a bright smile as she moved in his direction. Mingyu froze, his heart skipping a beat.

But just as quickly, reality hit him. Sera walked past him without a second glance. Mingyu blinked, confused, and turned around to see her approaching someone else—a tall guy standing behind him.

"Oppa, can I borrow your biochemistry notes?" Sera asked the tall guy, her tone warm and friendly.

"Sure," the guy, Sera's senior, Jin Sun Ho, replied with a casual smile. "But, Sera, I'm afraid you won't be able to read my handwriting. How about I help you with them in the library?"

Sera laughed lightly. "That sounds great, thanks!" The two walked out of the canteen together, chatting as they left.

Mingyu was still staring after them when Joo Hyuk returned, handing him an iced Americano. "Woah," Joo Hyuk said, watching the pair disappear through the door. "Looks like the med school god and goddess are finally hitting it off."

"What do you mean?" Mingyu asked, his voice unintentionally sharp.

Joo Hyuk raised an eyebrow. "Do you live under a rock? Jin Sun Ho is the med school's god—smart, handsome, and rich. And Sera? She's the goddess. Pretty, brilliant, and, well, rich. Everyone's been saying they'd make the perfect couple."

He sipped his drink, oblivious to the way Mingyu's grip tightened on his cup. Mingyu said nothing, his eyes lingering on the door where Sera and Jin Sun Ho had just left. 

--------------------

"Your handwriting isn't that bad, oppa," Sera said with a small smile as she diligently copied down the notes. Her pen moved swiftly across the page while Sun Ho leaned slightly closer, pointing out key terms and concepts.

Sun Ho chuckled softly, resting his chin in his hand as he watched her work. "Maybe you just have extraordinary deciphering skills," he said, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Most people look at my notes and call them hieroglyphics.

Sera laughed, the sound light and genuine. "Well, I guess I have a knack for cracking your code," she replied, glancing up at him briefly before focusing back on the page.

"Or maybe you're just too kind to admit how terrible my handwriting actually is," Sun Ho quipped with a grin, tapping the edge of the notebook.

Sera shook her head, her lips curving into a soft smile. "No, really. It's not bad at all. And your explanations make everything so much clearer," she said earnestly, her brown eyes meeting his.

For a moment, Sun Ho's teasing demeanor softened. "Glad I can help," he said, his tone warm. "Not everyone would put up with my chicken scratch."

"Well, I'm not just anyone," Sera said with a playful shrug, her confidence shining through as she continued writing.

"How about a selfie?" Sun Ho asked suddenly, pulling out his phone with a playful grin.

Sera looked up from the notebook, a mixture of surprise and amusement on her face. "In the library?" she whispered, stifling a giggle.

Sun Ho leaned in closer, angling the camera to fit both of them in the frame. "Relax," he said with a smirk. "No one's going to say a word to me." Without waiting for her response, he snapped the photo, capturing Sera mid-laugh.

"Sun Ho!" she scolded lightly, though her smile betrayed her amusement.

He examined the picture with a satisfied nod. "Perfect. My followers are going to love this," he said as he began typing a caption.

"You're posting it?" Sera's eyes widened in mild disbelief.

"Of course," he replied, his tone casual as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Why wouldn't I?"

Sera shook her head, unable to suppress a laugh as she returned to her notes. Moments later, Sun Ho's phone buzzed with likes and comments flooding in, his followers reacting to the unexpected post.

On the screen was the caption: "Study buddies" .

Chapter 4 : Drunk Mingyu

"Woah, check this out," Joohyuk said, grinning as he waved his phone in front of Mingyu after their last class of the day.

Mingyu glanced down at the screen, his eyes narrowing as he saw the Instagram photo of Sera and Sun Ho standing side by side, their smiles bright and carefree. A strange feeling twisted in his chest—something between envy and frustration—but he masked it with a shrug, trying not to let it show.

"Since when did you become so invested in other people's business, huh, Joohyuk?" Mingyu asked, raising an eyebrow and trying to keep his voice casual.

Joohyuk chuckled, unfazed by Mingyu's tone. "Oh, come on, man. You need a little gossip to survive the madness that is SNU," he said, tapping his phone's screen. "Everyone's talking about this picture. It's like the campus's new hottest trend."

Mingyu rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the small, reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, well, maybe I don't have the time for that kind of stuff."

"Right, of course," Joohyuk replied, his grin widening. "You're too busy being the mysterious guy who doesn't care about anything except his grades." He nudged Mingyu playfully.

Mingyu shrugged again, trying to brush off the weird fluttering in his stomach. "Just don't get too wrapped up in it, alright? We've got our own lives to focus on."

"Sure, sure," Joohyuk replied with a wink. "But you know, it's always more fun to watch the drama unfold from the sidelines." 

Joohyuk leaned in with a mischievous grin. "Alright, enough of this. Come with me to the club and let loose for once."

Mingyu hesitated, glancing at his outfit. "Like this? My clothes are too plain, I need to change." He tried to muster an excuse, adjusting the collar of his shirt.

Joohyuk rolled his eyes, his expression turning playful but firm. "I'm not hearing any of that, man. I know you'll find a thousand reasons to back out and never show up. We're going, and we're going now."

Mingyu opened his mouth to protest, but Joohyuk was already dragging him toward the door, his grip surprisingly strong. "You're coming with me, no more excuses. Tonight's about fun, not studying."

Mingyu sighed but couldn't help the reluctant grin that crept across his face. "Fine, fine," he muttered. "But you owe me a drink for this."

Joohyuk flashed a victorious smile. "Deal." 

The neon lights of the club flickered around them as Mingyu and Joohyuk settled into their seats, the music pulsating through the air. Mingyu was already deep in his drinks, the bitter taste of alcohol doing little to numb the ache in his chest. He stared into his glass, his heart heavy, thoughts swirling around Sera and the distance between them that felt impossible to bridge.

Joohyuk, ever the party animal, raised his eyebrows as Mingyu downed another drink in one go. "Ayo, man, slow down," Joohyuk said, his voice slightly slurred. "We have class tomorrow. You're gonna regret this."

Mingyu looked at his friend, a wry smile twisting on his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. "What's the point of this life if I can't be with her?" he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. He didn't care that he was starting to sound like a mess—he was already too far gone.

Joohyuk blinked, suddenly aware of the shift in Mingyu's mood. "Oh, no, not here," he groaned, slapping his palm against the table. "I brought you here to have fun, not cry over some girl you can't get over. This night is supposed to be fun, man!"

But Mingyu wasn't listening. He tipped his head back, gulping down another drink, his emotions taking over in a drunken haze. "Is there any way to make her like me?" he slurred, his eyes glassy. "I can't stand seeing her with someone else... I just... I just want her to be mine."

Joohyuk let out a low whistle. "It's kinda hard to believe that you, with that handsome face of yours, can't get a girl," he teased, leaning back in his chair, his buzz starting to kick in.

Mingyu's face crumpled again, and Joohyuk frowned, his tone shifting to concern. "Who is she? The girl that's got you all twisted up like this?"

Mingyu's words came out in a jumbled mess, and soon enough, his eyes were glistening with tears, the alcohol fueling his emotions further. "You remember my best friend... the one who studies abroad?" he began, voice cracking. "She's his..."

Joohyuk froze for a moment, eyes wide as he processed the situation. "His girlfriend?" he asked in disbelief, his lips curling into a half-smile. "Bro, you gotta be kidding me. Out of all the girls in the world, you fall for your homie's girl?"

"NO, NO!" Mingyu shot back, waving his hand in a frantic motion as his emotions overtook him again. "She's not his girlfriend!" he repeated, his voice breaking.

Joohyuk blinked. "Then what's the problem, man? If she's not with him, what's stopping you?"

Mingyu's face crumpled in despair, his voice almost a whisper as he stumbled over the words. "She... she's his sister," he confessed, his drunken state making it feel even more tragic. He pulled Joohyuk into a tight hug, his body shaking with the weight of his emotions. "I don't know what to do, man. I can't... I can't have her, but I can't stop wanting her."

Joohyuk sat there, stunned for a moment. He didn't know how to respond, his mind processing the ridiculousness of the situation. "Bro," he finally said, a slight chuckle escaping him. "You're... you're really in love with your best friend's sister? That's the problem?"

Mingyu sobbed a little more, the alcohol making everything feel more intense than it probably was. "I know, I know," he said, his voice muffled in Joohyuk's shoulder. "It's messed up. I just... I just can't stop thinking about her."

Joohyuk shook his head in disbelief. 

Joo Hyuk, with a mischievous grin, urged Mingyu to let loose and find some companionship for the night. He grabbed the alcohol glass from Mingyu's hand, downing the remaining contents in one swift motion. "Come on, forget everything and let's hit the dance floor," Joo Hyuk said, leading the way.

Mingyu followed, his mind still hazy from the alcohol. As they stepped onto the dance floor, the pulsating beat of the music consumed them. Mingyu felt the weight of his worries melt away with each step.

Before long, Joo Hyuk had already found a companion for the night, disappearing to the other side of the club with a sly wink. Mingyu, on the other hand, was approached by a stranger.

"Hey, aren't you Mingyu Sunbae from the engineering department?" the girl asked, her voice like a melody.

Mingyu looked at her and nodded. "Nice to meet you, I'm Seyeong from the medicine department," she introduced herself, flashing a bright smile.

Before Mingyu could respond, Seyeong had already moved closer, her body swaying in time with the music. She placed her hands on his shoulders, pulling him closer until their chests were touching. Mingyu was taken aback, but the alcohol coursed through his veins, numbing his senses.

Seyeong's movements were fluid, like a dance. She pressed her cleavage against his chest, making it a full display of her assets. Mingyu's mind was consumed with thoughts of Sera. In his alcohol-infused haze, he couldn't help but think that Seyeong was Sera, sent to him as an answer to his prayers.

"Want to get a room?" Seyeong whispered in his ear, her breath hot against his skin. 

Mingyu's vision swam in a hazy blur, the flashing lights of the club illuminating the space around him. His mind felt foggy, and the alcohol had wrapped him in a warm cocoon of numbness. But then, his eyes caught something—or rather, someone. At the entrance of the club, standing like a figure from a dream, was her.

"Sera?" Mingyu mumbled to himself, blinking rapidly as if doing so would somehow snap him out of his daze and make everything clearer. He squinted, the familiar silhouette in front of him. He stumbled back slightly, his voice slurring as he spoke louder than he intended. "TWO TWO SERA?"

The girl in front of him, who had been dancing with him just moments before, followed his gaze, confusion painting her face as she turned her head toward the entrance. She froze for a second, processing what he said, before her own realization hit her.

"Sera?" she echoed, her voice laced with disbelief as her eyes locked on the girl Mingyu was referring to.

Mingyu, still drunk and caught in the throes of his mixed-up emotions, looked between the two—Sera at the entrance and the Sera in his arms. "Wait... no way, how come there are two Seras," he muttered under his breath.

The music seemed to throb louder in his ears as he fumbled to make sense of the situation. Seyeong's expression shifted from confusion to mild irritation, her eyes narrowing as she took a step back from him.

"Did you seriously think I was Sera this whole time?" Seyeong's voice was sharp, tinged with disbelief. She crossed her arms over her chest, her face now set in an indignant frown. "What a jerk."

Before Mingyu could say another word, she pushed him lightly but firmly away from her, the force of the motion knocking him off balance for a moment.

Seyeong shook her head, her disappointment evident, and with a final glance at Mingyu, she turned and walked off into the crowd, leaving him standing there, still trying to piece everything together.

Chapter 4 : Confrontation

As the adrenaline faded away, he found himself seeking a way out, desperate to escape the turmoil of his thoughts.

"How long are you going to keep yourself away from me?" Sera's voice sliced through the noise, confident and unwavering. Mingyu, taken aback, feigned ignorance. "I don't understand what you're talking about," he responded, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

Without hesitation, Sera moved closer, closing the space between them. Her hand reached for his, holding it firmly as if refusing to let him slip away. "You can drop the act now, oppa," she insisted. The tone in her voice was resolute, a stark contrast to Mingyu's hesitant demeanor.

"I heard it all," she leaned closer, her breath warm against his ear. His heart raced as she held onto his neck, standing on her tiptoes to bring her face near his. Her proximity was intoxicating, yet troubling.

"You are Jeonwoo's sister. I can't—" Mingyu tried to back away, but Sera was relentless. She cut him off, sealing her defiance with a kiss on his cheek, a playful yet poignant gesture that sent a thrill through him. Mingyu's heart sank and soared all at once as he finally met her gaze.

"Okay, then I will go to Sunho Oppa," she teased, her demeanor flipping from assertive to mischievous in an instant as she turned to walk away. The implication of her words hit Mingyu like a freight train. His grip instinctively tightened around her wrist, pulling her back to him.

"Please, Sera," he pleaded, his expression shifting to one that could only be described as puppy-like, eyes wide with a mix of desperation and longing. The playful banter began melting away, leaving behind the raw emotion that had bubbled just beneath the surface. 

"Then tell me," Sera said suddenly, her voice soft yet filled with an urgency that made Mingyu's heart race. In that moment, he felt as though the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders.

Mingyu looked deeper into her eyes, a vibrant mix of curiosity and vulnerability reflecting back at him. It felt as if time had come to a standstill; the noise of the bar faded into the background, leaving only the two of them in a bubble of fleeting possibility. A sudden wave of courage surged through him, igniting a fire within that he had kept at bay for far too long. Without thinking, he leaned in and kissed her.

The kiss was electric—a culmination of longing and love, a blending of dreams that had been waiting for this moment to manifest. Their lips brushed against each other with a tender urgency, savoring every fleeting second, as if trying to grasp a moment that could slip away at any instant. In that enchantment, everything else ceased to exist, and all they could feel was each other.

"I like you," Mingyu confessed, his breath mingling with hers in between kisses, each word carrying the weight of a thousand unsaid feelings. The revelation hung in the air, both exhilarating and terrifying, yet it felt right.

Sera pulled back for just a moment, her eyes sparkling with surprise and delight. "We can continue at the hotel room," she said, a playful smile curling her lips.

-------------------------

The hotel room door creaked open, the sound amplifying the electric atmosphere that buzzed between Mingyu and Sera. As they crossed the threshold, their lips met in a fervent kiss that seemed to encapsulate the world outside—one that held no constraints or responsibilities. Nothing else existed in that moment but the two of them, lost in each other's embrace.

With a swift kick, Mingyu nudged the door shut, intent on carving out a little world where only they mattered. He traced Sera's delicate figure with admiration, lifting her effortlessly into his arms. The nearby table became their temporary sanctuary as he gently set her down, still locked in a passionate kiss. "You are too short; my neck hurts," he murmured playfully, yet his eyes spoke of hunger, desire.

Sera, feeling emboldened, wrapped her legs around his waist, a teasing move that brought their bodies even closer. The heat between them ignited as Mingyu's hands found their way to the hem of his shirt, pulling it off to reveal his toned physique. To him, she was petite and enchanting, every curve inviting exploration.

Their lips collided once more, becoming lost in the rhythm of soft sighs and heated breaths. Mingyu's hands, skilled yet gentle, began to undress Sera, each layer he shed revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her form. As he unclasped her bra, he feasted his eyes on her plump breasts, a sight that made his heart race with insatiable desire.

Mingyu leaned down, his mouth enveloping her soft skin, a rush of adrenaline coursing through him as he lavished her with attention. His hands wandered, finding their way to her clit through her clothing, caressing her softly. Sera responded with soft moans, a sound he felt in the depths of his being, urging him on.

As passion thickened the air, Mingyu's urgency grew. He quickly shed his pants and retrieved a condom from the drawer, his determination evident. Positioning himself at her entrance, he locked eyes with her, seeking her silent permission as he began to enter her slowly, their lips brushing together in a tumultuous dance.

With each thrust, a primal intensity enveloped them both. Moments turned to a haze of sweat and ecstasy—Mingyu transformed, becoming both lover and beast, a force of nature that left Sera breathless beneath him. "Ah, fuck," she gasped, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through her.

As they reached the precipice of their desires, Mingyu shifted her position, bending her over the table. Sera felt the cool surface against her skin, a stark contrast to the fervent heat igniting in her core. "Sera-ah," he moaned, hands gripping her waist, driving deeper with each rhythm.

Their bodies moved in perfect synchrony, the tempo rising as their breaths grew heavier. Mingyu sensed the climax approaching, a rush of exhilaration. With one final thrust, he pulled out, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he released onto her skin. At that moment, time seemed to suspend—their eyes met, and Sera's gaze sparkled with an innocent allure as she too reached her peak, a beautiful symphony shared between them. 

-----------------------------

As the steam from the bathroom lingered in the air, Mingyu stepped out of the shower, water droplets cascading down his toned frame. The casual, effortless nature of his appearance was endearing, yet it evoked an unexpected shyness in him.

"Don't look at me like that," he said, a playful edge to his voice, as he caught Sera's gaze from across the room.

Wiping her hair with a towel, Sera chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Whoa, look at you getting shy after all this," she teased. 

----------------------------------

Two weeks had flown by since that steamy night in the hotel room. And in the aftermath of their passionate escapade, Sera had become a frequent visitor to Mingyu's room. With Joo Hyuk often occupied with his part time job, the two had explored the thrilling dynamics of secrecy, indulging in their hidden desires whenever the opportunity arose. Each rendezvous was charged with excitement—a dance of passion that ignited every corner of Mingyu's otherwise mundane days.

Today, however, was different. Mingyu was on a mission to pick up his best friend, Wonwoo, from the airport.

As he arrived at the bustling airport, he spotted Wonwoo making his way through the terminal.

"Brother!" Mingyu called out, his face lighting up in a broad smile as they both rushed to embrace each other. It felt good, the familiar warmth of friendship rekindled after a few months apart. "Missed ya," Mingyu said, clapping Wonwoo on the back before helping him with his luggage.

"Why did you only call me to pick you up?" Mingyu probed as they loaded the bags into the car's trunk, genuinely curious about his friend's whirlwind life abroad.

"Mom and Dad's 30th anniversary is coming up, and I want to give them a surprise," Wonwoo replied, excitement bubbling over in his voice. It was classic Wonwoo—thoughtful and family-oriented, proud of planning something truly special.

Once settled into the Uber, the chaotic energy of the ride kicked in. Wonwoo dove into a barrage of stories about living abroad—the food, the people, the experiences—but amidst the laughter and reminiscing, he posed an unexpected question that made Mingyu's heart race for an entirely different reason.

"Ah, by the way, do you know which jerk is dating my sister?" Wonwoo asked, casually leaning back in his seat. The smoothness of his nonchalant tone did not betray the depth of the question.

Mingyu felt the color drain from his face. Coughing splutteringly, he quickly grabbed the water bottle beside him to take a sip—a feeble attempt to mask his reaction.

"Like, two weeks ago, I saw my credit card was used to bill at a hotel—the same card I had given to my sister," Wonwoo continued, his voice laced with incredulity. Mingyu's heart raced again. If only he knew...

"You know it would've been better if you were dating my sister, can't trust her with the jerks nowadays", Wonwoo casually said.

The neurological pathways of panic ignited as Mingyu choked once more on his drink, causing a cascade of water to spill across the upholstery of the Uber. The driver shot a frustrated look through the rearview mirror, and Mingyu hastily apologized while trying to wipe away the mess with his sleeve.

[enhasntty]

Swish, I'm in Love - NRK

pairing: nishimura riki x f!reader summary: Riki Nishimura, a cocky basketball star, falls for the quiet girl who ignores his charm. Through hilarious missteps and awkward confessions, he fumbles his way into her heart. warnings: Kissing, Riki's friends make jokes that some people may be sensitive to, Riki tries flirting (a lot) but fails most of the time. genre: Fluff, Highschool romance wc: 19124 note: let me know if I missed any warnings likes and reblogs are very much appreciated

The Encounter

The hallway was its usual self-chaotic and buzzing with the chatter of students heading to their next class. You were walking at your usual pace, headphones in, deep in thought as you mentally prepared for the day ahead. The last thing you expected was to be caught in a collision of bodies in the middle of the hallway.

“Whoa!”

You bumped into someone, sending a few papers flying out of your bag. You quickly bent down to pick them up, not even bothering to glance up at the person you’d collided with. You were more focused on saving your notes than on apologizing for the accidental bump.

“Hey, you good?” came a familiar voice, filled with that cocky tone you knew all too well.

It was Riki, the basketball star everyone fawned over. His voice had this self-assuredness to it, and judging by the reactions of others whenever he walked down the hall, he had a reputation. He was the guy who always had a crowd of people around him, but you couldn’t care less.

You nodded, as you continued picking up the papers. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just, uh, careful next time.”

Riki blinked, clearly thrown off. Most people would’ve been all over him-squealing, apologizing, or even blushing. But you? You just acted like nothing happened. Like he wasn’t some godsend the school adored.

As you finished gathering your papers, you glanced up at him for the first time. And when you did, you gave him a small, casual smile-just enough to acknowledge him without making it anything special.

It wasn’t a flirtatious smile. It wasn’t anything overly friendly either. It was just… a smile. But to Riki, it was as if the world had slowed down. He felt his chest tighten and his mind race.

He swallowed.

“Whoa,” he muttered under his breath, staring at you. “Did she just… smile at me?”

His friends had started walking up behind him, no doubt noticing the intensity in his gaze. They all exchanged a few confused glances as they watched Riki stand there, practically frozen.

“Bro,” Jay called out, breaking his trance. “You alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Riki shook his head, trying to snap out of it, but the image of your smile was burned into his mind. He turned to his friends and said, “No, no. You don’t get it. That smile… it was different. It was the one. It’s-” He paused, trying to get his words together. “It’s like love at first sight.”

His friends stared at him, deadpan.

“What?” Jake asked, narrowing his eyes. “You’re serious? Dude, you’re delusional.”

“No, listen,” Riki continued, now pacing, clearly ignoring their sarcasm. “She didn’t act like every other girl. She didn’t freak out or go all blushy when she saw me. She didn’t act starstruck. She’s different. She gets me.”

Heeseung rubbed his temples. “Bro, you’re definitely on something. You ran into her, and she just gave you a smile. That’s not love at first sight, that’s just you being dramatic.”

Riki wasn’t hearing any of it. “No, you don’t understand. I’m telling you, I’m in love with her. And I’m gonna make her my queen.”

Jay snorted. “My queen? Are we in some medieval romance movie now? C’mon, man, be for real.”

But Riki was unwavering. “I’m serious. I’m going to make her fall for me. I just… I know it. She’s the one.”

Sunoo, leaning against the lockers, smirked. “Dude, you’re acting like you just found the Holy Grail or something. She Doesn't even know you.”

Riki waved off their teasing. “Doesn’t matter. I’m going to win her over. You’ll see.”

Meanwhile, you, in the background, had no clue what was happening. You picked up your bag, checked your papers, and continued walking, headphones back in your ears. It wasn’t that you didn’t notice Riki-he was hard to miss-but honestly? You couldn’t have cared less. To you, he was just another student who thought he was the main character of his own movie.

Riki, however, stood there, still in his thoughts. He felt like he’d just witnessed something cosmic. Your smile had done something to him-made him believe, for the first time, that maybe he wasn’t just the guy who could score three-pointers, but that he was capable of… love.

His friends followed him down the hall, still ribbing him for his newfound “obsession.”

“So, what’s the plan now?” Sunghoon asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Are you going to serenade her in the middle of the cafeteria or what?”

Riki smirked, clearly not phased. “You’ll see. I’m going big. She won’t know what hit her. I’m going full king of hearts mode.”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, good luck with that. You’re like the least subtle person I know.”

“Hey,” Riki said, “if I’m gonna go for it, I’m going all in. No half-measures.”

Jay sighed, shaking his head. “This is gonna be a disaster, isn’t it?”

“Probably,” Sunoo added, grinning. “But I’ll be here for the show.”

As Riki walked away, a small, satisfied grin spread across his face. He was sure of it. There was no way a girl like you would be able to resist him for long. After all, he had that charm. And if there was one thing Riki knew, it was how to get what he wanted.

Meanwhile, you made your way to your next class, completely unaware of Riki’s newfound mission-a mission he was about to turn into the most entertaining disaster of your high school life.

The Obsession Begins

At school, Riki spotted you by your locker again, headphones on as usual. He adjusted his backpack, ran a hand through his hair, and sauntered over like he hadn’t spent the entire morning rehearsing what to say.

“Hey.”

You didn’t look up.

Riki cleared his throat. “Hey,” he said louder, leaning against the lockers in what he hoped was a cool, casual way.

You finally glanced up, pulling one headphone out. “Do you need something?”

Riki’s brain short-circuited. He had spent hours planning a witty response, but all he managed to say was, “Nice book.”

You blinked, looking at the plain black cover of your notebook. “It’s a math textbook.”

“Oh, uh… yeah, I knew that,” Riki said quickly. “I love math. Big fan.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? What’s the quadratic formula?”

Riki froze.

“Exactly,” you said, putting your headphones back in.

From across the hallway, Heeseung and Jake were watching the exchange unfold.

“He’s crashing and burning,” Jake whispered.

“I give him points for effort,” Heeseung said, shaking his head.

Later that day, Riki’s friends gathered around him during lunch to debrief his latest failure.

“You said you were gonna play it cool,” Jungwon said, popping a grape into his mouth.

“I was playing it cool,” Riki insisted.

“You called her math book ‘nice,’” Sunghoon deadpanned.

Jake nearly spit out his drink. “You really told her you’re a math fan? Bro, even I know that’s a red flag.”

“It’s not a red flag!” Riki said defensively. “I just panicked.”

Sunoo smirked. “I think she has the mental upper hand, and you don’t know how to deal with it.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means you’re whipped, and she doesn’t even know it,” Heeseung said, patting him on the back.

Riki buried his face in his hands. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Oh, we’re way past embarrassing,” Sunoo said. “But don’t worry, we’re here to make sure you keep embarrassing yourself.”

“Supportive as ever,” Riki muttered.

Meanwhile, at your table, your friends were having a very different conversation.

“Riki was staring at you this morning,” Julie said, doodling on her notebook.

“I think he was trying to flirt,” Karina added, scrolling through her phone.

You frowned. “That’s not flirting.”

“Oh, sweetie, it was flirting,” Giselle said, pulling her headphones off. “Awful flirting, but flirting nonetheless.”

“I don’t get it,” you said, biting into your sandwich. “Why would he even bother?”

“Because he’s into you,” Julie said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Into me? He doesn’t even know me.”

“That’s probably why he’s into you,” Karina said with a grin. “You’re, like, the one person in this school who doesn’t worship the ground he walks on. He’s confused, and now he’s spiraling.”

Giselle snorted. “It’s giving ‘golden retriever chasing a cat.’”

“Exactly!” Julie said, clapping her hands. “And you’re the cat.”

“Great. I’m being compared to an animal,” you said dryly.

Karina leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “But admit it. It’s kinda fun watching him squirm, isn’t it?”

You smirked, not bothering to answer.

Riki wasn’t done for the day.

He had a plan-a bold, risky plan that could either win you over or completely backfire.

“Are you sure about this?” Heeseung asked as they stood outside the library.

“Yes,” Riki said firmly, holding up a small folded note. “This is foolproof.”

“Your definition of foolproof worries me,” Jungwon muttered.

“It’s just a note,” Riki said. “How hard can it be?”

The note in question was a piece of lined paper on which Riki had written a short (and in his opinion, very clever) message:

Hey. You dropped this: 🖤

– Riki

The plan was simple. He would walk past you, drop the note on your desk, and walk away like a cool, mysterious guy.

“You look like you’re delivering a ransom letter,” Sunoo said as they watched him sneak into the library.

“Shut up,” Riki hissed.

You were sitting at a table in the back of the library, headphones on, completely absorbed in your book. Riki took a deep breath, walked up to your table, and slid the note across to you.

Then, instead of walking away like he planned, he froze.

You looked up, noticing him standing there. Slowly, you picked up the note and read it.

“You dropped this?” you said, holding up the paper.

“Uh… yeah,” Riki said.

“I was sitting here the whole time.”

“Oh, uh, right. I meant to say I dropped it. And you… picked it up. Metaphorically.”

You squinted at him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great,” Riki said, his voice cracking.

You glanced at the note again. “What does this even mean?”

“It means, uh…” Riki paused, searching for an explanation. “It means… you’re cool. Like, you dropped your coolness, and I wanted to give it back to you.”

Your lips twitched as if you were trying not to laugh. “Right.”

“I’ll just… go now,” Riki said, turning on his heel and speed-walking out of the library.

“What happened?” Sunghoon asked when Riki returned to his friends.

“She didn’t laugh me out of the room, so… progress?” Riki said.

Sunoo shook his head. “You’re like a baby giraffe trying to learn how to walk.”

Back in the library, you were still holding the note, a small smile tugging at your lips. You didn’t know what Riki was trying to do, but you had to admit-it was kind of amusing.

And maybe, just maybe, a little endearing.

The Unintended Slip

Riki wasn’t one to give up easily. Sure, you’d shot him down twice now, but in his mind, that just meant he needed to step up his game. If you weren’t going to swoon over his basketball skills or mysterious notes, he’d have to get creative.

Enter: Operation Study Buddy.

Riki barged into the cafeteria, plopping down at the usual table where his friends were mid-meal. “Okay, guys, I need a new strategy.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “You’re talking like this is a business pitch.”

“It is a business pitch-except instead of closing a deal, I’m closing the distance to her heart,” Riki said, dramatically clutching his chest.

Jake nearly choked on his water. “Did you actually just say that?”

“Focus, guys,” Riki said, leaning forward. “She’s smart, right? Always reading or doing something intellectual. So, I’m gonna ask her to help me study for our next math quiz.”

“Bold move, considering you thought the quadratic formula was a type of shampoo,” Sunoo said, smirking.

“Hey, everyone struggles in their own way!” Riki shot back.

Heeseung leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “You think she’ll buy it?”

“She will,” Riki said confidently. Then, after a pause: “I just need to act dumb enough that she won’t suspect anything.”

Jungwon snorted. “That won’t be acting.”

By the time math class rolled around, Riki was ready. He spotted you sitting in your usual seat by the window, scribbling in your notebook. Taking a deep breath, he walked over and sat down in the desk next to yours.

You glanced up, eyebrows raised. “You’re sitting here now?”

“Yeah,” Riki said casually. “Thought I’d mix it up. Plus, I, uh… need your help.”

You tilted your head. “With?”

“Math,” he said, trying to look as clueless as possible. “You’re good at it, right?”

You stared at him for a moment, as if deciding whether he was serious. “What’s the problem?”

Riki pulled out his textbook, flipping to a random page. “This. I don’t get it.”

You leaned over to look, and Riki suddenly realized how close you were. He could smell the faint hint of your shampoo, something floral and light, and his brain momentarily short-circuited.

“This is literally multiplication,” you said, snapping him out of it.

“Yeah, uh, it’s been a while,” Riki said, scratching the back of his neck. “You know how it is-letters, numbers… it’s confusing.”

You gave him a look. “Riki, the problem is 8 x 9.”

“…Right. And the answer is…” He trailed off, waiting for you to fill in the blank.

You sighed. “72.”

“Of course! That’s what I was gonna say,” Riki said quickly.

You sat back, clearly unimpressed. “Do you actually need help, or is this some kind of elaborate excuse to sit here?”

Riki froze, caught red-handed. “I… uh… well…”

Before he could answer, the teacher walked in, saving him from further embarrassment.

Later that day, Riki regrouped with his friends.

“She saw right through me,” he groaned, slumping against his locker.

“To be fair, your acting skills are about as subtle as a neon sign,” Jake said.

“I’m starting to think she’s too smart for me,” Riki admitted.

Sunoo snickered. “Oh, we’ve all been thinking that.”

“Shut up,” Riki muttered.

“You just need to find something that’ll catch her off guard,” Jungwon suggested.

“Like what?”

Sunghoon smirked. “I don’t know, man. Maybe stop being so obvious. Or at least try to flirt without sounding like a confused toddler.”

“I’m great at flirting!” Riki protested.

“Are you, though?” Heeseung said, raising an eyebrow.

Riki rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. What do you suggest?”

“Say something bold. Catch her attention,” Jake said. “Like, I don’t know-‘Hey, do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?’”

“That’s cheesy as hell,” Sunoo said, wrinkling his nose.

“But it’s memorable,” Jake argued.

“I’m not using a pick-up line,” Riki said firmly.

“Then what?” Sunghoon asked.

“I’ll figure it out,” Riki said, though he wasn’t entirely sure he believed himself.

The next day, Riki decided to go for a different approach: casual conversation.

He spotted you in the library during lunch, headphones on as usual. Steeling himself, he walked over and sat across from you.

You looked up, surprised. “Do you not have friends to eat with?”

Riki grinned. “I do, but I figured I’d grace you with my company today.”

“How generous,” you said dryly.

“So, what are you working on?” he asked, leaning forward.

“An essay,” you said simply, turning back to your laptop.

“What’s it about?”

“Why sitting across from loud basketball players is a distraction,” you deadpanned.

Riki laughed, leaning back in his chair. “You’re funny, you know that?”

“I wasn’t joking,” you said, though there was a hint of amusement in your tone.

He rested his chin on his hand, studying you. “Do you ever smile?”

You looked up again, raising an eyebrow. “Do you ever stop talking?”

“Not really,” Riki admitted, grinning.

You sighed, shaking your head. “Why are you even here?”

“I like talking to you,” he said honestly.

You blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Why?”

“Because you’re different,” Riki said with a shrug. “You don’t laugh at my jokes or pretend to be impressed by everything I do. It’s refreshing.”

You stared at him for a moment, then went back to your essay. “Well, if you’re going to sit here, at least be quiet.”

“Can’t promise that,” Riki said, smirking.

When Riki returned to his friends later, he was in a suspiciously good mood.

“Did something happen?” Heeseung asked.

“Yeah,” Riki said, grinning. “I think I made progress.”

Sunoo rolled his eyes. “You mean you annoyed her until she gave up?”

“No, I had a real conversation with her,” Riki said.

“What’d you talk about?” Jake asked.

“Mostly how much I talk,” Riki admitted.

“So… nothing?” Sunghoon said.

“Hey, it’s progress,” Riki said defensively. “She didn’t tell me to leave.”

“That’s the bar now?” Sunoo said, smirking.

“Baby steps,” Riki said, leaning back with a satisfied smile.

Back at your table, your friends were equally curious.

“So, what’s the deal with Riki sitting with you in the library?” Karina asked, leaning across the table.

“Yeah, did he say something dumb again?” Giselle added.

You shrugged. “He said he likes talking to me.”

Julie gasped. “That’s so cute!”

“It’s weird,” you said, though your tone lacked conviction.

“It’s cute,” Julie insisted.

Karina smirked. “I think he’s growing on you.”

“He’s like a mosquito,” you muttered. “Annoying but persistent.”

Giselle snorted. “Yeah, but at least this mosquito is kind of hot.”

“Kind of?” Julie said, giggling. “He’s basically everyone’s crush.”

“Not mine,” you said quickly.

“Sure, sure,” Karina said, smirking. “Keep telling yourself that.”

The Art Of Embarrassment

Riki Nishimura was used to being good at things-basketball, charming people, and existing in general. But somehow, you had turned him into a walking disaster. It was like his brain short-circuited every time you were in a five-foot radius.

Today, he decided he would try something new. No elaborate plans. No fake study sessions. Just pure, unfiltered Riki.

Spoiler alert: it was a terrible idea.

It started in the cafeteria during lunch. You were sitting with your friends as usual, laughing at something Julie said. Riki watched from across the room, trying to figure out how to approach you.

“Dude, stop staring,” Jake said, nudging him.

“I’m not staring,” Riki said, not breaking eye contact.

“You’ve been staring so hard I’m surprised she hasn’t felt it and filed a restraining order,” Sunghoon said, biting into his sandwich.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” Riki said, ignoring them. “I’m gonna walk up to her table and just… talk. Like a normal person.”

Sunoo snorted. “You? A normal person? Bold of you to assume.”

Riki stood up, ignoring the chorus of snickers from his friends. He was determined.

But as he crossed the cafeteria, disaster struck.

He was walking past a table when someone stuck their leg out, probably as a joke. Riki didn’t see it until it was too late.

One moment, he was confidently striding toward you. The next, he was flat on the floor, his tray of food flying into the air in a perfect arc.

It all happened in slow motion. His spaghetti landed directly on his head, and his juice spilled all over his shirt. A chorus of gasps and laughter erupted around the cafeteria.

“Oh my God,” Sunoo whispered from their table, already pulling out his phone.

Riki scrambled to his feet, spaghetti dangling off his hair like some cursed garnish. He looked around, his face burning, only to see you staring at him with wide eyes.

For a moment, the entire cafeteria was silent. Then, someone from the back shouted, “Nice save, bro!” and the laughter resumed.

Riki grabbed a napkin, trying to salvage what was left of his dignity. “It’s fine! Totally fine!” he said, though his voice cracked halfway through.

You, to his utter shock, were trying not to laugh. You hid your smile behind your hand, but he caught it. And even though he was mortified, he felt a tiny spark of triumph.

“Legendary,” Heeseung said later, slapping Riki on the back as they regrouped in the locker room.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Riki muttered, throwing his juice-stained shirt into his locker.

“Bro, you’re trending on Snapchat,” Jake said, holding up his phone.

Riki groaned. “I hate all of you.”

“To be fair, it’s not our fault you fell like a cartoon character,” Sunoo said, smirking.

“Shut up,” Riki snapped. “At least she laughed.”

“She laughed at you,” Jungwon corrected.

“Still counts,” Riki said stubbornly.

Meanwhile, you and your friends were dissecting the incident at your table.

“I cannot believe that just happened,” Karina said, wiping tears from her eyes. “He looked like a human spaghetti plate.”

“Poor guy,” Julie said, though she was smiling too. “He’s never gonna live that down.”

Giselle smirked. “He’s got balls, though. I mean, he still tried to act cool after all that.”

You shook your head, still amused. “He’s persistent, I’ll give him that.”

Karina leaned closer, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “You’re kind of enjoying this, aren’t you?”

You shrugged, but you couldn’t deny it. Something about Riki’s clumsy attempts to get your attention was… endearing.

Later that day, Riki decided to try again. He wasn’t going to let one humiliating moment define him. He spotted you by your locker and mustered up all the courage he had left.

“Hey,” he said, leaning casually against the locker next to yours.

You looked up, immediately noticing the faint red stain on his shirt. “You missed a spot.”

Riki glanced down, groaning. “Oh, come on. I thought I got it all.”

You chuckled softly, and he felt his heart skip a beat.

“So, uh, about earlier…” he started, rubbing the back of his neck.

“What about it?” you asked, closing your locker.

“That wasn’t, like, my best moment,” he admitted.

“No kidding,” you said, smirking.

Riki grinned, appreciating your bluntness. “But, you know, I think it’s a sign.”

“A sign of what?”

“That we’re destined to be friends,” he said, winking.

You rolled your eyes. “Destined, huh? Is that what you’re calling it?”

“Absolutely,” Riki said, leaning closer. “You can’t fight fate, you know.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that your way of saying you’re going to keep bothering me?”

“Pretty much,” Riki admitted, grinning.

You shook your head, but you couldn’t hide the small smile on your lips. “Fine. But if you trip and fall again, I’m not helping you up.”

“Deal,” Riki said, his grin widening.

Back with his friends, Riki was practically glowing.

“She smiled at me,” he announced, plopping down at their table.

“Are we supposed to clap?” Sunoo said.

“Laugh all you want,” Riki said smugly. “I’m making progress.”

Jake shook his head. “At this rate, you’ll win her over by graduation.”

“That’s the plan,” Riki said, grabbing a fry from Sunghoon’s plate.

Sunghoon smacked his hand away. “If you touch my food again, fate won’t save you.”

“Noted,” Riki said, still smiling.

At your table, Karina was eyeing you suspiciously.

“You’re smiling again,” she said.

“No, I’m not,” you said quickly.

“You totally are,” Julie said. “What did Riki say to you?”

“Nothing important,” you said, though the small smile lingered.

Giselle smirked. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

Karina leaned closer. “Admit it. You think he’s cute.”

“Yeah, like a puppy that keeps running into walls,” you said, but your friends could tell you weren’t entirely joking.

And maybe, just maybe, neither were you.

The Failed Love Letter

Riki Nishimura had a reputation to maintain. Star basketball player, charmingly chaotic, and apparently, a complete disaster when it came to you. After the cafeteria spaghetti fiasco, he decided it was time to go old-school. No elaborate stunts or public humiliation. Just heartfelt honesty in the form of a love letter.

Unfortunately for Riki, heartfelt honesty wasn’t his strong suit.

“‘To the radiant moon of my dull, dark sky…’” Jay read aloud, squinting at the paper in his hand. He looked up, his face scrunched in disbelief. “Riki, what the hell is this?”

“It’s poetic!” Riki said defensively, snatching the paper back.

“It’s something, all right,” Jake chimed in, holding back a laugh. “Are you writing a love letter or auditioning for a Shakespearean play?”

Riki groaned, flopping onto Jay’s bed. “I don’t know, okay? I’m trying to be romantic.”

Jay snorted. “There’s a difference between romantic and… whatever this is.”

“‘The thought of you haunts my every waking moment,’” Jake read over Jay’s shoulder, cackling. “Bro, she’s gonna think you’re a serial killer.”

Riki sat up, glaring at them. “I thought you guys were supposed to be helping me!”

“We are,” Jay said, crossing his arms. “By stopping you from embarrassing yourself even more.”

Jake nodded. “Yeah, no offense, but if you give her this, she’s gonna laugh. Like, a lot.”

Riki groaned again, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. What do you suggest?”

Jay grabbed a pen, sitting down next to him. “For starters, tone it down. You’re not Edward Cullen.”

Jake smirked. “Unless you’re planning to sparkle in the sunlight.”

“Can we focus?” Riki snapped, snatching the pen.

Jay and Jake leaned in, watching as Riki rewrote the letter.

“Okay, how about this: ‘Hey, I just wanted to say you’re really cool, and I like hanging out with you.’”

Jake blinked. “That’s it? That’s boring.”

“Yeah, where’s the charm?” Jay added.

Riki groaned for the third time that afternoon. “I can’t win with you guys!”

The final version of the letter ended up being a mix of dramatic flair and casual sincerity. Riki, satisfied with his work, slipped it into your locker the next morning before anyone could talk him out of it.

Later that day, you found the letter while grabbing your books. The envelope was plain, but your name was written on it in slightly messy handwriting. Curious, you opened it.

“‘To the brightest star in my universe,’” you read quietly to yourself, already stifling a laugh. “‘Every time I see you, my heart does this weird thing-like it’s trying to breakdance but forgot how.’”

You couldn’t help it; a small giggle escaped.

Your friends noticed immediately.

“What’s so funny?” Karina asked, leaning over to look.

You quickly folded the letter and slipped it into your bag. “Nothing.”

“Oh, come on,” Giselle said, smirking. “That smile says it’s definitely something.”

“Who’s it from?” Julie asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“No one important,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant.

But your friends weren’t buying it.

Across the hallway, Riki was watching from a safe distance. He could see you smiling, and though he couldn’t hear what you were saying, he took it as a good sign.

“Dude, she’s laughing,” Sunghoon said, nudging him.

“Yeah, but not in a mean way,” Jake added. “She looks… happy?”

“I told you it was a good idea,” Riki said, grinning.

“Sure, but let’s not forget the part where you almost called her the ‘ethereal goddess of your dreams,’” Jay said, rolling his eyes.

“Details,” Riki said, waving him off.

The next day, Riki was determined to act casual. You hadn’t mentioned the letter, but you didn’t seem mad or weirded out, so he considered that a win.

But of course, his streak of bad luck continued.

During gym class, you and your friends were sitting on the bleachers, watching as the boys played basketball. Riki, eager to impress, decided to show off a little.

Big mistake.

He went for a fancy dunk, leaping high into the air. For a moment, it looked perfect-until his foot slipped on the landing.

He crashed to the floor, arms and legs flailing like a cartoon character. The ball bounced off his head with a loud thunk, and the entire gym erupted into laughter.

From the bleachers, you couldn’t help but laugh too. It was just so… Riki.

He sat up, rubbing his head, and spotted you laughing. Despite the pain and embarrassment, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Smooth,” Sunoo said as he helped Riki up. “Really smooth.”

“Shut up,” Riki muttered, though his cheeks were burning.

Later, you ran into Riki in the hallway.

“Nice fall,” you said, smirking.

Riki groaned. “You saw that, huh?”

“Hard to miss,” you said, your smirk widening. “But it was entertaining.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “Glad I could amuse you.”

You hesitated for a moment, then reached into your bag and pulled out the letter. “By the way, this was… sweet. A little dramatic, but sweet.”

Riki’s eyes widened. “You kept it?”

“Yeah,” you said, shrugging. “It made me laugh. In a good way.”

Riki grinned, his confidence returning. “So, does that mean you like me now?”

You rolled your eyes, though you were smiling. “Don’t push your luck, spaghetti boy.”

As you walked away, Riki couldn’t stop smiling.

The Secret Love Potion

After Riki’s very public fall, his confidence had taken a slight hit, but he wasn’t about to let it stop him. He had come too far-he’d written a love letter (okay, a little over the top), he’d made you laugh (even if it was at his expense), and he’d managed to get a bit of a smile out of you. Progress was being made.

But how could he keep it going? He needed a new plan.

Riki sat at the lunch table with his usual crew: Heeseung, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Jake, and, of course, Jay, who was doing his best to ignore the absurdity of the situation.

“So, what’s the move today, Riki?” Heeseung asked, tapping his chopsticks against the table.

Riki sighed dramatically. “I need to do something big. Something that’ll make her see that I’m… I’m different.”

“You mean not a disaster?” Jake said, smirking.

Riki shot him a look. “Shut up. No. Something romantic. Something that’ll sweep her off her feet.”

“Like a flash mob?” Sunghoon asked, grinning.

“Not that romantic,” Riki said, shaking his head.

Jay raised an eyebrow. “Well, you did write her a letter. You could always, you know, try talking to her next.”

“Yeah, that worked out so well last time,” Riki muttered, thinking about the spaghetti incident.

“Okay, listen.” Sunoo leaned forward, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “I heard from my sister that girls love stuff like flowers and chocolates. So, why not do that?”

Riki looked at him like he’d just suggested he go skydiving without a parachute. “Flowers and chocolates? You’re joking, right?”

“Not at all, bro,” Sunoo said, shaking his head. “It’s classic. You can’t go wrong with that.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Jake said, holding up his hands. “We’re in 2025, not the 1950s.”

“I’m not even trying to say I’m in love with her yet. I’m just trying to get her attention without looking like a complete idiot,” Riki said.

“You sure about that?” Sunghoon asked. “Because you’ve pretty much been a walking disaster in front of her so far.”

Riki gave him a look, but Sunghoon was right. He was already overthinking it. He needed something to make you notice him, something that would stand out, something unique.

And then it hit him.

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait,” Riki said, his eyes lighting up. “What if I make a potion?”

Jay stared at him. “A potion? You mean, like, a love potion?”

“Exactly!” Riki said, his face lighting up. “It’s genius! I’ll make this super mysterious drink with all kinds of weird ingredients, like herbs and… I don’t know, whatever sounds romantic. I’ll hand it to her, and she’ll be so intrigued by it, she’ll have to notice me!”

Sunghoon blinked. “Riki, that’s… the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

But the more Riki thought about it, the more it made sense. This wasn’t just any random bottle of juice-it was going to be a potion. A mysterious potion that no one had ever seen before. He’d make it sound like he was a mad scientist in the kitchen.

“Dude, you’re really setting yourself up for failure,” Jake said, shaking his head.

Riki grinned. “Exactly. I’m going big or going home. It’s all part of the plan. She’ll be so fascinated by me that she’ll have no choice but to fall in love.”

“Is that how this works?” Jay asked, eyeing him skeptically.

“Of course it is!” Riki said, standing up with newfound determination. “I’m going to make the most epic, mysterious potion ever.”

And so, with that, Riki set off on his journey to create what he now believed would be the ultimate love potion.

The next day, Riki arrived at school with a bag full of strange, unidentifiable ingredients. His friends watched as he walked past them, a look of excitement on his face.

“What is that?” Heeseung asked, narrowing his eyes.

Riki grinned. “I’m going to make the perfect potion. This is gonna be legendary.”

“Okay, but you’re not trying to drug her, right?” Jake asked, his voice full of concern.

“What? No! No, it’s just gonna be a weird drink that she won’t be able to resist.”

“You’re really digging yourself into a hole here, dude,” Sunghoon muttered.

During lunch, Riki found you at your usual spot. You were sitting with Karina, Giselle, and Julie, talking about something you all found funny.

Riki tried to act casual as he walked over, though the bag in his hand gave him away.

“Hey,” he said, his voice unnervingly loud. “I’ve got something for you.”

You turned, raising an eyebrow. “What’s this?”

“It’s a potion,” Riki said, grinning like a mad scientist. “A love potion. Totally mysterious. You’ll love it.”

You looked at the bag. “A potion? Really?”

“Yeah!” Riki said, pulling out a small glass bottle that looked like it belonged in a mad scientist’s lab. Inside was a bubbling purple liquid, with what appeared to be floating herbs and glitter.

You tried to hide your amusement. “Uh, okay… What’s it supposed to do?”

“It’ll make you… um… fall in love with me,” Riki said, with far too much enthusiasm.

Your eyes widened. “You want me to drink that?”

“Yeah! It’s totally safe,” he said, though it was clear he had no idea what he’d actually made.

You couldn’t help it. You burst out laughing. “Riki, this is insane.”

But you took the bottle from him anyway. “I’ll take it,” you said with a smile, “but don’t expect me to fall in love with you because of this.”

Riki beamed. “It’s worth a shot, right?”

As you walked away, you tried to hold in your giggles. The potion was definitely the most ridiculous thing Riki had ever done, but it was kind of cute. You could tell he’d put a lot of effort into it-even if it was a total failure.

That afternoon, you showed your friends the bottle, and they all had a good laugh at Riki’s expense.

“I swear, he’s got to be delusional,” Karina said, eyeing the potion. “But, like, in the best way.”

“You should definitely keep it as a souvenir,” Giselle said, raising an eyebrow. “It’ll be hilarious to bring up later.”

Julie smirked. “Maybe you can actually drink it and see what happens.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop smiling.

Meanwhile, Riki sat with his friends, eagerly waiting for any word from you.

“So, uh, did she drink it?” Jake asked.

“No,” Riki said, deflating a little. “But she took it, so that’s something.”

“You’ve got a better chance with her if you just, you know, talk to her like a normal human being,” Heeseung said.

But Riki wasn’t listening. As far as he was concerned, this potion was his ticket to success.

As the day ended, you threw the potion in your bag, secretly touched by Riki’s effort, but fully aware of how ridiculous the whole thing was.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Maybe Riki was a bit of a disaster, but he was also kind of charming in his own, chaotic way.

The Unintentional Date

Riki’s love potion-while the perfect display of his desperation-wasn’t exactly the magical breakthrough he had hoped for. But that didn’t deter him. If anything, he was more determined to win you over, now that he’d officially made a fool of himself.

The next morning, as Riki was heading to class, he saw you at your locker. You were looking through your bag, completely unaware of the impending chaos that was about to unfold.

Riki decided to make his move.

“Hey, you!” he called out, giving his signature awkward-but-trying-to-be-cool grin.

You turned, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, hey, Riki. What’s up?”

“Uh, not much. Just-” He paused for dramatic effect, trying to look calm, but failing miserably. “Just wanted to see how the potion worked for you last night.”

You blinked at him for a moment. “The potion?”

He nodded, his expression too serious for the situation. “Yeah, you know, the love potion.”

You snorted. “Oh right, the one that looks like it came straight out of a mad scientist’s basement?”

Riki winced. “It’s… it’s a special recipe.”

“Oh, I can tell,” you said, trying not to laugh. “I haven’t drunk it yet, but I did keep it as a reminder of how creative you are.”

He smiled, clearly proud of himself. “I knew you’d keep it. You know, it’s a one-of-a-kind potion. It’s got… uh… special ingredients.”

“What kind of ingredients?” you asked, genuinely curious.

Riki looked around nervously, as if trying to remember what he’d actually put in the potion. “Uh, a secret blend of… um… lavender, honey, and… a dash of, like… magic?”

“Magic,” you repeated, deadpan. “That’s totally reassuring.”

“I mean, yeah. Magic is always part of the equation, right?” Riki shrugged, clearly grasping at straws.

Before you could respond, Heeseung appeared behind him. “Riki, you’ve got a huge glob of chocolate syrup on your shirt,” he said, pointing.

Riki glanced down at his shirt in panic. There, right in the center of his chest, was a sticky blotch of chocolate sauce.

“What?!” he exclaimed. “Where did that-”

You couldn’t hold it in any longer. You burst out laughing, and Heeseung did the same.

“Nice,” you said, still laughing. “Looks like you’re really sweeping me off my feet with that shirt.”

Riki groaned, swiping at the mess with his sleeve, only making it worse.

“Did you steal the chocolate syrup from the cafeteria again?” Heeseung asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Shut up, it’s… I’m not stealing!” Riki said, looking utterly defeated.

As if on cue, Sunghoon walked by, shaking his head. “You’re a walking disaster, man.”

“Thanks for the support, guys,” Riki muttered, still trying to wipe the chocolate off.

“Honestly,” you said, trying to stifle your laughter, “I think I’ll just drink the potion now. Maybe it’ll fix your whole ‘hot mess’ thing.”

Riki stared at you in horror. “Wait, what?!”

You flashed him a mischievous grin. “Just kidding. But you do look like you need some kind of miracle.”

Riki looked like he might die on the spot, but somehow, he managed to give you a crooked grin. “Yeah, guess I do.”

Later that day, Riki, still trying to salvage what little dignity he had left, decided to take a different approach. He’d seen the school was having a “Karaoke Night” for the senior class, and he figured that if he could sing something ridiculous in front of everyone-especially you-it would definitely get your attention.

The problem? Riki couldn’t sing. Not even a little bit.

But did that stop him? Absolutely not.

That afternoon, he spent hours researching “romantic songs” on his phone, hoping to pick the one that would absolutely sweep you off your feet. His friend group, of course, was less than supportive.

“You’re really doing this?” Sunghoon asked, facepalming. “Riki, you’re tone-deaf.”

“I’m not tone-deaf,” Riki argued, crossing his arms. “I have an amazing voice. Trust me.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been singing in the shower for years, and we can still hear you across the hall.”

“Yeah, bro. You sound like a cat being strangled,” Sunghoon added.

“Thanks for the confidence boost, guys,” Riki muttered. “But I’m doing this. For her.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Heeseung said, tapping him on the shoulder. “You might need a backup plan… like, a good excuse for why you completely butcher the song.”

Riki grinned. “I’m gonna do this. You’ll see.”

That evening, Karaoke Night arrived, and the gymnasium was buzzing with energy. The lights were dimmed, the stage was set up, and students were taking turns picking songs from the cheesy setlist.

Riki, with a mix of nervousness and determination, stepped up to the mic, the crowd falling silent as he grabbed it with shaky hands. You were sitting with your friends near the back, watching with amused expressions.

“What’s he doing?” Karina asked, eyebrow raised.

“I think he’s about to make a fool of himself,” Giselle said, already bracing for impact.

Julie grinned. “I can’t wait for this.”

Riki adjusted the mic, then announced, “I’m gonna sing ‘I Will Always Love You’ by Whitney Houston.”

The crowd gasped, and you did your best to hold in your laughter.

You could already imagine how this was going to go.

The music started, and Riki-bless his heart-sang the first line with full, unfiltered enthusiasm.

But instead of hitting any of the notes correctly, he sounded like a dying walrus. His voice cracked at all the wrong times, and he missed the high notes entirely. The audience went silent for a moment before everyone burst out laughing.

From the back, you could hear Heeseung shout, “God, Riki, you’ve ruined this song for generations!”

Riki, completely undeterred, kept going. His confidence was through the roof-despite how much of a disaster it was turning into.

“Riki, please,” Sunghoon shouted from the back, “we’re begging you to stop!”

But Riki was in it now. He was not backing down. He finished the song with as much gusto as he could muster, ending with an off-key, completely butchered high note.

The gym erupted into applause-but not for the quality of the performance.

Riki walked off the stage, out of breath, and completely humiliated. He gave a half-hearted wave to the crowd and sat back down at his table.

“I’m going to die,” he muttered, burying his face in his hands.

You couldn’t help yourself. You were laughing so hard that you could barely breathe.

“Nice job, Riki,” you called out, still laughing. “You really… um, sang your heart out.”

He looked up, red-faced and defeated. “Please, just tell me you didn’t think that was horrible.”

You wiped away tears of laughter and gave him a soft smile. “Okay, I’ll be honest. It was awful. But, like, in the best way possible.”

Riki blinked. “What?”

“You know,” you said, shrugging, “it was so bad that it was actually kind of… impressive. Like a car crash you can’t look away from.”

He groaned, slumping in his seat. “I’m never doing that again.”

But you noticed the faintest smile on his face, and for some reason, it made everything feel a little less embarrassing. Maybe there was hope for Riki after all.

Riki's Poetic Disaster

The classroom buzzed with the sound of chairs scraping the floor and low murmurs as your small poetry club prepared for its weekly meeting. You sat in your usual spot, notebook open, fingers lightly tapping your pen as you waited for your turn to present. It was your favorite place, a peaceful escape from the chaos of school.

That peace, however, was shattered when the classroom door burst open.

Riki swaggered in like he was about to perform at a sold-out stadium, not join a poetry club meeting. His varsity jacket was slung over his shoulder, and he looked around the room with a grin that screamed I’m about to change your life.

Giselle leaned over to whisper in your ear, “Oh no. He’s Shakespeare-ing his way into embarrassment, I can feel it.”

You sighed, bracing yourself. “What is he doing here?”

Riki spotted you and immediately lit up like a neon sign. “Yo!” he called, waving with both hands as though you were on opposite ends of a football field. “This the poetry thing?”

The entire room turned to look at him, a mix of amusement and disbelief on their faces. After all, Riki had once loudly declared in English class that “books are just fancy napkins with words” and “poetry is for sad people with nothing better to do.”

“Yep, he’s officially lost it,” Karina muttered from the other side of the room.

Riki walked up to the front of the room, all confident. “Hey, uh, I’m Riki. Some of you might know me as the star of our basketball team-no autographs, please. But today, I’m here to…uh, you know, embrace art and stuff.”

You blinked. “Why are you here?”

He winked. “I’m here to support you, obviously. And, uh, to share my gift with the world.”

“Your…gift?”

“Yeah,” Riki said, completely serious. “Poetry. I wrote a poem. It’s deep. You’re gonna love it.”

The club stared at him, stunned. Finally, the president of the club, a quiet senior named Mina, gestured for him to go ahead. “Well…we’d love to hear it.”

Riki cleared his throat, pulling a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. He unfolded it with the precision of someone unveiling the Mona Lisa.

“This,” he began, “is called ‘Love is Like Basketball.’”

Giselle buried her face in her hands. Karina groaned audibly.

Riki began, his voice overly dramatic and far too loud for the small room:

“Love is like basketball.

You gotta dribble through life,

but sometimes…

the ball hits you in the face.

And that ball?

That’s you.

You’re the ball.

And I’m…the player.”

Sunoo, who had somehow slipped into the back of the room to spectate, muttered, “This is physically painful.”

Riki continued, oblivious:

“I shoot my shot,

and sometimes I miss.

But then I rebound,

because love is all about…

rebounds.

Also, you’re hot like the sun,

but cool like water.

And that’s why I like you.

End poem.”

The room was dead silent. Somewhere outside, a bird squawked, as if protesting the tragedy that had just unfolded.

Giselle whispered, “I’m in physical pain. I think I’m getting secondhand embarrassment hives.”

Riki, completely unaware, smiled proudly and folded his paper. “What’d you think?” he asked, looking directly at you.

You blinked at him, unsure whether to laugh, cry, or stage an intervention. “Uh…it’s…unique?”

“Right?” He grinned wider. “I’m basically the next Shakespeare.”

“That was worse than the time you tried to rap during gym class,” Karina said, shaking her head.

“Hey, that rap had bars,” Riki shot back.

Giselle smirked. “Bars? That poem had potholes.”

Riki ignored her, his confidence unwavering. “I put my heart into that, okay? And I wrote it for you.” He pointed at you, completely serious. “So…what do you think? Be honest.”

You couldn’t help it-you burst out laughing. You laughed so hard your stomach hurt, and tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

Riki’s grin faltered. “Wait, are you laughing at me?”

“Riki,” you said, finally catching your breath, “that was the worst poem I’ve ever heard. But…thank you.”

He perked up. “Wait, so you liked it?”

“No,” you said, still laughing. “But I appreciate the effort.”

Sunoo leaned against the doorframe, shaking his head. “Man, she just told you your love poem is trash, and you’re still smiling. That’s commitment.”

Riki shrugged, his grin returning. “Hey, at least she laughed. That’s a win in my book.”

“You don’t even like books,” Giselle reminded him.

“Shut up, Giselle.”

As the meeting wrapped up, you couldn’t stop smiling. Riki’s poem might’ve been terrible, but his effort wasn’t lost on you.

Maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than his over-the-top confidence. And judging by the way he looked at you, he wasn’t planning on giving up anytime soon.

The Unfortunate Art Class

It was one of those days where everything that could possibly go wrong would go wrong, and for Riki, it was a day where his attempts to woo you went from embarrassing to downright disastrous. It all started in art class.

Riki had been practicing his sketching-well, more like pretending to practice-while thinking about how he could impress you next. He’d tried singing (and failed), created a disastrous potion (also a failure), and now, he figured, it was time to move on to something different: art.

“Yeah, I’m a man of many talents,” Riki muttered to himself, casually flicking his pencil across his notebook. He’d signed up for art class, mostly because it was a “chill” subject and because he knew you would be in there. You were always so effortlessly cool while sketching, and Riki thought that maybe, just maybe, if he could draw something beautiful, you’d finally take him seriously.

It was a flawless plan, in theory.

Except for the fact that he was absolutely terrible at drawing.

As you walked into the room, Riki immediately straightened up, trying to act casual while pretending to concentrate on the absolute mess of a sketch he was working on. It looked like someone had thrown a bunch of spaghetti at the paper and then tried to pass it off as “modern art.”

You glanced over at him. “What’s that supposed to be, Riki?”

Riki froze, his pencil hovering over the page. He glanced at his work and then back at you, trying to cover up the chaos he’d created. “Uh, it’s… it’s a modern interpretation of… love?”

You squinted at the scribbles, unsure whether he was being serious or if this was another one of his random, ridiculous attempts to impress you. “A modern interpretation of love?” you asked, not hiding your amusement. “It looks like a blob of mashed potatoes got into a fight with a pencil.”

“Excuse you,” Riki said, puffing out his chest. “It’s abstract.”

“Oh, I see,” you said, nodding, “I didn’t realize ‘abstract’ meant ‘I-don’t-know-how-to-draw-a-stick-figure’.”

Riki groaned, his face turning bright red. “It’s art, okay? You wouldn’t get it.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to get it,” you said with a teasing smile. “I’ve got better things to do than trying to decode your spaghetti disaster.”

Riki sat back in his seat, sulking, and that’s when his art teacher, Mr. Han, walked up to inspect his work.

“Ah, Riki,” Mr. Han said, adjusting his glasses and peering at the page. “Interesting… piece.”

“Thanks, Mr. Han,” Riki said, looking proud for a second, before Mr. Han continued.

“It’s… very… unique.”

Riki’s smile faltered. “Is that a good thing?”

“Well,” Mr. Han said slowly, “the concept is ambitious, but I think you might want to, you know, work on making things… recognizable?”

Riki’s face fell. “Okay, okay, but it’s modern, Mr. Han. It’s supposed to be about the chaos of love.”

Mr. Han raised an eyebrow. “Sure, but love’s supposed to be nice, not this. I think you’re looking for a different kind of love.”

And with that, he walked off, leaving Riki to stew in his misery.

“See? Told you,” you said from across the room, still chuckling under your breath.

“Shut up,” Riki muttered, throwing his pencil down in frustration. “It’s harder than it looks, okay?”

You shrugged, grinning. “Well, if this is your idea of love, I think I’d rather be single.”

Riki slumped in his chair. “Yeah, well, I’m sure you’d love that.”

As the class went on, Riki couldn’t help but sneak glances at you while pretending to concentrate on his new abstract “art.” He kept thinking of ways to get you to notice him, to actually like him. The potion was a bust, the karaoke disaster still haunted him, and his art was more of a crime scene than anything else.

But then, like a bolt of inspiration, it hit him. He didn’t need to be good at drawing. He didn’t even need to be good at singing. What if he just pretended to be good at something else? Something you liked?

That’s when he saw it-on the shelf near the back of the room. The most perfect thing he’d ever laid eyes on: the class’s art supplies. Specifically, a pack of colored markers. He quickly grabbed one, then another, and another, all while ignoring Mr. Han’s suspicious gaze.

“I’m going to do it,” he whispered to himself, suddenly determined. “I’m going to draw her the most beautiful picture she’s ever seen.”

Thirty minutes later, Riki proudly presented his latest masterpiece to you. He walked over to your desk, a big grin on his face. “Ta-da!”

You looked at the picture, then looked back up at him, and tried to hide your reaction. Riki had drawn what could only be described as… a stick figure of you, holding a giant heart with “I <3 U” scrawled inside it. Around you, Riki had drawn himself, in what he considered a romantic pose, though it mostly looked like he was having a seizure.

You blinked, trying to process what you were looking at. “Riki…”

He watched eagerly, his eyes wide. “What do you think? I’m going to call it ‘Love in Motion’.”

Your eyes flicked from the picture to Riki’s hopeful expression. “It’s… well, it’s certainly… something.”

Riki’s smile faltered. “Something good?”

“No, definitely something,” you said, biting your lip to keep from laughing. “It’s the most abstract thing I’ve ever seen. I didn’t realize you were such an avant-garde artist.”

Riki let out a dramatic sigh. “Great. You don’t get it again.”

“But hey, at least you didn’t include mashed potatoes this time,” you said, still chuckling under your breath.

“That’s it, I’m done!” Riki snapped, storming away from your desk.

“Come back! I’ll keep it!” you called out, still smiling. “You might need to work on the anatomy, though.”

After class, as Riki was leaving with his defeated art supplies, he caught up with his friends.

“Dude, what was that? Did you just draw her a stick figure of you two?” Jake asked, holding his stomach from laughing so hard.

“It’s called art, okay?” Riki muttered. “It’s supposed to be deep.”

Sunghoon, who had been walking behind him, raised an eyebrow. “The only thing deep about that is your delusion.”

Riki groaned, his shoulders sagging. “Why does she have to be so… perfect? I keep trying everything and it’s just not working.”

“You’re trying too hard, man,” Heeseung said, slapping him on the back. “Maybe you should just chill out a bit and be yourself.”

“Yeah, because ‘myself’ is an artless, tone-deaf disaster who can’t draw a stick figure right,” Riki said bitterly.

“You’re a work in progress, that’s for sure,” Sunghoon added.

Meanwhile, you were walking with your friends, holding onto the “art” Riki had given you. You glanced at it one last time and grinned.

“You know what?” Karina said. “That might just be the worst thing I’ve ever seen, but I kinda think it’s sweet.”

“I think it’s cute that he keeps trying,” Giselle agreed. “He’s a mess, but at least he’s trying.”

“Yeah,” you said with a soft smile, “but you’ve got to admit, his failures are kinda entertaining.”

Julie raised an eyebrow. “But what if you did give him a chance?”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “Maybe. But for now, I’m having too much fun watching him crash and burn.”

The Desperate Measures

Riki had hit rock bottom.

He was no longer just the awkward, cringe-worthy guy trying to impress you with grand gestures. Now, he had become… desperate. Desperate to the point where he was willing to go behind your back and ask your friends for advice-terrible, absolutely terrible advice, which he took way too seriously.

It all started one afternoon during lunch. You were sitting with your friends, Karina, Giselle, and Julie, chatting and laughing about some random school gossip. Riki, seated at a table nearby with his basketball crew, could not stop staring at you. Every time you laughed or smiled, it felt like a small dagger to his heart-but in a good way-because, you know, he was in love.

But this was it. He was done. He couldn’t keep pretending to be casual about it. He needed a real plan. He needed help.

After a few minutes of overthinking, Riki made up his mind. He could already imagine how amazing things could be if he just figured out how to get you to like him back. His friends had tried to help, but every time he took their advice, he ended up making things worse. This time, he was going straight to the source: your friends.

He’d seen Karina, Giselle, and Julie talking to you during lunch, so he mustered up all the courage he had and casually walked over to their table. He cleared his throat dramatically.

“Hey, ladies,” he said with a grin that looked more like a nervous twitch. “What’s up?”

Karina raised an eyebrow, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, hey Riki. Didn’t know you were interested in joining our table.”

“I wasn’t,” Riki replied, a little too quickly. “I just need… uh… some advice. About her.” He nodded towards you, trying to be discreet.

Giselle smirked, clearly knowing exactly what he meant. “Oh, you mean Y/N?”

“Yes,” Riki said, clearly desperate. “How do I… get her to like me?”

There was a moment of silence as the three girls exchanged amused glances. They were all fully aware of Riki’s crush on you, and each one of them had been watching his attempts from the sidelines, laughing and waiting for the inevitable failure. But now that Riki was asking them for help, they were more than ready to give him advice.

Julie leaned forward, her voice low but full of mischief. “Well, Riki,” she began, “the thing is, you’ve gotta show her that you’re different from the other guys. You know, stand out in a way that makes her think you’re… special.”

“Oh, totally,” Riki said, nodding eagerly. “I can do that.”

Karina chimed in next. “Also, be unpredictable. You know, surprise her. Do something she won’t see coming. Maybe like, I don’t know… show up to class with a puppy or something.”

“Wait, a puppy?” Riki asked, confused. “Like, you’re saying I should just-”

“Yeah,” Karina interrupted, leaning back in her seat. “It works every time. Who could resist a cute dog? I mean, think about it. You walk into the room with a puppy, and she’ll melt. Instant win.”

Riki’s eyes lit up. “A puppy… right. Got it.”

“Also,” Giselle added, “don’t forget to be mysterious. Like, when you talk to her, keep it vague. Don’t reveal everything about yourself all at once. Make her curious.”

Riki took notes in his mind. “Mysterious, yes. Vague. Keep her guessing.”

Julie winked. “And don’t forget to compliment her, like, all the time. But make it subtle, you know? Like, I like your vibe or you’re different from everyone else. Keep it casual. Don’t sound desperate, even if you are.”

Riki nodded so furiously he nearly gave himself whiplash. “Right. Keep it casual. Subtle compliments.”

“And most importantly,” Karina said, her voice suddenly turning more serious, “don’t let her see you sweat. Even if everything’s going horribly wrong, just act like it’s no big deal.”

Riki took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. “Okay. Okay, I can do this. I’ll do everything you said. Thanks, guys.”

As he walked away, he was practically glowing with optimism, as if this was the breakthrough he’d been waiting for. What could possibly go wrong?

Later that afternoon, Riki put his plan into action. He had managed to convince his cousin to lend him a tiny puppy (who was far too energetic for Riki’s lack of experience with animals), and he had every intention of marching into your class with that puppy in tow. He had his compliments prepared, his mysterious vibes ready, and his subtle confidence locked and loaded.

He walked to your classroom, puppy in hand, his heart pounding in his chest. The puppy squirmed in his arms, clearly not impressed with Riki’s handling skills, but he was too focused on you to notice. He entered the classroom and immediately caught your attention.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, trying to sound cool but still managing to squeak a little. “Look what I got.”

You looked up from your seat and blinked. “Uh, what’s that?”

Riki proudly held up the puppy. “A puppy. I thought it’d be a fun surprise.” He flashed a grin, trying to channel his best “mysterious” energy.

You looked at the puppy for a moment before looking back at Riki, your expression unreadable. “Why are you showing me this?”

Riki’s smile faltered for a second, but he quickly recovered. “Because, you know, puppies make people happy. And I thought… I thought you’d like it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You got a puppy for me?”

“Yeah,” Riki said, still grinning, but now it was starting to feel forced. “Just, you know, to show I care. And that I’m different.”

You stared at him for a moment, clearly confused, before glancing at the puppy again. “Well, it’s cute, I guess. But, uh, where’s the rest of it?”

Riki blinked. “What?”

“You know,” you said, deadpan, “usually when people get puppies, there’s like, a point to it. Like, you’re adopting it. Or… giving it away. Are you just borrowing this puppy for a vibe check or…?”

Riki froze. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Uh…” He turned the puppy around and tried to make it do something cute, but the puppy only managed to chew on his sleeve. “Well… yeah, I mean, I just thought I’d bring it by. You know, to impress you.”

“Impress me with a dog?” you asked, looking genuinely perplexed. “That’s… a first.”

Riki’s face turned bright red. He wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. This was nothing like what he’d imagined. He could hear his friends’ advice echoing in his mind: Make her think you’re special… Keep it mysterious… Compliment her subtly.

Instead, here he was, holding an unruly puppy that was completely sabotaging his “plan.”

“Uh, Riki,” you said, breaking the awkward silence, “I gotta go. Maybe next time you try impressing me, you could leave the puppy with its owner and just, I don’t know, talk to me like a normal person.”

Riki stood there, watching you walk away, the puppy tugging at his sleeve like it, too, was trying to escape.

Later that evening, Riki found himself sitting in his room, utterly defeated. He had tried everything. The puppy was a disaster. His mysterious vibe was nonexistent. And when he’d tried to compliment you earlier, it had come out as awkward rambling.

But what hurt the most? The lies his friends had told him.

“I thought a puppy would be enough to impress her,” he muttered to himself, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t get it.”

The Game-Changing Disaster

Riki had spent the entire week psyching himself up for this moment. It was the biggest basketball game of the season, and everyone was talking about it. The energy in the gymnasium was electric, and the entire school was buzzing with excitement. All eyes were on Riki, the star player of the team, and he was determined to use this opportunity to finally, finally impress you.

He had it all planned out. He wasn’t just going to play well-no, no, no. He was going to dedicate his performance to you, and in doing so, he would show you how much he cared. This would be the moment where everything would fall into place. All those awkward attempts, the puppy fiasco, the art class embarrassment-it would all be worth it once he made you notice him in the most epic way possible.

The game had started, and Riki was already in the zone. He was running up and down the court, weaving between his teammates and opponents, effortlessly sinking shots and making assists. The crowd roared in approval, chanting his name. He was on fire. This was his time to shine. The only thing left was to make sure you saw it all.

As the game went on, Riki began scanning the crowd, looking for you. He spotted Karina and Giselle waving their hands frantically from the bleachers, but that wasn’t what he was focused on. No, his eyes were locked on you-sitting in the third row, looking effortlessly cool with your friends, totally unaware of the storm of emotions Riki was experiencing from the court.

His heart skipped a beat. This was it. This was his big moment. He could feel the weight of the ball in his hands, the adrenaline coursing through his veins. As he dribbled past an opponent and took a quick glance at the crowd to make sure you were watching, he had an epiphany: he would dedicate this final shot to you.

“I’m gonna do it. I’m going to win this for her,” Riki whispered to himself, a smile creeping onto his face. “She’ll see. She’ll finally see how much I care.”

The clock was ticking down, and Riki could feel the heat of the game intensifying. The score was close, and the final seconds were approaching. His teammates passed him the ball, and he was wide open for a shot. This was the moment.

As he dribbled toward the basket, Riki suddenly had the thought of you in his mind. He could almost hear the crowd cheering for him, but all he could focus on was you. This is for you, he thought as he took the jump shot.

And that’s when it happened.

Right as Riki was soaring through the air, preparing to make the perfect shot, his gaze shifted back toward you in the stands-just in time to see you laughing with your friends. Why is she laughing? What’s so funny?

And that was the fatal mistake.

In his distraction, Riki misjudged his footing. He stumbled mid-air, his legs flailing wildly as he lost control of his balance. The crowd went silent for a moment as they watched Riki completely biff it mid-court. In one glorious second, he went from being the hero to the clumsiest guy on the court.

Riki’s foot caught on the floor, and with a loud thud, he crashed onto the hardwood, his body sprawled out in a full-on disaster pose. The ball, meanwhile, ricocheted off the backboard with the precision of a rock skipping across a lake, missing the hoop entirely and landing at the feet of a very confused player from the other team.

For a brief moment, there was a stunned silence in the gym. Everyone, including Riki, seemed to be in shock. His teammates stood frozen, and even the opposing team stopped mid-play.

Riki slowly pushed himself up from the floor, his face redder than a tomato. His heart was pounding, and he felt like crawling into a hole and staying there forever. The gym slowly erupted into laughter, and he couldn’t tell whether they were laughing with him or at him-he suspected the latter.

“Riki!” one of his teammates, Jake, shouted in disbelief. “What the hell was that?!”

Riki just groaned, clutching his forehead in embarrassment. “I… I wasn’t looking where I was going,” he muttered, utterly defeated.

From the bleachers, Karina, Giselle, and Julie burst into laughter. “I knew he’d mess it up,” Karina laughed, nudging Giselle.

“I didn’t think he’d do it this spectacularly, though,” Giselle added. “At least he can’t blame the puppy this time.”

Riki was too mortified to even respond, his mind still stuck on that disastrous fall. He was supposed to be impressing you, not doing an impromptu audition for a slapstick comedy show. He couldn’t even face you, especially after you’d probably seen the entire thing unfold.

But then, as he stood up, trying to salvage some shred of dignity, he heard the sound of someone clicking a camera.

“Hold up,” a voice called out from behind him. It was Sunghoon, his ever-sarcastic teammate. “I think I got a shot.”

Riki turned around, his eyes wide with horror. “Sunghoon, no.”

“Oh yeah, I got this for sure,” Sunghoon said, flipping his phone in his hands. “This is gold.” He held up his phone, showing Riki the photo-an image of Riki in mid-fall, mouth wide open, and arms flailing in a way that could only be described as pure chaos.

Riki’s face went pale. “Are you serious?” he asked, horrified.

“I’m not just serious,” Sunghoon said, grinning. “This is my new favorite thing to pull up whenever you start acting all cocky about your skills.”

“No, Sunghoon, don’t you dare-”

But it was too late. Sunghoon already had a plan in mind. “You can’t be mad at me when this is priceless. If you ever try to pretend you’re a smooth operator again, I’ll be pulling this up on my Instagram story.”

Riki’s stomach dropped. He could already imagine the comments: “Riki the basketball pro, more like Riki the human trampoline”, or “When you try to impress someone but end up impressing the floor instead”.

As the game continued, Riki couldn’t focus. He was too embarrassed to even think straight. His team managed to win the game despite his epic fail, but he couldn’t find any joy in the victory. Instead, he was consumed by one thought: How could he make it up to you after this disaster?

After the game, Riki sulked back to the locker room, avoiding his teammates’ teasing and pretending to focus on changing into his regular clothes. But he couldn’t stop thinking about you. What had you thought when you saw him crash like that? Was he still embarrassing? Was there any chance he could salvage what little dignity he had left?

And then, his phone buzzed.

It was a notification from Instagram. He opened it up, and his heart sank.

There it was-the photo that would haunt him for the rest of his life. Sunghoon had uploaded it, complete with a hilarious caption.

Riki groaned and buried his face in his hands. He knew that he would never live it down.

School Festival Chaos

The school festival was a legendary event every year-one of those days where the entire school came together to put on extravagant booths, games, and performances. The air was thick with the smell of food, the laughter of students, and the constant hum of excitement as people rushed from one event to the next. This was the day Riki had been waiting for.

The day he would finally win you a prize.

Riki had spent the past hour going from one booth to another, determined to prove to you that he was capable of doing something right for once. He had so many chances to impress you-so many games to win, so many prizes to grab. But despite his best efforts, he kept coming up short.

At the first booth, he tried to win a stuffed bear by throwing darts at balloons. Simple, right? Well, apparently not for Riki, whose aim was so off that he might as well have been throwing the darts with his eyes closed. The booth attendant was trying to hide their smirk as they handed him a consolation prize: a tiny rubber spider.

“Great,” Riki muttered, clutching the spider like it was the most embarrassing thing he’d ever touched. “Perfect for impressing Y/N.”

At the next booth, it was a ring toss, and this time, he was determined. The objective was simple-get the ring on the bottle, win a prize. It was foolproof. That is, until Riki threw the first ring, which somehow flew over the booth, narrowly missing someone’s head and landing in the bushes.

He stared at the ring as if it had betrayed him. I swear, I’m getting closer each time, he thought, trying to maintain his optimism.

After several failed attempts, he walked away from the booth defeated, feeling like a man who had lost his dignity in the process. But no! He couldn’t give up now! He had to keep trying. He had to show you he could win something, anything.

Meanwhile, you had been watching from the sidelines with your friends-Karina, Giselle, and Julie-amused by Riki’s increasingly desperate attempts.

“Is Riki… trying to win prizes for you?” Karina asked with a raised eyebrow, a teasing grin on her face.

Giselle snorted. “He’s been at it for, like, an hour. I thought this was supposed to be easy for him.”

Julie chuckled. “I don’t know, I’m just here for the chaos. This is honestly better than the game last week.”

You, however, couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him. Sure, it was funny, but it was also kind of cute in its own way. It wasn’t every day that someone was this determined to impress you.

Riki finally stumbled over to a prize booth that seemed like it was perfect for him: a giant basketball hoop toss. The sign promised a grand prize-an oversized plush lion. And you had mentioned before how much you loved lions.

This is it, Riki thought. This is my moment. She’ll finally be impressed. I can do this.

He stepped up to the booth, the prize looming large in his mind. His hands were shaking with nerves as he grabbed the basketball. It wasn’t a real one, of course, just one of those cheap foam balls you could get at a carnival, but Riki didn’t care. He was already envisioning himself handing you the giant lion, your face lighting up in admiration.

With a deep breath, he tossed the ball.

It missed the hoop entirely.

Riki groaned and let his shoulders slump. He watched in horror as the ball bounced off the edge and rolled across the floor, completely out of his reach.

“Nice try!” the booth attendant called out with forced enthusiasm. “Would you like to try again?”

Riki waved them off, his spirit broken. “No, I think I’ve had enough for today.”

From across the way, you saw Riki standing at the booth, looking absolutely defeated. Despite his continuous failures, you couldn’t help but smile. It was hard not to appreciate his effort. It was like he was trying so hard that it had become almost endearing-almost.

“Riki’s been at this for ages,” Giselle commented, watching him walk away from the booth, dejected. “This is gonna be a disaster if he keeps at it.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the situation. “It’s like he’s determined to impress me, but in the worst way possible.”

Karina shot you a playful look. “Maybe you should help him out.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Help him? With that? He’s got this.”

But then you thought about it for a second. He was clearly trying so hard. And although he was failing miserably, you could see the genuine intent behind it.

“You know what?” you said, standing up. “Maybe I’ll show him how it’s done.”

You walked over to the same booth Riki had just left, where the attendant gave you a casual smile as you approached.

“Hey, what’s up?” they said. “You looking to win a big prize?”

“Yeah,” you replied with a smile, “I’ll give it a shot.”

Riki, who had been walking in the opposite direction, noticed you standing at the booth, ready to give it a go. His heart immediately started racing. What was this? You? Playing the basketball hoop toss? He couldn’t believe it.

This is going to be embarrassing, he thought. If she wins, it’ll be like rubbing salt in the wound.

But then something surprising happened.

You grabbed the foam basketball and made your first shot. It swooshed perfectly through the hoop.

Riki froze. “No way.”

You grabbed the ball again. Shot two. Swish.

His jaw dropped. “Wait, what?!”

You continued, effortlessly making shot after shot, as if you had been practicing for this exact moment. In just a few seconds, you had hit the required number of successful shots, and the attendant handed you the giant lion plush.

Riki stood there, stunned.

“Uh, well,” you said with a smirk as you approached him, the massive lion in your hands. “Guess you need to work on your aim a little more, huh?”

Riki could only blink, a mix of shock and admiration on his face. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “You… you really just did that.”

You handed him the lion with a grin. “I figured it was the least I could do after watching you fail so many times.”

He took the lion from you, blushing deeply, feeling like the biggest fool on the planet. “I… I thought I could get it for you. You know, so you could be impressed with me.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I am impressed, just not for the reasons you think.”

Riki’s blush deepened as he hugged the oversized plush to his chest, too embarrassed to look you in the eye. “Thanks. I don’t deserve this… but thank you.”

You smiled warmly at him. “It’s nothing, really. You were trying so hard, Riki. That counts for something.”

Riki stood there, holding the giant lion in his arms, his mind completely overwhelmed by how much he cared about you-and how much he wanted to make you proud. Maybe he wasn’t perfect, but at least he was trying, and he was getting closer to impressing you, even if it wasn’t the way he expected.

Later that day, as the festival continued, Riki’s friends couldn’t help but tease him about what had happened.

“I knew you were gonna lose,” Jake said, snickering.

But Riki just laughed along with them, holding the giant lion proudly. “Yeah, yeah. I guess it wasn’t meant to be. But hey, at least she won me a prize.”

His friends gave him a knowing look, but he didn’t care. He was content just knowing that you had finally noticed him.

Confessions Gone Wrong

It had been a few days since the school festival disaster, and Riki had barely been able to think of anything else. Despite his epic failures, there was one thing that kept him going-you. He’d been replaying the whole day over and over in his head, and it hit him like a ton of bricks: he had feelings for you. Big, gigantic, overwhelming feelings.

Now, he had to tell you.

It was time to confess.

Riki sat in the cafeteria, fidgeting nervously with his hands. His mind was racing a mile a minute. What if you said no? What if it was super awkward? What if you laughed in his face? He didn’t know why he thought confessing was a good idea in the first place. It was way too risky. But no, he couldn’t chicken out. He had to do this.

His friends, however, seemed to have other ideas.

“You got this, man,” Heeseung said, clapping Riki on the back. “Just be straight with her. Say something like, ‘I like you.’”

“Yeah, man,” Jake added, leaning in from the side. “Don’t overthink it. Just… do it.”

Riki stared at them blankly. “You guys don’t understand. I’m not just telling her I like her, I’m… I’m confessing. This is big. This is… important.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “Is this like, a romantic confession or more of a ‘I’d like to take you to dinner sometime but also I might die of embarrassment in the process’ type of deal?”

“It’s… both,” Riki mumbled, his mind swirling in confusion. “I don’t know, I just-”

“You know what would really work?” Jay interrupted, his voice suddenly deadly serious. “You gotta be like, ‘I don’t know what’s happening between us, but I just can’t stop thinking about you.’ You know, make it sound deep. Like you’ve been contemplating it.”

“Yeah, like you’re having an existential crisis about it,” Sunghoon chimed in. “Like, ‘I’m not sure if I’m alive or just existing without you.’ It’ll make her swoon for sure.”

Riki’s face turned crimson. “What? No, that’s way too much! I just want to say something simple!”

“Fine, fine, okay,” Heeseung said, shrugging. “Here’s the thing, bro: when in doubt, just make it funny. Humor is everything. You don’t want to come off too serious, like you’re trying too hard, right?”

“That’s true, but also, you gotta act confident,” Jake added. “Like, you’re the catch here, you know? Show her that you are the one who should be adored.”

“Got it,” Riki said, though he was starting to feel more overwhelmed than before. “Just be funny and confident. Easy.”

After what felt like an eternity of pep talks from his friends, Riki finally spotted you sitting at your usual table, chatting with Karina and Giselle. He took a deep breath, straightened his back, and made his way over to your table, trying his hardest to look cool. His heart was pounding, and his palms were sweaty. This was it-he was finally going to confess.

As he approached, your friends gave him a knowing look, but you remained completely unaware of what was coming.

“Hey, Y/N,” Riki greeted, standing awkwardly in front of your table, his fingers twitching nervously. “Can I, uh, talk to you for a sec?”

You looked up, your expression warm and friendly. “Sure, what’s up?”

Riki cleared his throat, trying to appear calm. “Okay, so, um… this is a bit hard for me to say, but… I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and…”

And then, just as he was about to continue, he felt the eyes of his friends boring into him from across the cafeteria.

“Say something smooth!” Heeseung mouthed from behind you, giving him an exaggerated thumbs-up.

“Don’t mess up!” Sunghoon whispered, and Riki swore he saw him holding up a fake phone to his ear like he was recording it for blackmail.

His heart rate picked up, and in the middle of the intense pressure, he completely forgot the smooth, confident line he’d planned. Instead, all that came out of his mouth was:

“Do you wanna, like… hang sometime?”

Your expression didn’t change, and Riki was already bracing himself for the awkward silence when-

“No, wait! I mean, bang…! I mean-!” Riki slapped his hand over his mouth immediately, realizing what he had just said. He blinked, stunned by his own words, and then the horror set in. He had just asked you-asked you to hang-and then he accidentally blurted out bang?!

You stared at him, your eyes wide in shock, and then… you burst out laughing. It was a genuine laugh, the kind that made Riki’s face burn with embarrassment.

“You… you want to-what?!” you gasped between laughs, clutching your stomach. “Did you just-”

“No! No, I meant hang out!” Riki sputtered, shaking his head frantically. “I swear, I didn’t mean to say that! I’m-Oh my God, this is so embarrassing…”

“Did you just..bang?” Karina asked, unable to hold in her laughter, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Riki, are you asking Y/N to… what, exactly?”

Riki wanted to die right there. This was it. This was his confession. He had just managed to make a fool of himself in front of you in the worst way possible.

“Bro, you gotta stop digging,” Jake said, face-palming from across the cafeteria. “This is like watching a slow-motion train wreck.”

Your laughter died down, but you still had a grin on your face as you wiped away the tears from your eyes. “I… okay. You really know how to make a confession memorable, I’ll give you that.”

Riki stared at you, trying to process what had just happened. “I swear, I didn’t mean that. I was just trying to say something simple and-”

“Yeah, you definitely kept it simple,” you teased, giving him a playful wink. “I think this is the most creative confession I’ve ever heard.”

Riki buried his face in his hands. “Oh my God, I’m never living this down, am I?”

“Honestly?” you said, leaning back in your chair, looking far too amused for Riki’s liking. “I think I’d rather hang out with you than bang...”

“You’re killing me here,” Riki groaned, his face bright red. “I swear, I’m going to die from secondhand embarrassment.”

But you just smiled, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “It’s okay, Riki. I get it. You’re nervous. You can always try again… just, you know, without the ‘bang’ part.”

“Yeah, bro,” Sunghoon piped up from behind, clearly enjoying every moment. “You gotta learn how to do this without sounding like a walking disaster.”

You turned to your friends, still chuckling. “Honestly, though, I think this is the best confession I’ve gotten all week.”

Riki raised his head and gave you a weak smile. “Well, at least it’s memorable.”

“You’re telling me,” you quipped. “In fact, this might just go down in history as the most awkward confession of all time. But hey, at least you didn’t say something worse, right?”

Riki wanted to die, but at the same time… he didn’t. Despite the awkwardness, despite his humiliation, there was something about the way you were teasing him-playfully, not mean-spirited-that made him feel like he might actually have a chance.

Later, as Riki trudged back to his friends, who were all practically rolling on the floor in laughter, he couldn’t help but smile through his embarrassment. At least you didn’t hate him. Maybe, just maybe, he had a shot at getting it right next time.

The Panic Panic

It was another regular school day-well, as regular as a school day could be when Riki was still trying to recover from his disastrous confession. He was walking to class, still embarrassed, but at least he was trying to act like nothing happened. His friends kept bringing it up every chance they got, but for the most part, Riki had learned to laugh it off… well, at least he pretended to laugh it off.

You, however, were always on his mind. It was impossible not to think about how cute you were when you laughed at his confession. It wasn’t mean, just funny in a way that made him feel a little less terrible. Plus, he loved how you didn’t seem to mind his blunders, and honestly, that made him want to impress you even more.

That afternoon, as Riki was sitting at lunch with his friends, he noticed Julie staring at him with a mischievous grin on her face. She was sitting with you, Karina, and Giselle at the table, clearly plotting something.

“Hey, Riki,” Julie said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You know, I’ve been thinking… Y/N really deserves someone special, don’t you think?”

Riki froze, his heart skipping a beat. “Uh… yeah?”

“Yeah!” Julie said enthusiastically. “But you know, she might need a real man, you know? Someone who actually knows how to talk to her and doesn’t mess up their confessions in the most cringe-worthy way possible.” She smirked, raising an eyebrow.

Riki could feel his face heating up. “Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Julie winked. “Well, the whole bang thing was a little… memorable. But don’t worry! Maybe I should just set her up with someone else, someone who could actually sweep her off her feet.” She leaned back in her chair, giving Riki a teasing look. “What do you think? Should I hook her up with, like, Sunghoon or someone? He does know how to talk to girls.”

Riki’s eyes widened in panic. No way-he couldn’t let that happen. Not after everything he’d been trying to do. He had to prove he was the better option.

“No! No way, I-I mean, no! I’m totally… totally better than Sunghoon!” Riki blurted out, his words tumbling over each other. “I mean, I’ve got this! I know I messed up last time, but I can fix it! I can prove I’m… I’m a good choice! Way better than Sunghoon. Way better.”

Julie raised an eyebrow. “Really? You? Prove it, then.”

Riki looked over at Sunghoon, who was sitting with his friends across the cafeteria, casually chatting. He had his usual confident smirk on his face, like he could talk to anyone without even trying. Riki felt a spike of jealousy. Of course, Sunghoon was perfect. He was always smooth with the ladies. 

But there was no way he was going to lose this.

“I can do it,” Riki muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. “I can… I just need to do something that’ll really impress her. Something big. Like, heroic.”

Giselle, who had been listening to the whole conversation, let out a laugh. “Heroic? Riki, do you even know what that word means? You barely survived your confession last week!”

“Oh, shut up, Giselle,” Riki snapped, puffing out his chest. “I’ve got this. I’m going to do something so impressive, she’ll forget all about the ‘bang’ thing.”

Julie grinned. “Sure, sure. Go ahead, then. I’d like to see how you plan to outdo Sunghoon.”

Riki, determined not to back down, stood up from his seat. “Watch and learn, everybody. Watch and learn.”

After some thought, Riki had what he thought was a brilliant idea: he would impress you with something athletic-something that would highlight his strength and talent. He couldn’t just be the awkward guy who messes up his words. No, he was Riki, the basketball star. Surely that would be enough, right?

Later that afternoon, Riki found you standing near the school gym, talking to Karina and Giselle. His heart skipped a beat. This was it. He had already seen Sunghoon playing basketball earlier, and he knew he could do better. He was definitely better.

“Hey, Y/N!” Riki called, jogging over to you with a grin plastered on his face. “You like basketball, right?”

You turned to him, looking mildly curious but not too interested. “Yeah, I mean, I guess. Why?”

“Well, I was thinking, maybe we could… I don’t know, shoot some hoops together?” He tried to sound casual, but his voice cracked at the end.

Karina raised an eyebrow. “Are you seriously asking her to shoot hoops with you?”

Riki shot her a glare, clearly ignoring her. “I’m totally fine with it, no pressure. I can show you some of my sick tricks.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by his sudden enthusiasm. “Sick tricks? Like what?”

Riki grinned, feeling an overwhelming surge of confidence. “Like, watch this!”

Without waiting for a response, he jogged over to the basketball hoop. He grabbed a ball, dribbled it a couple of times, and then made a jump shot from a distance. The ball flew through the air, and… hit the rim.

It bounced off and fell straight to the ground.

Riki’s face immediately turned red. Okay, that wasn’t supposed to happen. He picked up the ball and tried again, only for it to miss the hoop entirely and roll across the gym.

“You got this, bro!” Sunghoon yelled from across the gym, watching with his usual smug grin. “Totally nailed it!”

You and your friends burst out laughing. Even Karina couldn’t hold back.

“You know, you really should’ve stuck with your original plan,” Giselle said, still snickering. “You know, the ‘just talk to her and don’t say anything weird’ plan.”

Riki stood there, trying to recover from his failed attempt, but now he was sweating. This was not going according to plan. This was supposed to be his big moment. Instead, it felt like a huge disaster.

“I-uh, okay, okay!” he said, finally looking back at you. “I can do better. I’ll-wait for it.”

You looked at him with an amused expression, barely holding back another laugh. “You sure you’ve got this, Riki? I’m not sure this is the ‘heroic’ moment you had in mind.”

Riki��s face was so red he could’ve passed for a tomato. “No, no, I’ve got this! Just-just wait!”

Julie, who had been watching from the sidelines, gave him a slow clap. “Oh, look, it’s the basketball star. Never mind, Sunghoon’s got this one, right?”

Riki felt a surge of panic. No, he couldn’t let this happen. He needed to redeem himself, and fast. He looked at you again, the pressure mounting. “Okay, okay, let’s-let’s just hang sometime. Maybe we can… actually do something fun. How about… a movie? Or something?”

You smiled, clearly enjoying watching him flail. “Sure, we can hang. But if you’re going to keep embarrassing yourself like this, I’m definitely going with Sunghoon next time.”

The panic that flooded Riki’s chest was almost unbearable. He was getting crushed by his own nerves and the weight of your expectations. No way was he going to lose to Sunghoon. He had to step up his game… but how?

Karina's Makeover Plan

The school dance was just around the corner. The buzz of excitement and nerves filled the hallways as everyone began preparing for what was sure to be a night full of glitter, lights, and, of course, a lot of questionable dance moves. For some students, the thought of attending the dance was an exciting prospect. For others, like Riki, it was the perfect opportunity to do something incredibly dumb for the sake of impressing you.

“Okay, listen up,” Karina said one afternoon as she pulled you aside after school, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “The dance is coming up, and you need a makeover. No more hiding in the background like some cute but invisible wallflower. It’s time for you to shine, and I-” She gave a dramatic pause, “-am the one who’s going to make that happen.”

You blinked, unsure if Karina was serious or just playing one of her usual pranks. “A makeover? Karina, I’m fine. I don’t need-”

“Nope, not happening,” she interrupted, her arms crossed and a determined look on her face. “You deserve to feel amazing. Plus, I need you to show Riki just how incredible you really are, especially now that he’s been-how do we say it?-failing miserably at everything.” She gave a dramatic roll of her eyes.

You groaned. “You seriously think Riki is the reason for all of this?”

“Well, yes! He’s a mess, and it’s obvious,” Karina said, her tone as blunt as ever. “But a makeover will give you that extra oomph to make him realize that you’re not just some girl who trips over her words. You are a force to be reckoned with.”

Reluctantly, you agreed. It wasn’t like you had a choice in the matter when Karina set her mind to something. You had a feeling she had already gathered a whole team of “makeover” supplies without even asking you for input.

The next day, you found yourself sitting in front of Karina’s full beauty arsenal-a bunch of hair tools, makeup, and the most fashionable clothes she could dig out of her closet. It felt like something straight out of a high school makeover montage, but you couldn’t deny that Karina had a way of making things work.

“You ready for this?” Karina asked, flashing you a grin. “We’re going to take Riki’s mind off every embarrassing thing he’s done. After this, he’ll be so smitten, he won’t know what hit him.”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical but willing to go along with it. “Do you think this will actually work?”

Karina winked. “Trust me, it’s foolproof.”

Hours later, the transformation was complete. Karina had somehow managed to do her magic, and you looked… well, different. Your hair was perfectly styled, your makeup was subtle yet striking, and your outfit? Stunning. You barely recognized yourself in the mirror. You looked like you belonged in one of those high school romantic comedies where the quiet, shy girl takes off her glasses and suddenly turns into the hottest girl in school.

You turned to Karina, unsure of how to feel. “This… I look like I’m about to star in a drama.”

“Exactly!” Karina replied, her voice filled with pride. “You’re going to slay, trust me. Now, get out there and make Riki wish he had never messed up that confession.”

As you walked down the hall toward the dance, you could feel everyone’s eyes on you. It was like the world had suddenly stopped, and all attention was on you. You spotted Riki in the crowd almost immediately. He was with his friends, standing near the snack table, looking as if he were discussing the most important thing on the planet-most likely how he could redeem himself from his last attempt to impress you.

The moment he saw you, his entire demeanor shifted. His eyes widened, and his jaw went slack. His friends immediately noticed his reaction.

“Dude,” Sunghoon said with a knowing grin, “you’re drooling.”

Riki didn’t even seem to hear him, still staring at you in absolute awe.

“I think he just short-circuited,” Sunoo said, his voice dripping with sass. “Like, seriously, bro. He’s just standing there like a puppy who’s been hit by a bus.”

“Wait for it,” Jay said, eyes glinting with mischief. “He’s gonna try to walk over and make a move. Let’s see how he screws this up.”

Sure enough, Riki started to move toward you, his feet awkwardly shuffling in the most un-Riki-like way possible. His friends exchanged knowing glances.

“Here we go,” Jake muttered, sipping his drink. “This is gonna be good.”

As Riki approached, his face was flushed with excitement-or maybe panic, it was hard to tell. He took a deep breath, trying to act cool. “Hey, Y/N,” he said, his voice coming out slightly higher than usual. “You, uh, look… wow.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “What, no bang this time?”

Riki winced, the memory of his previous mistake still fresh in his mind. “I-uh, no. I meant to say you look amazing, like, wow, incredible. Seriously. I mean, you always look good, but tonight-whoa.”

“Thanks,” you said, trying not to laugh at how flustered he was. “It’s Karina’s work, so you know it’s dangerous when she’s involved.”

Riki chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Karina really knows how to… transform people. You look so-” He paused mid-sentence, clearly struggling to put his thoughts into words.

“Like a goddess?” Sunghoon called out from behind Riki, earning an eye roll from Riki in return.

“Shut up, Sunghoon,” Riki muttered, his face now entirely red.

You couldn’t help but smile. “Don’t worry, Riki. I’m used to people staring at me like I’m a foreign species after a makeover.”

“That’s not the point,” Riki blurted out, finally gaining some semblance of confidence. “I-uh, I think you look amazing. I mean, seriously. Like, wow.” He nodded emphatically, and you could tell he was trying way too hard to not look like a complete disaster.

“You’re killing me here, Riki,” Sunoo said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re acting like you’ve never seen a girl before.”

“Yeah, bro, relax,” Sunghoon added. “She’s just a person, not a whole new species.”

“Shut up, both of you!” Riki snapped, clearly annoyed but still unable to pull his eyes away from you.

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a little bit of satisfaction. You had managed to break him in the best way possible, and honestly? It was kind of hilarious. But there was something else, too. Something more than just amusement. You liked that Riki was so flustered by your appearance. Maybe, just maybe, he was starting to realize how much he actually liked you.

“Well, thanks for the compliments, Riki,” you said, a teasing smile on your face. “I’ll take it as a win, considering how awkward you’re being right now.”

“I’m not awkward!” Riki insisted, but even he could tell that his voice had a higher pitch than usual. He was a mess, and he knew it. “I-uh, I just wasn’t expecting you to, you know, look like that. You’re… wow. Really wow.”

“And I think he’s short-circuited again,” Sunoo added with a sly grin, earning laughter from the rest of the group.

Riki buried his face in his hands, embarrassed beyond belief. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

As the night wore on, Riki’s attempts to act cool around you only became more ridiculous. But secretly, deep down, you kind of liked it. There was something about his awkward charm that was endearing, even if it made him seem like a nervous wreck every time you were near.

The dance was just beginning, and Riki was clearly trying to muster up the courage to ask you to dance. Would he succeed? Or would he trip over his own feet like usual? The tension was real, but you couldn’t help but feel a little excited to see where this would go.

Mutual Feelings

The days after the school dance were quieter than usual. The whirlwind of awkward moments, and teasing had settled down a bit. But there was something in the air now, something that wasn’t there before-the heavy, palpable feeling of anticipation. You could tell that Riki had changed. He still teased you, still tried to impress you in the silliest ways possible, but now there was a certain realness behind it. It wasn’t just a game anymore. It wasn’t just about winning your attention. No, he was genuinely trying to show you how much he liked you.

And while you pretended not to notice, you couldn’t help but feel the same way. You’d always been the quiet girl, the one who stayed in the background and let things unfold. But the more you saw Riki’s awkward, goofy charm, the more you realized that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t quite as indifferent as you thought.

It was after school one day, and you were walking down the hallway with Karina, Giselle, and Julie. The air felt heavy with the usual chatter of students, but something about today felt different. As you reached the end of the hallway, you saw Riki leaning against the lockers, his friends gathered around him as usual. His eyes locked onto yours immediately, and a slight blush crept onto his cheeks.

Karina nudged you with a teasing smile. “So, are you just gonna keep pretending like you don’t see him, or are you finally gonna admit that he’s been getting to you?” she whispered, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

You rolled your eyes, but your heart skipped a beat when you saw Riki standing there. He wasn’t even trying to hide the way he looked at you anymore-his gaze was open, hopeful, maybe even a little vulnerable.

“Let’s just go,” you muttered, trying to play it cool. But before you could take another step, Riki called out to you.

“Y/N!” His voice was a little too loud, a little too eager. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

You stopped in your tracks, your heart doing an odd little flip. You glanced at your friends, who were suddenly far too interested in their shoes, and then back at Riki.

“Sure,” you said, trying to sound casual, though you were anything but. You walked over to him, arms crossed, trying not to look too affected by his presence.

Riki shuffled awkwardly, clearly nervous. His usual cocky demeanor had melted away, leaving a more vulnerable version of him. It was almost adorable. He glanced down at the floor before looking back at you, his eyes softer than usual.

“Look,” he started, taking a deep breath. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this for a while, but I guess… I just need to say it now.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking ridiculously nervous.

You tilted your head, trying to act like you didn’t already know exactly what was coming. “Riki,” you said, your voice light, “you’re starting to sound like you’re about to give a big speech. Just get to it.”

Riki’s cheeks flushed even deeper, and he shifted from foot to foot like he was trying to find the courage to continue. “I-uh-I’ve liked you for a while. Like, a long while,” he admitted, his words coming out in a rush. “I know I’ve been acting like an idiot. I’ve probably messed up more times than I can count. But I really, really like you, Y/N.”

The air between you two felt thick, like time had slowed to a crawl. You blinked, trying to process what he had just said. You had known, of course, but hearing it out loud? It sent a strange warmth spreading through your chest.

Riki laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well… I really am terrible at this, huh?”

You shook your head, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. “Not terrible. Just… maybe a little too dramatic. But it’s kind of cute.”

Riki’s eyes widened, and for the briefest moment, it looked like he was holding his breath, waiting for you to say something else. “Cute?” he repeated, as if the word had just been a huge revelation.

You gave him a look, suddenly feeling a little more serious than you’d intended. “Yeah. You’re cute, Riki. But you’re also incredibly frustrating. I’ve had to watch you stumble through all of this… and I’ve liked you for a while, too.”

Riki’s mouth dropped open. “You liked me? But-wait, you knew?”

You smirked. “Riki, I’m not blind. I’ve noticed. But I didn’t want to just say it out loud, especially when you were trying so hard to not tell me.”

He grinned, the embarrassment melting away into something much more comfortable. “Well, I guess it’s nice to know I wasn’t just making a fool of myself for nothing.”

“You weren’t,” you replied softly. “But… just so you know, I think you’re the one who’s been making a fool of himself, not me.”

Riki’s face lit up with that stupid, goofy smile of his. “Hey, I’m fine with that. As long as it means we’re, you know, on the same page now.”

You nodded, feeling your heart do a little happy flip. “Yeah. Same page.”

Just then, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and the rest of the gang came walking down the hallway, practically hovering near Riki like they’d been waiting for the moment.

“Finally!” Sunghoon grinned, crossing his arms. “We’ve all been waiting for this.”

“Yeah, seriously, you two are so obvious,” Sunoo added with a smirk. “Took you long enough.”

Riki groaned, but you could see the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You guys were just as bad as I was, you know?”

Sunghoon laughed. “It was cute seeing you struggle, honestly.”

Riki sighed in defeat. “Alright, alright, I get it. I’m obviously a mess.” He looked at you, his expression softening again. “But at least I’m a mess with you now.”

You grinned back, the tension finally lifting. “Yeah, you are.”

As the group started walking toward the exit, Riki fell in step beside you. And for the first time in a while, it felt like the two of you weren’t just stumbling through this whole “relationship” thing. Maybe, just maybe, you were actually getting it right.

The Big Gesture

It had been a few weeks since the two of you had finally confessed your feelings, and everything felt like it was falling into place. The awkwardness was mostly gone, though Riki still couldn’t help but occasionally embarrass himself in the most hilarious ways. But now, it wasn’t just about the silly moments. It was about the real stuff-the moments where you could finally be yourselves without all the drama. Well, except for the good drama.

But Riki? Riki had been planning something. He wasn’t going to let things just coast along. No, he had to do something big, something memorable. He had been listening to all the advice his friends had been giving him-well, most of it anyway-and he had decided to take action. This time, he was going all out.

It was a Friday afternoon, and you were in your usual spot with Karina, Giselle, and Julie at lunch. You were chatting about the upcoming weekend plans when suddenly, you felt someone’s eyes on you.

You looked up to find Riki standing at the edge of the cafeteria, surrounded by his usual group of friends. But he wasn’t looking at you like usual. No, he was smiling-grinning, even-like he had some kind of secret. And that secret? You were about to find out.

He waved at you, his arms flailing in a way that made you almost roll your eyes. “Y/N! Come over here, I need to talk to you!”

You glanced at your friends. “What’s he doing now?”

Karina snickered. “I have no idea, but I’m ready for the drama. Let’s see what stupid thing he’s pulled this time.”

“Probably something that involves a microphone and a dance-off,” Giselle joked. “You know, classic Riki.”

But you stood up, curiosity getting the better of you. “Alright, alright. I’ll go see what this is about.”

When you reached Riki and his friends, they all looked at you with wide grins, clearly trying to hide something. Sunghoon was the first to speak up, his usual sarcasm oozing out. “Hey, Y/N. How’s it going? You know, Riki’s been planning something for you… and it’s definitely not a disaster. Not at all.”

Sunoo raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, no pressure. Totally foolproof plan here.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “What are you guys up to?”

Before anyone could answer, Riki suddenly stepped forward, his face almost serious-except for the small, nervous twitch in his eye. “So… I’ve been thinking about this for a while. And I figured it was time I did something big. You know, for you. Something that, uh… shows you just how much I like you.”

You blinked. “Wait, what? Are you serious? What are you planning?”

Riki grinned, a little too confidently. “Well, I can’t give everything away. But trust me, you’re gonna love it. Just meet me after school on the rooftop.”

You were about to say something more, but before you could, Sunghoon quickly added, “It’s going to be great. Just-no more questions. Just go.”

“I don’t trust any of you right now,” you muttered, but you agreed to meet him anyway. You were curious, after all.

Later that afternoon, as the school bell rang, you found yourself walking up the steps to the rooftop, your heart pounding a little faster than you’d like to admit. The rooftop was quiet, the sun beginning to set in the distance, casting a golden glow across the school.

As you reached the top, you saw Riki standing near the edge, his back turned to you. The breeze ruffled his hair as he turned to face you, his eyes twinkling with excitement and nervousness all at once.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice more serious than usual. “Thank you for giving me the chance to, well, be me around you. I know I’ve been a total mess… and yeah, I’m still not the best at this whole ‘romance’ thing. But I want you to know that you mean a lot to me.”

You were silent for a moment, your heart swelling at his words. He was so Riki-awkward, goofy, but somehow perfect in his own way.

Riki stepped forward, pulling out a small envelope from his pocket. He handed it to you with a nervous smile. “I wanted to write something for you. I thought maybe if I just, you know… talked about it, it wouldn’t have the same effect. So, um… here.”

You opened the envelope, reading the letter that he had written. It was sweet, surprisingly heartfelt, and completely Riki-filled with awkward metaphors about basketball and weird references. But underneath it all, it was clear that he meant every word.

“Riki,” you said softly, a smile tugging at your lips. “This is… this is sweet. And kind of embarrassing, but mostly really sweet.”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, I mean, I didn’t think you’d want some perfect love letter. I wanted it to be real.”

You set the letter down on the ledge beside you, taking a deep breath. “I’ve always liked you, you know. I just… wasn’t sure if you were serious. But now? I think I get it. You’ve really put yourself out there.”

Riki’s eyes widened, and he took a step closer, a goofy smile spreading across his face. “So, does that mean…?”

You laughed softly. “Yeah, Riki. It means yes.”

There was a brief moment of silence, a beat of nervous energy in the air. Then, almost without thinking, Riki leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a soft, sweet kiss. It was like the entire world paused around you. There was no one else around, no interruptions, just the two of you.

It wasn’t some grand, dramatic kiss like you’d seen in movies. No, it was better. It was the kind of kiss that felt real, warm, and full of promise. The kind of kiss that told you that maybe all the embarrassing moments, the awkwardness, and the goofy gestures were worth it because they led to this moment.

When you pulled back, Riki was grinning like a fool. “So, uh, I guess that means I did the right thing, huh?”

You laughed, your heart still fluttering. “Yeah. You did.”

And just like that, the rooftop, the sunset, and the world seemed to align perfectly for both of you.

As you both made your way down the stairs, the rest of the gang appeared, jumping out from behind corners, from every direction-like they had been waiting for this exact moment.

“FINALLY!” Sunghoon yelled, throwing his hands up. “Took you two long enough!”

Sunoo smirked, crossing his arms. “I told you he’d pull this off. He’s actually not an idiot.”

Jake nodded seriously. “Riki? Actually doing something romantic? Who would’ve thought?”

Riki groaned, clearly embarrassed, but you just smiled, your hand slipping into his as you walked back down the hallway.

“You guys seriously had to follow us, huh?” you said with a playful eye roll.

Karina, Giselle, and Julie were standing nearby, all grinning like fools. “We knew this was coming,” Karina teased. “Just didn’t know it’d be so sweet.”

Julie grinned. “Honestly, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say Riki’s finally got his act together.”

And that was the moment-no big gestures needed, no speeches, just the quiet understanding that, in the end, everything had worked out. You’d both found something real, something worth celebrating.

And even though the teasing and jokes from your friends never stopped, you didn’t mind anymore. This was just the beginning of something amazing.

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