#effortlessly disciplined

[sciderman]

Do you think Peter learned how to breakdance when he got his powers just to add flare to his movement?

i think peter parker had been trying and failing to breakdance long before the spider-bite, and is just happy to discover he finally has the upper body strength to actually pull it off now

[ophthalmotropy]

I just need to force myself to overwork myself this year and all shall be swell.

[dior-luxury]

Love your stories♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️ Could I request the female reader falling asleep on their boyfriends lap with the dorm leaders and vice dorm leaders + Floyd? Thank you.

In the Comfort of You

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . fluff - she/her .

- [𝐜𝐡.] dorm leaders . vice dorm leaders + floyd

- [𝐩:𝐬] none

Note: Aww, this prompt is actually so cute are you kidding! I came back from my dance comp early so I celebrated by writing again! (*¯︶¯*)

Riddle Rosehearts

It was a quiet afternoon in Heartslabyul, the garden unusually still after a morning of chaos. The usual string of rules, order, and unexpected mushroom inspections had tired out even the strictest members. The sun filtered through the rose bushes, scattering golden flecks across the picnic blanket laid out under the gazebo. The breeze rustled the leaves above, and the faint smell of strawberry tarts lingered in the air.

Riddle sat upright, posture perfect, a book open in his lap. He was mid-sentence when he felt a shift beside him.

You, his girlfriend, had been curled up at his side for a while, your head resting lightly on his shoulder. But now, slowly, without a word, you repositioned yourself and laid your head fully in his lap.

He stiffened.

Rules. There were rules about propriety. About maintaining posture. About not being flustered in public—even if it was just you two in the garden. His brain fired through a checklist of what he should do. He should tell you to sit up. He should maintain boundaries.

But then he looked down.

Your face was peaceful, softened by sleep. A slight smile played on your lips, your chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. One hand loosely held the hem of his jacket, as if even in sleep, you wanted to be close to him. You trusted him enough to rest like this. On him.

His heart stuttered.

Slowly, he placed the book aside and stared down at you, watching the way your lashes fluttered when the breeze tickled your cheeks. His hand hovered in the air for a long time—unsure—before he finally brushed your hair away from your forehead, his fingers trembling slightly.

He had always been taught discipline, order, and responsibility. But with you? He felt human. Vulnerable. Safe.

His fingers lingered in your hair, stroking it gently.

“…I suppose... one nap isn’t against the rules,” he murmured to himself.

He leaned back slightly, his other hand resting lightly across your back to make sure you didn’t roll off his lap. He felt warmth in his chest, unfamiliar and wonderful, like a sun blooming behind clouds. For once, Riddle Rosehearts didn't care about rules or appearances. Not when you looked so peaceful. Not when your presence filled his every thought.

And when you murmured his name softly in your sleep, like a prayer wrapped in trust?

He knew he'd never let anyone disturb this moment.

Not even the Queen of Hearts herself.

Trey Clover

The sun was setting over the Heartslabyul courtyard, painting the sky in sherbet hues. After a long day of baking sweets for the next unbirthday party, the scent of sugar and vanilla still clung to the air.

Trey had insisted on taking a break—dragging you out into the garden with a blanket and leftover tarts. You’d tried to protest, insisting you had homework, but he just smiled with that warm, steady patience of his and said, “You’ve earned a rest.”

You sat beside him, legs stretched out, chewing lazily on a berry tart as he leaned against a tree trunk. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, and his glasses had slipped slightly down the bridge of his nose as he read aloud from a half-open cookbook. You didn’t understand why he found recipe books so relaxing, but his voice was calm, familiar, grounding.

Eventually, the warmth of the setting sun and the soft cadence of his words started to lull you into a haze. Without thinking, you scooted closer and laid your head in his lap.

Trey’s voice trailed off.

He looked down at you, blinking once, then again. The way you curled into him, unguarded, so effortlessly vulnerable—it made his chest ache in the sweetest way. He smiled, one hand coming up to adjust his glasses, the other instinctively brushing along your arm.

“You okay down there?” he asked softly.

No response.

Your breathing was slow and even, lips slightly parted as you drifted deeper into sleep. Your hand rested on his thigh, fingers barely curled like you were holding onto the moment.

He chuckled under his breath. “Guess that’s a yes.”

With infinite gentleness, Trey shifted the tart plate out of the way and used his free hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. He watched the way the sunlight danced on your skin, how your eyelashes cast little shadows across your cheeks.

He didn’t move for a long while. Didn’t read. Didn’t speak. He just sat there, a steady presence while you slept on his lap. His thumb brushed lazy, affectionate circles on your shoulder.

“I hope you know,” he said eventually, voice soft and low like a whisper in a dream, “I could sit like this forever.”

His heart beat slow and full. This wasn’t the chaos of the kitchen, or the madness of Heartslabyul. This was something simpler. Sweeter. Like a quiet lull after the storm.

He leaned down slightly, pressing a feather-light kiss to your temple.

“Sweet dreams, sugar.”

Leona Kingscholar

It was one of those scorching afternoons in the Savannaclaw lounge. The heat had chased most students into the shadows, and the usual clamor had died down to a low hum. Leona had claimed his favorite sun-drenched couch—stretched out with one arm behind his head, the other lazily flipping through a textbook he had no real intention of reading.

You were sitting next to him, legs curled under you, chatting idly for a bit before trailing off. He barely registered the silence at first—figured you were just zoning out. But then something shifted.

You moved closer.

His ears twitched.

Without a word, you leaned over and placed your head directly on his lap. Just—boop. Laid down. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Leona froze.

He looked down slowly, like he couldn’t believe what just happened. There you were, his girl, sleeping soundly across his lap. Lips parted slightly, cheek pressed against his thigh, hands tucked under your chin. Peaceful. Completely knocked out.

For a moment, Leona just stared.

And then—

“…Tch.” He clicked his tongue, but it lacked any real bite. “You’ve got some nerve.”

His hand hovered over you for a beat. He wanted to push you off, maybe grumble something about how he was supposed to be the lazy one, not you. But instead…

His fingers dipped into your hair.

It was light. Barely a touch. Just a lazy comb through your strands, again and again.

“Brat,” he murmured, but his voice was soft, like the desert wind at night. “You really just gonna sleep here without asking? On my lap?”

And yet he didn’t move.

Didn’t complain.

Didn’t breathe too loudly for fear of waking you.

His tail swished lazily across the floor, betraying the contentment he pretended he didn’t feel. The warmth of your body against him made his eyelids droop, but he stayed awake, keeping a silent vigil.

He wouldn’t admit it, not in a thousand years—but having you there, choosing him as your safe place to rest?

That meant more than all the crowns in the world.

He smirked, resting his head back.

“…Guess I’ll let you off this time.”

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie wasn’t used to having time off. Between errands for Leona, club stuff, side hustles, and dodging various school responsibilities, “relaxation” wasn’t exactly on his schedule. But today? For some miraculous reason? He had an open hour. So he dragged you out behind the Savannaclaw dorm where the sun was warm, the grass was soft, and there were no chores to do.

He was halfway through telling you about some weird thing he saw in the cafeteria (“Swear on my granny’s life, the mashed potatoes moved!”) when he realized you weren’t laughing anymore.

He turned his head to look—and there you were.

Head in his lap. Curled up like a cat in a sunbeam. Eyes closed. Asleep.

Ruggie blinked.

Once. Twice.

“…Huh?”

He looked around like this was some kind of prank. “Oi. Y/N?”

No response.

A soft snore.

Ruggie stared down at you, your face squished slightly against his thigh, your fingers loosely gripping his hoodie. He didn’t know what to do with his hands at first. He held them up in the air like you were fragile and he might break you by accident.

He whispered, “…You serious right now?”

His face was bright red. Full-on red as a beet. But his heart? Beating like crazy. Fast and full and warm in a way that made his chest ache.

He glanced down again.

And slowly, hesitantly, the corner of his mouth tugged into a grin.

“Heh… cute.”

Very carefully, he pulled his hoodie sleeve down and tucked it under your head like a makeshift pillow. Then he leaned back on his hands and looked up at the sky, his tail flicking lazily behind him.

“You better not start drooling on me,” he muttered—but there was no venom in it. Just affection.

He sat there quietly, keeping still even when his legs started to fall asleep. When you shifted a little and sighed in your sleep, he actually stopped breathing for a second.

Because no one ever really… relaxed around him like that. Not like this. Not since he was a kid in the slums of the Sunset Savanna. This—being someone’s safe place—was something new. Something precious.

And he’d fight anyone who tried to ruin it.

Even if he’d totally deny that later.

Azul Ashengrotto

The Lounge had closed for the night. The clink of glassware had faded, the last customer long gone, and the velvet curtains drawn tight. Everything was bathed in that dim oceanic glow Octavinelle was known for—deep blues and the shimmer of water against stone.

Azul had finally finished sorting through contracts, sighing in satisfaction as he slid the last document into its folder. You were already sitting on the plush couch in the VIP room, legs tucked to the side, watching him with a soft smile on your lips.

“Hard at work, as always,” you teased lightly.

Azul chuckled, brushing his bangs back. “You know how it is. A businessman’s time is never his own.”

“You’ve got time for me now though, right?”

He hesitated only for a moment. “Always.”

You patted the space next to you. He sat, slightly stiff as always—ever the perfect posture. But he relaxed once you leaned against his shoulder. You chatted for a bit, your voice slowly trailing off as the atmosphere quieted. Your head slipped downward, resting lightly against his arm at first… then lower… until suddenly, Azul felt a shift.

He looked down to find your head in his lap.

Asleep.

Breathing gently.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Azul froze. Completely. His hands hovered mid-air, his back went ramrod straight, and panic flickered in his mind like a school of darting fish.

What do I do? Is this allowed? Is she okay? What if she drools? What if Jade sees—oh seven seas—

He dared to look down at your face. Your eyelashes fluttered faintly. Your lips were parted slightly, your expression peaceful. Unburdened. Completely unafraid.

The kind of peace Azul never had in his own head.

He felt his throat tighten.

You trusted him—him, a calculating, manipulative, secret-wielding businessman enough to fall asleep on his lap.

“…You really are bold,” he whispered, voice breaking into a whisper. “But… I suppose I can’t blame you.”

Cautiously, as if worried he’d shatter the moment, Azul rested a hand against your shoulder and the other—so slowly—began to stroke your hair. The strands slipped through his fingers like sea silk. He watched you for what felt like hours, every so often brushing a strand out of your face or tracing the curve of your cheek with his thumb.

And for once… the silence wasn’t unnerving.

It was comforting.

“Maybe just a little longer,” he murmured.

When Jade poked his head in later to report something, his eyes landed on the scene. He raised a brow—but said nothing.

Azul simply met his gaze, a faint smile playing on his lips. For once, he didn’t care about appearances.

Not when you were in his arms.

Jade Leech

The rainforest in the botanical garden was dim, warm, and filled with the sounds of dripping water and the flutter of hidden wings. Jade loved bringing you here after long days—the two of you wandering between the glowing mushrooms and thick vines, talking about strange creatures and even stranger students.

That evening, you had been unusually quiet.

Tired.

He’d noticed. Of course he had. Jade noticed everything.

So, he suggested you rest.

You both sat on a stone bench nestled under an arch of glowing moss. The lights cast a soft green hue over the clearing. Jade had started telling you a story—some obscure tale about a deep-sea creature with a song that lured people into dreams.

And maybe it was his voice—smooth as silk, low and lulling—or maybe it was the way he ran his fingers lazily through the fern beside you, but soon…

Your head slipped gently into his lap.

And you didn’t move again.

Jade blinked once, tilting his head ever so slightly.

“…Oh my.”

Your face was tilted toward him, cheek resting on the fabric of his uniform pants. Your breathing was deep, peaceful. Your body, curled like a cat, radiated warmth into his legs. You made not even the faintest sound.

And Jade?

Jade was frozen—but not out of panic.

He was fascinated.

You trusted him enough to sleep here. On him. Fully vulnerable. Open. And you didn’t even seem to hesitate.

The corners of his lips curled upward into a smile—genuine and serene.

“Well,” he murmured, reaching out to gently brush your hair behind your ear, “you are more interesting than any mushroom I’ve ever encountered.”

He chuckled quietly, the sound blending into the soft symphony of the garden.

Jade’s hand lingered in your hair, slow and thoughtful. He studied the way you clutched the fabric of his jacket with one hand, like you were anchoring yourself to him. And slowly, his usually composed heart began to thrum, unfamiliar and full.

No one ever rested near him this way.

No one dared.

But you did.

“You’ve caught me off guard,” he whispered, almost reverently.

Not a trace of mischief in his tone—only awe.

He leaned down slightly, brushing a kiss to your temple with an elegant tenderness only someone like him could manage.

“I wonder what you’re dreaming of,” he said softly, his voice a promise. “Whatever it is… I hope I’m there.”

And he stayed perfectly still, watching over you like a sentinel in the jungle. Not because he had to—but because he wanted to.

Because you, in that moment, were the most precious thing in his world.

Floyd Leech

The tide was low in his mood today.

Everything felt boring. Club meetings dragged, the Lounge was quiet, and even scaring first-years didn’t give him the usual rush. He was sprawled out on one of the long couches in the Octavinelle dorm lounge, legs dangling off the side, one arm draped over his eyes.

You were with him, of course—his “Shrimpy.” His favorite toy. His favorite person.

Today, though, he wasn’t teasing you or playfully squeezing you until you squirmed. He was unusually quiet, lying still in a rare moment of calm. You sat beside him, chatting softly at first, your fingers absently tracing patterns into his arm.

But then… your voice faded.

Your hand stilled.

He peeked out from under his arm just in time to feel it—your weight shifting as you gently curled up beside him, resting your head right on his stomach. A warm, sleepy sigh left your lips.

And then nothing.

You were asleep.

At first, Floyd just blinked, his mismatched eyes wide with surprise. “Huh?”

He tilted his head forward, peering at you like a curious sea creature watching a pearl roll into its den.

“You really knocked out, huh?”

No answer. Just the sound of your soft breathing, face nestled into his hoodie, arms curled in like you were hugging a plush toy.

Floyd didn’t move.

Didn’t make a sound.

Instead… his grin slowly, slowly spread across his face.

“Eheh~ Shrimpy... you really are something else.”

He gently lifted his hand and let it fall over your back, his fingers splaying like seaweed, curling into the fabric of your shirt. He didn’t squeeze this time. No chaotic thrashing, no threats of “squeeeezin’ ya ‘til ya pop.” Just the weight of his hand, steady and warm, like he was grounding himself in you.

His tailing mood melted like drift ice under sun.

You chose him.

To rest on. To trust. To fall asleep on, even knowing how temperamental he could be.

That tugged at something deep. Something primal and tender. He could feel his heartbeat slow to match yours, lulled by the rhythm of your breath.

“You’re lucky I like you so much,” he murmured, voice unusually low and gentle. “If it were anybody else, I’d have chomped ‘em by now for touchin’ me like this.”

But he didn’t move. Not an inch.

He just laid there, arm wrapped around you, letting you use his body like a pillow made of seafoam and muscle.

And when you murmured his name in your sleep—barely audible, just a breath?

Floyd melted entirely.

His grin softened, his head tilted back.

“…Guess I’ll nap too, then. But if I drool on ya, it’s your fault~”

Kalim Al-asim

The palace-like halls of Scarabia were quiet in the golden haze of late afternoon. The sun poured through the arching windows, lighting the silken pillows in warm amber. It had been a long day—flying carpets, music practice, and Kalim pulling you into at least three spontaneous dance circles.

Now, you were both on the balcony, surrounded by flower pots and colorful lanterns swaying in the breeze. Kalim had been talking excitedly about a festival his family hosted once—a night where they lit a thousand paper lanterns and let them float into the sky.

You were curled beside him, resting against his side, nodding along as his hands animated every story.

But eventually… your replies stopped.

He glanced down mid-sentence to find you still. Eyes closed. Breathing soft.

Your head had somehow found its way into his lap, resting there like it belonged. Your hands tucked under your cheek, your face tilted up toward him like you were dreaming of the stars he’d just described.

Kalim’s eyes widened.

“Oh!”

He clapped a hand over his mouth immediately, realizing how loud he was about to be.

“She fell asleep,” he whispered to himself, awed.

He looked down at you like you were made of starlight and gold.

You trusted him. You felt safe with him. So safe, in fact, that you’d fallen asleep in his lap under the open sky.

His heart soared.

“Wow…” he breathed.

He reached out, ever so gently, brushing a lock of hair from your forehead, his fingers trembling just slightly. Not from nerves—Kalim was never shy—but from the sheer overwhelming joy of the moment.

He wanted to laugh, to cheer, to kiss your forehead a hundred times.

But he didn’t.

He sat still, barely breathing, his smile wide and wonder-filled.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered, his voice full of love. “Like a dream.”

He looked up at the sky, watching the clouds drift by, and then down again at you. His fingers found yours, lacing them together gently.

Kalim’s world was fast, bright, full of noise and song. But this?

This was a quiet kind of joy.

One that filled his chest like sweet air and didn’t need to be shouted.

He leaned down, kissed the crown of your head, and rested his cheek gently against your hair.

“If I had a thousand stars,” he whispered, “I’d give them all to you.”

And there, under the setting sun, with the breeze carrying hints of jasmine and warmth, Kalim stayed absolutely still—just a boy in love, holding his world in his lap.

Jamil Viper

It was late—well past the quiet hours in Scarabia. The sun had long since dipped behind the dunes, and the dorm was bathed in a soft, warm glow from hanging lanterns. The courtyard had emptied after a long day of activities, and only the hush of wind through palm trees and the distant trickle of water from the fountain remained.

Jamil sat beneath the archway overlooking the open courtyard, dressed down in his lounge clothes—simple, dark, loose-fitting, no frills. His shoulders were slouched, rare for someone always so tightly wound. You were beside him, curled up with your legs tucked under you, slowly leaning more and more his way.

The conversation had started casually—stories about Kalim’s antics, about classes, about the endless list of responsibilities Jamil was juggling. But as you listened, your replies grew quieter, slower…

And before he could even finish a sentence, he felt it.

Your head, gentle and warm, settled right into his lap.

Jamil went completely still.

He looked down, blinking, utterly silent.

“…You fell asleep?”

He could hardly believe it. There you were—his girlfriend—just… sleeping on him like it was natural. No hesitation. No fear. Just soft breath against his stomach and one hand lightly curled in his hoodie.

And him?

He didn’t move a muscle.

Jamil wasn’t used to this kind of closeness without strings. He wasn’t used to someone resting on him, not needing anything, not demanding he do something, fix something, prove something.

You were just there.

Sleeping.

Trusting him.

He swallowed hard, his heartbeat loud in his ears. One of his hands hovered above your shoulder, hesitant, as if afraid touching you would wake you—or worse, make the moment disappear.

But then, with a quiet exhale, he let his hand fall gently into your hair.

Fingers threaded through the strands slowly. Carefully. Like you were made of delicate silk.

“Y/N…” he whispered, barely audible.

There was a softness in his eyes no one else ever got to see. He didn’t know if you could hear him in your sleep—but it didn’t matter.

“You really don’t know what you do to me.”

He leaned back against the pillar, staring up at the night sky, the stars peeking through the edges of the courtyard ceiling. For once, he allowed himself a moment of stillness. No planning. No scheming. No worrying about Kalim or school or a hundred responsibilities.

Just you.

Warm and trusting in his arms.

And Jamil—quiet, calm—stayed perfectly still, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he brushed his thumb over your temple.

“If this is a dream,” he whispered, “I don’t want to wake up.”

Vil Schoenheit

The dressing room was quiet.

For once.

The glow of vanity lights lined the mirror, casting golden halos over the room. Bottles, brushes, powders, everything meticulously organized in Vil’s space. You had been keeping him company after his rehearsal—watching him take off his stage makeup with gentle, practiced motions, each movement like part of a performance in itself.

You sat beside him on the plush velvet chaise, your posture proper at first, engaged in conversation. He was mid-rant about a classmate’s awful skincare routine (heaven help them), and you had smiled, eyes soft, head tilted just slightly.

And then…

You slumped sideways.

Right into his lap.

Vil’s breath hitched, and he looked down, mouth parted slightly in surprise.

You… fell asleep?

On him?

“Darling?” he said quietly, brushing his fingers against your shoulder. No response.

Your face was tilted toward him, cheek gently pressed against his thigh, lashes brushing the top of your cheek, lips parted just slightly. You looked so peaceful. So still.

So unaware of how tightly you’d gripped his heart in that moment.

Vil slowly exhaled, lowering his hand to rest on your back. His other hand—still elegant, still carrying the last remnants of lotion—hovered over your hair. And then, with featherlight grace, he began to smooth it back, careful not to disturb your rest.

“Sleeping on a chaise,” he murmured. “That’s hardly ideal posture.”

But his voice had no edge. No scolding. Just… gentle amusement.

Vil Schoenheit was used to control—his appearance, his schedule, his image. And yet, here you were, disrupting all of that with a single act of vulnerability. Trusting him with your body in its most unguarded state.

And it didn’t irritate him.

It moved him.

“This is… dangerous,” he whispered. “You lower my guard far too easily.”

He gazed at you for a long while, memorizing the curve of your face in the soft light. The way your hand rested atop his knee like it belonged there. The softness of your lips, the warmth of your breath.

Vil had been photographed a thousand times, posed beside the most beautiful people in the world.

But this?

This was the most beautiful moment he had ever been part of.

He gently tugged a silk throw blanket from the back of the chaise and draped it over your shoulders, careful not to shift your head. Then, leaning down, he pressed a kiss to your temple—soft, reverent, full of unspoken feeling.

“You’ll be the ruin of me, schatz,” he whispered. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Rook Hunt

The sun had long since begun its descent, draping the vast grounds of NRC in a golden veil. The lush gardens behind Pomefiore dorm basked in that soft honey light, petals curling gently like sleepy sighs, and even the breeze seemed to hush itself to a lullaby. Rook Hunt sat on a stone bench nestled beneath an arch of ivy and lavender, legs crossed with poetic elegance, one arm draped along the bench’s edge, the other cradling a small leather-bound book of Baudelaire’s poetry.

But he had not turned a page in fifteen minutes.

His gaze, normally so sharp and brimming with curiosity, had softened completely—locked onto you, his beloved, curled up in the safest of sanctuaries: his lap.

You hadn’t meant to fall asleep, of course. It had started with just leaning against him, the sun warming your back and his hand absentmindedly carding through your hair, twirling strands like golden thread between his fingers. His voice had been low, reciting French verses with a soft lilt, letting the words flutter into the air like butterflies. Somewhere between the cadence of his voice, the scent of lilacs, and the rise and fall of his breathing, sleep had stolen you away.

And Rook… was absolutely enchanted.

“Oh, mon ange…” he whispered, barely audible, his breath brushing against the crown of your head.

He didn’t dare move. His usually ever-restless energy was still for once—his stillness more reverent than any silence in the cathedral. Your cheek was resting just over his thigh, your arms folded like a child’s under your head. A soft sigh escaped your lips every now and then, the kind that melted straight into his chest.

It was an intimacy far beyond a stolen kiss or dramatic serenade. This was something quiet. Sacred.

Rook’s gloved fingers ghosted along your shoulder, his thumb brushing ever so lightly against the skin where your shirt had slipped a bit. He chuckled—quietly, tenderly.

“To inspire such trust… Such vulnerability…” He murmured in awe, gazing down at you like one might look at a painting in a gallery, overwhelmed by its beauty but unable to explain why. “Tu es ma muse éternelle.”

The soft flush on your cheeks, the way your lashes kissed your skin, the rhythm of your breath—all of it wove a spell around his heart. A predator by nature, he was always seeking, always hunting the next beautiful moment. But this? This stillness, this peace—this was the rarest prey of all.

Rook leaned back, head tilted toward the twilight sky.

He would sit here forever if it meant you could rest undisturbed. The hunt could wait.

Idia Shroud

The atmosphere in Idia’s room buzzed with low ambient synth music, neon lights tracing cyber-punk lines across the walls, bouncing off rows of figurines and glowing monitors. Ortho had exited the room a while ago, leaving behind a half-empty can of soda and a quiet “I’ll give you two some space, nii-san~” in a sing-song voice that had Idia practically overheating.

You were on the floor, curled in a sea of fuzzy blankets and oversized gaming pillows. Idia had set up your “chill zone,” as he nervously called it—stocked with snacks, manga, and an absurdly cute cat-shaped pillow that he had definitely not bought because it reminded him of the way you smiled.

You had climbed up into his gaming chair at some point, practically draping yourself across his lap, completely fearless. Idia had gone full system error—stiff as a board, hands twitching at his sides, a thousand inner alarms going off.

“Wha—Y-You can’t just—th-th-there’s a process! A sequence! L-like, at least two awkward movie nights before you just go full-on lap-mode!!”

But you hadn’t answered. Your breathing had slowed. Your body had gone warm and heavy.

You’d fallen asleep.

Idia’s heart skipped several beats. He actually had to check that he wasn’t hallucinating. A tiny puff of air escaped your lips, your cheek squished against his hoodie-clad thigh, and your hand, like it had a mind of its own, had curled around the hem of his sleeve.

He froze. Again.

Then slowly, as if afraid to wake a very fluffy, very delicate sleeping beast, he let himself breathe. Just a little.

His hand trembled as it hovered near your head. His fingers twitched like they were afraid to mess it up—you—the whole fragile image of this moment.

And then, very carefully, he let his hand settle into your hair.

“…This is… r-real, right?” he whispered, voice cracking mid-sentence. He bit down on a whimper, overwhelmed.

“She’s literally asleep. On me. Like, I’m not even an NPC in this cutscene. I’m the main questline now.”

A faint giggle threatened to bubble up, but he slapped a hand over his mouth.

Then the other part of his brain chimed in.

What if she wakes up and realizes it’s weird? What if she was just tired and it wasn’t a conscious choice? What if she thinks you’re a total loser for sitting there like a statue?

He shut his eyes tight.

No. No, for once, he wouldn’t self-destruct this moment. Not when it felt like he’d stepped into a rare hidden level that only unlocked when your affection for an NPC was maxed out.

He looked down at you again, marveling at the tiny breath of warmth rising and falling against him.

“You’re like… my safe point,” he mumbled into the dark, letting his fingers finally settle gently in your hair.

A small ping from his PC reminded him a new update had installed.

“Whatever, I already got the best patch.”

Malleus Draconia

It was a rare, quiet evening at Diasomnia. No thunder echoed from the mountains, no duties called for the crown prince, and no students dared interrupt the rare moment of peace Malleus found with you.

The courtyard behind the dormitory was bathed in moonlight, silver threads weaving between tall hedges and ancient statues. You’d been chatting beside him on a stone bench, your legs curled beneath you, fingers grazing his as you recounted a ridiculous tale Ace had told you during lunch. Malleus listened—his eyes never straying from your face, utterly enchanted by your every word. You were warm and brilliant, like the sun he’d always been curious about, and it was moments like this that made him feel closer to understanding it.

But the day had been long. Long classes, longer conversations, and the gentle lull of Malleus’s deep voice had slowly pulled you into the edges of slumber. One moment you were chuckling, your cheek in your palm, and the next… your head tilted gently against his thigh.

Malleus stiffened slightly—not in discomfort, but surprise.

He blinked down at you, your lashes fluttering, your lips parting slightly as your breathing evened out. His first instinct was stillness. Dragons, after all, are patient creatures. He gazed at your peaceful form, processing the trust it took for you to doze off like this—on him. Vulnerable. Soft.

“My treasure…” he whispered, voice low with reverence.

He gently adjusted his posture, making sure your head had a comfortable angle. One clawed hand hovered hesitantly in the air before slowly descending to stroke your hair, tender and cautious, like touching spun gold.

“Even in sleep, you are unafraid of me.” The words were not sad, but filled with quiet awe.

The warmth of your body against him, the subtle scent of your perfume, and the delicate rise and fall of your breath began to unravel something inside Malleus. A rare emotion—one that wrapped around his ancient heart like ivy. He had seen kingdoms rise and fall, yet here you were, the most precious thing he’d ever held, choosing to rest in his lap like he was your sanctuary.

As your hand twitched in your sleep, seeking his, Malleus smiled.

He laced your fingers together, holding you close.

“You will never know harm while I breathe,” he murmured, more promise than poetry.

He remained there, unmoving, for as long as you needed. Watching over you with all the devotion of a dragon guarding his hoard, his heart heavy with love and light.

Lilia Vanrouge

The music from the Lounge had died down hours ago, and yet the two of you lingered in the quiet common room of Diasomnia, curled up on an emerald velvet settee, bathed in candlelight.

You had been scrolling through photos on your phone, laughing at memories, while Lilia lounged beside you, arms spread over the back of the couch, looking for all the world like a retired general watching over his beloved court jester.

His teasing quips had slowed as the hour crept past midnight. You were curled sideways now, legs draped over his, head tucked against his shoulder.

And then… your body shifted slightly.

You sighed—a soft, exhausted exhale—and gently, instinctively, nestled your head into his lap. Your phone slid from your hand to the cushion with a muffled thud.

Lilia paused mid-sentence, blinking. Then he looked down.

“Well, well…” His voice was a whisper, touched with warmth and amusement. “You’ve gone and melted into my lap, little bat.”

There was no complaint in his tone. Only gentle adoration.

He shifted minutely, reaching for a throw blanket folded neatly over the back of the couch. With practiced ease, he draped it over your form, tucking it around your shoulders with a tenderness only centuries of experience could perfect.

As your cheek pressed against his thigh, he could feel the subtle hum of your breath through his clothes. He gently brushed your hair away from your face, taking a moment to admire your features—so soft, so trusting, so utterly you.

Lilia had lived longer than most stars, but never had he found a moment quite like this.

“A sight sweeter than sakura in spring,” he murmured, one gloved hand resting lightly atop your head.

He leaned back, gazing at the ceiling, his other hand lazily tracing invisible patterns against your arm beneath the blanket.

He thought of the countless battles he’d fought, the wars he’d survived, the heartbreaks endured. And yet this moment—this quiet, sleeping you—was what he found himself wanting to protect most of all.

“Don’t worry,” he said quietly, “I’ll keep watch tonight, just as I always have. Even nightmares wouldn’t dare bother you while I’m here.”

A mischievous glint twinkled in his eyes, even as his voice remained soft.

“And if you drool on me, well… I suppose I’ll consider it a badge of honor.”

He chuckled lightly to himself, and resumed playing with your hair, humming a lullaby so old the stars had likely forgotten it. It was a melody sung once in ancient fae courts, now resurrected just for you.

Lilia, the eternal guardian, kept his silent vigil, heart full and content.

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

"DAD!"

Bruce sighed at the familiar call, instantly recognizing the voice. It was you, the child he never intended to have, thrust into his life by forces beyond his control. He still wasn't ready for this—wasn't ready to be a father.

In the early days, you’d tried calling him "father" or "dad," hoping for a connection. But he’d ignore you every time, barely acknowledging the title. Frustrated, you’d started calling him "Mr. Wayne" out of spite. And to your surprise, he responded. Since then, you'd settled into calling him as if he were just another public figure, like some distant acquaintance. You learned quickly that Bruce Wayne didn't want to be publicly labeled as your father, that he wasn’t comfortable with the label at all.

But now, hearing that word—"Dad"—from you in public, his irritation rose. He’d told you ages ago not to call him that outside the manor. Yet, there was also a sliver of satisfaction; he finally had a reason to confront you over it, something he’d oddly wanted since you’d moved in.

Turning around to find you, Bruce stopped short. There you were, arms around Harvey Dent, laughing in a way that sent a pang through him. It was the kind of bright, easy laughter he’d never heard from you in his presence. The warmth in your eyes, the carefree lightness in your smile—it all seemed reserved for Dent, a scene that felt oddly father-child-like.

His grip tightened unconsciously, fingers curling around the grass he’d been holding. Harvey looked back at you with an almost fatherly pride, and it stung in a way Bruce couldn’t have anticipated. In that moment, the crowd faded around him, and all he could focus on was the two of you, bonded in a way he hadn’t managed to be with you.

Your laughter rang in his ears like a melody he’d never noticed before, something beautiful and elusive. And for the first time, Bruce felt something new—a desire to be the one to make you laugh like that, a yearning to hear it directed at him. He wanted all of it for himself.

Bruce’s hands clenched involuntarily, his fingers digging into his palms. He told himself that he was better than Dent in every way that mattered—stronger, more capable, more disciplined. But in this, seeing how effortlessly Dent could make you feel safe and valued, he felt an unsettling flicker of doubt. Bruce could face any enemy, any challenge, but standing here, watching someone else make you feel what he couldn’t, he felt almost... inadequate.

The feeling was absurd. Jealousy wasn’t supposed to affect him; he’d trained himself to be above such things. But he couldn’t stop the bitterness gnawing at him as he watched Dent with you, a man whose easy warmth contrasted so painfully with Bruce’s own guarded nature. It stung to realize that, for all his power and reputation, he was losing you to his own friend. Dent looked at you with pride and affection, the kind that came naturally to him—and Bruce hated that Dent could offer you what he hadn’t even known you needed.

And then, through the murmur of the crowd, your voice rang out again—“Dad!”—directed at Dent, not him. Something twisted painfully in Bruce’s chest, his vision blurring as he watched you lean into Dent’s embrace, trusting and relaxed. The sight was a punch to his pride, yes, but more than that, it was a revelation of all he’d pushed away, all the moments he’d let slip by because he hadn’t wanted to be vulnerable.

For the first time, Bruce felt an unfamiliar desperation creep in, a fear he’d never faced even in the darkest moments of his life. Losing you to Dent seemed almost absurd, yet it was becoming a reality before his eyes. He was starting to see the damage his own indifference had caused, each unspoken word and dismissed gesture now cutting him deeper than he would ever admit aloud.

If only he’d turned around that first time you called him "Dada." If only he’d been there, shown you warmth instead of distance. Now someone else was in the place he’d abandoned, and he feared—truly feared—that you were already too far out of his reach to bring back.

(A/n: feel free to use this idea to make a story! Though you needa tag me too😼)

[joelswhcre]

────۶ৎ class dismissed

tommy’s camp set up combat training for young adults, and joel miller got stuck teaching it. you, with your bratty attitude and reckless mouth, decided to push him too far. now, you’re gonna learn a lesson.

warnings: smut, age gap (reader is 18+), teacher/student, spanking, choking, size kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, degradation, praise, overstimulation.

more

ᖭ༏ᖫ

tommy’s camp had rules.

one of them? never fuck with joel miller.

he was brutal, sharp-edged, a man who had lived long enough to carve his own way into the world and leave bodies in his wake. so when they set up training classes for young adults—how to handle a knife, how to fire a gun—he was the first name on the list.

and when you walked into his class, all big eyes and soft skin and a mouth that didn’t know when to quit, he knew he was fucked.

but he had discipline.

he ignored the way you looked at him, like you wanted something you shouldn’t. he kept his hands to himself when you pressed too close, when your fingers lingered on his forearm as he adjusted your grip on a gun.

he ignored it all—until he couldn’t.

until you pushed him too far.

—

"you’re not takin’ this seriously," joel muttered, arms crossed as he watched you struggle with your knife stance.

you huffed, rolling your eyes. "it’s just a knife, miller. not that hard."

he exhaled through his nose. if there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was attitude. especially from you.

"come here," he ordered.

you obeyed, stepping closer, holding out the knife.

joel grabbed your wrist, flipping it with ease, and suddenly, the blade was against your throat, the sharp edge kissing your skin.

your breath hitched.

"not that hard, huh?" his voice was low, gritted. he pressed just enough for you to feel it, for you to understand how easily he could cut you.

your pupils blew wide. you swallowed, throat bobbing against the blade.

"careful," joel murmured.

your tongue darted out, wetting your lips. he followed the motion, jaw flexing.

"you gonna teach me or what?" you whispered.

joel knew that tone. knew exactly what you were doing. pushing him. testing him.

"fuckin’ brat," he muttered, letting you go.

you stumbled back, gripping the knife tight.

"again," he ordered, stepping behind you, his chest pressed firm against your back.

his breath was hot against your ear. his hands—big, warm—rested on your hips, pressing you into place.

"hold it like this," he murmured, fingers wrapping over yours, tightening your grip.

you exhaled, your body sinking against him.

"good girl."

it escalated quickly after that.

stolen glances in class. accidental touches that weren’t accidental at all.

until you showed up at his cabin one night, wet from the rain, looking at him like he was the only thing you needed.

he let you in.

"you know this is wrong," joel said, voice rough as you straddled his lap.

"don’t care," you whispered.

he groaned when you rolled your hips, feeling just how much bigger he was, how much stronger.

"’course you don’t," he muttered, gripping your waist.

his fingers dug into your skin, bruising, claiming.

"fuckin’ spoiled," he murmured, dragging his mouth along your neck, nipping at the skin until you whimpered. "needy little thing."

you gasped when he lifted you effortlessly, pressing you into the bed.

"gonna take what i give you, yeah?" he rasped, his weight heavy over you.

"yeah," you breathed, fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer.

"gonna let me fuck you proper?"

"please."

his eyes darkened.

"that’s my girl."

he took his time, teasing, dragging his fingers through your slick folds, groaning when he felt how wet you were.

"fuck," he muttered, spreading you open. "s’ all for me?"

"yes, joel—"

"you call me sir when i’m between your legs," he ordered. his hands made quick work of his belt, shoving both his trousers and boxers down just enough to free his cock.

you whimpered. "yes, sir."

he smirked, pressing his cock against your cunt, letting you feel just how thick he was.

"gonna stretch you good," he murmured, pushing in slow.

you gasped, body arching as he filled you, the stretch just shy of too much.

"fuckin’ tight," he groaned, gripping your hips, forcing himself deeper.

"so big," you whimpered, nails dragging down his arms.

he exhaled sharply, rolling his hips, letting you feel every inch.

"yeah," he muttered. "and you’re takin’ it like a good fuckin’ girl."

his hand wrapped around your throat, pressing just enough to make your breath hitch.

"this what you wanted?" he murmured, eyes locked onto yours.

"yes, sir," you gasped.

"gonna fill you up," he muttered, pace picking up, fucking into you hard, deep, every thrust knocking the air from your lungs.

"gonna breed this pretty little cunt," he rasped, his grip tightening.

your body trembled, pleasure curling deep in your stomach.

"please," you whimpered, legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper.

"fuck," joel growled, his pace turning desperate, brutal, his hips slamming into yours.

"gonna make you mine," he muttered. "gonna fuckin’ own you."

and when you came, legs shaking, body clenching around him, he followed right after, burying himself to the hilt, spilling into you with a deep, guttural groan.

he stayed there, breathing heavy, pressing a rough kiss to your jaw.

"you keep pushin’ me, sweetheart," he murmured. "see what happens next time."

and you did.

you kept pushing him.

the next day in class, you acted like nothing happened. like joel miller hadn’t spent the night fucking you into his mattress, his hands wrapped around your throat, his cum dripping down your thighs.

but joel wasn’t stupid.

he saw the way you shifted in your seat, the way your legs pressed together when he walked past, the way you bit your lip when he barked orders at the class.

he saw everything.

"today, we’re practicin’ close-quarters combat," he announced, arms crossed, eyes sweeping the room.

then—

"you."

your head snapped up.

joel motioned you forward.

"since you think you got this all figured out, why don’t you show everyone what you learned?"

you swallowed, heat curling in your stomach at his tone—low, firm, full of unspoken warning.

"yes, sir," you murmured.

a muscle in his jaw twitched.

you knew what you were doing.

he moved first, grabbing your wrist, twisting it with ease, spinning you until your back hit his chest.

his breath was hot against your ear.

"y’think i won’t put you on your knees in front of everyone?" he muttered, low enough that only you could hear.

your breath hitched.

"you wouldn’t."

his grip tightened.

"try me."

later. his cabin.

"you think that was funny?" joel growled, pushing you back against the table.

you smirked. "maybe."

his eyes darkened.

"gonna have to teach you some fuckin’ respect," he muttered, grabbing your waist, flipping you onto your stomach.

you barely had time to brace yourself before his palm came down, sharp and stinging, right against the curve of your ass.

you gasped, body jolting forward from the impact, your fingers curling against the wood.

"count," he ordered, voice low, rough.

"one," you breathed.

another slap. harder.

"two."

his other hand slid up your back, pressing you down, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

"you keep testin’ me," he muttered, kneeling behind you, his mouth hot against the back of your thigh.

his teeth grazed the skin, soothing the sting with his tongue.

"gonna fuckin’ ruin you."

his fingers slid between your thighs, teasing, barely pressing where you needed him most.

"so fuckin’ wet," he muttered, his breath hot against your skin.

you whimpered. "joel—"

his hand came down again, another sharp slap that had your body jolting.

"what’d i tell you?"

"yes, sir," you corrected, voice shaking.

"that’s my girl," he murmured, fingers slipping inside you, slow, deep.

your breath hitched, legs trembling as he fucked you with them, his other hand kneading the soft flesh of your ass.

"gonna take me like this?" he rasped, his cock pressing against you, thick and hard.

"yes, sir," you whimpered, pushing back against him.

he groaned, dragging the head of his cock through your slick folds before pressing in, stretching you open inch by inch.

"jesus," he muttered, gripping your hips, holding you still as he buried himself to the hilt.

you whimpered at the stretch, body clenching around him.

"fuck," joel gritted, pulling back before slamming in again, deep and deliberate.

his pace was slow at first, making you feel every inch, every pulse.

"so fuckin’ tight," he rasped, fingers digging into your hips.

"more," you gasped, body aching for him, needing more.

"greedy fuckin’ girl," he muttered, but he gave it to you.

his thrusts turned rough, hard, every snap of his hips sending a shockwave through your body.

one of his hands tangled in your hair, yanking your head back, his lips brushing your ear.

"gonna fuckin’ fill you up," he growled, his other hand slipping between your legs, rubbing tight circles against your clit.

your legs trembled. pleasure coiled deep in your stomach, white-hot, sharp, consuming.

"c’mon, sweetheart," joel murmured, voice thick. "give it to me."

your body clenched around him, and he groaned, his thrusts turning frantic, sloppy, chasing his own high.

"fuck, baby—"

he shuddered, burying himself deep, spilling into you with a deep, guttural groan.

he stayed there, breathing heavy, pressing kisses along your shoulder, his hands smoothing over your thighs, your waist, your sore ass.

"gonna behave now?" he murmured, voice smug.

you smirked, glancing back at him.

"probably not."

joel exhaled a laugh, shaking his head.

"brat," he muttered, pressing one last kiss to the back of your neck.

joel didn't move right away. his body was heavy against yours, breath still ragged, fingers still splayed over the bruises he'd left on your hips.

he pressed one last kiss to your shoulder before pulling back, watching the way his cum dripped from your sore, swollen cunt.

"fuckin’ messy," he muttered, dragging his fingers through it, pushing it back inside you.

your whole body trembled.

"too much?" he murmured, voice quieter now, rough at the edges.

"no," you whispered, half delirious. "not enough."

joel groaned, running a hand down his face.

"you’re gonna kill me, sweetheart," he muttered.

he pulled you up against his chest, holding you there, big, warm hands soothing over your skin.

"but if you keep actin’ up in my class," he murmured, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear, "i’ll make sure everyone knows exactly who you fuckin’ belong to."

ᖭ༏ᖫ

thank you for reading. reblogs & feedback appreciated.

[fishnapple]

You in their eyes, how do they see you?

(Future spouse/partner/lover)

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

MAELSTROM

• Spirit animal: Turtle

You're a balanced combination of both soft, mysterious energy and firm, assertive energy. They can definitely see that you have mental compatibility with each other. Words flow between you effortlessly, conversations would take hours without anyone noticing time was flying by. They can talk about anything with you without fear of judgement and misunderstanding. You stimulate their mind, and when conflicts arise, you can discuss them logically with clarity without letting emotions take over you. This make problems solving between you and them easier, leaving less space for resentment and unresolved feelings.

You seem reserved and quiet in their eyes. Your display of emotions and affection is subtle and intuitive, a quiet devotion that embraces them every day without suffocating them. Though, sometimes, they would have difficulties in trying to decipher your deeper feelings, to understand you at your core, the part that you conceal from them.

But they admire your ability to embrace your inner child fully. They know that this didn't come naturally for you, there's a journey behind it, lessons and hardship you had to go through in order to protect and bring your inner child to the world, no matter how you're perceived. They love this courage, this fearless attitude when you have to face people's opinions, you don't let yourself be swayed by them. Sometimes, you can even be rebellious. But the funny thing is, the more you fight, the more rebellious you're, the more attractive you're in their eyes. And it's not like you go about it in an aggressive and confrontional method. You do you, unapologetically, like a child unaware of how seemingly "odd" their behaviour is in other's eyes. But they know you're not childish. Behind that oblivious attitude is a strong sense of self, a wise person, ruling their own inner kingdom with iron fists. Like a ballerina, their movements can be so graceful only because they've spent endless hours discipline themselves and practised.

Sometimes, they can think that you're being too engrossed in the pursuit of material achievements, like you're always in preparation mode for some disasters looming in the distant future. Greedy might be too strong of a word, but they can view you as materialistic or have a mindset of lack. They understand that material security is very important to you. You need to feel a strong foundation under your feet to feel safe. That can make you overwork yourself to the point of exhaustion, always looking for the next thing to do. But they can see you putting that same effort in making the relationship work, you care about them and are willing to take care of things to make their life easier. They will feel that you're always there when they need you, your presence is a constant that is very much needed in their life. They would feel empty, a part of them is missing when you're away.

SEA FOAM

• Spirit animal: Fish

They think you're their good karma (if you believe in the concept of karma) or a reward, a surprise given to them by some higher powers. I see the image of someone being ushered into someone's life. Both parties can be quite reluctant at first, but as fate has it, you and them need to be together. There's a heavy element of fatefulness in this connection, or so that's how they see it. You are destined to love each other, no matter how much both of you try to deny or run away from it.

I think you will be the one who does the running away in the beginning. You seem "hard to catch", like trying to catch a fish with their bare hands. You would fleet in and out of their life at first, they can't seem to figure you out. But your presence will be a pushing force in their life, pushing them into a different direction, to where they are afraid to tread but secretly wish to.

In their eyes, you can be a little immature or temperamental, acting on whims of the moment. This makes you exciting and unique but sometimes, also agitating and hard to pin down. It's like they're torn between the feeling of love and frustration for you. Their personality probably is more serious and intense than yours. They want to be in the deep water with their lover, but you seem to refuse to swim there with them. But they will always want to care for you, to protect you from the harsh world outside.

The way you talk and act just exudes a young and pure energy, as of someone who, just for the first time, allowed to go outside to explore. You might talk a lot (compare to them), you ask questions, sometimes funny one, sometimes philosophical one, sometimes silly one. They will like to indulge you, patiently answer each one of your questions, then sometimes they can get irritated and start to lecture you, to that, you will just ask more questions. You want to learn, to understand this world. Behind that seemingly busy bee mind is a yearning to explore, to be free and soaring. And even if they can't fly with you, they sure will gather all the winds to lift your wings, instead of trying to pull you down into their water (who's the fish here?).

Your habits might be a little more messy or undisciplined compared to this person. You seem confused lots of times and don't have a good grasp of how to navigate your daily life efficiently, yet miraculously, you still swim through life effortlessly, much to their amazement. You don't fret too much about the future, somehow always arrive at the desired destination on time, things just work out for you, as if you just need to focus on taking good care of yourself and be contented, the rest will be taken care of for you by some mysterious force. This contrasts sharply with their approach to life, always planning ahead, always wanting to control the outcome. This creates a complementary dynamic between you two. Where you need structure, they provide, where they need spontaneity, you provide. In the end, no matter how different you guys are, you just fit each other neatly, like puzzle pieces.

SANDSTORM

• Spirit animal: Swan

They just know that you're the perfect partner for them, the one they need to get married to or at least make a serious, long-term commitment. You just possess all the qualities they seek in a spouse, the thought of committing probably will appear in their mind early on. You have a natural ability to understand them, nurture and protect them, at the same time, be a reliable pillar of strength for them. You are serious in your commitment, never take feelings for granted, you date with marriage as end goal in mind. They also think you would make a good parent, someone with enough tenderness and discipline to raise children with good balance.

Your work might involve lots of travelling and communicating. They can see that these are prominent parts of your life, demanding a large chunk of your time. They think that you tend to overwork yourself, being too engrossed in working, you're always busy, I wonder if this also means that you don't spend enough time with them, they feel like they have to demand for your time, to take you away from whatever is bothering your mind. Security is very important to you, you need to feel abundant to feel safe, yet they think you hardly ever feel that way, hence the constant working. They will want to help you in this area, just like how you help them. You mirror each other, in energy, in intentions, both of you want to care for each other in the same way as the other person does.

They probably like to hear your voice, be it talking, singing, or making other sounds. It feels soothing and calming for them. What you say also brings a new perspective, widening their view about the world. They sometimes see you as a teacher, whom they should listen to and want to be guided by. You just move through life gracefully, always open to new adventure, but still leave space for contemplating deeper meanings about everything. Like a philosopher wandering through life, observing the world, and sharing wisdom with the people. You need to be constantly in motion, travelling, or just moving around, and they're happy to be your companion, though they might sometimes want to slow down and rest a little.

They think you have a lot to uncover. You hide a huge treasure of deep love inside, something too intense for you to confidently show to the world. They would be sad to see you lock your dreams away, and they are willing to help make your dreams come true, if you would just ask them to. Your inner child is also someone they want to get close to. You seem to be disconnected from your inner child. They can feel that you want to connect, but something in your psyche is scaring your inner child away, making them reluctant to join the "family". From the outside, this makes you look a little cold or unaffectionate, you're discreet with your love, only ever bring it out when you completely trust someone.  They would want to reach out their hands and pull your inner child closer, to give your inner child a hug.

DUSK

• Spirit animal: Phoenix

They think that you being in a relationship with them is be a big step away from your past wounds. Not that they want the credit for themselves, but as an admiration for you, for your strength. They can see that you had a great fear concerning relationship and commitment in general. Maybe you have been burnt in the past, childhood baggage, and the bad examples you saw around you made you wary of love. So choosing to be in a relationship with someone, being committed to that person, trusting that person enough to share yourself with them, all of these are really brave actions in their eyes. It shows that you don't let your past hold you back and define you, you rise above it and are willing to change, to choose happiness for yourself.  Sometimes, they would reminisce about the initial getting-to-know-each-other phase, how many obstacles they saw in your connection, and how hard it was for them to gain your trust and affection. They would even tease you for it.

Your life seems to be ridden with changes of direction. You're not meant to stay still in one place, both mentally and physically. Life will always present you some events to push you to move. You can't stay stagnant, if you think you're contented with the current situation, then sure enough, there would be an event, an opportunity appearing in front of you, making you reevaluate your current direction in life. So life with you definitely won't lack movements and changes. Another thing is, you also actively seek to restructure your life. From small hobbies to big life decisions, you can be pretty random and go with the flow. You would change the plan at the last minute, planning to turn left, then suddenly turn right because something caught your attention that made you change your mind. Or some mornings, you would suddenly announce that you will take up a new hobby, register for a dance class, learning new language etc. without prior warning.

Life with you would be busy, you always have something to do, a task to complete, a news to watch, a track to run, a book to read. It's like they can't never see you being still. Maybe that also made them feel like you were afraid of commitment when they first got to know you. They could feel that you're too busy for love. But of course, that's not true, being a busy bee is just who you are, and over time, they've gotten used to it and adapted to it well. That busy energy also shows itself in the way you talk. Maybe you talk a lot, very fast, always have something witty to say. They love your humour, your ability to look at yourself, and joke without being defensive. The way you express your ideas and emotions is clear and rational but not cold. You know when to offer the softest words of encouragement and when to debate with the sharpest points.

They think you like to beautify yourself, you like beautiful things but at the same time you seem to be reluctant to spend on yourself, almost like you're stingy with yourself. Even if you like something, you might rationalise and deny yourself that thing. You want to earn lots of money yet don't feel comfortable spending it, especially for yourself. They know this trait of yours, so they will try to guess your desire and get it for you. You're not stingy with them or everyone, though, you're likely to pour your resources into the people you love and the house you share with them. You might like to beautify the house instead. Which is where you would like to stay a lot. You can seem like a homebody to them (with all the busy work) but you will have to go out and make an appearance in the world and they know the world loves you.

SIERRA

• Spirit animal: Phoenix

If they were the wind, they would lift your wings up as much as they could. Your person sees so much potential in you, so many talents, yet you're limiting yourself with your fears. You have an enormous desire to learn and expand your mind. But you also fear going deeper. You might be the kind of person who learns various subjects simultaneously, has a good grasp of everything, but doesn't dig too deep into any particular subjects. Not because you're shallow or impatient, it's the opposite, you know that once you've engrossed yourself in something, you go all in, it would get to the core really fast, and this drains your time and energy so much, you're reluctant to dive in. You also know that there will be hidden things inside you that need to be uncovered if you were to go any deeper. But they think you have the strength to do this because they understand, deep down, you're much happier when you devote yourself to something.

And they know you devote yourself to them and the relationship. Once you're in a commitment, you take it seriously, you see your life as an entanglement with each other, not just one's own anymore. In a way, you're a team person, someone who has a talent for working with people. This makes being in a relationship with you so much easier. Because you're willing to cooperate and want to make a team effort to build the relationship strong, instead of demanding from a selfish stance.

But you're not a pushover or a people pleaser in their eyes. Your individuality shines intensely. You have no trouble being yourself, you can't help being yourself. Even if you wear normal clothing like everyone else, blending in quietly, you still somehow stand out to them. Like a visible halo around you is beckoning them. They admire your creative energy so much, if they're ever short of ideas, they can always turn to you to get some. If you want to pursue some creative endeavours, they would probably encourage and support you wholeheartedly. Because they believe in you.

They also love your playful side, which you only show to a few close ones, and only in a comfortable space. You appear much more serious in public than when you're with them in private. When you're home with them, you can be tender, childish but also very seductive, you show yourself fully to them. You can act silly, making jokes all the time with them, being competitive in games, or playing pranks on them. But all of those are saved for alone time together. Outside, to the world, you're more uptight, serious. People also respect you a lot, looking up to you like a teacher. What you say probably are well listened to by people. You appear as a wise, mature friend, whom people can come to for sound advice. Your person would sometimes chuckle quietly to themselves whenever they see you out in public or with acquaintances. Those people wouldn't imagine how you would act in private, imagine their reaction when they found out some of your silly jokes. They definitely think you have the world fooled.

RIVER

• Spirit animal: Lamb

You're a quiet presence that haunts their psyche in an inexplicable way. They sometimes can't understand why they're so drawn to you, they have that feeling in their heart, but they can't put it into word. If someone asks your person how they feel about you, they would stumble a bit and would take a long time to come up with a coherent answer. Don't mistake this for their lack of affection or commitment, they just haven't fully comprehended your effect on them. When they hear the question, in their mind, the image of you would be conjured up in so many different ways and different areas, it's like you're everywhere.

They admire your grace under pressure. Your quietness doesn't mean you're meek or naive. Your energy is pure and wise. The hardship you encountered in the past didn't turn you into a bitter and cold person. On the contrary, you developed compassion for other's suffering. Everyone has their own story and they deserve to tell them without shame. Each pain is traded with wisdom. They probably wish to learn a thing or two from your stoicism. You're here, in the present, you don't put your mind to needless worrying nor do you cling to the past.

You're the person they would always turn to when they need an advice, your words have a stabilising effect on them, you make them believe that everything will be okay in the end, that they're safe and sound. You might not talk a lot, superfluous information doesn't interest you, but each word holds values. You can talk about deep and taboo topics without judgement, fear or prejudice. Your person will also love your voice, it sounds tender and calming, though they may wish that you would talk more so that they can hear your voice more.

They do notice, when they've gotten closer to you, that you tend to hold in your anger, you don't want it to affect other people, but your person will worry that this can affect you negatively. You also hold your drive and ambitions close to your chest, refusing to disclose them to others. You work silently, diligently towards your goals. It's like you don't want to show anything too overt, your emotions, your struggle, your passion, they are kept simmering inside, while outwardly, you show a serene and placid disposition.

In love, you show a more relaxed energy to them, like a child finally out of the house after a heavy rain, enjoying the freshness and the earthy scent of everything. You can act a little more erratic with them than when you're with other people. Maybe they adore that side of you or more tolerate towards it. You can be unpredictable, not showing your cards fully. They sometimes have to guess how much you love them, how you feel about them. They can ask you for your opinion about other matters and receive practical and solid answers from you, but when the questions change to the topic of personal feelings and love, you can be elusive. This frustrates them greatly but also pull them to you greatly. You're like the muse and the poet at the same time. And they're your avid reader.

[redtsundere-writes]

Price's beard is famous around base—a rugged, full, and commanding presence that spoke to both discipline and masculinity. That type of beard that's hard to grow and maintain. And there's his hair. An immaculately cut, effortlessly styled, and somehow looking even better every time he comes back for a mission. Soldiers always pester him to tell them who his barber is, but he always gatekeeps it. He never cracks. It's his best well-kept secret.

After months of deployment, his beard needed a refresh. He knocked on his neighbor's door, a cute hairstylist that does her family and friend's hair on her free time. You opened the door with a huge smile to see Price was back home safe and sound.

“The usual?” You asked, pulling a chair from the kitchen for him to sit in. It was part of the routine. A warm hug after months of not seeing each other, letting him in your house, offer him something to drink, and putting his favorite tunes on the speaker.

“You know it. Just work your magic.” Price trusted you completely, almost blindly. You had been his barber for years now. “How's the family?”

“Pretty good, captain. My lil sister is getting married next week. I'll be doing her hair, such a huge honor.” You placed the cape around his neck, breathing in his intoxicating scent with notes of amber and musk.

“That's wonderful news. You better send my congrats.”

“Will do, captain.”

You prepared your tools—your shears, straight blade, a new leather strap you bought recently. You really like when Price came by, it was the perfect opportunity to use your barber kit and practice with a handsome model. “The usual” was simple. Price was meticulous about his grooming, already keeping his hair in check with the products you’d recommended. It was just cutting the top of his hair, cleaning the edges of his beard and carve out sharp lines that framed that unmistakably strong jaw.

But it wasn’t just the cut that brought him back, he liked the nice chats and to admire how you worked. He loved the way you worked—slow, steady, deliberate. The way your tongue peeked out to focus on the details. The gentle press of your soft fingertips as you tilted his head. Unlike other barbers, you never asked any questions about his work, he didn't like to think about that on his free time. When he sat in your chair, the world outside didn’t exist. It was just the sound of the scissors, the warmth of your presence, and a fleeting sense of home.

“And this dickhead even has the nerve to ask: 'Are we fucking or are we splitting the check?' Like, what the hell?!” You were telling him how your last blind date ended as you cut the sides of his hair, making sure it didn't touch his ears because the tickles bothered him.

“What a fucking pillock!” Price gasped angry.

“That's what I said!” You huffed. “Who is raising these boys? I swear to god, my 8-year-old nephew is more a man than that bastard.”

“I always wondered why are you single, I think I have my answer now,” Price said.

“Look, I may be single, but I ain't desperate. I won't settle for anything less than a gentleman.” You scoffed as you finished the touch ups. “We are all done, handsome.”

You gave Price a mirror. He moved his head around to admire the details of your wonderful, usual, job. He felt like a new, clean man. You looked at him with a bright smile, satisfied with your job.

“I am telling ya, you were born for this,” Price said as you unbuttoned the cape.

“Aw, thanks, captain. You are always so sweet.” You blushed.

“How much do I owe you, luv?” Price pulled up his wallet.

“Oh, c'mon. You know it's always from the house.” You pushed the wallet from your sight, making him to put it back in his pocket.

“You can't be giving away your talent for free,” Price smiled. He liked the attention, but he didn't want to abuse of your kindness. “At least let me tip you.”

“Please, captain. I insist.” You looked at him straight to the eye. Your heart skipped a beat when he looked back at you with those dreamy eyes of him. He finally smiled in defeat.

“Fine, fine.” Price sighed, putting the wallet back in his pocket. “What about I take you out to dinner?”

“Captain, that's not necessary…” You chuckled.

“Not as payment,” Price interrupted you. “As a date. I can give you the real gentleman you want.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, catching you completely off guard. You hadn’t expected that—hadn’t expected him to be so direct, so effortlessly charming. Price took your hand and kissed your knuckles softly, his beard tickling your skin lightly.

You met his gaze, your smile breaking through before you could even think to suppress it. How could you say no? The most handsome client to ever sit in your chair had just asked you out—and you accepted without hesitation.

Masterlist.

[anantaru]

⚝ DAY 4 — BODY WORSHIP

kinktober 2024. — masterlist | ao3

— including. — xiao, heizou

— warnings. — fem! reader, oral (fem! receiving), they're obsessed with you, praising and pussy drunk men

⚝ — XIAO

xiao was never one for indulgence—yet, there he was, on top of you with his lips ghosting over your skin, murmuring ancient mantras underneath his breath.

you gasp, each kiss he pressed upon you was meant to "cleanse", that's what he told you, to purge the lingering traces of darkness that dared to cling to your beautiful being— although as his mouth traveled from your shoulder to the curve of your collarbone, his actions became more than just protective— they became slightly possessive.

xiao could feel your pulse quicken beneath his lips, especially when he lapped all the way down to your warmth but stopped right above your clit and fuck, it only spurred him on to do the next following, as much as sinful notion.

his hands, usually so disciplined, traced the delicate lines of your body with a searing touch as they settle on your thighs so he could leisurely place his head between your thighs.

every inch of you called to him, like a magnet for his affection, and he couldn’t stop, fuck he couldn't— just couldn't stop and seeing your cunt all sopping and wet of your own liquids made it hard to process all of this.

"i need to rid you of this," he whispered and you could swear you saw a slight smirk, in fact, it sounded like an excuse, his lips brushing over your folds as if he was addicted to the feeling, "you deserve to be free from harm."

before you could even moan at the way his words are impacting you, your arousal drips at his tongue and cheeks and leaves a mess for him to clean up. his mouth rotates between kissing your clit before his lips eagerly curve around the sensitive pearl as he sucks and nudges his tongue along the twitching spot.

you were the embodiment of purity in xiao's eyes and he couldn’t help but worship you for it.

it’s divine— your taste, and he licks at you, laps and slurps every droplet of your messy slick until your fingers relentlessly grabbed at his roots as your folds quiver, your hole clenching and fluttering around air.

xiao couldn’t stop. he didn’t want to. you were his sanctuary, and every caress, every kiss, every lick and taste only anchored him further to you.

⚝ — HEIZOU

heizou had always been a playful soul and you loved that about him— next to that, you were his favorite puzzle to solve.

leisurely, his fingers danced over your skin with the kind of dexterity that only a detective could have, exploring every inch with the curiosity of someone eager to learn and most importantly, please.

but it wasn’t an investigation driving him tonight— it was sheer delight.

"mm, what’s this?" he teases and furrows his brows, his lips quirking into a smile as he pressed his leaky tip against your slit, watching you squirm effortlessly under his sensual touch.

for some reason— which was actually pretty obvious as though why he was so good at it, heizou had an unparalleled knack for finding every sensitive spot, every place that made you gasp or sigh, most definitely cry out his name.

the detective adored seeing the way you reacted to him, to his cock nestling in your pussy and pulsing through your walls, wrecking havoc when he moves it in and out, slow at first, then rocks it harder and messier until you couldn’t help but arch your body and grind your hips back into him.

you were his to explore, and oh, he took his time, don't you worry about that one— heizou had no need to rush, he could tease you for hours because you see, you were his canvas, and he would paint you with every stroke of his movements and cum.

"you’re far too fun to resist," he smirks, lips ghosting along your collarbones before he buries his face into your neck, groaning like a mad man when he slowly pulls himself into your warmth so your walls could stroke him, welcome and squeeze at his shaft, twist around him until your liquids collide.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[astrologydray]

The Most Powerful Midheaven Placements for Influence

🔥 1. Scorpio Midheaven – The Powerhouse Icon

💀 The energy: Mysterious, intense, and impossible to ignore.

💥 Why it’s powerful:

• People project fantasies onto you—whether they love or fear you, they can’t look away.

• Pluto rules this Midheaven, meaning you’re destined for transformation—whether that’s reinventing yourself or making an impact that lasts generations.

• Many celebrities with this placement become cultural icons because of their mystique and depth.

⭐ Notable People: SZA, Gwen Stefani, Ariana Grande, John Legend, Zendaya, Drake

👑 2. Leo Midheaven – The Born Star

🎭 The energy: Charismatic, larger than life, effortlessly captivating.

💥 Why it’s powerful:

• You own the spotlight like it was made for you.

• Ruled by the Sun—you naturally shine in entertainment, leadership, or creative industries.

• People admire your confidence and see you as a symbol of success, even before you reach it.

⭐ Notable People: Janet Jackson, Chris Pratt, Tyrese Gibson, Norman Reedus, Jim Carrey, Aretha Franklin

💼 3. Capricorn Midheaven – The Empire Builder

🏆 The energy: Determined, authoritative, the definition of long-term success.

💥 Why it’s powerful:

• You don’t just gain influence—you build a legacy that outlives you.

• Ruled by Saturn, so success might come slower, but once you make it, you STAY there.

• People respect your work ethic and discipline—you set the standard for what’s possible.

⭐ Notable People: Halle Berry, Rihanna, Shakira, Kendall Jenner, Heath Ledger, Melissa McBride

📡 4. Aquarius Midheaven – The Revolutionary Visionary

🚀 The energy: Unpredictable, ahead of your time, a trendsetter.

💥 Why it’s powerful:

• You break the mold—people look to you for the next big thing.

• Ruled by Uranus, so your influence comes from innovation and originality.

• You attract cult followings because people are drawn to your unique mind.

⭐ Notable People: Harry Styles, Shakira, Alicia Keys, will smith, Christina Milian

💎 5. Taurus Midheaven – The Timeless Mogul

💰 The energy: Luxury, stability, and high-value influence.

💥 Why it’s powerful:

• You naturally attract wealth, status, and respect over time.

• Ruled by Venus, meaning your influence is aesthetic, artistic, or financial.

• People trust your taste—whether it’s in beauty, business, or branding.

⭐ Notable People: Blake Lively, Emma Stone, Margot Robbie, Justin Timberlake, Selena Gomez

💥 Power Midheaven Themes:

✔️ Pluto/Scorpio MC = Deep, transformative influence (legacy vibes)

✔️ Sun/Leo MC = Natural fame & charisma

✔️ Saturn/Capricorn MC = Hard-earned respect & long-term power

✔️ Uranus/Aquarius MC = Game-changer, ahead of their time

✔️ Venus/Taurus MC = Beauty, wealth, and timeless appeal

[iris-tarot]

⊹˚₊♡ what makes you so irresistible ♡₊˚⊹

pick-a-card reading

⋆.˚ take a deep breath and close your eyes. look at the above options and pick the image you feel the most drawn towards. scroll down to read your message. if you feel called to more than one image, then maybe there's a message that's meant for you ⋆.˚

⟢˚₊‧♡ about me

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪ˎˊ˗

⋆˚꩜｡ pile I ⋆˚꩜｡

⭑.ᐟ OH MY GOD BABE you've got the energy that makes people question, "do i want to be them or do i want to be WITH them?". like i'm not even being dramatic when i tell you that your energy is so positive and so comforting. you've got this magnetic pull which makes people want to be around you all the time. you're genuine, kind, and you just have this way with people. people are just naturally drawn towards you. you're irresistible because you always go out of your way to make others feel better about themselves. you're a girl's girl. no matter what the situation may be, you're always the hype-girl/boy. you make people feel good about themselves and people just love spending time in your energy. you're the life of the party and you radiate warmth. people can't ignore your presence and your laughter fills the room. you're irresistible because you form deep emotional bonds with people and they feel seen and valued by you. you attract a lot of attention and i wouldn't be surprised if people develop small crushes over you. and by people, i mean A LOT of people.

you effortlessly handle responsibilities and nothing seems too hard for you. there's no such thing as "impossible" for you. YOU GET THE WORK DONE PERIOD. in time of pressure, you flawlessly find solutions and this is such an irresistible fact about you. UGH I'M DRAWN TO YOUR ENERGY BECAUSE HOW DO YOU DO THAT PILE 1 LIKE GIMME YOUR SECRETS PLEASE. you can handle ANYTHING and you're not the type to give up that easily. you're a fighter and you're not going to rest until you're satisfied with your work. no matter how hard things get, you always, and i mean ALWAYS find a way to balance things out. your determination and your focus is what makes you irresistible. you're a great observer and i also see you taking on others' burdens just to see them smile. oh, how precious you are pile 1.

your ability to solve conflicts and bring people together is what makes you so irresistible. people can't help but listen to you. you're just a natural leader, love. people obey you. people want to obey you. you are a guardian to them and you give great advice. your intelligent nature and your responsible personality is what draws people towards you.

what makes you so irresistible is your nurturing capacity. you make people feel at ease and you actually heal their inner child. people feel so safe with you and i see that you're willing to make sacrifices just to see others smile. you have this touch of wisdom and innocence to your energy. you're empathetic and people naturally open up to you. your understanding nature and your empathetic nature is what makes you irresistible. ⭑.ᐟ

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪ˎˊ˗

⋆˚꩜｡ pile II ⋆˚꩜｡

⭑.ᐟ your enthusiasm and your curious nature is what makes you irresistible, my lovely pile 2. your interest to learn and improve yourself makes you irresistible. people love your youthful energy and your adventurous spirit. you make people feel themselves again, you know? your determination to learn and motivate others is what sets you apart. your perspectives and your vision is what makes you so irresistible. people look at you and say, "i wish my mind worked like theirs". you're an inspiration to a lot of people. they love your ability to see the good in bad. your optimistic mindset is appreciated by many. your free spirit and your enthusiasm to learn more is what makes you irresistible.

your discipline and your versatility is what makes you irresistible. your patience and your ability to trust in the process makes people drawn towards you. even though things might not be going too well for you, you never fail to smile and be your joyful self. you make people feel proud about their achievements - no matter how big or small they are - and people love how you make them feel validated and seen. people know that they can trust and rely on you. people tend to put their trust in you very easily and this can say how much of a reliable person you are.

okay now this is the important part of your reading that i have been wanting to talk to you about from the start. during the beginning of your reading, i got a feeling about your family/friends or something related to traditional rules (i hope i'm making sense here). what i'm sensing here is that you have broken the traditional ties of your family and you are living your life the way you want instead of falling under the traditional norms. and guess what? to my surprise, the 10 of pentacles fell out in reverse and my oracle card that talks about issues with family also fell out. you're not the type to let anyone control your life and this is what makes you irresistible. your rebellion, individuality and your challenging nature is what makes you so irresistible. you're not the type to follow the norms - no. you're a rule-breaker. a hot rule-breaker, even. sometimes you might feel out of place and you try to blend in with others, but you know that's not who you are. you have a difficult time finding your calling and i'm seeing that you tend to change your aesthetics a lot.

due to your rebellious nature, i'm seeing that the older generations are not a fan of your style and they do not approve of your personal identity. however, i do see that people will slowly try to understand you and will try to build a good relationship with you.

your emotional maturity and your ability to forgive people and move forward with a greater understanding is what makes you so irresistible. regardless of how badly people have treated you, you still try to maintain a harmonious relationship with them and you try to understand their side of the story. your forgiving nature is what makes you irresistible, my pile 2. ⭑.ᐟ

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪ˎˊ˗

⋆˚꩜｡ pile III ⋆˚꩜｡

⭑.ᐟ OKAY WOW PILE 3 you give me the, "put your faith in me and i will never break your trust" energy. people feel drawn to you because they know that no matter what happens, you will always have their back. you're their saviour. you're their armor. your loyalty and your dependability is what makes you so irresistible. omg i’m not even kidding when i tell you that you give me "soldier" energy. you protect the people you love and you're the type of person who is willing to take a bullet for them. you won't hesitate to stand up for the people you care about and i also see you being an inspiration for others. your advice and your positive energy is what makes you irresistible. you're a spiritual person and you give me this energy where you "guide" people into becoming better. many people depend on you for emotional support.

oh my pile 3, you have this confidence and grace that just PULLS people in. LIKE HOW DO YOU MANAGE TO DO THAT??? you have this prestigious aura and i’m seeing that people of the opposite sex find you irresistible. they want to take a bite of you. they think that you're a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and they just want to win you over. but here's the thing, you don't let their money talk nor their heart win you over. you're aware of their intentions and your self-respect is just ughhhh like damn I WANNA BE YOU. you know your worth and you know that these people are just distractions.

your motivation and your hard working nature is what makes you irresistible. you don't settle for less - AS YOU SHOULDN'T BABE. there's something safe, trustworthy and comforting about you. your energy is just flawless, love. people WANT you.

your ability to understand people's mistakes and their past is what makes you irresistible. the way you help people move on while also healing your wounds is what makes you so so damn beautiful, my love. you're vulnerable when you need to be and you're not afraid to show your weakness to the ones you love. your raw feelings and your emotional depth is what sets you apart. and the fact that you embrace people's flaws is just beautiful. you accept people for who they are and your non-judgemental nature is what makes you irresistible.

i wouldn't be surprised if many people ask you out or if they will ask you out soon because can you even blame them? you're such a beautiful person inside out and people can't help but fall in love with you. your ability to love - let it be romantic or platonic - is what makes you irresistible. pile 3, you're not afraid to show your love. many people view it as a weakness but you my love, you don't. you believe that love is the strongest form of emotion one can possess and that's what makes you irresistible. and when you love, you love with your entire heart.

i'm also seeing that you're physically alluring. like you are the standard babe. people can't take their eyes off you. your dedication to keep yourself healthy and fit is what makes you so irresistible because it takes a lot of willpower and dedication to be so committed. (this can also apply for your emotional well-being as well).

the fact that you'll not hesitate to sacrifice a part of yourself for the betterment of others is what makes you so irresistible. you're the type to put aside your own needs for the sake of others. you care more about others than yourself and people can't help but feel drawn to your energy. but please be careful, there might be some people who will try to take advantage of your caring nature. ⭑.ᐟ

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪ˎˊ˗

⭑.ᐟ hello, thank you so much for making it till the end and i hope you could resonate with my reading. i would really appreciate it if you could like and reblog my post as it would mean a lot to me!! i'd love to hear which pile you picked and what resonated with you. take care and i hope you have a lovely day/night -`♡´-

ˎˊ˗ full credit for the images and dividers goes to their original creators and rightful owners.

[beloveds-embrace]

rugby player Simon and his pretty little balerina partner. Thats it. Thats whats currently plaquing my mind

Now that you’ve said it I’m thinking about them too because YES 😩 i tried a more headcanony style for this, really had no idea what to write as a drabble

• You first met Simon “Ghost” Riley during an injury rehab session. He’s there nursing a rough tackle, while you’re recovering from an overworked ankle. Despite his intimidating size and silence, he notices how gracefully you move even while stretching, and you can’t help but admire his sheer size even if he’s making the nurses nervous.

• Ghost is, honest to god, shy about approaching you at first; why would delicate, lovely you want someone of his type and build to approach you? But he still gets roped into conversation when you tease him for struggling with a basic stretching exercise. “I’m built for smashing into blokes, not folding like you do.” he grumbles, but he doesn’t sound truly bothered. You are sure you can even hear the amusement. And this is how you end up exchanging number and texting, until he finally asky you out on a proper date.

• He’s genuinely amazed at your discipline and talent, often catching himself zoning out while watching you rehearse. You tease him for staring, but he’s truky awestruck by how effortlessly you glide across the floor, almost looking weightless.

• You love watching him play rugby. Seeing him control the field with raw strength and precision is hot. You start attending his matches, cheering louder than anyone else when he tackles an opponent or scores. His favorite cheerleader- his best girl <3

• Ghost introduces you to his gym routines, and you try (unsuccessfully) to keep up with his weightlifting. You love the view of his muscles flexing, though, and you don’t try to hide it. You also love sitting on his back while he does pushups, giving him a kiss ever so often in encouragement.

• In return, you teach him some basic ballet moves to improve his agility to help him. The image of this massive, intimidating man attempting pliés is hilarious, but he’s surprisingly nimble. “Don’t tell the lads, yeah, doll?” he huffs, though his amusement is clear and it has you giggling.

• Simon loves how tiny you feel when he wraps his arms around you. After games, he picks you up effortlessly, spinning you around as you laugh and lean down to kiss him much to the whistles and hoots of his teammates. Neither of you care anyways.

• After a game, he’s all adrenaline and intensity, body taut. You tease him by saying, “Don’t you dare bring that sweaty self near me, Simon Riley.” but he pulls you into a heated kiss anyway, pinning you gently against a wall in the hallways of the stadium.

• He loves when you practice in front of him wearing your ballet leotard. The combination of your grace and your form-fitting outfit gets his heart and more racing, though he keeps his composure… mostly.

• Simon is also your biggest cheerleader during your performances, sitting in the front row with a bouquet of flowers that looks comically small in his massive hands. He always looks proud, even if he doesn’t say much. And he absolutely glares or shushes anyone who is causing a ruckus and taking the spotlight off you.

• He joins you most of the time in the backstages, and when you’re feeling nervous before a performance, he cups your face in his big, warm hands and whispers, “You’re the most talented person in the room. Show ‘em who you are.”

• You return the favor by helping him relax before games. You massage his shoulders and give him little pep talks, which he pretends not to need but secretly loves. Sometimes of them are even recorded on his phone for the very rare occasions you can’t make it to his games.

• Said it before but I’ll say it again: you love how his body feels next to yours- rugby has made him all broad shoulders and powerful muscles, and he loves how delicate your hands feel running over his skin. Likewise, he loves caressing your skin and rubbing creams and ointments to your aching feet muscles.

• He calls you “Twinkle Toes” which sounds sarcastic at first but is said with so much affection that it melts your heart.

• You call him “Big Softie” because, despite his tough exterior, he’s the sweetest with you. He pretends to hate it, but he secretly loves when you use it in private. Had a stupid smile on his face when saw it was how you had your contact for him saved.

[darklilithian]

midheaven.

─ ཐི ⋅ ♰ ⋅ ཋྀ ─

the midheaven represents one's career, legacy, and public image. it also showcases details towards our achievements, the persona we withhold, and the type of careers we often find ourselves drawn to. it's located in the tenth house cusp which highlights core themes that are related to hard work, discipline, and challenges. it is directly opposite from the imum coeli which represents how one's desires or needs appears to be within their private home and domestic life.

⁺₊ ʚ aries

native is known for their pioneering spirit within the public eye as they are a natural-born leader with a strong ambition to accomplish their goals. independence is something that comes naturally to them and they prefer to work alone on their own accord at a quick pace. they may not be receptive towards having to receive orders from others, which could cause conflict within the workforce if they work with other people. they can be competitive individuals with an intense desire to succeed and are able to adapt to their work at a resilient pace due to their strong work ethic. they are easily able to possess a natural authoritative nature that can grant them multiple opportunities to rise towards higher positions in their career and even lead one of their own. it's important that these natives take upon leadership roles that will fuel growth in their career and inspire others in some way. they are likely to thrive in a career that ignite a deep passion and encourage them to take charge as their own individual boss.

⁺₊ ʚ taurus

native is known for their hard work within the public eye as they are persistent to achieve their goals. for them, through their work to enjoy the finer things life has to offer. they are drawn towards work that inspires their creativity and fulfills their pleasure towards luxury and beauty. they are likely to have a steady, slow approach towards building a career. they are very determined to succeed but may also be susceptible towards burnout or laziness if they are not motivated. with a refined taste for aesthetics, they relish partaking in work that inspires them to use their knack of knowledge related to art and beauty where they can showcase it to others. they can create and maintain a sufficient amount of income through various creative ways, including those that does not require much effort to do so. it's important that these natives create foundations that offers them a strong, evergrowing flow of income that'll provide security in their life. they are likely to thrive in a career that offers them stability and long-term financial growth that are able to last for future generations.

⁺₊ ʚ gemini

native is known for their excelled communication within the public eye as they are very skilled at expressing their own thoughts and ideas with others. their effective social skills allows them to effortlessly network and connect with other people. they easily cultivate strong connections that can be of great benefit to them in the long run and have a quick wit that grants them the ability to solve complex problems with very unique solutions. they enjoy being mentally stimulated with work that requires them to think outside of the box and are likely to delve into a series of research that grants them more knowledge. they are quite curious and enjoy learning new things that challenges them to further expand on their own intellect. if there is too much unfocused energy, there could be a sense of indecisiveness within their career. it's important that they take any distracted energies they may withold and transfer them into productive projects that will provide them prosperity with their work. they are likely to thrive in a career that encourages them to showcase their intellective and creative ideas or concepts with other people.

⁺₊ ʚ cancer

native is known for their empathetic approach within the public eye as they are intuitive and can easily pick up on the emotions of those whom are in their environments. they are protective over the people they care about and are likely to keep their home or private life hidden from the spotlight. if underdeveloped, they can come off as overly controlling or possessive towards their loved ones. they desire emotional fulfillment within their work, which can definitely be lead as the driving force in their career. there is an emphasis on how emotions and stability is a staple piece for how they decide to show up in their work. they may have experienced hidden anxiety due to an overwhelming pressure when it comes to taking on far more than they can handle. their compassion can become their demise if there's failure to check in every now and then on their own well-being. it's important that these natives feel emotionally safe when it comes to their work. they are likely to thrive in a career where they can use their empathy and intuition to contribute to those in need.

⁺₊ ʚ leo

native is known for their confidence within the public eye as they inspire others with their work. they are deeply ambitious with a willingness to put in much work to become successful in their careers. they are clever and inventive with the way they create their work, which often captures many people's attention. they don't often shy away from challenges that are presented to them and face them instead with true courage. their commitment is one of their greatest advantages that lets them overcome hurdles, which also inspires people to do the same as well. there could be one-sided competition from competitors who are jealous towards the amount of positive attention they receive from others. too much self-indulgence could also occur if they happen to become overly obsessive with having the spotlight. it's important that these natives maintain a balance between their desire to be recognized and their desire to fully express themselves in creative ways that showcases their truest self. they are likely to thrive in a career that allows them to incorporate inventive concepts into their creative pursuits that is able to inspire the masses.

⁺₊ ʚ virgo

native is known for their diligence within the public eye as they acquire a keen attention to details that can be used to solve complex problems. they are very committed towards their work and put in a lot of effort to perfect them. they are extremely intelligent and enjoy learning new things can be applied, especially if it can help improve the lives of others. they are likely to create methodical steps that allows them to pursue their goals in an efficient way, and their practical and analytical approach allows them to maintain a steady focus on their tasks with no distraction. their hard work can lead to them mastering their career and obtaining achievements in the long term through determined efforts. perfectionism can result in over-criticism towards themselves and their work, which can deter their focus from accomplishing goals at a sufficient pace. it's important that these natives understand that perfection is not necessary when it comes their work, true authenticity is what makes art complete. they are likely to thive in a career that require them to use their logic and critical thinking to help people improve in their own lives.

⁺₊ ʚ libra

native is known for their diplomacy within the public eye as they seek to maintain fairness amongst people. they are a diplomat who likes to immerse themselves in the different viewpoints and perspectives that people have because it allows them to gain a broader comprehension of the way others think. their capacity to understand differed opinions and beliefs of others makes it easy for them to bring groups of people together, which can be a great source of healing for many. being surrounded by aesthetics that are pleasing to the eye could inspire them to delve into innovative ideas where they make art of their own. their sociable nature can come with some negative effects, potential people pleasing tendencies could result in them being taken advantage of by those with negative intentions. they need to ensure there's a steady balance between their desire to connect with others while making sure they do not fall victim. it's important that these natives utilize their natural charm and social skills to create art amongst bringing people together. they are likely to thrive in a career that encourages them to delve into the creative arts or maintain harmony amongst the collective.

⁺₊ ʚ scorpio

native is known for their transformation within the public eye as they've faced much changes that have showed drastic impacts in their career. they are a mysterious enigma who's quite secretive when it comes to discussing their private life that goes on behind the scenes. they are independent and could care less for authority or being told what to do. they're either extremely loved or hated by people, and many strong opinions can be based off of their mere existence alone. they feel most alive when they're chasing after goals that grants them some kind of profound transformation in their own life. passion runs in their veins and these individuals will stop at nothing to achieve their desires. although their intense drive can be of great benefit to them, it can also lead to excessive burnout once they finally master whatever they were chasing after to begin with. it's important that these natives partake in work that inspires them to undergo deep metamorphosis related to the complex aspects that human existence has to offer. they are likely to thrive in a career that involves death, transformation, and uncovering utmost dark hidden truths.

⁺₊ ʚ sagittarius

native is known for their expansiveness within the public eye, as they crave gaining knowledge that they are able to share with others. they are very optimistic and withold enthusiasm towards learning more about the world around them. their versatility can provide them with multiple opportunities to cultivate significant success in their career. they often seek much adventure and building connections with people from different cultures. they become dissatisfied if they are in an environment that attempts to restrict their ability to explore or learn from a fresh perspective. they are easily adaptable to situations or spaces that are new to them due to their easily acceptable nature and can meet many people they are able to become closer with over time. their versatility can lead to many triumphs in their careers, but it can also lead to having no particular aim when it comes to finding the right path to pursue. it's important that these natives acquire the wisdom that they've gained through their experiences to educate or even enlighten people who can learn from their information. they are likely to thrive in a career that grants them with the freedom to travel and expand their perspectives about the world where they could share with others and teach them.

⁺₊ ʚ capricorn

native is known for their ambition within the public eye, as they are resilient towards achieving long-term goals. logic, discipline, and structure are potent themes when it relates towards the way they decide to approach their work. their strong ethic makes them very notable individuals who are often acknowledged for their accomplishments due to their precise dedication. they undergo significant growth through their career that can drastically reflect their career status or reputation from the collective. they are competitve and are able to find much strength in powering through challenges or roadblocks they face with courage. taking on a series of different responsibilities comes to them easily because they like to feel a deep sense of responsibility when it comes to their work. although their immense drive can provide much success in their career, it can lead to much losses as well in their connections if they isolate themselves or neglect their loved ones. it's important that these natives establishes a strong sense of duty within their work and become a leader. they are likely to thrive in a career that values discipline and practicality which provides them with long-term success.

⁺₊ ʚ aquarius

native is known for their innovative nature within the public eye, as they showcase groundbreaking ideas that changes the world. they are very innovative and often create unique original ideas that challenges the status quo. the traditional path is not one that they're quite fond of, instead they aspire to create their own that truly aligns within their desires. they are good at problem-solving in a way that may require them to think outside of the box and create fresh, eccentric ideas. people usually find themselves inspired by them due to their distinctive nature when it comes to the way they show up in their work. their originality brings great benefits, but it also brings quite some challenges as well. for instance, they may not mesh well with authority due to clashes when it comes to traditions that challenges their nonconformist beliefs. it's important that these natives challenge progressive concepts that inspires the collective to think on a newfound level. they are likely to thrive in a career that supports originality and making a change or impact in the world in a significant way.

⁺₊ ʚ pisces

native is known for their creativity within the public eye, as they have quite a dreamy-like essence that can be used to tap into their work. they are very imaginative and enjoy the concept of using art to express themselves in a mystical way enchants others. they are compassionate and can be drawn towards fields where they are able to use their intuition to help others in need. they prefer to work alone and on their own time that they desire to do so. they either work at an irregular pace or if they're truly passionate, do so with more efficiency due to having more focus on their work. they are likely to undergo various shifts in their career that changes and reflects their self-growth on a deep transformative level. if they are distracted, they may have a harder time adjusting to a career that fits best for them and can spend quite some time looking for the right fit. it's important that these natives hone their intuitive skills to partake in work which uplifts and services others. they are likely to thrive in a career in which they can express their creativity and positively affect others.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Getting caught while checking Sanemi out

„Well…y’know…I…“

Fuck. You stumble over your own words like an idiot. But that view…Your eyes are literally glued to his exposed chest, how his muscle strands move with each and every minor movement of his arms. Of course, entering the elite troop of the demon slayer corps meant surrounding yourself with fit people. After all, it’s a fact that they are very disciplined, training day in and out just like you did those past months.

But the sight of the wind hashira sitting in front of you, his exposed chest so well-lit by the moonlight while his arm rests on his lap so casually. Fuck, this man is way too attractive.

“Stop staring at me like that, idiot”, the wind hashira barks at you.

Fuck. You feel your cheeks heating up in an instant, eyes now focused on the dirt underneath your feet. If there’s one thing that’s worse than staring at someone so shamelessly, it’s getting caught by that exact person. Damn, you’re a grown woman, you’ve seen countless men when fighting for the demon slayer corps. Why did you get so distracted by him?

“I-I’m so s-sorry”, you stutter like the idiot you are.

“I-I didn’t m-mean to-“

“She was just checking you out”, the serpent hashira interferes with his voice dripping in boredom.

“Why would you check me out, brat?”

“I-I didn’t mean to!”

“Get lost now…”, Sanemi mumbles while turning his back on you.

“Oh…yeah…I-I should get going.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. In the matter of seconds you’re gone in the wind with only your scent remaining in the air as a proof of your existence.

“What do you think about (y/n)? I heard she’s quite a good combat fighter”, Obanai comments dryly while staring into the woods.

Urgh. Sanemi hates to even think about the way you made fighting look so effortlessly and how perfect your hair frames your gorgeous face. Always watching you from afar, not even daring to show himself to your eyes. Did you really just check him out just because of his loose-fitting uniform? There’s no way you’d actually choose him out of all people. Haven’t you seen Tengen, Gyomei, even Giyu? Compared to them, he’s definitely nothing special.

And maybe even a little mean.

“So what? She’ll die like the others.”

“Irritated because she was checking you out?”

“Stop talking bullshit, she wasn’t even looking my way”, Sanemi barks at the man sitting next to him in an instant.

“Why are you blushing, then?”

Him, blushing? Out of instinct, Sanemi smacks his already hot cheek. Why the hell does he feel so hot now? Just because you looked his way? Just because your eyes darkened when you gazed at his chest, leaving you so flustered that he didn’t know how to act?

Fuck. Just thinking about the way you blushed and tried to stutter your way out while looking at him with doe eyes…

“I’m literally seeing you fall.”

“You start sounding like Kanroji-“

“Don’t dare to drag her into this”, Obanai hisses through gritted teeth.

[astrolook]

Is Your Dominant Planet Helping or Sabotaging You?

Ever feel like one planet in your chart is completely running your life? Like, no matter what, you always default to a certain way of thinking, reacting, or making the same questionable decisions? That’s your dominant planet at work. But is it making your life easier… or way harder than it needs to be? Let’s break it down.

How to Tell Which Planet is Dominant in Your Chart

Your dominant planet isn’t necessarily your Sun, Moon, or Rising—it’s the one with the most influence over your personality, choices, and bad habits. Some signs it’s the boss of your chart:

It’s in its home sign (like Venus in Libra or Mars in Aries) or exalted (like Moon in Taurus).

It has the most aspects (connections) to other planets.

It sits in a major house, like the 1st (identity), 10th (career), or 7th (relationships).

It rules your Sun, Moon, AND Rising (triple threat).

It’s the only planet of a certain element (Fire, Earth, Air, Water) in your chart.

If you have two or more dominant planets, congrats—you’re a complicated mess with conflicting instincts (but at least you’re interesting). You're like a cosmic onion.

Your Dominant Planet: The Good, The Bad, & The Ridiculous

☀️ Sun Dominant – The Main Character

Natural confidence—people notice you whether you want them to or not.

Charismatic and great at leading (or at least pretending to know what you’re doing).

Magnetic presence—people either admire you or feel deeply threatened.

Cannot handle being ignored for even five minutes.

Takes everything way too personally (the group chat going silent is not about you).

Life is one big performance, even when no one’s watching.

🌙 Moon Dominant – The Walking Emotional Rollercoaster

Emotionally intuitive—you just know when someone’s lying.

People trust you instantly (whether you wanted that responsibility or not).

Deeply caring—probably the “mom friend” of the group.

Gets attached too fast—if someone is nice to you once, they’re basically family.

Mood swings for absolutely no reason (and good luck explaining them).

Overthinks texts, social interactions, and why the barista looked at you weird.

🪐 Saturn Dominant – The Workaholic Who Can’t Relax

Disciplined and reliable—if you say you’ll do something, it gets done.

People respect you because you actually have your life together (or seem like you do).

Ages like fine wine—born a stressed-out child, but gets way cooler with time.

Takes responsibility for everything, even things that are not your problem.

Permanent resting serious face—people assume you’re judging them.

🔥 Mars Dominant – The Human Energy Drink

High-energy.

Assertive—you go after what you want and get it.

Quick reflexes—probably great at sports, fighting, or avoiding responsibilities.

Zero patience—slow walkers and buffering videos are your worst nightmare.

Occasional anger issues (“I’M NOT MAD, YOU’RE JUST WRONG”).

Thinks first, acts later… if at all.

🌿 Venus Dominant – The Flirt Who Gets Away with Everything

Naturally charming—people are drawn to you without knowing why.

Always looks effortlessly put together (even when you’re a mess inside).

Romantic AF—you love love.

Indecisive as hell—picking a restaurant is a 3-hour ordeal.

Can’t say no—people-pleasing is your toxic trait.

Might have a tiny shopping addiction (but hey, self-care).

☁️ Mercury Dominant – The Fast-Talker & Overthinker

Sharp, witty, and always has a comeback (even when you should probably keep quiet).

Absorbs information like a sponge—trivia night MVP.

Can talk to literally anyone about anything.

Mind never shuts up—sleep is a myth.

Either replies to texts instantly… or in three months, no in-between.

Talks way too fast—people need subtitles.

🌎 Jupiter Dominant – The Chaotic Optimist

Lucky AF—things somehow work out for you.

Big personality, big dreams, big everything.

Loves adventure—you’re always down for something wild.

Overestimates how much time, money, and luck you actually have.

Can’t resist saying yes to everything—major FOMO energy.

No impulse control—“Let’s book a trip right now.”

🔮 Neptune Dominant – The Daydreamer Who Might Be on Another Planet

Insanely creative—your imagination is unreal.

People find you mystical and intriguing (even when you’re just zoning out).

Deeply intuitive—you just know things before they happen.

Time management is a joke—was that 5 minutes or 5 hours? Who knows.

Has full-on fantasies about things that will never happen (but what if they did?).

Trusts people too easily (no, they will not "change" for you).

🖤 Pluto Dominant – The Intensity Overlord

Unshakable—life could crumble around you and you’d be fine.

Magnetic energy—people either worship or fear you.

Always transforming—rises from the ashes like a badass phoenix.

Suspicious of everyone (and usually right).

Constantly going through some kind of crisis.

Low-key enjoys dark, broody thoughts for fun.

So… Is Your Dominant Planet Helping or Sabotaging You?

Either way, you’re stuck with it. But the more you understand it, the more you can work with it instead of letting it run your life.

Want a full breakdown of your dominant planet & how it’s shaping your life? DM me with your birth details & email for a complete astrology reading! Look at my pinned post for pricing. 🔮✨

[tsuyalovebot]

just thought of something.

you and caleb going to adopt a fur baby.

initially, the plan was to get a puppy. caleb doesn't question why you wanted a puppy; in actuality, it's because you fear he would never be able to handle a cat with his personality.

he was luminous the way the sun would spill pale light through sheer curtains, bleeding through the night that once occupied the solemn space. what about that would be compatible with cats?

yet, you leave the shelter with two kittens, one with black fur and the other a calico. much to your surprise, caleb's absolutely smitten with his choices. when you get back to his place in skyhaven, he's practically a golden retriever as the cats acquaint themselves with the layout of his home.

he has to be patient for the next few days, and it breaks his heart that they seem wary of him. the slightly larger kitten seems to hiss when he pets them for too long, or when he approaches the other smaller, frailer one, despite the latter's slowly growing fondness of him.

you're cutting up apple slices when caleb tells you, "they're just like us."

"what?"

when you turn, he's already gazing at you with that stupid look in his eyes again. like you're everything he's ever wanted and all he's been searching for. so annoying.

"he's protectin' her, silly. like how i protected you as kids. but cat form."

"well, yeah. who wouldn't be scared of your gargantuan ass?"

"garga–what?" he squawks, whatever sweet moment you were having instantly broken. humor settles in his irises before he's moving to push the knife from your hands. effortlessly squatting, the apples are forgotten the instant you're thrown over his shoulder like a sack of rice.

the loud smacks of your hands colliding with his back echo with your pops of laughter. "caleb! put me down!"

"nah. seems i got a cat that needs to be disciplined," he teases, palms holding the backs of your legs with one squeezing your thigh. a grin etched into his voice.

he's already carrying you off to the bedroom, the kittens in the living room watching with confusion.

"and you need to be neutered!" is the last shriek you manage to get out before the bedroom door clicks shut behind you both.

[helvegen-s]

a calculated risk

an Oscar Piastri one-shot

Summary: Oscar Piastri's disciplined world spins off-axis when he meets Elena Sainz. The catch? She's Carlos Sainz's sister. Their intense connection sparks a forbidden romance, pushing them into a reckless game of secrecy and desire. When the truth explodes, will their love survive the fallout?

Word count: 12k (i tried, i really tried to make it shorter...)

Warnings: explicit sexual content, strong language, alcohol

A/N: what. the fuck. was. today's race. do not talk to me about it, do not mention it. this year's season starts the 23rd of march in china. australia never happened.

masterlist

Oscar Piastri had learned to tune out the noise.

The Formula 1 paddock was controlled chaos, a symphony of roaring engines, overlapping conversations, and orders shouted through radios. But none of it fazed him. He moved through the garages and meetings with the same methodical calm he carried into every corner on track. His world was simple: improve, win, move forward.

And then she arrived.

Elena Sainz stepped into the paddock at the start of the 2024 season as if she had always belonged there—walking with quiet confidence, wearing a look he knew all too well. Because it was the same one Carlos gave him just before a race. He had seen her before, of course. There were photos of her on Sainz’s social media, Instagram stories of them cycling, on a yacht, at the family estate. But until that moment, he had never really paid attention.

The problem was, now he couldn’t stop.

The first time he saw her in her new role was at the pre-season press conference in Bahrain. She stood beside Carlos, wearing a striking red Ferrari dress, arms crossed, expression neutral as she listened to reporters fire off their questions. She didn’t force a smile, didn’t try to seem approachable. She was just there—assessing, calculating. Watching them all. Watching him.

Oscar kept his composure, as always. But when their eyes met, a sharp jolt of electricity ran down his spine.

Later, he made the comment without thinking too much about it.

"Since when do you have a personal assistant?"

Carlos, scrolling through something on his phone, didn’t even look up.

"She’s not my assistant."

"Oh, right, my bad." Oscar rolled his eyes with exaggerated dramatics. "What’s the correct term now? Trusted advisor?"

"Manager."

The voice wasn’t Carlos’.

Oscar turned just in time to see her approaching at a measured pace. Elena Sainz stopped beside them, offering him a half-smile that was anything but friendly.

"Elena Sainz, by the way." She extended her hand effortlessly. "But if you need to call me something else, I can give you a few suggestions."

It took Oscar a second to react before he shook her hand. Her skin was cold from the water bottle she held in the other, but her grip was firm. Confident. Irritatingly confident.

"How generous."

"They say it’s one of my best qualities." Elena tilted her head slightly, her expression composed but with a glint of amusement in her eyes. "That, and my ability to stay one step ahead."

Carlos clicked his tongue, clearly entertained.

"Give it a month, Piastri. Once you see how she works, you’ll be terrified."

"Oh, I already know." Oscar let go of Elena’s hand with practiced ease, as if he had felt absolutely nothing. As if his brain wasn’t still processing the intensity of her gaze. "I’m just surprised she didn’t put ‘master strategist’ on her business card."

Elena leaned against the table and shrugged.

"I figured ‘Carlos Sainz’s manager’ was enough to make it clear what I’m made of."

Oscar held her gaze a second longer than he should have.

Carlos cleared his throat.

"Alright, children. I’d rather not have my own manager fired on her first day."

Elena let out a quiet laugh before straightening up.

"Don’t worry, Carlos. I can handle it."

She met Oscar’s eyes once more before turning away, walking off with the same confidence she had arrived with.

Oscar exhaled through his nose and looked back at Carlos.

"I don’t like her."

Carlos smirked over the rim of his water bottle.

"Sure you don’t."

Oscar took a slow sip of his own drink, watching Elena’s figure on the other side of the room.

The problem was, he also couldn’t stop looking at her.

Oscar thought it would pass.

That the irritation Elena Sainz stirred in him would fade with time, like the foam on a beer after a toast. That her presence in the paddock would blend into the background, just another familiar face in a sea of them.

He was wrong.

Elena wasn’t like the other newcomers to Formula 1—the ones who arrived tentatively, trying to fit into the finely tuned machinery of a team. No. She was already fitted in. She already belonged.

The worst part was, she knew it.

Oscar saw it in the way she moved through the Ferrari garage, in how effortlessly she spoke to engineers, mechanics, and executives. In how Carlos barely had to glance at her for her to know exactly what he needed.

But most of all, he saw it in the way she looked at him.

It was a game. And he wasn’t sure when, exactly, it had started.

Maybe it was in Jeddah, when they crossed paths in a narrow hallway and she slipped past him with a barely audible whisper:

"Do you always walk that stiffly, or is it just when I’m around?"

Or in Melbourne, when he passed by the hospitality area and saw her leaning against a railing, sipping coffee with infuriating ease. When their eyes met, she raised an eyebrow and mused, just loud enough over the ambient noise:

"You don’t seem like a coffee person. I’d say hot chocolate. With marshmallows, maybe?"

Oscar frowned, not understanding why that threw him off so much.

Or perhaps it was in Japan, at one of those post-race parties where the noise and lights made everything feel a little more unreal. She was on the other side of the room, laughing at something someone had said, and then—without warning—she looked right at him. Champagne glass in hand, wearing that enigmatic half-smile that made him want to cut through the crowd just to see if, up close, she would smile at him the same way.

It was subtle. Insidious.

And Oscar was losing.

Because for every comment she made, he had a response ready on the tip of his tongue. Because every time she looked at him with that glint of mischief, he found himself searching for her in a room, waiting to see how long it would take for her to provoke him again.

Because, no matter how much he denied it, he loved the damn game.

Then came China.

It was no secret that Ferrari and McLaren were locked in a tight battle in the championship. Carlos, Leclerc, and Lando were fighting for points race after race, and Oscar, of course, was right in the middle of it all.

The weekend had been tense. During the press conference, Oscar tossed a casual remark at Carlos as they settled into their seats.

"Careful tomorrow, Sainz. I’d hate to see you in a wall just for the sake of tradition."

Carlos rolled his eyes, but it was the quiet laugh to his right that really caught his attention.

Elena stood with her arms crossed, expression neutral but with that glint in her eyes. As Oscar walked past her after the interviews, she glanced sideways at him.

Elena tilted her head, somewhere between amused and analytical.

"Interesting. I wonder if your confidence is real, or if you’re just used to faking it."

Oscar didn’t blink.

"I wonder the same about you."

Elena smiled, making no effort to deny anything.

"I suppose we’ll both find out."

Oscar held her gaze a moment longer before letting out a quiet laugh.

"I hope you won’t be disappointed by mine."

"I hope the same." She shrugged before turning on her heel. "Though, if I am… I’ll be sure to let you know."

And with that, she walked away.

Oscar exhaled, realizing too late that he had been holding his breath.

He was definitely losing.

This year, Miami had a different kind of energy.

Maybe it was the atmosphere—the sticky heat creeping under clothes, the constant mix of music and engines in the air. Maybe it was the tension in the championship, the ever-tightening battle, the sense that every race mattered more than the last.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was her.

Elena had been at every Grand Prix since the season started. But this weekend, for some reason, her presence felt heavier.

And then came Saturday night.

And the elevator.

The entire hotel was asleep.

Miami was a city of excess, of bright lights and incessant noise, but at that moment, inside the luxury skyscraper, everything was calm.

The only signs of life were a couple of employees walking silently down the hallways, and the two of them, waiting for the elevator in the lobby.

Oscar couldn't sleep. He had spent the last hour wandering around the hotel, without any particular destination, hoping that fatigue would hit him suddenly and send him to bed. It didn't work.

Elena, on the other hand, had just closed her laptop after losing track of time at the bar, going over a couple of public relations matters for Carlos. The glass of wine she’d been sipping on was still evident in the slight flush on her cheeks and the languid way she held her purse.

Neither of them said anything when they saw each other.

The tension from the past few weeks still hung in the air, like a storm that never quite broke. Oscar gave her a brief nod, and she did the same, but the silence between them felt heavier than usual.

The elevator was taking too long.

Oscar couldn’t help but glance sideways at Elena, noticing the subtle movement of her fingers on the strap of her purse. Impatient.

“Working late?” he finally asked, his voice low, just to fill the void.

She turned her head slightly, sizing him up before responding.

“Not everyone has the luxury of walking around the hotel when they can’t sleep.”

Oscar gave a wry smile.

“Yeah, well. Not everyone has the need to manage their brother’s public image every weekend.”

Elena squinted at him.

“It’s an easier job than you think.”

“Of course. Carlos never says anything out of line, never stirs controversy, never gets into trouble.”

“Exactly.”

Oscar let out a brief laugh through his nose, but the sound quickly died when the elevator finally arrived, its doors opening with a soft “ding.”

They stepped inside together.

The doors closed. The elevator shut with a soft click and began to move as normal.

Oscar leaned his back against the padded wall and let his head fall back, exhaling slowly. Elena did the same in front of him, though with more grace. She held her purse with both hands in front of her, as if she needed something to hold onto.

The silence was so thick that the faint hum of the elevator’s motor seemed deafening.

Oscar felt the weight of the day accumulating on his shoulders, in his breathing. He wasn’t sure why insomnia was worse tonight, why his body refused to rest. Or rather, he knew why, but he wasn’t in the mood to admit it. Not when the reason was standing right in front of him.

Suddenly, the elevator stopped abruptly.

There was no jolt, no harsh shake, just a sharp stop, accompanied by a momentary blackout in the control buttons.

 Elena straightened immediately.

“What the hell...?”

Oscar looked at the panel, hoping the light for the floor they were heading to would turn back on. It didn’t.

He didn’t feel the elevator moving again either.

Elena pressed a button. Then another. Then several, more insistently.

Nothing.

She turned her head toward Oscar, and he could see the exact moment she realized the situation.

“No.” She shook her head, almost as if she could reverse it. “No way.”

Oscar blinked slowly.

“I think we’re stuck.”

Elena closed her eyes and exhaled through her nose.

“No shit, Sherlock. How did you deduce that?”

He smiled because it came naturally, because there was something almost amusing about seeing her flustered.

“Calm down. It won’t be for long.”

Elena didn’t respond. She just pressed her lips together in a tense line and went back to pressing the buttons, as if the elevator would give in to her persistence.

The panel didn’t even beep.

She sighed and pressed the emergency button.

The speaker crackled with static before a sleepy voice responded:

“Yes?”

Elena leaned toward the microphone urgently.

“We’re stuck in the elevator.”

There was a pause. Then, a yawn.

“Oh. Okay.”

Elena frowned.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry. It’s probably a temporary glitch. These things happen when the system resets in the early hours.”

Oscar and Elena exchanged a look.

“How long until it works again?” Oscar asked.

“Mmm… a few minutes. Half an hour at most.”

Elena threw her head back and closed her eyes, as if she needed all the patience in the world not to explode.

“Great.”

The intercom voice came through again.

“If it still doesn’t respond in a while, we’ll call maintenance. Don’t worry.”

There was a click, and then, just silence.

Oscar watched Elena cautiously, waiting for her reaction.

She looked back at him.

Then, she exhaled a long sigh before slowly sliding down the wall of the elevator until she was sitting on the floor, her legs crossed and her head resting against the padded panel.

Oscar raised an eyebrow.

“Giving up that easily?”

“No. I’m just adapting.”

Oscar watched her for a second longer, then shrugged and did the same.

It didn’t make sense to stay standing, after all.

The elevator was dim, lit only by the faint emergency light. It was late. Almost no one was awake in the hotel. There was no sound beyond the static hum of the machinery and their own breathing. The air was thick, charged with something neither of them knew how to handle.

Elena pulled out her phone, checking it out of habit, though she didn’t expect to find anything.

"No signal." Her voice was low, almost as if she didn’t want to break the silence between them.

"Perfect. Now you have no excuse to be watching nonsense on TikTok."

Elena narrowed her eyes, smiling faintly, but the mockery in his tone didn’t go unnoticed.

"And what are you going to do? Philosophize about life in the dark?"

Oscar looked at her, clearly amused. The sarcasm in her voice had vanished, replaced by something... closer. Something more intense.

"Maybe." He replied, still holding onto his attitude. But that spark of playfulness was there, a touch of complicity that was growing stronger, more palpable.

Elena didn’t say anything else. She remained silent for a few seconds, fiddling with her phone in her hands while the elevator stayed still.

Oscar watched how the soft light reflected on her face. Every small movement she made was a reminder of how close she was to him, of how their bodies seemed to be drawing closer without either of them planning it. It was hard not to notice how the proximity between them was increasing, how the electricity between their skins seemed to grow more intense with every passing second.

Finally, she broke the silence.

"You’ve never been very subtle, have you, Piastri?"

He smiled, but the smile wasn’t mocking. It was different, like he was recognizing her in some way.

"I don’t like wasting time."

Elena looked at him with something more than amusement in her eyes, as though she was evaluating every word, every reaction. Her legs shifted slowly, and without thinking, she let her knee brush against his. A soft touch, almost imperceptible, but close enough for both of them to feel it.

Oscar swallowed, his chest tightening with that rapid heartbeat he couldn’t ignore. The tension between them was almost tangible, a weight neither of them could shake off.

She leaned slightly towards him, not breaking eye contact, and their voices softened further, becoming more intimate, more personal.

"You know," she said quietly. "I wonder how much longer you’re going to keep denying it."

Oscar didn’t answer.

Because he knew exactly what she was talking about.

Because he couldn’t pretend he didn’t feel the raw energy between them, that insistent attraction that grew with every held glance, every accidental touch, every provocation disguised as indifference.

Because he knew she knew it too.

Elena raised an eyebrow, waiting. Challenging.

Oscar closed his eyes for a second.

He took a deep breath.

But when he opened them again, Elena was even closer.

He could see every detail of her face. He could count the centimeters between them. Every freckle that adorned her tan skin. He could hear her breath, feel her warm breath grazing his skin, the hint of wine lingering from the glass she must’ve had earlier at the hotel bar.

It was a trap. And he knew it.

But he didn’t move.

Because, damn it, he didn’t want to move.

Elena’s fingers grazed his forearm, just a touch, an experiment.

Oscar felt his skin light up instantly.

"This is a fucking terrible idea," he muttered.

"Yeah?" Elena tilted her head slightly, letting the tension pull them together like an invisible thread. "Then tell me you don’t want it."

Oscar didn’t answer.

Because he did want it.

He wanted it with an absurd intensity, with an urgency that had been consuming him from the moment he saw her in the paddock at the start of the season.

But he shouldn’t.

The elevator beeped and came to life with a jolt.

Oscar reacted immediately, like a spring releasing. He stood up quickly, not thinking. The muscles in his legs tensed, and his torso straightened abruptly. A rushed, almost desperate movement, as if escaping the situation was the only way out.

Elena stayed on the floor of the elevator, watching him with that half-mocking, half-challenging smile, not moving. The position she was in, her knees bent, her eyes fixed on him, gave her a sense of power and control that bordered on indecent. Every inch of her body seemed to dare him to give in.

Oscar tried to look away, but his eyes inevitably returned to her. He knew he should leave, that he shouldn’t give in to what he wanted, to what his body was asking for, but... Elena was there, so close, so willing, and he was about to lose it all.

With a sharp movement, he tried to step towards the exit, distancing himself from her, avoiding any contact. He shouldn’t look at her anymore, shouldn’t think about it anymore.

But the damage was done. His mind was filled with images of her, from the most innocent to the most lewd thing he could have ever imagined.

Oscar quickly turned, as if the mere act of looking at her one more second would lead him to ruin. He walked towards the elevator’s exit, his pace quickening, and once he crossed the threshold, he breathed deeply, as if trying to expel all the accumulated tension from his body.

Elena didn’t say anything. She made no move. She stayed there, on the floor of the elevator, watching him walk away with a barely visible smile on her lips.

Oscar took a few steps, stopping at the end of the hallway before turning back, looking at her again, feeling the magnetism drawing him toward her. His body was begging to return, begging for more. But he stood firm.

In the end, he didn’t turn back.

But deep down, he knew it was only a matter of time.

By the time Oscar reached his room, he felt like he was about to throw up everything he had eaten in the last twenty-four hours. What had just happened? Had he just dreamed all that?

He collapsed onto the bed, his mind spinning while the darkness of the room enveloped him. Tomorrow he had a race, but in that moment, all he could think about was Elena. That damn kiss. What had just happened, and what he still didn’t understand.

The clock read three in the morning. His eyes were heavy, but he couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in the bed, uncomfortable. The heat was still there, weighing on his chest, and the memory of her lewd smile wouldn’t leave him alone.

Suddenly, the sound of a knock on the door made him jump. Oscar frowned. Who the hell was knocking at this hour?

He sprang up and approached the door still drowsy, scratching his head, and opened it almost without thinking.

And there she was.

Elena.

Her slender, defined figure stood in the doorway, the hallway light partially illuminating her face, which held a serious expression but with that playful spark in her eyes.

"Am I interrupting?" she said, her tone both cheeky and innocent at the same time.

Oscar stood frozen for a moment, speechless. He couldn’t believe it.

"What are you doing here? How the hell do you know what room I’m in?" he asked, the exhaustion in his voice mixed with a clear sense of bewilderment.

"I speak five languages and I have charisma," she replied, leaning against the door.

Oscar should make a sarcastic comment, something sharp to break the tension, but he can't. Not when he still feels the ghost of her breath trapped between them in that elevator, the images he has tried to push deep into his mind now resurfacing at the worst possible moment.

Elena doesn't say anything. She just looks at him.

Oscar feels the weight of her gaze on every nerve ending.

"Tell me this isn't a bad idea," she whispers, though her tone says she already knows the answer.

Oscar could say many things.

He could remind her who she is. He could tell her that they hate each other, that they don't get along, that they're incompatible. He could remind her who her brother is.

But she steps closer.

And Oscar feels like he's drowning.

It's slow. It's unbearably slow. The ground seems to tilt beneath him as Elena moves a little closer, with the same determination she uses to negotiate contracts and manipulate press conferences. And Oscar, for the first time, has nothing to say.

Because he wants this.

He wants it so much it hurts.

"Tell me to stop," she whispers, but they're already too close, and the air between them is suffocating, electric, sharp like a summer storm.

Oscar says nothing.

And then, finally, he kisses her.

It's soft at first, as if they're still testing the boundaries of something too big to contain. But Elena responds with the same repressed intensity, her nails sliding down his neck, a small gasp smothered against his lips, and then everything crashes, like a snowball tumbling down a cliff.

No more doubts.

No more lines.

Just them.

The room is too small for everything they're feeling.

Oscar pulls her against him with more force than he should. It's not sweet. It's not gentle. It's nothing like it should be. But Elena doesn't want that either. Her hands search for him with the same silent desperation, the same urgency of someone who's been holding back for too long.

Her jacket falls to the floor in one swift motion.

Oscar's hands trace her back, outline the curve of her waist, and when their lips part for just a second, just enough to take a breath, they look at each other like they've just jumped into the void.

No one says anything.

Because there's nothing to say.

Elena grabs his shirt tightly, as if holding onto something. As if she can pretend this isn't tearing everything apart.

And Oscar... Oscar feels like he can finally breathe.

Because this isn't a mistake.

It can't be. It can’t feel this good.

When he kisses her again, Elena moans against his mouth and he feels something inside him break.

And there's no going back.

Clothes disappear somewhere between their broken kisses and the clumsy steps toward the bed. There are no pauses, no space for thought. Only the sound of their ragged breaths and the weight of the inevitable.

Elena is fire in his hands, in his mouth, in the way she touches him like she's discovering something that's always been there, something she's denied for too long. And Oscar... Oscar surrenders.

There's no rivalry, no fear, no one else in the world but her.

When their bodies finally meet, it's a perfect mess. A mix of need and awkwardness, muffled moans and nails marking skin. There are no doubts, no barriers. Just them, consuming each other in the darkness of a hotel room in Miami, not thinking about tomorrow.

Because right now, nothing else matters.

Dawn finds them tangled in the sheets, breaths still ragged, skin warm from what they've just done. Neither of them speaks. There is no room for words in the aftermath they've just unleashed.

Oscar feels the weight of the silence between them, but it's not uncomfortable. Not yet. Elena lies next to him, her face turned toward the ceiling, her hair messy on the pillow. She seems lost in her thoughts, but when Oscar moves his hand, barely grazing her arm, she doesn't pull away.

They shouldn't be here.

They shouldn't have crossed that line.

But they have. And the worst part is that instead of regretting it, Oscar only thinks about doing it again.

"Let's not talk about this, okay?" Elena says, finally breaking the silence.

Her voice is soft, measured, as if she’s testing the waters.

Oscar glances at her out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t want to say anything that will shatter this moment, make it more real than it already is.

"I don’t see what there is to say," he replies, because it’s the truth.

Elena lets out a low, almost ironic laugh and turns toward him, resting her head on her hand. Her eyes scan him with that intensity that drives him crazy, the kind that turns him into a damn fool every time he runs into her in the paddock.

"This doesn’t change anything," she says, with a certainty Oscar doesn’t know whether to envy or fear.

And maybe he should agree. Maybe he should nod, pretend that this was just a bad idea, a momentary mistake they can laugh off later.

But when Elena leans in and gently bites his lower lip before pulling away with a smile that’s pure poison, Oscar knows he’s screwed.

Because this changes everything.

The next morning, Oscar wakes up with the feeling that it was all a dream.

But the lingering warmth on his skin and the slight pressure of the mattress beside him tell him otherwise.

He blinks, trying to clear the fog of sleep, and the first thing he sees is Elena’s profile, sitting on the edge of the bed, adjusting the cuff of her blouse. Her hair is still tangled, her neck bearing traces of his mouth, and the sunlight of Miami filters its golden light through the curtains, making her look almost unreal.

She’s fucking beautiful.

And she’s also Carlos Sainz’ sister.

Oscar closes his eyes and curses under his breath.

He feels like he should say something, but his mind is still caught in the image of the night before. How Elena had surrendered to him with the same ferocity with which she looks at him in the paddock. How the tension that had been choking them both for months finally erupted into something neither of them could control.

And now, she’s there. Getting dressed. Preparing to leave.

As if nothing had happened.

As if they hadn’t spent the night devouring each other.

"So, not even a 'good morning' after everything we did last night?" he says, his voice still a little rough from sleep.

Elena doesn't even bother to turn around, though he notices the brief pause in her movements before she slips on her heels.

"Why drag out the inevitable?" she replies, shrugging.

Oscar lets out a low, incredulous laugh.

"The inevitable?"

"That we'll go on with our lives as if this never happened." She finally turns, resting a hand on her hip with that air of superiority that drives him crazy. "I know you can do it, Piastri. If you can keep a poker face after Lando closes you out on track, this shouldn't be a problem."

Oscar watches her closely, looking for any hint of doubt in her expression. He doesn't find any.

"Wow, what an elegant way to say it was a mistake."

Elena gives him a half-smile, as sharp as ever.

"I didn't say it was a mistake. I just said it’s not going to happen again."

Oscar narrows his eyes.

"So this is how we're going to play it?"

"This is how we're going to play it," she replies, with a certainty he knows is just a façade.

Oscar exhales and falls back onto the pillow, running a hand over his face.

"Well, I guess it was a pleasure doing business with you, Sainz."

Elena laughs softly, and that frustrates him more because it sounds genuinely amused, like this is just a simple game she has full control over.

"Take care, Piastri," she says finally, before turning and walking out of the room.

Oscar stares at the ceiling, feeling the echo of her perfume in the air.

Of course. Because this is perfectly normal.

Because he's definitely not about to lose his mind.

And because, evidently, this isn't over. Not by a long shot.

Oscar should have known that "it’s not going to happen again" was the biggest lie of the century.

Because it happens again.

And again.

And again.

In hidden rooms in the paddock, in hotels around the world, in deserted elevators and offices with the door slightly ajar. In any corner where there’s enough shadow for no one to see them, and just enough risk to make their hearts pound in their chests.

The first time he breaks his supposed resolution is at the next Grand Prix, in Ferrari’s hospitality entrance.

Elena is standing with her arms crossed, arguing with Carlos about something related to his race strategy. She’s wearing a fitted black dress with a blazer on top, and Oscar is trying to concentrate on his coffee when she gives him a fleeting glance, barely a second of eye contact that shouldn’t mean anything.

But his spine stiffens instantly.

And when she disappears down the back hall, he knows he’s going to follow her before he even thinks about it.

"I don’t even know why I bother pretending to be strong with you," he murmurs, closing the door behind him just a second before Elena pushes him against the wall and kisses him with a ferocity that leaves him breathless.

"Because you’re proud, Piastri." Her smile is lethal against his lips.

"And you’re a liar," he replies, sliding his hands under her blazer and pressing her against him.

"Yeah?"

"'It’s not going to happen again,'" he mocks, exaggerating her tone.

Elena laughs against his skin, right on the line of his jaw, before whispering in his ear:

"Well, sometimes I say things I don’t mean."

And Oscar, of course, is completely screwed.

After that, things escalate as fast as a Formula 1 car on a straight.

The hotel elevator in Monaco, where they barely manage to pull apart in time when the door opens into the lobby.

The engineers’ room in Canada, where he almost kisses her right next to the menu mural, and she laughs in his face when he stops at the last second.

The back corridor of the paddock in Spain, where he slides his hand across her backside when no one’s looking, and she spends the rest of the day with her skin burning.

"This is a really bad idea," Oscar says that same afternoon, just before he pushes her against the wall of his hotel room and kisses her like his life depends on it.

"A horrible idea," Elena agrees, between gasps.

"We can’t keep doing this."

"Never again."

"Last time."

"Last time," she repeats, her fingers tangled in his hair.

Obviously, they’re doomed.

The problem with saying "last time" is that they never follow through.

Oscar should be worried. Not just because this is getting out of control, but because it’s becoming more reckless with each time. At least in the beginning, they tried to keep it professional during the day and only let themselves go in the privacy of a hotel room at midnight. But now...

Now Elena holds his gaze a little too long in meetings. Now they cross paths in the paddock, and she brushes her fingers against his arm as she passes. Now he sees her sitting next to Carlos in Ferrari’s hospitality, and all he can think about is the way she moaned his name the night before.

It’s a miracle no one has discovered them.

"You’re playing with fire," Lando tells him in Silverstone, after catching Oscar looking toward Elena for the fifth time in half an hour.

Oscar feigns ignorance.

"Sorry?"

"I don’t know what’s going on there, but whatever it is, Carlos is going to kill you."

Oscar scoffs, but something inside him tightens.

Because that’s the other thing: the risk. Not just for his career, not just because if anyone at McLaren finds out, it could be a scandal, but because Carlos Sainz still sees him as a rival, and if he finds out that Oscar is tangled up with his sister, he’ll probably strangle him with his bare hands.

But it’s hard to care about that when she keeps sneaking into his hotel room at midnight.

When she keeps leaving marks on his skin that he has to hide before he puts on his racing suit.

When she smiles at him from across the paddock with that damn expression of "I know exactly what you’re thinking," and Oscar has to bite his tongue to keep from dragging her somewhere private.

It’s not just attraction. It’s something worse.

And the bomb finally explodes in Hungary.

The Hungarian GP should be the best day of his life.

He should be celebrating his first Formula 1 victory, savoring the champagne on the podium, feeling the adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

But it’s all overshadowed by the controversy, by McLaren’s terrible strategy.

Oscar shouldn’t feel guilty for winning, but he does.

People are hugging him, patting him on the back, congratulating him like nothing happened. Lando is professional in front of the cameras, but in the garage, his expression is tense. He wanted that win. He deserved it. But the strategy benefited Oscar, and now it’s impossible to enjoy it.

He hasn’t seen Elena since he stepped off the podium.

Maybe he should be glad about that. After all, this is what they had agreed on: a game with no feelings, no strings attached, no complications.

When he arrives at the hotel, his room is completely dark.

Oscar closes the door behind him and stands in the middle of the room, not turning on the light, not moving.

He doesn't know what to do with himself.

He should be happy. Euphoric. Victorious. But all that’s in his chest is an indescribable weight, something that suffocates him, that tangles his thoughts until he doesn't know what to feel.

He clenches his fists. The adrenaline of the day still pulses in his veins, mixed with exhaustion and frustration. He shouldn't feel this way. Not after winning.

The door opens again.

He doesn’t even need to turn around to know it’s her.

Elena enters silently, not turning on the light, saying nothing. She just closes the door and walks over to the bed, sitting on the edge with the same ease with which she’s been invading his life from the start.

Oscar exhales a trembling sigh.

He doesn’t know what pushes him to move, but suddenly his legs give away and he falls to his knees in front of her, his head bowed, his arms powerless at his sides.

And then, he’s resting his forehead on her lap.

Elena doesn’t say anything.

She just runs a hand through his hair with a softness that disarms him.

Oscar squeezes his eyes shut. And he doesn’t know why, but he's crying.

Tears fall without permission, without control, without him being able to stop them.

He doesn’t sob, he doesn’t shake, he doesn’t make any noise. He just feels the heat on his cheeks, the pressure in his chest, his breath ragged.

Elena’s fingers continue in his hair, tracing slow lines, calming him without haste.

“You deserve this,” she whispers, so quietly it almost feels like a secret. “Don’t doubt for a second that this victory is yours. And no one else’s.”

Oscar closes his eyes.

He clings to those words.

To her.

Elena leans over him, her hand tangling in his hair with the same delicacy someone would use to pet a wounded animal.

Oscar feels her breath above his head, warm and steady.

“Look at me,” she says, but he can’t.

Not yet.

He stays there, with his forehead resting on her lap, his hands clenched on her pants, trying to contain something he doesn’t even understand.

“Oscar,” Elena repeats, softer this time, and runs her fingers down his neck. “You deserve this. No matter what anyone else says. No matter what anyone else thinks.”

Oscar squeezes his eyes shut tightly.

“They handed it to me,” he murmurs, his voice broken. “It’s not a real victory.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” she cuts him off without hesitation, but her tone remains sweet, still Elena. “Of course it’s real. You were faster than everyone out there. You didn’t stop fighting. You didn’t stop proving you deserve every second of that podium.”

Oscar swallows hard.

“But Lando…”

“But Lando nothing,” she interrupts him. “You don’t owe anyone an apology. You don’t have to feel guilty for winning.”

He doesn’t answer.

“Oscar,” she insists, and this time she takes his face in her hands, forcing him to lift his head.

Their eyes meet in the dim light of the room.

“Don’t let anyone make you doubt what you are,” she says, and her voice is an anchor, it’s fire, it’s a reminder that she’s here, with him, holding him when he feels like everything else is falling apart. “Today, you won. And you did it.”

Oscar looks at her.

Something inside him breaks, but not in the way he’s felt broken all day.

It’s something else.

Something deeper. Something that scares him.

Because until now, it had been easy to convince himself that what he had with Elena was just physical. A game. Something neither of them would take too seriously.

But here she is, holding him, seeing him, telling him what he needs to hear at the exact moment he needs to hear it.

And Oscar knows he’s fucked.

Elena keeps holding his face, her touch firm and sure, as if with just her contact she could return the stability he feels crumbling inside him.

Oscar wants to speak. He wants to say something that will lighten the weight in his chest. But all he does is inhale, deeply and brokenly, clinging to the feeling of her hands on his skin.

“Breathe,” Elena tells him, with a sweetness that’s almost his undoing.

So, he does.

He forces himself to fill his lungs with air and let it out slowly, as if with every exhale, he could release the knot in his throat, the doubt, the resentment towards himself.

Elena slides her thumbs over his cheeks, with a tenderness that’s almost unfamiliar to him.

“That’s it,” she murmurs. “That’s better.”

Oscar closes his eyes for a second. When he opens them again, she’s still there, watching him with that intensity that always disarms him.

And it’s in that moment when he realizes.

How fucking easy it would be to fall in love with her.

Because if Elena can see him like this, completely undone, and still look at him like he’s the same confident and determined driver everyone thinks he is… what else is she seeing in him that he himself can’t even recognize?

The thought terrifies him. Terrifies him a lot.

So he does the only thing he knows how to do: he straightens up, pulls away, rebuilds the distance he’s been ignoring between them since this started.

Elena lets him do it, but her eyes follow him with a look of understanding that unsettles him.

The silence between them is thick, heavy with something Oscar can no longer ignore. He has pulled away, tried to regain his composure, but it’s useless. He can still feel her touch on his skin, still hear her voice in his head, still see those eyes piercing through him as if they had always known the exact point to strike to bring him down.

"This isn’t just physical, is it?" His own voice sounds foreign, low, and almost trembling. As if, by saying it out loud, he’s admitting to something far greater.

Elena doesn’t seem surprised. She doesn’t lower her gaze, doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t back away. There’s no fear or uncertainty in her expression, only the same certainty that has driven him insane from the very start.

"It never was."

Oscar swallows hard, his chest rising and falling with something he can’t tell if it’s relief or terror. Or both at the same time.

"From the moment I saw you in the paddock," she continues, her voice calm, steady, "I knew I was going to fall for you. It was inevitable. And when you looked at me for the first time, I knew you were going to fall, too."

Oscar blinks, surprised by how easily she says it. As if it’s a simple truth, an undeniable fact. And maybe it was. Maybe this was never in his control.

Somehow, that makes him laugh. He drops his head, a rough, resigned chuckle escaping his lips, because of course Elena knew before he did. Of course she had already figured it out while he was busy pretending it wasn’t happening.

When he looks at her again, it’s with different eyes. With the eyes of someone who knows he’s lost, that there’s no turning back.

"You’re unbearable," he mutters, but there’s a smile on his face.

Elena smiles too. And Oscar knows, with terrifying certainty, that he’s screwed. Completely, irreversibly screwed.

Oscar still stands before her, in the dim light of the room. His hands, still clenched into fists, gradually relax. Elena remains seated at the edge of the bed, her posture at ease but her gaze intense, fixed on him, as if she already knows what he’s going to do before he does.

"So, what do we do now?" he asks, his voice low, as if speaking in a space that belongs only to the two of them.

Elena leans forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees. The soft light of the room traces the curve of her face, her collarbone, the golden sheen of her skin still warm from the Hungarian summer. Oscar swallows.

"We could keep pretending nothing’s happening," she suggests, with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

Oscar scoffs, glancing down at his own hands before refocusing on her. "Great idea. That’s worked brilliantly so far."

Elena lets out a soft laugh, a low sound that skims over his skin. Then, with the same tranquility as always, she straightens up and rests her hands on the mattress, tilting her head in thought.

"We keep it a secret a little longer," she finally says. "We explore… this."

Oscar frowns, his pulse still erratic from everything they’ve just admitted.

"This?"

"Whatever is happening between us," she explains, her hand making a subtle gesture between them. "No pressure, no expectations. Just… letting it grow."

Oscar feels his breathing deepen slightly, as if his body is trying to absorb the calm in Elena’s voice. He doesn’t know what he expected her to say, but now that he hears it, he realizes this is the only thing that makes sense.

"Improvising?" he asks, his tone lighter, though something still lingers in his chest.

Elena nods slowly. "Improvising."

Oscar sinks back onto his knees, closer this time, his hands resting on the edge of the mattress, just inches from hers. The room seems to shrink, narrowing down to the proximity of their bodies, to the warm, settled tension between them.

He looks at her and, instead of doubt, all he sees in her is certainty. As if she has known from the start that this was the only possible outcome.

"We’re screwed, aren’t we?" he murmurs, almost smiling.

Elena tilts her head, her fingers barely brushing against Oscar’s on the bed. A small, fleeting contact, but one that electrifies the space between them.

"Up to our necks."

Oscar exhales slowly and tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling as if he might find some kind of answer there. But there are no answers—only the undeniable reality that, for the first time, they are acknowledging what’s between them without pretending it doesn’t exist.

Elena shifts on the bed and pats the mattress beside her, a silent invitation. There’s no ulterior motive in the gesture, no expectation, and maybe that’s what makes Oscar surrender so easily. He lies down beside her, his head resting on the pillow, leaving a small space between them.

And for the first time since this began, there’s no urgency, no hands exploring skin, no breath-stealing kisses. They’re just there, sharing the same air, seeing each other without the barrier of immediate desire.

They talk.

At first, about absurd things. Silly habits, likes they’ve never admitted to each other. Elena sleeps with socks on, even in the summer, and Oscar looks at her in horror when she says it. He has a specific routine for putting on his gloves before getting in the car, and she laughs because her brother does the same.

Then come childhood stories, dreams they once had and those they still chase. Elena tells him she wanted to be an astronaut as a child but got too dizzy in space simulators. Oscar confesses he’s still not entirely used to fame, that sometimes he misses being anonymous.

As the night stretches on and the conversation slows, words tangling with sleepiness, Oscar turns on his side and watches her.

"Did you know this was going to happen?" he asks quietly.

Elena blinks slowly and smiles, with that air of confidence that undoes him.

"I knew the moment you saw me in the paddock."

Oscar scoffs, half amused, half resigned. "How convenient."

"Not my fault you’re so predictable."

Oscar laughs and covers his face with his hand for a moment before rolling onto his back again.

"I’m going to hate myself for saying this, but… I think I like that about you."

Elena glances at him out of the corner of her eye, her smile needing no words to be understood.

And just like that, without realizing it, they fall asleep.

The break doesn’t last long.

During the Belgian Grand Prix, everything appears to be the same: the same fleeting touches when no one is looking, the same encounters in empty hallways, the same tension whenever they’re too close. But now, there’s something more. Something in the way Oscar looks for her before getting into the car, in the way Elena lingers a second too long when fixing the collar of the shirt she so boldly ripped off his body just ten minutes ago. Something in the way their fingers brush when she hands him a bottle of water right after, in the way they look at each other when they think no one is watching.

And when Oscar crosses the finish line, knowing he’ll be on the podium again, his first instinct isn’t to celebrate—it’s to find her. Standing on the podium, adrenaline still rushing through his body and the trophy in his hand, his eyes scan the crowd until they lock onto Elena’s. And when she smiles at him, he feels like he could live in that moment forever.

That night at the hotel feels different again. Instead of immediately losing themselves in each other, they collapse onto the bed to watch the race replay. And when the camera shows Oscar on the podium, smiling with pure happiness, eyes bright and expression open, Elena can’t hold back. She lets out a laugh so loud it echoes through the room.

Oscar, confused, turns to her with a frown. “What’s so funny?”

Elena, trying to hold back her laughter, points at the screen. “Your lovesick puppy face.”

Oscar follows the direction of her finger, and then he sees it. Sees himself. And he can’t do anything but laugh, because it’s true. The camera caught the exact moment he found Elena in the crowd, and the expression on his face leaves no room for doubt.

“I do not have a lovesick puppy face,” he protests, but his own laughter betrays any attempt at indignation.

Elena turns to him, raising an eyebrow. “Oscar, darling. Let’s just pray no one else notices, because it would be hard to deny the accusations.”

And with that, they laugh until tears stream down their faces, until they’re breathless, until Oscar, with his head resting on Elena’s stomach, feels something dangerously close to the simplest, purest kind of happiness.

Because for the second time, they don’t need to hide in passion, in desire. For the second time, they enjoy each other’s company without sex getting in the way.

Just them.

Elena wakes up to the weight of an arm draped over her waist and the muffled sounds of the city filtering through the hotel window. She blinks, still caught between sleep and wakefulness, acutely aware of the warmth pressed against her back, of the slow, steady breath against her neck.

Oscar.

Recognition comes at the same time as reality—the grayish dawn light in Belgium, the distant hum of traffic, the calendar marking the end of a weekend that has changed everything.

And the certainty that in less than two hours, she’ll be on a plane back to Madrid.

She sighs, shifting slightly under Oscar’s arm. He grumbles in protest, tightening his hold on her, as if his subconscious understands what’s about to happen before he does.

“I have to go,” she whispers, though she doesn’t move.

Oscar doesn’t respond immediately. His breath is heavy against her shoulder, still half-asleep, and when he finally mumbles something, his voice is rough.

“Five more minutes.”

Elena smiles softly, but she knows she can’t give in.

“Carlos is waiting for me downstairs. If I take too long, he’s coming up to get me.”

Oscar sighs and, at last, loosens his arm. When she turns to face him, she finds his face buried in the pillow, brows furrowed, hair a complete mess. He looks like a grumpy little kid refusing to start the day.

“Don’t make that face,” she teases, sitting on the edge of the bed to put on her shoes.

Oscar lifts his head just enough to squint at her.

“What face?”

“That one. The ‘I’m going to be a martyr because the girl I like is leaving me in a hotel’ face.”

He clicks his tongue and flops back onto the pillow with dramatic flair.

“Slander.”

Elena lets out a quiet laugh as she ties her laces. Then, unhurriedly, she leans toward him, pressing a hand into the mattress as her lips brush his cheek.

“I’ll see you soon.”

Oscar doesn’t reply right away. He just looks at her. But there’s something in his expression—in the way he watches her, in how his hand grips the edge of the sheet like he’s about to say something else—that makes her hesitate.

Because for the first time since this started, they realize they’ve never gone this long without seeing each other.

And they don’t know what that will feel like.

Elena should stand up and leave. But she doesn’t.

Instead, she lets her gaze trace over his face, memorizing every detail. Oscar looks back at her just as intently, and then, without thinking too much, she leans in and kisses him.

It’s brief, but not rushed. There’s no desperation, no urgency—just the certainty that she wants him. That even if they go in opposite directions, even if weeks pass without seeing each other, what they have won’t fade with distance.

When they pull apart, Oscar watches her with a mix of surprise and something else—something she doesn’t want to analyze too closely right now.

“That was unfair,” he murmurs, his voice still thick with sleep.

Elena smiles.

“You’ll survive.”

And before he can argue, she gets to her feet, grabs her bag, and walks out the door.

It clicks shut.

And Oscar is alone.

For a few seconds, he just lies there, staring at the ceiling, the warmth of Elena’s kiss still lingering on his lips.

It’s not the first time he’s watched her leave. They’ve had plenty of quiet goodbyes—in hotel hallways, in elevators, in hidden corners of the paddock where no one was looking. But this one feels different. Heavier.

He sighs, running a hand over his face before forcing himself to get up.

The room still smells like her. It’s a ridiculous thing to notice, but he does—when he moves, when he picks up his clothes from the floor, when he starts stuffing them into the open suitcase beside the bed. There’s something mechanical about the act of folding t-shirts and layering them over piles of laundry, of zipping up the suitcase with a sharp click, of mentally checking if he’s forgotten anything.

For some reason, it annoys him.

He’s supposed to be looking forward to the summer break. Four weeks with no races, no flights every other day, no endless motorhome meetings. It’s what he’s been waiting for.

But now that it’s here—now that the door has closed and Elena is gone—it doesn’t feel as good as he thought it would.

His phone buzzes on the nightstand.

Oscar picks it up without thinking, expecting a message from his mother or the team. But no.

Elena: I hope you’ve at least gotten out of bed. Don’t blame me when you realize you’re running late for the airport.

He exhales a small laugh, leaning against the desk. Of course Elena is the first to text. She always seems one step ahead of him.

Oscar: Don’t you have anything better to do than harass me first thing in the morning?

It takes less than ten seconds for a reply.

Elena: I have an hour-long drive ahead of me. Consider this an act of charity.

Oscar shakes his head, barely noticing the way a smile tugs at his lips.

After a moment, his fingers slide over the screen again.

Oscar: Do you miss me already?

This time, the reply takes a little longer. As if Elena is actually thinking about it.

Finally, his screen lights up.

Elena: Keep dreaming.

Oscar sets the phone back down on the nightstand, still smiling faintly, but the feeling in his chest doesn’t fade.

Because, deep down, he already misses her.

He has barely stepped into the terminal when he spots his mother.

She’s standing there, arms crossed, a knowing little smirk on her face—like she knows something he doesn’t. Or worse: like she knows something he thinks he’s hidden well.

And then he sees it.

The phone in her hand. The screen lit up.

And a crystal-clear image of his own face on the Belgian Grand Prix podium, wearing the most obvious, irrefutable, damning expression he’s ever had in his life.

That damn photo.

Oscar stops dead in his tracks, the exhaustion from the flight hitting him all at once, mixed with pure, knee-jerk denial.

“No.”

His mother doesn’t even blink.

“Yes.”

“I don’t make that face.”

“Oh, darling…” she sighs, holding the screen closer to him, as if that was necessary. “You have exactly that face.”

Oscar grimaces, shifting his gaze to anything else—the people walking by, the luggage carts, the absurdly patterned airport carpet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His mother raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, really?” She swipes across the screen and shows him another image, this time a video capturing the exact moment his face changes when he spots Elena in the crowd. “And what’s this, then?”

Oscar clenches his jaw, cursing internally at the cameraman who managed to capture that moment so precisely.

“I was…” He trails off, desperately searching for an excuse. But there isn’t one. Because he knows exactly why he had that expression. He knows exactly who he was looking at. And he knows that his mother knows, too.

She waits, patient, with that look that has been disarming him since childhood.

Oscar exhales, defeated.

“Can I at least get a coffee before the interrogation?”

His mother smirks, turning toward the exit.

“Oh, of course. But don’t think you’re getting away with this, darling. We have a lot to talk about.”

For Elena, summers at home have always had their own rhythm, a routine shaped by the heat, sports, and family. And she enjoys it. She needs it, even. After months of airports, race tracks, and frantic schedules, there’s something comforting about returning to familiar sounds—the echo of footsteps on stone floors, the rustling leaves stirred by the wind, the laughter of her sisters in the garden.

But this summer is different.

Because, for the first time, there’s something—someone—outside of this world occupying her mind more than it should.

She tells herself it’s absurd, that it’s not like they’re going years without seeing each other. It’s just a month. Four weeks. Thirty days.

And yet, every night, as the rest of the house sleeps, she feels the buzz of her phone under her pillow, and her heart skips a beat.

Oscar.

Oscar: What is Carlos Sainz’s favorite sister doing on a random Tuesday?

Elena: Trying not to get caught texting you. And you?

Oscar: Counting the days until I can see you roll your eyes at me in person again.

Elena bites her lip, hiding a smile in the darkness.

Elena: I’d love to say I don’t miss you at all.

Oscar: But you can’t.

No. She can’t.

And it’s ridiculous because she keeps herself busy. She wakes up early to go hiking with her father and Carlos. She plays football with her cousins in the garden. She joins Carlos and his friends on their cycling routes, challenging each other to climb the mountain passes faster, both acting more like kids than fully grown adults.

And in the middle of it all, she always finds a moment.

A stolen minute under the shade of a secluded tree to call him. A quick text while changing shoes. A picture of Carlos falling off his bike, his foot still clipped to the pedal, captioned: I miss you, but this makes up for it a little.

Oscar’s reply comes instantly.

Oscar: You’re lucky I like you this much.

Elena chuckles softly, leaning her head back against the tree trunk.

She knows this is dangerous. The more they get used to this, the harder it will be to go back to their respective lives, each on opposite ends of the globe.

But right now, she doesn’t care.

It’s the middle of the night, and she’s been asleep for a couple of hours when the vibration of her phone pulls her from sleep.

Elena blinks into the darkness of her room, disoriented, her heart beating slow and heavy in her chest. She reaches blindly toward her nightstand, fumbling until her fingers find the device.

The screen lights up the dim room.

Oscar.

It’s four in the morning in Madrid. Two in the afternoon in Melbourne.

She presses her lips together before swiping to accept the call, bringing the phone to her ear as she sinks into her pillow.

“Do you know what time it is?” Her voice is a hoarse whisper from sleep.

On the other end, Oscar lets out a quiet laugh.

“I knew you were awake.”

Elena closes her eyes and exhales slowly.

“I wasn’t. Until you decided to call me.”

“Well, if you answered, that means you don’t hate me that much,” he teases.

Elena doesn’t respond right away. She turns onto her side, hugging her pillow as she focuses on the sound of his voice.

“How are you?” she finally asks, calmer now.

“Tired,” Oscar admits. “It’s weird being back here.”

She understands. They’ve both returned to the normalcy of their own lives, but nothing feels normal. Miami, Silverstone, Budapest, Spa… all those weekends together feel like a world apart. And now, here they are, separated by thousands of miles, pretending everything is the same.

“What about you?” he asks.

Elena burrows a little deeper under the blankets, a small smile on her lips.

“I did a brutal cycling route with Carlos today. Nearly died by the time we reached the mountain pass, and Carlos laughed at me.”

Oscar chuckles.

“I find that hard to believe.”

"That I almost died or that I made it to the summit?"

"That you almost died," he replies casually. "You're stronger than Carlos, and you know it."

Elena feels the warmth spreading in her chest but ignores it.

"Tell him that. He called me a 'rookie.'"

"That’s just his wounded pride talking."

She smiles, letting herself get carried away by the familiarity of the conversation. They talk about everything and nothing. He tells her about his mother’s cooking and how his dog has decided to ignore him for being away so long. She tells him how her father spent the afternoon teaching Rebecca to drive on dirt roads, with Carlos and her yelling from the back seat.

The conversation flows easily, without awkward pauses. Every time silence threatens to settle in, one of them finds something else to say. But at some point, the conversation shifts. It becomes quieter.

"I miss you," Oscar says suddenly, with a sincerity that disarms her.

Elena doesn’t answer right away. Not because she doesn’t feel the same, but because she feels too much.

"I miss you too," she murmurs at last, her voice barely a whisper in the darkness.

"It’s strange, isn’t it?" he continues. "Not seeing you every day."

Elena exhales.

"Yeah."

Another silence. This time, neither of them fills it.

Until Oscar breaks it with an idea that shouldn’t sound as crazy as it does.

"What if we meet up?"

Elena blinks, suddenly wide awake.

"What?"

"Let’s run away. Just for a few days. Just us."

She stays still, her heart pounding faster.

"That’s insane."

"A little insanity wouldn’t hurt us," he reasons. His voice is calm, but there’s something in his tone that makes her picture him with that lopsided grin, eyes squinting slightly under the Melbourne afternoon sun. "Tell me you don’t want to."

Elena bites her lip. She can’t.

She doesn’t want to.

"I can give you five days. That’s all the time Carlos will let me go without hiring a private investigator," she finally says.

Oscar smiles on the other end of the line.

"Five days."

And the next morning, Elena drops the bomb at the breakfast table. If she wants to get away with it, she has to act naturally—with the confidence of someone who has nothing to hide.

So, as she sets her plate in the sink after breakfast, she announces casually, "I’m leaving for a few days."

She knows she has everyone’s attention in less than a second.

Carlos, sitting across the table, frowns with his mouth full of toast. Their mother, standing by the coffee machine, turns with interest.

"Where to?" Carlos asks, still chewing.

Elena leans against the counter, phone in hand.

"A friend’s house on the coast."

Carlos gives her a skeptical look.

"What friend?"

"Clara."

She’s the first name that comes to mind. Their mother nods, as if that makes it all perfectly logical, but Carlos keeps staring at her with the same doubtful expression.

"Since when are you and Clara such good friends?"

Elena rolls her eyes.

"Carlos, we went to school together for ten years."

"And you haven’t seen her in four."

"Exactly. We caught up recently, and she invited me to stay for a few days."

Carlos doesn’t look convinced.

"And you’re just leaving, out of nowhere."

"Why not? It’s the summer break, I don’t have to stay here the whole time."

Carlos crosses his arms.

"Hmm."

Their mother, on the other hand, just smiles.

"Well, darling, if you want to go, go."

Carlos looks at her like he can’t believe she’s accepting the explanation so easily.

"Doesn’t that sound suspicious to you?"

"Carlos, please," their mother says, shaking her head in amusement. "It’s summer. Can’t your sister go to the beach for a few days without you interrogating her like she’s planning a heist?"

Elena smirks at Carlos before taking a sip of her coffee.

"Exactly. Thanks, Mom."

Carlos huffs but seems to give in.

"When are you leaving?"

"Early tomorrow morning."

"Uh-huh."

Carlos keeps watching her, narrowing his eyes like he’s trying to read between the lines. Elena ignores him, picking up her cup and heading for the door.

Her phone vibrates in her hand.

A message from Oscar.

"Mission accomplished?"

Elena smiles before replying.

"Obviously. Who do you think I am?"

Elena doesn’t know exactly when she realizes that this—whatever it is they’re doing—is a disaster waiting to happen.

Maybe it’s when she opens her eyes that first morning in Croatia and finds Oscar already awake, his head resting in his palm, just watching her.

Or when, after spending the afternoon exploring the town, they step into a small market to buy groceries for dinner and end up arguing—far too seriously—about which kind of pasta is better.

Or maybe it’s when, without thinking too much about it, she tosses a towel at his face after her shower, and instead of complaining, he pulls it away slowly and grins like an idiot. Like this is normal. Like this isn’t something they’ll regret sooner or later.

But they don’t think about that. Or rather, they pretend not to.

The town is perfect. A hidden corner on the Croatian coast, with whitewashed stone houses, cobbled streets, and the sea glistening under the August sun. No one knows them here. No one watches them. Here, they can walk without looking over their shoulders, without worrying about cameras or curious eyes.

And so they do.

They walk along the shore, sandals in hand, letting the foam of the waves soak their ankles. They eat at a small restaurant where the owner treats them like locals. They spend the afternoon at a secluded cove, where Oscar splashes her unexpectedly, and Elena lunges at him without a second thought, sending them both crashing into the water, laughing.

They don’t talk much about what this means.

They don’t say out loud that they’re playing with fire.

They just exist.

For the first time since this all began, they are together without the pressure of the paddock, without the weight of the forbidden. They wake up tangled in white sheets, have slow breakfasts on the terrace, Oscar cooks while Elena sits on the counter, stealing bites of whatever he’s making.

It’s ridiculously domestic.

Ridiculously easy.

And that’s why, somewhere in the back of her mind, Elena knows it can’t last.

It’s their last evening together, and the sun is starting to set over the sea, painting the sky in shades of gold and orange. The heat of the day still lingers on the wooden terrace of the small house they’ve rented, where the sound of waves crashing against the rocks blends with the distant murmur of locals enjoying the evening.

Oscar absentmindedly turns the beer bottle in his hands, his gaze lost in the foam sliding down the glass. Across from him, Elena leans back in her chair, tracing the rim of her wine glass with a fingertip.

The silence between them is comfortable.

But Oscar knows he can’t leave it like this.

“I don’t want this to end when summer does.”

Elena lifts her gaze slowly, as if her thoughts were somewhere else. She blinks a couple of times before speaking.

“What do you mean?”

Oscar lets out a humorless chuckle, dropping his eyes to the table.

“I mean, I don’t want to go back to pretending this isn’t happening.”

Elena doesn’t answer right away. She leans forward, resting her elbows on the table, studying him with those eyes that always seem to know more than they say.

“I don’t know if we have a choice.”

Oscar looks up, holding her gaze.

“There’s always a choice.”

Elena sighs, running a hand through her hair before pushing her glass aside.

“Oscar…”

He shakes his head before she can continue.

“Don’t tell me it won’t work. That it’s complicated. That we have to think about Carlos, the paddock, everything else. Because I know. I’ve thought about it a million times. But what scares me more than what happens if we keep going… is what happens if we stop.”

Elena stays quiet.

For a moment, Oscar fears she won’t respond—that she’ll get up from the table, deflect with a sharp remark like she’s done so many times before.

But then, she speaks.

“If I’m being honest… I’m scared of that too.”

Oscar blinks. He wasn’t expecting her to admit it so easily.

“Yeah?”

Elena nods slowly.

“Since the season started, everything has been so intense. At first, it was just this ridiculous tension, this game. I loved getting under your skin.” She smiles a little, but there’s more nostalgia than teasing in it. “But then it became something else. Something I couldn’t control anymore.”

Oscar leans in slightly, never taking his eyes off her.

“When did you realize?”

Elena holds his gaze, and for the first time in a long time, she hesitates.

“I think… since the beginning.”

Something tightens in Oscar’s chest.

“Then why have we been avoiding it for so long?”

Elena lets out a quiet laugh, like the answer is too obvious.

“Because it was easier that way. If we ignored it, we didn’t have to face what it meant.”

Oscar watches her for a long moment. Then, with a tired smile, he says, 

“Falling for you was too easy.”

Elena drops her gaze for a second before looking up again, her expression knocking the air out of his lungs.

“Falling for you was too easy, too.”

The world seems to stop.

Oscar feels a tingling in his skin, like his body is trying to process what he just heard.

“Elena…”

But she keeps going.

"I didn’t want to accept it," she says quietly. "Because I was scared. Because if this ends, I don’t know how we go back to being the same. I don’t know how I’ll look at you without it hurting."

Oscar takes her hand across the table. Their fingers fit together like they were made for it.

"I don’t want this to end."

Elena tightens her grip, not letting go.

"Me neither."

They stay like that for a moment, in silence, with the sun setting behind them and the sound of the ocean filling the empty spaces.

Until Elena breaks the calm.

"So… what do we do now?"

Oscar exhales slowly.

"We can’t keep hiding forever."

Elena nods.

"Carlos won’t accept it."

"Not right away, no."

"I don’t want him to find out from someone else."

Oscar lets out a dry laugh.

"Well, it’s not like we’ve been very subtle."

Elena rolls her eyes.

"That’s your fault."

Oscar raises an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

"You’re the one who looks at me like—" She stops herself, and Oscar grins.

"Like what?"

She meets his gaze, unyielding.

"Like you physically can’t not look at me."

Oscar leans in slightly, closing the space between them. His voice is a murmur.

"Like you matter too much."

Elena narrows her eyes.

"Too much?"

He shakes his head, a smile on his face.

"Meh, not enough."

And then, without thinking, without hesitating for a second longer, he kisses her.

The morning sun bathes the town in that golden warmth that only exists on vacation. The breeze smells of salt and freshly baked bread, and the cobblestones beneath their feet radiate the accumulated heat of previous days. Oscar and Elena walk aimlessly, slipping between market stalls, weaving through café terraces, blending into the crowd of people who live here without knowing that, for them, this is their last day of reprieve.

Tomorrow, everything goes back to normal. Tomorrow, they return to their lives. Tomorrow, the distance.

But today, today is still theirs.

Elena stops in front of a small flower stall, leaning over the tin buckets filled with sunflowers and lavender. The vendor, an elderly man with a white mustache, smiles when he sees her interest.

“For you, take one as a gift.” He plucks a sprig of lavender and offers it to her.

Elena smiles and accepts it with a small nod. Oscar watches her, saying nothing, caught in that quiet awe that sometimes overtakes him when he looks at her for too long.

He still doesn’t understand how he got here—how he ended up in a small Croatian coastal town, watching Elena pick flowers under the sun, holding her hand like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

She turns to him and tucks the lavender behind his ear with a teasing smile.

“There. Now you smell nice.”

Oscar rolls his eyes but doesn’t take it off.

They keep walking, unrushed, savoring the morning. They pass an ice cream shop, and Elena suddenly craves pistachio gelato. Oscar buys one for her, and as always, she offers him the first bite. It’s a simple, silly gesture, but it leaves a warmth in his chest.

They stroll to the town square, where a fountain with crystal-clear water sparkles, and children run around, laughing. They sit on the edge, sharing the ice cream, carrying the easy carelessness of people who believe the day will stretch on forever.

Oscar doesn’t know how long they’ve been there, only that, at some point, Elena rests her head on his shoulder, and he closes his eyes, letting himself drift.

And then, the peace shatters.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Oscar feels his entire body go rigid.

No.

No.

No way.

But yes.

Carlos Sainz stands at the other end of the square, frozen in place, his jaw slack, his eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. Beside him, his girlfriend Rebecca has a hand over her mouth, but from the way her shoulders shake, it’s clear she’s holding back laughter.

Oscar doesn’t dare move.

He knows Carlos has already connected the dots.

The pistachio ice cream drips slowly between his fingers, melting.

Elena, still resting her head on his shoulder, exhales deeply before murmuring,

“Well… the odds of this happening were pretty low.”

Oscar swallows hard.

Carlos blinks several times, as if trying to reboot his brain. Then he looks at Oscar. Then at Elena. Then at their intertwined hands. Then back at Oscar.

Oscar sees the exact moment reality slams into him.

Carlos blinks. Takes a deep breath. And explodes.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!”

Elena, calm as ever, straightens her posture and stretches as if this is the most normal thing in the world.

“Carlos.”

“CARLOS?! JUST ‘CARLOS’?! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!”

“Don’t shout.”

“I’M NOT SHOUTING!”

“Yes, you are.”

“I AM ABSOLUTELY SHOUTING!”

Oscar is too paralyzed to intervene. He feels like a deer caught in headlights.

Elena gets to her feet with an exasperated sigh, like she’s dealing with a tantrum-throwing child.

“What are you doing here, Carlos?”

“I SHOULD BE ASKING YOU THAT! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? AND WHY THE HELL ARE YOU WITH HIM?” Carlos gestures wildly toward Oscar, like he’s some inanimate object instead of a person with a name.

Oscar opens his mouth to say something—anything—but no words come out.

“I’m on vacation. Just like you,” Elena replies, completely unfazed.

Carlos looks about ready to combust.

“With him?”

“Yes.”

Oscar wants to disappear.

Carlos points an accusing finger at him.

“YOU!”

Oscar instinctively straightens.

“Me?”

“YES, YOU! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING WITH MY SISTER?!”

Oscar opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.

“Uh…”

“‘UH’ WHAT?!”

Elena sighs.

“Carlos, seriously, can you drop the dramatics?”

“IT’S NOT DRAMATICS! IT’S A VERY SERIOUS QUESTION!”

Rebecca finally decides to step in, placing a gentle hand on Carlos’s arm.

“Babe, breathe.”

“I DON’T WANT TO BREATHE!”

“Well, you should.”

Carlos lets out an angry huff but at least shuts his mouth.

Elena crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you done?”

Carlos scowls.

“No.”

“Let me know when you are.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

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