#got caught up in real life stuff

[cloverleaf77]

I love crack shipping these two so much lol, they are very special to me 💛💛

Opposite au by @campbell_soup70 on instagram, go show them some well deserved love!!

[heartduct]

john and sherlock both being a version of 'being gay is fine, except for me. i cant do that because im Sherlock Holmes/John Watson' stopppp

get a load a this guy! he doesnt know hes a historical fictional figure caught in amber who yet he finds himself bound by watsonian physics to play out the role required of him!

[shredsandpatches]

I have the feeling I'm gonna see this post all over the place in my immediate future and I think a lot of the comments that are already on it are going to be about The Rich but I think the most unsettling thing about it is that any of us can be the kind of person it describes, if only on a smaller scale--and on a societal scale those of us living in the developed world almost certainly are. In a lot of modern takes on the morality play the implicit original sin is being a citizen of the capitalist west with all the knock-on effects that entails. How can you ever even come close to unbalancing those scales? I am myself indifferent honest, but yet I could accuse myself of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me.

(I also don't think the answer is "overthrow society and burn it all down to fix the systemic evils at work in virtually everything we do" so idk, maybe that's part of my own particular evil?)

[kellystar321]

.

[finelinefae]

trust [ceo!h x shy!reader]

synopsis: bambi wants to try something new

word count: 7.9k

contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, fluff, age gap (9 years), shy reader, boyfriend!h, smut (soft smut like very gentle and loving), inexperienced y/n

this is part 4 of Bambi, read part 3 here

. . .

How do I shave down there without getting red, itchy bumps?

Follow these six simple steps to prepare for your first time!

How to suck dick 101

Y/N scrolled through a Reddit page at her desktop computer at work, the screen glowing softly in the dim office lighting. It was a page she had found after typing into Google, ‘how to prepare for your first time.’ Hundreds of subreddits appeared, each packed with questions and experiences Y/N hadn’t even considered until reading about them. She had fallen down the rabbit hole, finding a question and then getting lost in the responses.

Lostrabbit23: I lost my virginity at 15 and it was the worst experience of my life!!!! Lasted five minutes and the guy came before he even put his dick inside me, I swear.

Redberry5: Lost my virginity at 25 and it was a good experience. I’m glad I waited for the right person.

Whitedude32: Can’t understand how people can still be virgins past 18 tbh - just get it over with and live a little.

Y/N gnawed on her bottom lip, her eyes absorbing every word on the page. It seemed unnecessary, and she knew she was overthinking as she normally did, but… Y/N had a boyfriend now. A real boyfriend. And with every boyfriend, she knew what was expected.

The more she read, the more she realized how little she knew. A seed of doubt planted itself within her, growing with every scroll. What if Harry found out just how inexperienced she was? What if he didn’t think she looked pretty naked and ended up having second thoughts about being with her? The thought made her stomach twist in knots.

"Are you watching porn?" Lindsey sauntered over to Y/N's desk, balancing a stack of binders on her hip. Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she frantically clicked off the incognito tab and opened a random Microsoft Word document.

"W-What?" Y/N stammered, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson. "No! Of course not."

"Hmm," Lindsey placed the binders down with a soft thud and crossed her arms, her gaze narrowing. "Then why do you look like I just caught you red-handed? That’s not like you."

"I wasn’t doing anything," Y/N blurted, trying to keep her voice steady. "Just looking at today’s meeting notes."

Lindsey leaned in, peering over Y/N’s shoulder. "These notes are from three weeks ago."

Y/N’s eyes darted to the date at the top of the page. "I was catching up?" she added, her voice faltering.

Lindsey raised an eyebrow, skepticism clear on her face. "So, is this Reddit obsession new, or have you always had it?"

Y/N’s face burned hotter. "I-I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Lindsey gave her a pointed look, "You left your tabs open during lunch. Rookie mistake."

Y/N felt like dying, “I did?” She almost felt like crying, embarrassment washing over her entire body she could feel it burning, “I-I was just researching stuff,”

Lindsey’s expression softened slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. " What kind of 'stuff' are we talking about here?"

Y/N hesitated, her fingers nervously tapping the edge of her keyboard. "Just… things. You know, advice. Relationship stuff."

Lindsey’s eyes lit up with curiosity. "Oh, relationship stuff? Now we're getting somewhere. Who’s the lucky man?”

Y/N and Harry were both sure that Lindsey already knew they were an item but they weren’t going to risk slipping their facade by bringing it up, “Just somebody.” 

Lindsey looked knowingly, “Okay well are you planning on taking the next step with this just somebody?”

Y/N hesitated, unsure how to respond. Whenever things got too intense with Harry, she had a habit of pulling away or steering the conversation elsewhere. It wasn’t because she didn’t want to share those moments with him—she did. But she needed to feel ready, to prepare herself for something so intimate.

“I... I think I want to,” she said softly, avoiding his eyes. Her voice trembled as she added, “I just... I just want to be good.”

Lindsey’s expression softened immediately. “Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured, stepping forward to wrap Y/N in a warm hug. The gesture brought a lump to Y/N’s throat. In the weeks since she’d started her new job, Lindsey had become like the older sister she’d never had—someone she could trust completely.

Pulling back, Lindsey held Y/N’s shoulders firmly, her voice gentle but steady. ���First of all, you never have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. Sex isn’t a performance, it’s personal. It’s about intimacy, connection, and trust. Whatever happens is between you and whoever you’re with, and that’s all that matters.

“Second,” she added with a small smile, “it’s not as complicated as people make it seem. Even if it’s awkward or messy at first, that’s okay. You’ll learn together. That’s one of the best parts of being with someone—discovering their little quirks, preferences, kinks and everything inbetween. Trust me, you’ll be fine. And if anyone ever makes you feel less than beautiful in the process? They’re not worth your time.”

Y/N exhaled, feeling a weight lift from her chest. “Oh no, he’s perfect,” she confessed, her voice tinged with a dreamy sigh. “Better than that. He’s... everything.”

Lindsey chuckled, glancing at her watch. “Well, speaking of perfect, it’s time for us to take a well-deserved lunch break.”

“What?” Y/N blinked in surprise as Lindsey grabbed her hand, tugging her toward the door.

Before she could protest further, Lindsey swung open the door to Harry’s office, revealing him seated at his desk in a perfectly pressed suit. Y/N hadn’t seen much of him that morning, and the sight of him made her heart flutter. She wanted nothing more than to cross the room and curl up in his lap.

Harry glanced up, his lips curving into a warm smile as soon as he spotted her.

“We’re taking an early lunch,” Lindsey declared.

Harry raised an eyebrow, checking the clock on his wall. “It’s 11:30. Lunch doesn’t start for another hour.”

Lindsey waved a dismissive hand. “We’ve been working so hard we deserve an extra break.”

Y/N snapped out of her daze just in time to nod in agreement, though the gesture only made Harry’s gaze soften further.

“Is that right, Miss Y/L/N?” he asked, his tone teasing.

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up. “Mhm,” she mumbled. “We’ve been working very hard.”

Harry chuckled, his gaze flicking back to Lindsey. “Fine. An hour extra, but that’s it. If anyone asks, you’re running errands.”

Lindsey grinned. “Yes, boss. Oh, and we’ll need your credit card.”

Harry scoffed. “Not happening.”

“Worth a shot.” Lindsey shrugged, then headed for the door. Before leaving, she shot them a pointed look. “I’ll grab my coat. No funny business, you two. I’ll be waiting outside.”

As soon as the door clicked shut, Harry stood, straightening his jacket before walking over to Y/N. He reached for her hand, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi, Harry,” she whispered, her breath catching as he leaned down to kiss her gently.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his eyes searching hers. “You don’t have to go with Lindsey, you know. You could stay here and spend your lunch break with me.”

The suggestion was far too tempting, and Harry’s smile only made it harder to resist.

“She hasn’t even told me where we’re going,” Y/N shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the rapid beat of her heart.

Harry reached down, tangling his fingers with hers. His touch was warm, grounding. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Wherever she’s taking you, make sure you don’t overdo it, okay? We still have plans tonight, remember?”

Y/N’s stomach fluttered. Harry had been teasing her about the surprise date all week. She was excited, but also nervous—especially after his cryptic text telling her to wear something she didn’t mind getting dirty.

Harry kissed her again, but their moment was cut short by a loud knock on the door.

“Hurry it up in there! Time’s ticking!” Lindsey’s muffled voice called through the door.

Y/N couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of her, and Harry’s lips curved into a soft smile at the sound.

“Here,” he said, pulling his wallet from the inside pocket of his blazer. He slid out a gleaming gold AMEX card and pressed it into her hand.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “O-Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly—”

“Bambi,” Harry interrupted, his tone firm but affectionate. The nickname made her heart skip. “Take it.”

His commanding presence was enough to make her stop arguing. She looked up at him, cheeks tinged pink, and nodded.

Y/N stared at the card in her hand like it might bite her. “But Harry,” she whispered, glancing up at him with wide eyes, “I don’t even know what to do with this. What if I lose it? What if I spend too much? What if—”

Harry chuckled softly, the sound warm and reassuring. He cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her flushed skin. “Bambi, all you need to do is enjoy yourself. You deserve it.”

Her lips parted, and she blinked up at him, unsure what to say.  “I’ll take good care of it,” she promised in a tiny voice, clutching the card. “And I’ll bring it right back. I promise I won’t spend too much!”

“I know you won’t,” he murmured, a hint of amusement dancing in his voice. “I trust you.”

Before she could overthink it any further, Harry leaned down and kissed her forehead again, lingering just long enough for her to feel the warmth of him. “Go have fun.”

Her heart did a nervous little flip at the reminder. “O-Okay,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lindsey’s voice interrupted again, sharp but teasing. “Alright, lovebirds, seriously! I’m giving you ten seconds before I come in there and drag her out myself!”

Y/N squeaked and turned to the door. “Coming!” she called, her voice high-pitched and rushed.

Harry smirked, clearly enjoying her flustered state. He stepped back and adjusted his tie, looking every bit the polished professional, but his eyes were still soft as they followed her.

“Be good,” he teased, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

Her cheeks turned an even deeper shade of pink. “I’ll try,” she mumbled, giving him a quick, shy smile before hurrying out of the office.

Outside, Lindsey was waiting with her hands on her hips, an exaggeratedly impatient expression on her face.

“About time,” she said, grabbing Y/N’s hand and tugging her down the hallway. “Now, let’s see what kind of trouble we can get into with that fancy credit card of his.”

Y/N let out a soft giggle, her fingers curling around the card in her hand. She glanced back toward Harry’s office door one last time, her heart still racing. Even though she was nervous about tonight, she couldn’t help but feel a little giddy, too.

Lindsey noticed the dreamy look on Y/N’s face and rolled her eyes with a grin. “You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

Y/N looked away, pressing her lips together as a shy smile spread across her face. “Maybe,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Oh, you’re adorable,” Lindsey laughed, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “Come on, let’s make this lunch break worth it.”

. . .

Y/N stood in the small changing room, staring at the pile of delicate lingerie Lindsey had hung on the door hook. Each set was softer and more intricate than the last, made from lace, satin, and ribbons in pastel tones of blue, lavender, mint, and blush. She felt like a clumsy giant in a room of dainty, breakable things.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Y/N called softly through the door.

“You’ve got this,” Lindsey replied encouragingly. “Try the pink one first. It’s so you.”

With trembling hands, Y/N picked up the light blush pink set, the soft lace slipping between her fingers like a whisper. She changed quickly, careful not to look too long in the mirror, and hesitated before stepping out.

“Alright, let me see,” Lindsey said, her voice full of excitement.

Y/N cracked open the door and peeked out timidly. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Promise. Now, come on!”

Taking a deep breath, Y/N stepped out, crossing her arms over her chest shyly. The pastel pink lace hugged her figure, delicate straps tracing over her shoulders and down her back. Lindsey’s eyes lit up as she took in the sight.

“Oh, you look so cute!” Lindsey grinned. “It’s perfect! Very soft, very sweet. What do you think?”

Y/N glanced at her reflection in the mirror outside the stall, biting her lip. “I don’t know... It feels like... too much? Or maybe not enough?”

Lindsey shook her head, placing a reassuring hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “It’s not too much, and it’s definitely not too little. It’s elegant and adorable, just like you.”

Y/N flushed and retreated back into the stall to try the next set. The routine continued for several minutes, with Y/N emerging in pastel greens, blues, and creams. Finally, she reached for the last set—a soft taupe-pink shade, almost like the color of cocoa mixed with milk.

When she stepped out in this set, Lindsey gasped softly. “Oh my god.”

Y/N immediately crossed her arms again. “Is it bad? I knew it was too much—”

“No!” Lindsey interrupted, shaking her head vehemently. She stepped closer and took Y/N by the shoulders, turning her toward the mirror. “Look at yourself. You look like a little deer.”

Y/N blinked at her reflection, her brow furrowed. The taupe-pink color complimented her skin tone, and the simple but elegant design made her feel... grown-up, yet still herself.

“I... I don’t know,” she murmured, her voice shaky.

“Hey.” Lindsey crouched slightly to catch Y/N’s gaze in the mirror. “You’re beautiful, Y/N. Stunning. And Harry is going to lose his shit when he sees you in this.”

Y/N’s cheeks flamed. “Lindsey!” she squeaked, burying her face in her hands.

Lindsey laughed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “What? It’s true! Now, I think we’ve found the winner. Let’s go pay before I start crying over how cute you look.”

Y/N nodded shyly, stealing one last glance at herself in the mirror. For the first time, she felt a spark of confidence in her chest. Maybe Harry would love it.

Or, at the very least, she loved it—and that felt just as important.

. . .

Y/N sat comfortably in the passenger seat of Harry’s Porsche, her old t-shirt soft against her skin and her blue jeans slightly worn at the knees. Her baby pink ballet flats rested lightly on the floor, toes tapping absentmindedly as she gazed out the window, trying to decipher where he was taking her. 

Harry, effortlessly cozy in his sweater and loose-fitting jeans, kept one hand on the wheel while the other held hers over the console. His black Vans were slightly scuffed, white socks peeking above the edges. At every red light, he lifted her fingers to his lips, pressing a tender kiss against them as if it were second nature.

“Did y’have fun with Lindsey today?” he asked, sparing a glance in her direction.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then cleared her throat. “Y-Yeah, it was… fun.” She tried not to think about the underwear she had bought earlier particularly because she was currently wearing it beneath her very casual clothing. 

Harry’s lips quirked up in amusement. “You don’t sound too sure about that.”

“No, it was!” she insisted, sitting up a little straighter. “It was really nice. I don’t spend a lot of time with other girls, so it felt… different. In a good way.”

His smile softened as he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before returning his focus to the road. “Y’know you’re welcome to spend time with Sarah and Alessia too.”

“But they’re your friends,” Y/N frowned. “Wouldn’t you feel like I was taking them away?”

Harry scoffed, shaking his head. “Of course not. What’s mine is yours, love. You’re my girlfriend, remember?”

Y/N’s lips twitched, a giddy warmth settling in her chest. She let her head fall back against the headrest, a slow smile curling on her lips.

“What?” Harry grinned, flicking his eyes toward her for a second.

“I just like it when you say that,” she admitted.

“What? Girlfriend?” he teased, his dimples appearing as he chuckled.

“Mhm,” she hummed, cheeks heating up. “I can’t believe I’m a girlfriend.”

Harry laughed, bringing her hand up to kiss her knuckles. “You’re not just a girlfriend, you’re my girlfriend. All mine.”

She liked that label even more.

Later on, the soft crunch of gravel beneath the tires signaled their arrival. Harry pulled into a small stone parking lot in front of what looked like a quaint, cottage-style home. The windows glowed warmly against the dusky sky, lace curtains fluttering slightly from the inside. There was no sign or indication of where they were, just an inviting little house with flower boxes lining the window sills.

Y/N glanced around, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Where are we?”

Harry smirked, already opening his door. “You’ll see.”

Curiosity buzzed in her stomach as she climbed out of the car, the crisp evening air wrapping around her. Harry met her at the front, slipping his hand into hers and leading her toward the wooden door.

Before she could ask any more questions, the door creaked open to reveal an elderly woman with wispy white hair pinned up in a loose bun. She wore a pastel apron dusted with flour and had a kind twinkle in her eye.

“Harry, darling!” she greeted, pulling him into a soft hug before turning to Y/N with an equally warm smile. “And you must be Y/N! Oh, you’re just as lovely as he said.”

Y/N’s brows shot up as she looked between Harry and the woman. “He’s mentioned me?”

“Oh, love, he wouldn’t stop talking about you,” she chuckled, stepping aside to usher them in. The scent of vanilla and butter filled the air, making Y/N’s mouth water. “Come in, come in, we’ve got cakes to decorate!”

Y/N’s jaw dropped slightly as she turned to Harry. “Really?”

Harry grinned, squeezing her hand. “Thought you’d like it.” Y/N let out a delighted squeal as she followed him inside. 

The cozy kitchen looked straight out of a storybook—wooden shelves lined with jars of sugar and sprinkles, floral-printed tea towels hanging neatly by the stove, and a large wooden table in the center covered with piping bags, frosting tubs, and trays of undecorated cupcakes.

Y/N hesitated at the doorway, her fingers curling around Harry’s sleeve as she peeked inside. “I’ve always wanted to do a baking class,” she admitted, eyes wide with curiosity.

Harry turned to her with a grin. “I know,”

She furrowed her brows, “How did you find out?”

“You’re brothers told me,” He shrugged.

The elderly woman, who had introduced herself as Margaret, beamed at her. “Don’t worry if you’ve never done this before—I’ll show you everything!”

Y/N’s fingers fiddled with the edge of her sleeve as she stepped further into the cozy kitchen, taking in the warm scent of vanilla and sugar. She glanced at Harry, still feeling a little surprised that he had gone out of his way to plan something so thoughtful.

Margaret handed them each an apron, and Y/N hesitated before slipping hers over her head. As she struggled to tie the strings behind her back, she felt a familiar presence behind her.

“Here, Bambi,” Harry murmured, gently tugging the ends and tying them into a neat bow.

Y/N swallowed, her fingers curling slightly against the fabric of her apron. “Thank you…” she said softly, peeking up at him.

Harry just hummed, the corner of his mouth twitching as he reached for his own apron.

Margaret clapped her hands together. “Now, let’s get started! We’ve got a few cakes ready for decorating, and you two can pick whichever frosting colors you like.”

Y/N followed her to the counter, where bowls of pastel-colored buttercream sat beside trays of undecorated cakes. She hovered near the edge, unsure where to start.

Harry, on the other hand, grabbed a piping bag without hesitation. “I used to work at a bakery so don’t be surprised if my cake turns into a masterpiece,” he declared, scooping up a generous amount of frosting.

Y/N watched him for a moment, then turned back to her own cake. She carefully picked up a piping bag but hesitated before squeezing it. “What if I mess it up?” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

Margaret overheard and smiled warmly. “There’s no such thing, dear. It’s just cake. If it doesn’t turn out how you want, we’ll eat the evidence.”

Y/N let out a small giggle, feeling a little more at ease. She took a deep breath and pressed down on the piping bag, carefully swirling the frosting onto the cake. Her hands were a little shaky, but as she stepped back, she couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit proud.

Harry glanced over and tilted his head. “That’s cute,” he said, nodding toward her cake.

Y/N tucked her chin down, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, before turning back to his own. “Almost as good as mine,”

Y/N peeked at his cake and bit her lip to hold back a giggle. His frosting was uneven, the swirls lopsided. She glanced up at him, unsure if she should say anything.

He must have noticed because he smirked. “Go on, laugh.”

She shook her head quickly. “N-No! I—I think it’s lovely.”

Harry chuckled, nudging her lightly. “lovely, huh?”

Y/N felt her face heat up and quickly focused back on her cake, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

Before she could react, Harry swiped a bit of icing onto his finger and gently smeared it across her cheek. She gasped, eyes widening in surprise as he leaned in slightly, a playful smirk on his lips.

“I think you’re lovely,” he murmured.

Margaret smiled knowingly. “You two make a lovely pair,” she said as she reached for some sprinkles. “Now, who wants to add the finishing touches?”

Y/N reached for a jar of soft pink sugar pearls, her fingers barely brushing Harry’s as he reached for the same one.

He didn’t move his hand right away, just glanced at her with a small smile. “You take it,” he said softly, his pinkie finger poking her hand. Y/N ducked her head, feeling a flutter in her chest as she carefully took the jar.

With the finishing touches added—Harry’s cake looking as delightfully messy as ever, and Y/N’s decorated with delicate swirls and tiny pearls—they both stepped back, admiring their work.

Margaret beamed at them. “Wonderful, both of you! Now, how about some tea? You’ve earned it.”

Y/N nodded quickly, grateful for something to do other than stand there under Harry’s watchful gaze. She followed Margaret to a cozy table near the window, where a teapot and delicate china cups were already set up. The scent of chamomile and honey filled the air as Margaret poured them each a cup.

Harry stretched out beside Y/N, his long legs brushing hers beneath the table. He didn’t seem to notice—or if he did, he wasn’t letting on.

As Y/N stirred a spoonful of sugar into her tea, curiosity finally got the better of her. She glanced between Harry and Margaret before speaking up softly. “How do you two know each other?”

Margaret smiled as she set down the teapot. “Oh, I’m an old friend of Harry’s mum. We go way back.” She turned to Harry with a teasing glint in her eye. “She’s actually coming to visit next week for his birthday.”

Y/N froze, her fingers tightening around her teacup.

Birthday?

Her mind spun. Harry hadn’t mentioned his birthday. Not once. And now she had to meet his mum?

Oh. Oh no.

She must’ve gone silent for too long because Harry’s gaze flickered toward her, his brows furrowing slightly.

Then, under the table, she felt it—his hand, warm and steady, pressing gently against her thigh.

Y/N’s breath hitched as she looked up at him, wide-eyed.

He didn’t say anything, just gave her a knowing look—one that was both amused and reassuring. His thumb brushed lightly over the fabric of her jeans, a silent gesture that somehow grounded her and made her even more flustered all at once.

“You alright, Bambi?” he asked, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

Y/N swallowed hard and nodded quickly, even though her heart was racing.

Harry’s lips twitched, clearly not believing her. But, mercifully, he didn’t push. He just kept his hand where it was, a steady presence beneath the table.

Y/N took a sip of her tea, hoping it would hide the blush creeping up her neck.

She had two problems now: figuring out what to do for his birthday and somehow surviving meeting his mum without making a complete fool of herself.

And, judging by the knowing smirk on Harry’s lips, he was well aware of both.

. . .

“Thank you for having us,” Y/N said softly, offering Margaret a small smile as they stood by the door.

Margaret waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, nonsense, dear. It was lovely having you both.” Then, with a knowing smile, she added, “You’re welcome to come back and do some baking with me anytime, Y/N.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the offer. She glanced at Harry, who was watching the exchange with amusement, then back at Margaret. “Oh—I’d love to,” she said shyly.

Margaret patted her arm warmly before turning to Harry. “Take care, love. And don’t forget to call your mum.”

Harry groaned playfully. “You’ve been talking to her too much.”

Margaret only laughed, waving them off as they made their way to the car.

Once inside, Y/N fastened her seatbelt and turned to look at Harry, who was adjusting the mirrors. She hesitated for a moment before finally voicing the thoughts swirling in her head.

“You didn’t tell me your mom was coming to see you,” she said, her fingers fidgeting in her lap. “Or that it was your birthday.”

Harry shot her a side glance, lips twitching slightly. “I didn’t want to panic you.”

She frowned. “About your birthday?”

“I don’t like the attention,” he admitted simply.

That made her pause. She looked at him, watching the way his fingers tapped idly against the steering wheel.

Silence settled between them for a beat before he spoke again, his voice quieter this time. “Are you mad?”

The question shocked her. Her brows knitted together. “No, of course not,” she said quickly. Then, softer, “Just… worried.”

Harry turned to her fully now, one arm draped over the steering wheel as he studied her. “Worried?”

“What if your mom doesn’t like me?” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

His expression softened. “I think she already does.”

Y/N blinked. “Huh?”

“You’re all I talk about when I speak to her these days, Bambi,” he said, his voice warm, sure. “Believe me when I say you have nothing to worry about.”

A small huff left her lips as she sank deeper into her seat, still unsure if that made her feel better or worse.

“Bambiiiiii,” Harry drawled, his tone teasing. “Give me a kiss.”

She almost smiled, shaking her head as she turned toward him to say something—maybe to protest, maybe just to stall—but she never got the chance.

Before she could speak, Harry cupped her entire face in his hands, tilting her chin up as he kissed her.

Y/N melted instantly, her hands hesitating before resting lightly against his chest. His thumbs brushed over her cheeks, his lips moving against hers with a kind of lazy confidence that made her stomach flip.

He pulled back just enough for their noses to brush, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You taste like frosting,” he murmured against her mouth.

Y/N let out a breathless laugh, her fingers curling slightly against his shirt.

Maybe she was still nervous about meeting his mom. Maybe she was still reeling from the fact that his birthday was next week. But right now, in this moment, all she could focus on was him.

“Come on,” Harry’s hand rested on her knee, “Let’s get you home.” 

The drive back was quiet, comfortable. The occasional hum of a song on the radio filled the space between them, but neither of them felt the need to talk much. Harry’s hand rested casually on the gear shift, fingers drumming lightly, while Y/N watched the familiar streets pass by through the window.

Before she knew it, they were outside her house. Harry shifted into park and turned toward her with a small smile. “Home safe, Bambi.”

Y/N reached for the door handle but hesitated.

She didn’t want the night to end just yet.

Biting her lip, she turned to face him properly. “Do you… want to come inside?”

Harry blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, “Yeah?”

Y/N nodded, suddenly feeling a little nervous under his gaze. “Yeah.”

His face softened into something warmer, more curious. He tilted his head slightly, studying her. “You sure?”

Y/N swallowed, then nodded again. “I just—” She exhaled, giving a small shrug. “I’m not ready for you to leave yet.”

Harry’s expression changed, something fond flickering in his green eyes before he reached over, fingers brushing her chin briefly.

“Then I won’t,” he murmured.

With that, he shut off the car and stepped out, rounding to meet her at the front steps.

Y/N’s stomach fluttered as she unlocked the door, fully aware of Harry standing just behind her. And as she pushed it open and stepped inside, she couldn’t help but smile when she heard him close the door behind them.

“Everyone’s asleep. We can go upstairs to my room,” she whispered, locking the front door behind them. Slipping off her shoes, she glanced back as Harry did the same, his movements quiet and easy.

Without thinking, she reached for his hand, her fingers curling around his as she led him up the stairs. They tiptoed carefully past her brother’s rooms, the only sound the faint creak of the wooden steps beneath them.

Once inside, she gently shut the door and turned to find Harry standing in the middle of her room, his gaze slowly sweeping over the space.

It was strange seeing him there—so tall, so effortlessly cool—against the soft pink and white of her bedroom. He looked almost out of place, yet somehow, he didn’t.

His eyes landed on the mannequin in the corner, where a partially finished dress hung, delicate ruffles cascading down the fabric.

“Did you make this?” he asked, his voice laced with curiosity as he stepped closer, taking in the details.

Y/N tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly shy. “Yeah… it’s taking a lot longer than I thought it would.”

Harry turned to her, something like awe flickering across his face. “Bambi,” he murmured, shaking his head slightly. “You should be working with the design team at Pleasing, not stuck behind a desk.”

Her eyes widened, heat creeping up her neck. “Oh, no, no,” she protested quickly, waving a hand. “The desk job is more than enough.”

Harry just hummed, still admiring the dress. “At least give it a think.”

Y/N blinked, a confused smile tugging at her lips. “Wait, are you offering?”

Harry turned to face her, already standing just a step away, the small space of her room almost too close. His lips curled into a teasing grin. “I don’t know… do you want me to?”

Her heart skipped a beat, and before she could answer, Harry intertwined their fingers, his touch sending a jolt of warmth through her. He lowered his head, his lips ghosting over hers, just a breath away.

“I think you’re going to do such great things, Bambi,” he murmured, his voice soft but certain. “You don’t need me for that.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, the sincerity in his voice melting the walls she had built up around herself. Her chest tightened, and before she could stop herself, she kissed him, her lips pressing against his with a soft urgency.

His hands cupped her cheeks gently, his touch grounding her as she stepped back, the backs of her knees hitting the edge of her bed. They both tumbled onto it in a tangle of limbs, Y/N’s heart thudding loudly against her chest.

His hands moved to her hips, fingers digging into her skin beneath her shirt, pulling her closer. The warmth of his touch made her pulse quicken, and her mind raced, completely overwhelmed by the closeness.

Her thoughts scattered, and she found herself whispering, almost breathless. “Y—you can take it off.”

Harry’s hands stilled, his brows furrowing in confusion. “My shirt, I mean.”

His lips parted slightly, eyes widening as he processed what she’d said. “Are you sure?”

She nodded, her heart in her throat, “I-I’m sure,” She replied. 

Harry didn’t respond at first, his eyes scanning her face to make sure she truly meant what she said. His fingers tugged on the ends of her shirt and she nodded once more to let him know it was okay and what she wanted. 

Harry lifted her shirt, his fingers grazing her skin as he pulled it over her head. The cool air prickled against her newly exposed skin, but the way his gaze darkened sent a different kind of heat through her. 

"God," he murmured, voice thick with something unspoken, his eyes scanned the underwear she was wearing. He said nothing at first, Y/N’s nerves growing at his silence. Her first instinct was to put her shirt back on to cover herself up but his fingers wrapped around her wrist, “Are you real?” 

Y/N giggled, “I think so,” she poked her tummy and Harry laughed.

“I must have been good at some point in time, I don’t think you’d be here if I weren’t.” 

“You are good Harry,” Y/N murmurs.

“For you,” Harry whispers, “I’ll be anything. Anything y’ want, Bambi. I’ll bend and break myself to be whatever you want me to be. I’ve never been one for religion, but I’ve only ever prayed long and hard for someone like you, and now here you are. You’re like holding a piece of Heaven.”

Y/N's breath catches, the weight of his words settling deep within her chest. She reaches up, her fingers brushing against his cheek, tracing the lines of his jaw with a softness that matches her racing heart. "Harry..."

His eyes soften as they meet hers, the intensity never wavering, but there's something tender in his gaze now, something that says he's not just talking about desire, but something deeper, more profound.

Y/N swallowed hard, her fingers twitching at her sides before she reached for the hem of his shirt. He smirked, eyes locked onto hers as he helped her tug it over his head, his movements fluid, confident. Her eyes rounded at the tattoos that littered his muscular torso. Her hands hesitated over the hard lines of his chest, the warmth of his skin under her fingertips making her pulse stutter.

"Go on," Harry urged, his voice low, teasing. "Touch me."

Her breath hitched, but she obeyed, palms trailing cautiously over his chest, feeling the steady, unshaken beat of his heart. Unlike her own, which was hammering in her ribs. She traced her fingers over a particular tattoo on his left pectoral.

Her gaze lifted to meet his, and she noticed the way his chest rose and fell with every breath, the warmth of his body against hers making her pulse quicken. Harry’s eyes softened as he watched her, his lips curling into a smile.

"Relax, love," he murmured, cupping her chin and tilting her face up to his. "S’just me."

And then he kissed her again—deep, sure, in control. His hands slid down to her waist, pulling her flush against him, and she melted into him, letting him take the lead, letting him guide her through the intensity of it all.

They kissed for a while, Harry’s hands roaming over her skin, slowly learning the contours of her body as though he were memorizing each moment. Y/N melted into him, feeling the heat between them grow, her heart racing, pulse quickening under his touch. 

Y/N pulled away for a brief second to catch his breath, his eyes were hazy, his lips were pinker than usual and lazy grin lingered on his lips. “What are y’ thinking about Bambi?” 

She wondered how he could already read her so well. Her mind had been drifting the entire evening to this very moment, and now she was in it, her mouth dry and she couldn’t seem to conjure up the words. “H-Harry I-” The words were on the tip of her tongue, her mind drifting to a reddit article she read three days prior with tips on this exact situation. 

Harry waited patiently for her to continue, letting her have her space to gain the confidence to ask whatever she needed to. He could see the uncertainty in her eyes, the hesitation in her voice, and he respected it, not rushing her, not pushing for anything.

She sighed, her words barely above a whisper, "I bought this bra today."

Harry nodded, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "It’s very pretty, Bambi. So pretty on you." His lips brushed the side of her neck, a gentle, tender gesture meant to reassure her.

But Y/N could feel the weight of her own thoughts pressing on her chest. "B-but there’s a reason I bought it," she continued, her voice shaky.

Harry paused, his lips stilling against her skin as he pulled back slightly to look at her, his gaze full of warmth and curiosity. “What do you mean?”

She took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest as she gathered the courage to speak. "I... I want to try things with you."

Harry’s expression softened, the shock in his eyes mixing with a deeper understanding. He gave her a moment to continue, sensing that she wasn’t finished.

"I want you to do stuff with me." She felt her cheeks flush, but she held his gaze, refusing to look away.

He stayed silent for a beat, his fingers gently brushing a strand of hair from her face, his voice calm but filled with concern. "Are you sure?"

She nodded, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for his, needing his touch to ground her. “I want to touch you.” She whispered in his ear, her cheeks scorching.

Harry choked, “Bambi,” He could feel himself hardening in his trousers.

She quickly continued, her voice a little shaky. “But y—you have to help me because… reading things online make it hard to understand, and those articles about… it’s confusing.”

Harry took her hands in his, his thumbs brushing over her knuckles as he looked into her eyes, his expression filled with warmth. “Hey, it’s okay,” he reassured her gently. “We’ll go slow. No pressure. I’ll help you, I promise. What is it you had in mind, Bambi?”

“I’m too embarrassed to say it out loud,” She admitted, breezing past the whole ‘pretending to be confident’ moment she had pictured in her head. “I feel embarrassed not knowing anything.”

Harry’s gaze softened, and Y/N wasn’t sure why it comforted her. He wasn’t showing sympathy, frustration, or excitement—his expression was unreadable, almost effortless. It was as if her uncertainty didn’t matter to him, as if knowing nothing made no difference at all. Being with her was enough, and whatever came with it was just a bonus.

“How about I’ll help you first,” He gently guided her onto his lap, his hands steady on her waist as he settled her against him. “Just follow my lead, yeah?” His voice was soft, reassuring, but there was an edge of something deeper in his tone—something patient yet undeniably wanting.

Y/N’s breath hitched as she adjusted herself, feeling the warmth of his body beneath her. His hands, warm and firm, traced slow circles on her hips, grounding her. “You don’t have to rush,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “This is just us. You and me.”

She exhaled shakily, her fingers gripping his shoulders as she let herself relax against him. The feeling was new, overwhelming but not in a bad way. Safe. Warm. Intimate in a way she hadn’t expected.

Harry’s fingers trailed up her spine, his touch featherlight but deliberate. “Tell me what feels good, Bambi,” he whispered, his lips ghosting over the shell of her ear. “We’ll figure this out together.”

Y/N swallowed, her body tingling at his words. “O-okay,” she breathed, trusting him completely.

Y/N shuddered as Harry’s hands splayed on her thighs, his fingers playfully playing with the hook of her underwear that rested on her hips. His thumb made circles on her skin, goosebumps rising where he traced, ‘Is this okay?” He whispered, eyes looking into hers. 

She nodded. His fingers sliding down further until they cupped her between her legs, “What about this?” 

She gaped, “Yes Harry,” 

“M’kay,” Warm breath fanned down her neck. 

Beneath her, Y/N could feel Harry’s hardening length. Her eyes widened, her breath hitching as she shifted slightly, the sensation unfamiliar yet thrilling. Harry’s grip on her hips tightened just a fraction, his jaw clenching as he exhaled through his nose.

“You feel that, Bambi?” he murmured, his voice thick with restraint.

She nodded, her hands clutching his shoulders, her heart hammering against her ribs. “It’s… um, it’s big,” she admitted shyly, her cheeks burning.

“Do you trust me?” Harry asked.

“Completely,” Y/N whispered with a nod. Harry didn’t hesitate, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before his hand drifted lower.

With careful precision, he hooked his fingers around the fabric of her underwear, tugging it aside. She wondered if he could feel the razor bumps from where she had tried to shave. If he did he didn’t say anything, just whispered, “Y’ the most perfect girl. How are you real?” She wasn’t sure if he was speaking to her or himself. 

The moment his fingers brushed past her folds, searching for her clit, she stiffened, a sharp inhale catching in her throat. Letting out a shaky breath, her fingers gripping his shoulders as a wave of unfamiliar yet intoxicating pleasure coursed through her. Harry watched her closely, his eyes dark with focus, making sure she was comfortable.

“Relax, Bambi,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her temple as his fingers moved with deliberate care. 

Y/N’s breath hitched as he found the sensitive bundle of nerves, his touch gentle yet firm. A soft whimper escaped her lips, and she instinctively pressed closer to him, seeking more.

“That’s it,” Harry murmured, his free hand stroking her thigh reassuringly. “You’re doing so good for me.”

She felt heat pool in her stomach, her body responding in ways she never imagined. “Harry,” she whimpered, barely recognizing her own voice.

His lips curled into a smirk as he pressed a kiss just below her ear. “I’ve got you, love,” he promised, his fingers working her with steady, patient movements. “You’re truly quite perfect.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at his words, but then her brows furrowed as a thought crept into her mind—she wanted to do something for Harry, too. This wasn’t meant to be just about her.

But as his fingers continued their slow, torturous movements, her thoughts blurred into nothingness. Her body responded instinctively, her hips rutting against his hand when he brushed a particularly sensitive spot.

Harry groaned, the sound deep and raw, sending a fresh wave of heat through her. The effect it had on her was instant—she wanted to hear it again. So she did it once more, rolling her hips into his touch.

“Y’ gonna kill me, Bambi,” he rasped, his grip on her tightening as he fought to keep control.

Harry let out a strained chuckle, his fingers tightening around her hips as he steadied her movements. His gaze was heavy-lidded, filled with something dark and reverent as he watched her.

“So damn sweet,” he murmured, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her skin. “All wide-eyed and trembling… just like a little deer.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her breath catching at his words. His comparison made her feel small, delicate—like something precious in his hands. 

Harry’s breath grew heavier, his grip on her hips firm as he guided her movements, letting her find what felt good. Y/N was completely lost in the sensation—his fingers working her with precise, devastating strokes, his voice low and coaxing as he whispered sweet praises in her ear.

“That’s it, Bambi,” he murmured, his forehead resting against hers. “Let yourself feel it.”

Her body trembled, overwhelmed by the pleasure building inside her. She clung to him, fingers pulling on the curls at the nape of his neck, his head falling back as she rocked against his hand, chasing the high she had never quite reached before.

Harry was struggling himself, his jaw clenched, his breathing ragged as her movements sent jolts of pleasure straight through him. He was achingly hard beneath her, the friction almost too much, especially when she rolled her hips just right.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his fingers faltering for a moment before he doubled down, determined to push her over the edge first. “You feel so good, love—so perfect.”

His words sent her spiraling. A broken moan slipped past her lips as the tension inside her snapped, pleasure crashing over her in waves. Her body tensed, then melted, a shuddering mess in his arms as she came undone.

The sight of her—the way she trembled, the breathy whimpers falling from her lips—was Harry’s undoing. With a deep, guttural groan, he buried his face in her neck, his body shuddering as he followed right after her, lost in his own release.

For a moment, neither of them moved, both caught in the aftershocks of pleasure, their breaths mingling as they clung to each other. Y/N felt boneless, her head resting against his shoulder, her heart still hammering in her chest.

“I think I’m falling in love with you, Harry,” Y/N confessed, her voice soft in the quiet light of her room. It was the most honest thing she had ever said, the most vulnerable she had ever allowed herself to be.

Harry’s eyes shone with an emotion she couldn’t quite decipher. Maybe it was love, maybe it was more but she couldn’t quite figure out what meant more than love. Unless what she was feeling was exactly that- something more- because when she thought about loving Harry, the word seemed much too small. She wanted to be the same person, wanted to melt into his skin and never find where she ended and he began. 

His fingers traced slow, soothing patterns on her back as he held her, grounding her in the moment. “Maybe it’s your first orgasm talking.” He chuckled and she playfully nudged him before laughing with him. 

As her eyes fluttered shut, inhaling the scent of him—warm, familiar, safe, she heard him whisper, “I think I’m two steps ahead of you Bambi.” and her heart pounded against her chest. 

Maybe love wasn’t a big enough word for what she felt, but whatever it was, it belonged to him. And she had a feeling it always would.

[deus-and-the-machina]

ngl I think the ideal ffxiv experience is finding 3-4 or more people to be insane with about your WOLs and other related characters you like, find pretty art to send to each other, and ignoring all of what the rest of social media has to say about the game peace and love <3

[maskedbyghost]

I just had a funny thought—like, what if Simon, the man who would never confess his feelings out loud, got caught by a lie detector?

Simon had always acted like he hated you. He was distant, cold, sometimes downright rude. If you cracked a joke, he barely acknowledged it. If you tried to tease him, he shut it down with a look. The man was impossible to read, and if he had any feelings toward you, they were buried so deep that even he probably forgot they existed. So you accepted it—Simon Riley didn’t like you; end of story.

But one day, Soap decided to have a little fun. He managed to get his hands on a lie detector—a cheap thing, but functional enough for their purposes. And, with the whole team already invested, he convinced Simon to sit down and give it a go.

With a devilish grin, Soap set the machine up, clearly pleased with himself. "This is gonna be good."

Simon, sitting across the room with his arms crossed, lets out an unimpressed sigh. "No."

"C’mon, LT," Soap coaxes, already setting up the device. "What, you scared?"

"I just think it’s a waste of time."

"Which is exactly what someone scared would say," you tease, shooting him a playful look. "What, afraid we’ll expose your deep, dark secrets?"

Simon exhales sharply, like he's regretting every life decision that led him here. But Soap is relentless, and the rest of the team is already invested, so with a roll of his eyes, he lets them strap the device to his arm.

"Alright, let’s keep it simple," Soap says, rubbing his hands together gleefully. "What’s your name?"

"Simon Riley."

The machine stays steady.

"See? Works fine!" Soap says. "Alright, next—Do you like tea more than coffee?"

"Tea."

No lie.

"Do you think I’m the best-looking guy on base?" Soap asks, waggling his brows.

"No."

The machine doesn’t waver, and the room erupts into laughter. Soap clutches his chest in mock offense. "Brutal, mate!"

You chuckle along with the others, watching Simon’s expression remain unreadable as always. It’s honestly kind of fun seeing him like this, forced to answer without his usual way of avoiding things.

Soap’s grin widened as he leaned forward, looking between the two of you. "Alright, let’s get to the real stuff—do you love her?" He gave Simon a knowing look, clearly enjoying how uncomfortable the whole thing was getting.

Your breath catches, and you’re about to brush it off as a joke when Simon—without hesitation—mutters a firm, "No."

But the machine beeps. A lie.

Silence crashes over the room.

Soap stares. You stare. The team erupts into howls of laughter, and you feel your stomach twist because Simon—who is always composed, always in control—looks genuinely horrified.

"Ohhh, shite!" Soap hollers, slapping his knee. "You were sayin', Lt?"

Gaz is wheezing. "He thought he could lie! He really thought—"

Your face is burning, your heart pounding in your chest as you look at Simon. His eyes flick to you for the briefest second before he stands up abruptly, yanking the device off his arm.

"This thing's faulty," he mutters, turning on his heel to leave the room.

"Faulty my ass!" Soap yells after him, still cackling.

You sit there, still stunned, watching Simon disappear through the door. The laughter continues around you, but all you can hear is the echo of the lie detector beeping, proving something that you never in a million years thought you'd hear confirmed.

Simon Riley loves you.

PART 2

--------------------------------------

idk its dumb...

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle

[tossawary]

The funniest "early family reunion" on the Death Star / crack canon divergence AU that I can think of right now is Darth Vader and C-3PO. Threepio gets separated from the others somehow and ends up running into Darth Vader in some random hallway, and it's just a real "What." moment for Darth Vader. (Threepio is screaming in terror and begging for his life, of course.)

Because, like, that's the droid that HE built for his mom. That's the droid that followed his wife around during the Clone Wars. What the fuck is Threepio doing HERE??? NOW??? Did Obi-Wan (Vader has still caught the Kenobi vibes on the station here, obviously) have Threepio for the past NINETEEN years? That asshole. That sounds SO annoying, too. Good. Obi-Wan deserves that.

Thankfully, this is not as catastrophic as Vader getting R2-D2, because Threepio has had a memory wipe and no one ever tells Threepio much of anything (he's got some information on the Rebellion but most of it is outdated, especially after the destruction of Alderaan). But Threepio has spent the past two days or so hanging out with Luke Skywalker, and also witnessed the destruction of the Lars farm, both of which as revelations may cause Vader to flip out in weird ways. (Artoo is STILL around too??? That traitor.) Possibly, this may be enough of a distraction to allow Obi-Wan to actually slip away and live, but maybe not.

The important thing is that Threepio is taken off the Death Star somehow, so he can become "Death Vader's gaudy gold-plated protocol droid who has anxiety and is annoying as hell but Vader takes him EVERYWHERE". Imperial soldiers from random troopers up to genuinely important Admirals occasionally have to deal with "droid-sitting" duty while Vader is out doing scary, evil Force of Nature stuff and they all hate it, because Threepio never shuts up, has a knack for wandering off (he's trying to pull a daring escape) and nearly getting himself torn to pieces (people have actually gotten hurt trying to follow him), and most people don't have the guts to just turn Darth fucking Vader's pet droid off for a little while. Vader COULD just reprogram him or put in a restraining bolt or take Threepio's legs off, but he can just pick Threepio up with the Force, so it's whatever to him. (There IS a tracker installed, but Threepio doesn't actually know where to run anyway.)

Threepio's official role is "translator" for Darth Vader, which Threepio has somehow taken to also mean "mediator". So, whenever an Imperial officer is getting threatened by Vader, there's a stuffy protocol droid behind him saying things like, "Oh my! I'd listen to him if I were you! What happened to the last fellow was rather unpleasant," and, "It's impossible to get good help these days, isn't it, Master Vader?" and it sucks. The only one who could really do anything to stop this is the Emperor and Darth Sidious couldn't care less about his apprentice's latest purse dog droid.

Unclear whether or not Vader at this point actually has any real fondness for this piece of his past / reminder or his lost loved ones, is just super lonely, secretly thinks Threepio's surprisingly deadly antics are funny, or is using Threepio as bait for R2-D2 (come get him, you little fucker) and the others. Might be a combination of all these things.

[hsnlv]

caught in the act (of falling) | y.jw

req!: jungwon with fake dating trope (and like he wants to make it a real relationship or smth like that)

pairing: jungwon x fem!reader

synopsis: what started as a fake dating scheme to fend off jungwon’s ex turns into stolen kisses, lingering touches, and feelings neither of you expected. when “pretend” starts to feel a little too real, jungwon’s flustered confession might just change everything.

warnings/others: fake dating trope!, cute flustered jungwon🤭, jungwon’s ex is obsessive (i would be too if i were one actually)

w/c: 1.07k

here’s my masterlist!

you honestly can’t figure out how you and jungwon ended up here—tangled in each other’s arms in his room, no one around but the two of you. his chest is warm against your back, his chin perched lazily on your shoulder, and his hands are wrapped around yours, helping hold the comic you’re both supposed to be reading. except neither of you is paying attention. how could you, when you can feel his breath tickling your neck every time he exhales?

this whole thing started as a joke—or at least, that’s what you tell yourself. jungwon’s ex had been haunting him like a particularly clingy ghost, and out of sheer desperation, he asked you to pretend to be his girlfriend. fake dating, he called it. to drive her away.

at first, you thought he was out of his mind.

<<<<<<<<<<<<

“jungwon, have you completely lost it?” you whisper-shouted, darting nervous glances at his ex, who was seated way too close to your table in the cafeteria. her glare was sharp enough to cut through steel. “she’s going to end me.”

“she’s not going to end you,” jungwon whispered back, though his tone wasn’t exactly convincing. “look, it’s a foolproof plan. a few hugs, maybe hold hands—just when she’s around! it’ll be fine.”

“fine? jungwon, she’s been staring at me like i ran over her cat.”

he winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “okay, fair. but you’ll be doing me the biggest favor ever. i’ll owe you one. please?”

you crossed your arms. “and what exactly does fake dating involve? because i swear if this gets weird—”

“it won’t!” he exclaimed quickly, his face scrunching up in that stupidly cute way that made you want to throttle him and pinch his cheeks at the same time. “just little stuff. harmless things. like holding hands. maybe linking arms. y’know, couple things.”

you eyed him warily. “define ‘couple things.’”

<<<<<<<<<

“couple things” turned out to be… a lot. jungwon, in his infinite wisdom, decided you both needed to “practice” being a convincing couple. this involved a series of increasingly absurd activities that had you questioning his sanity—and yours for agreeing to any of it.

“okay,” jungwon said one afternoon, pacing in front of you like a drill sergeant. “let’s practice nicknames. couples always have nicknames.”

“we already have nicknames,” you pointed out. “you call me by my name, and i call you uwon to annoy you.”

“no, no, no.” he waved his hand dramatically. “those aren’t cute nicknames. i mean things like ‘baby,’ or ‘sweetheart,’ or… or ‘honeybuns.’”

you nearly choked. “honeybuns? jungwon, if you call me honeybuns in public, i will personally make sure your life is a living nightmare.”

“noted,” he said with a laugh. “okay, let’s keep it simple. i’ll call you… babe. and you can call me—”

“uwon,” you interrupted, grinning. “i’m sticking with uwon.”

he sighed but didn’t argue. “fine. but we still need to work on PDA. let’s practice holding hands.”

you raised an eyebrow. “jungwon, we’ve held hands before.”

“yeah, but not like this,” he said, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his. his grip was warm and secure, and he gave your hand a small squeeze. “see? it’s all about the squeeze. it makes it look more real.”

“this is ridiculous,” you muttered, though your cheeks felt suspiciously warm.

<<<<<<<<<<<<

present.

weeks passed, and jungwon’s ex finally got the message. her death stares became less frequent until she eventually stopped showing up altogether. mission accomplished. but the fake dating didn’t stop.

“uwon,” you call softly, the nickname slipping out naturally as you shift in his arms. he hums, his chin still resting on your shoulder, but his hold on you tightens slightly.

you put the comic down and turn to face him, his hands automatically settling on your waist like it’s second nature. “what are we doing?” you ask, your tone light but pointed.

he blinks at you, his brows furrowing in confusion. “reading?”

you sigh, rolling your eyes. “not the comic. this.” you gesture between the two of you. “what is this, jungwon? because i’m pretty sure your ex isn’t spying on us anymore.”

jungwon freezes, his eyes darting away like he’s suddenly very interested in the corner of his room. “uh… practice?” he says weakly.

“practice for what?” you press, crossing your arms. “you said the whole point was to convince your ex. but she’s gone now. so why are we still… doing this?”

he scratches the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you. “well, you know… just in case.”

“just in case of what?” you shoot back, leaning in slightly. “jungwon, are you hiding something?”

his face flushes, his mouth opening and closing like he’s searching for an excuse and coming up empty. finally, he blurts out, “okay, fine! i like you, alright?”

your brain short-circuits. “you… what?”

jungwon immediately panics, his hands flailing as he starts to babble. “oh my god, i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to just—i mean, i did, but not like this! and i totally get it if you don’t like me back, but—oh no, wait, please like me? or don’t? no, wait, maybe you could? or we could just pretend this never happened? or—”

“jungwon,” you interrupt, your voice sharp enough to cut through his spiral.

“yes?” he squeaks, his wide eyes meeting yours.

instead of answering, you grab the front of his shirt and pull him into a kiss. he freezes for a split second before melting against you, his lips moving softly against yours. the kiss deepens, and his eagerness makes you giggle into his mouth, causing him to pull back slightly, breathless.

“what’s so funny?” he asks, pouting.

“you,” you tease, your fingers still gripping his shirt. “you’re way too eager.”

his cheeks flush, but he doesn’t back down. instead, he grins mischievously and suddenly hovers over you, gently pushing you onto your back. “you stole a kiss from me,” he says, his voice low and playful, “so now you’re stuck with me. forever.”

before you can respond, he leans down and captures your lips again, this time with more confidence. his hands cradle your face, and the weight of him above you is both grounding and electrifying. when he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his smile soft but radiant.

“so…” he whispers, his tone teasing, “can we drop the ‘fake’ part now?”

you laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck. “yeah, i think we can.”

[jinxificada]

leave it to her.

troublemaker!jinx x people pleaser!reader

summary: for once, you were taken care of.

notes: nsfw, modern au, wc 2,7k. no proofread. Heh, this is for my bottoms out there !! might change the title lmao..

🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺

never, in a million years, you would’ve thought that you’d see jinx crying. definitely not in such a… helpless way.

you were on your way to have lunch at the greenery of the campus, if you were lucky you’d find a nice spot under a tree, but the soft grass under the sun would suffice too. you had a red, juicy apple in hand, a novel in the other and your pretty purse on your shoulder. you were planning to do the best you could with that free period.

that is, until you casually find the blue haired girl crying under the bleachers.

it was out of character, way too far.

you’ve known jinx since… forever. though you doubted she ever noticed you, she definitely caught your eye from a very young age.

you didn’t know much about her home life, apart from rumors and gossip full of inconsistencies, her life history was a mystery. but you just knew something happened around the age of thirteen, because that’s when her personality had a huge change.

from the cheerful, creative, social butterfly powder to the obnoxious, short tempered, problematic jinx. it wasn’t from a day to the other, of course not, but you vividly remember when she mutated skins.

it started by her getting weirdly quiet. it was just strange for you not to hear her loud giggles and excited volunteers to participate in class. sometimes, she would even skip them. then you noticed that she pulled away from everyone. her former friends were mindlessly brushed off as she preferred to sit quietly alone.

she started getting in troubles. kids would accuse her from stealing stuff, such as pencils or lunch money. it got messy real quick, after all, they couldn’t ignore it when it was at least six to seven kids assuring it was her who committed the crimes. parents got involved, but apparently her father handled it very well because soon enough nobody cared anymore.

growing up jinx developed a punk, dark style that got you obsessed for awhile. and she played the part, discussing with the teachers and challenging the authorities, she really seemed to hate the system. and her classmates.

now, maybe, just maybe, you had a crush on her. and you could’ve done something about it, if it wasn’t because she scared the shit out of you.

jinx was a walking trouble. wherever she went, whenever it was, with whoever she wanted. her patience was extremely low and it was obvious she found joy in making others miserable. younger kids were more likely to be her victims, but some classmates were unlucky enough to get involved too.

she never messed with you. and your most logical explanation was that she simply didn’t care about your existence. and why would she? you two were… polar opposites.

while jinx was pure chaos, you were an angel.

everyone’s favorite, specially teachers. not that you were exactly a nerd, but that didn’t matter. so what if you weren’t academically smart? you were adorable, enthusiastic and kind. even the most strict and harsh teacher would feel happy to see your hand raising in their class and answer to your dumb questions. in fact, they’ll use you as an example to encourage others to satisfy their curiosity by learning.

socially, you were a bit awkward, but you always meant well! there isn’t a club you haven’t been a member of, or a student council activity you haven’t volunteered for. you gave free tutoring, shared your lunch to those who didn’t bring enough money, helped carry books or homework models from one side of the school to the other.

in conclusion, you were a sweetheart.

this comes from an early age. when your parents proudly bragged to their friends about how ‘quiet’ and such a ‘well behaved’ kid you were. sure you’ve got yourself in a few little incidents. like stealing a chocolate from the store when you accompanied your mom do groceries. bringing stray animals to your house because you were worried they’d have to sleep alone and making your parents deal with them. or getting caught red handed magnetically reading your father’s porn magazine.

silly little accidents.

you were simply the kindest soul alive. of course you wouldn’t ignore someone crying alone.

your shy steps alerted jinx quickly, her head snapped up and her bloodshot eyes stared at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“what do you want?” she aggressively asked you, there was a vulnerability in her tone that squeezed your heart.

“um, i have tissues.”

your hands trembled as you rummaged through your bag, rushing to kneel in front of her and hand them over. you needed to comfort her, but you also wanted this to end as soon as possible.

her already pouty lips formed a frown, hesitating for a long minute before snatching it from your hand to blow her nose. not another word came out from her, not even thank you.

it was awkward, to stare at her while she cleaned up her wet face. your eyes traveled down to the floor, clearing your throat. “it’s a nice day.”

jinx only scoffed. glancing at you for a brief second before focusing on the tissues. then, she threw it away and placed her chin on her forearms as she hugged her knees, going back to that gloomy energy.

you were unsure, because she didn’t quite asked you to leave, but it seemed that her mind was elsewhere. what do you say now? you didn’t want to pry, in fact, you didn’t even want to know what was tormenting her.

then why did you stay?

you moved slowly, as if any sudden movement would make her notice your presence, you sat next to her, maintaining a respectful distance.

well, grass is grass. though neither the sun nor the wind hit your face like you’d want, it was a quiet, calming spot. so you opened your book and read.

it wasn’t like jinx didn’t notice you, or cared. there was something about your mere presence, it brought her a sense of peace. she kept crying, but she didn’t sob anymore. jinx kinda wanted to scoop closer, to make you round your arms around her and rest her head on your chest. that’s how welcoming your vibe was.

she didn’t, obviously. you both just sat there in silence, the noise of your pages turning and her quiet sniffing, along with the distant laughter from the students, were the only sounds heard.

you could tell jinx’s mind was complex, that was clear like water. it was inviting, the complexity of her person. to be the one to figure her out would be a big accomplishment, but ending up harmless was not reassured. if only you could ask her why was she crying.

she wouldn’t tell you, anyway. how could she explain the pain of her memories, the grief and difficulty in her relationship with her sister?

nightmares were easier to manage. one can wake up sweaty in the security of their home and they’ll be alone, with no eyes to judge your trauma. but the nightmares transformed into sudden flashbacks in the middle of a class, the heartbeat quickens at a scary pace and the breathing gets heavier. and jinx thought, only for a second, that she might die right there.

you didn’t ask her, and she appreciated it. because your presence comforted her in a way no one, and nothing, could ever do.

jinx left first. she had spent the majority of the hour looking at the floor, occasionally grunting, muttering stuff you couldn’t comprehend. but she stared at you for quite some time. she found herself relaxing at the sight of your fingers following the words you were reading, paying attention to the smallest details in your actions. like the little puffs of air and the way your chest rises, jinx’s own breathing started to match yours at some point.

it sent shivers down her spine when she realized. neither of you says a word when jinx suddenly gets up, shook the dirt on her jeans and walked away.

you thought it was over, how silly.

next day you were welcomed by stares and giggles, firstly you just thought everyone was being super friendly. until you got to your locker.

the word ‘dyke’ shined in a fluorescent pink, other small drawings filled the free space. it wasn’t strange for students to decorate them, but this clearly wasn’t your doing, and it was extremely striking compared to your quiet personality. that was jinx’s handwriting.

you chuckled to yourself in disbelief, naively tried to brush a hand to clean it with no success and you hear more laughing. you glance away from your locker, just then you notice people made a round to watch you, some even took evidence with pictures. your cheeks reddened intensely, and you tried laughing with them, to pay no mind to the aggression of it all and laugh it off.

you were boiling anger.

escaping the spotlight wasn’t easy, but you make it to the furthest bathroom. you felt like screaming, your breathing was heavy and little tears tickled the corner of your eyes.

what did you do to deserve it? is that how the universe pays you for being nothing but kind to people? you knew half of the students that were laughing at you. you helped them pass their exams, paid for their lunch, listened to their problems when no one else would. and then they laughed at you.

and what was so funny? how did they even know you were into women? were you that obvious?

while you were processing that and much more in you mind, someone else entered the bathroom. your head snapped towards them, scoffing loudly when you realize.

“dyke?” your voice rumbling in the empty room made jinx giggle, she closed the door and swiftly locked it. there was a very different air coming from her, she looked joyful, lively and mean.

her little mocking smile pretended to look innocent as she battled her lashes at you.

“dyke.” she shrugged, approaching you slowly. you felt cornered, like a prey.

“w—why?”

“w—why not?”

you huffed in frustration, stepping back to try and keep some distance, but she wasn’t having it. “did i offend you? yesterday?” you asked, unable to hold back the little tears.

jinx doesn’t answer, but her demeanor softens noticeably. she reached to brush her thumbs on you cheeks, she felt the warmth of your blush and her heart fluttered. she felt so giddy that it scared her, suddenly pulling back.

“what a dumb question.” she scoffed, messing with her hair as she turned to the mirror, fixing her appearance to her liking. you saw how she purposely smudged her eyeliner and you mentally agreed. it suited her. “when will you learn to mind your own business?” she added your name to the end of the question and it threw you off.

“huh?“ jinx looked at you with nonchalance, slightly amused at your confusion. “what do you mean?”

“you’re always behind other people, offering a helping hand and what not— it pisses me off.” her voice got progressively more annoyed. “you’re only losing time, did anyone help you back out there?”

“w—well, no, but—“

you couldn’t think of anything. she was right, she also approached you again, and her closeness affected you quickly, snatching the words from your mouth.

“b—b—but.”

you grunted, hiding your face in your hands as you leaned back on the wall. “stop it, stop.”

“i’m not doing anything!” she chuckled, comfortably placing herself next to you with her shoulder pressed to the cold surface to face you better. you couldn’t see her, but there was little hearts in her eyes as she gazed you.

“what’s wrong with lesbians, anyway…?” you used your last defense, muffling your words softly against your hands.

which you quickly pulled away when you felt cold fingers tickling the exposed skin of your waist. jinx held you with a delicacy that made your breathing twitch.

“nothing~” she purred, getting even closer as she hugged you from the side. “i love lesbians.” she chuckled again, but it didn’t sound like she was making fun of you now. you were bewildered, but you didn’t separate an inch. “i just couldn’t think of anything else to mock you, heh.”

you knew it was wrong for many reasons, but in the very moment you thought that it was cute. she was cute.

“i… i didn’t knew you…”

“hmm?” she hummed with a smile, placing her lips close to your ear to murmur as soft as she could. “that i was into you?”

she wasn’t making things up. you were simply oblivious. why else were you practically the only one unaffected by jinx’s antics? until today, that is.

if you’d have payed attention, you would’ve noticed the constant staring, the quiet steps behind you. you would’ve understood why some ungrateful students came back at you after a tutoring session to offer you money for your time and effort, you never accepted it, but there was jinx threatening kids for you.

jinx fixation only snapped when you finally offered your attention to her. to have you kneeling in front of her with worried eyes, unsure of how to actually help her and not leaving when she wouldn’t even spare you another glance after accepting the tissues. your kindness made her heart race and she wanted it all to herself.

the silence that filled the bathroom was comforting, though the tension could be cut with a knife. or a kiss, whichever happened first.

surprisingly, you made the first move. tilting your head close enough to brush your lips against hers. you felt her sigh into your mouth before reciprocating. the contact was firm, eager and gentle. could’ve been more romantic if you weren’t in the schools bathroom, but neither of you minded.

she didn’t lose time to press herself into you against the wall, her hands roamed your waist and shamelessly explored under your shirt. the kiss quickly heated up, just like your bodies.

your hands clutched her shoulders to keep her close, though you shy away for a second when her tongue licked your lower lip. “god…” you sighed, mesmerized by the feeling. jinx tried again and this time you welcomed her by opening your lips for her.

she treated you so good, her touch both gentle and hungry made your back arch into her. her tongue conquered your mouth with ease, exploring every inch until one of you pull away to breath.

it was intoxicating, thrilling. the voice in your mind warning you when her hand slipped under your pants got more and more distant. her slim fingers caressed you over your underwear and you reluctantly broke the kiss to whimper softly. it was unknown, exciting. your own hand gripped her forearm as you tried to quiet down.

jinx hummed in amusement, “feels good, hm?” she pecked your lips before moving to your neck. it was only a matter of minutes before you pleaded for more. though your words came out slurred and nonsensical, you had to guide her hand under your panties to make the point.

“y—yeah, yeah,” you kept mumbling, praising the softness of her touch. jinx’s own knees trembled when she heard you moan loudly, her middle finger smoothly entering your pussy. she had to kiss you again to shut you up, but she was fucking you so nice.

you greedily asked for more, muffling against her lips. you wouldn’t even be standing if you weren’t holding yourself from her shoulders. she added another one, setting a soft pace, her curling fingers hitting your sweet spot over and over.

you felt the pressure in your lower belly, “ah, jinx—“ you tried to warn her, but she already had an idea. your walls squeezed her fingers harder, and your hips kept twitching towards her, searching for relief.

“i got ya, baby.” she reassured you, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear as you came in her hands.

jinx was a riddle no one bothered to figure out, not even you. it was a pleasant surprise to be the first to feel how sweet she can actually be. you craved more of her.

it was a weird pairing, people noted. you both mindlessly walked hand in hand the next week, jinx’s uncaring attitude gave you the boost of confidence you needed after being laughed at so recently. [jinx apologized profusely for it.] but it worked perfectly, having each other’s back when something went wrong. there was a special, comforting connection between you two that couldn’t be compared.

[woogilicious]

offline messages ꒰ yunho ꒱

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ pairing: streamer!yunho x gn!reader. ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ word count: 1039 words. ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ genre: angst + fluff. ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ warnings: mild angst, emotional neglect (unintentional), feelings of being left behind, fluff at the end.

You were there before the follower goals, and fancy mic setup. Back when Yunho streamed from a wobbly IKEA desk and his only viewers were you and that one random bot that kept posting shady links.

Back then, his face would light up when he saw your name in chat.

"Yo!" he'd grin, headset slightly tilted. "You're here!"

Of course you were. You always were.

You modded his streams before he even asked. Built his discord server from scratch. Stayed up past midnight helping him troubleshoot lag while playing Valorant. You even tolerated the scream fest during Lethal Company session with San, Mingi, and Wooyoung―all chaos, max volume, all the time.

And when things took off―when Twitch clipped him into the algorithm and the chat exploded with new fans, you celebrated with him. You were proud. You really were.

But you also started feeling... invisible.

It started small. A joke you made in chat went ignored. Then another. Then another.

You chalked it up, at first. That's what growing meant―more people, more chaos. But then he stopped replying to your DMs. Took hours to answer simple messages. And one day, you noticed your mod label was gone. No explanation. No "thanks for everything." Nothing at all.

You watched one of his streams that night, lurking, your name is grey in a sea of neon usernames. Someone made a crude joke. You called it out. Yunho didn't even notice, until a stranger timed you out.

That was the last stream you watched live.

You muted the server. Turned off notifications. Closed the tab. He never reaches out. Not once.

Months passed.

One night, you're scrolling through your phone, brain on autopilot, when you see his name. Yunho is live: Unpacking + chatting. You shouldn't care. You don't.

But you click.

He's streaming Unpacking, of all things. Soft music, quiet atmosphere, just him and the sound of cardboard boxes being emptied on screen. There's no Wooyoung yelling in the background, no San whining about being scared―just Yunho. Focused. A little tired. His laugh softer tonight.

You shouldn't message him.

But your fingers move anyway, finding his name in your message app.

Are you okay?

You send it. Regret it instantly. Consider deleting it, but then―

yunho: wait yunho: wait wait wait yunho: is this real?? yunho: y/n... i thought u blocked me or smth

You stare at the screen, looking at his stream while his attention turns to his phone.

you: figured you wouldn't notice either way yunho: ... yunho: okay. i deserve that. yunho: i miss you. a lot.

You don't reply right away, and you close the Twitch app.

The next day, he sends you a message privately in discord.

yunho: can we talk?

You call. It's weird, at first. The silence between you used to be comfortable, easy. Now it's cautious. Hesitant.

But he tries.

"I don't know when I started messing it up," he says, voice quiet. "I think... I just got caught up in everything. I didn't mean to shut you out."

You shrug, even though he can't see you. "You kind of did, though."

"I know. I just... didn't want you to feel like you had to carry my stuff forever. You helped me so much and I kept thinking, maybe you deserved to just... live your life. Not babysit my stream."

You snort. "You took away my mod role without saying a word. The least you can do is tell me."

He winces. "Yeah. That was stupid."

"You think?"

He laughs. It's small, and it is obvious that he is nervous.

"Let me fix it," he says. "Please."

It's not instant. It's not perfect.

But you start showing up again. Not as a mod, but just as his friend.

He messages you in the middle of the night about weird games you'd both like. Sends you dumb voices notes of Mingi farting on call. You hop into discord during late-night gaming, and he still screams in panic when he gets chased in scary games, but now, he screams your name too.

And one night, he messages:

yunho: do you want to do a stream together soon? you: what would we even play? yunho: idc. minecraft? stardew? anything. i just want to hang out with you on stream.

You agree, and the next night, it's Minecraft night.

The stream starts slow, chill lo-fi music playing in the background. Yunho decides to do a member only stream, which means the chat is smaller, cozier. The mods keep it clean. No chaos whatsoever.

"Special guest tonight, their name is Y/N" Yunho says, grinning. "My oldest friend. Like actual old. We've known each other since middle school."

You laugh. "You're few months older than me."

Chat, on the other hand, explodes with excitement:

xXxgamerraccoon12: brooo you can see yunho smiling like an idiot fluffyhorsie: their voice sounds so soothing!! i love them already!! bananapie481: we need more cozy game with y/n!!

You two fish, farm, fight monsters, collect materials. It's easy.

Halfway through the stream, you forget the camera's even on.

"You're different when it's just us," you say quietly.

Yunho hums. "Different how?"

"Less loud, less performative. More... you."

He doesn't say anything right away, just smiling while mining some woods for their house. Then, softly. "That's because you bring out the parts of me I actually like."

Your chest tightens.

"You know I was really scared," he adds. "That you'd never message me again. That I lost you for good."

You exhale. "You almost did."

"I know."

Silence.

Then, your character walks over and gifts his character a flower.

It's just pixels, but Yunho makes a sound that's a little too real.

"What?"

"What do you mean what? Maybe I just like giving you flowers."

His voice is barely a whisper. "God, I missed you so much."

The stream ends with your character standing next to his inside your finish small cozy wooden house.

Chat's spamming hearts. Fan edit already being posted. People are begging for another duo stream.

Once he turns off his stream, he says, "Don't log off yet."

You stay.

His voice is warm through your headset.

"Let's play another day?"

You smile. "Sure, Yunho. I'll be here."

This time, you know he believes it.

And this time, you do too.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

heyy, could you write abt bestfriend!bucky x bestfriend!reader, where they talk abt random stuff and then it comes up that bucky never saw boobs irl and reader decides to show him? maybe some smut in the end😝🎀

Help You Out With That » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Best Friend!Female Reader

Summary: Bucky admits that he’s never seen boobs in real life so you decide to help him out with that and show him yours. Then one thing leads to another and you two end up hooking up.

Warnings: Smut (18+), language, brief mention of alcohol, kissing, hickeys, fingering, female receiving, unprotected sex, praise kink, size kink, Bucky’s dog tags, pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creator.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

“There’s no way you did that.” Bucky says laughing.

“I did.” You laughed. “When I was 16, my friends dared me and gave me $20 to jump in the river with no clothes on.” You tell him. “I just didn’t know there was a cop there.” You said laughing.

“Did you get arrested?” He asks curiously, taking a sip of beer.

“Yep.” You nodded, taking a sip of your drink. “My parents were so pissed and I got grounded for the rest of that month.” You say.

You were over at Bucky’s apartment spending time with him and talking about random things. You two haven’t seen each other in a while due to him being on a week long mission. He got home last night and he asked you to come over today.

“So you were totally naked when you jumped in the river?” He asks.

“Yes.” You answered.

“Meaning that your friends and the cop saw your boobs?” He asks curiously.

“Yes.” You answered. “The cop told me to put my clothes on before he handcuffed me and took me to the police station.” You say.

“Hmm.” He hums, taking a long sip of his beer. “I’ve never seen boobs.” He admits.

You stared at him with a surprised look on your face, blinking a couple times. James Buchanan Barnes, the ladies man of the 1940s and your best friend, has never seen a woman’s boobs. He looks and seems like the kind of man who has seen literally almost everything in his life.

“You’ve never seen boobs?” You asked, making sure you heard him right.

Bucky nods to confirm it, feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. You bit your bottom lip when an idea popped into your head. You leaned forward just enough to take off your tank top, dropping it on the floor. Bucky stared at you with wide eyes.

“What- What are you doing?” Bucky asks.

“Showing you my boobs.” You confidently said. “I’m just gonna help you out with that.” You say with a wink.

Bucky watched you take your bra off and drop it on the floor. You stood up and sat on his lap, straddling him. Bucky wasn’t sure if he should look at your face or boobs.

“You can look at them.” You tell him. “I trust you.” You say.

Bucky’s eyes move down to your boobs, his breath got caught in his throat. He licked his lips as he stared at them with hungry eyes.

“You can touch them.” You say, shaking your chest to make your boobs jiggle.

Bucky hesitantly brought his hands up to your boobs. He put his hands on your sides just below your boobs. You shivered at the cool feeling of his vibranium hand against your skin. Bucky’s thumb rubbed against the underside of your boobs before moving his hands more towards your boobs. He gently cupped them, his thumbs rubbed over your nipples, making you moan softly.

Bucky decided to take it a step further. He leaned his head forward, placing kisses along the swells of your boobs. His teeth nipped on your skin, hard enough to mark you up. He slowly moved his lip down towards on of your nipples, taking it in his mouth. His tongue swirled around your nipple, flicking the hardened bud with the tip of his tongue. You moaned at the feeling. Your hands grasped onto his shirt, clutching it in your hands.

You didn’t even realize you were moving your hips against his till you felt his bulge rubbing against your pussy through your shorts. You could feel your panties getting wetter by the second. You tilted your head back and closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling. You were also enjoying the feeling of his stubble against your skin.

Bucky’s hand found its way to the back of your head and moved it so you were looking at him. He moved his lips upwards to your lips, kissing you hungrily. You cupped his cheeks to intensify the kiss. The kiss got more heated by the second. His tongue swiped across your bottom lip, making you part your lips just enough for his tongue to slide itself in your mouth, exploring every inch of your mouth.

Bucky put his hands on your hips, holding onto you with a tight grip so he can maneuver the two of you so you were laying on the couch and Bucky was on top of you. His right hand left your hip to unbutton and unzip your shorts. He slid his hand inside of your shorts, touching your panties and finding out how wet your panties are.

“You’re so fucking wet, doll.” Bucky groans against your lips.

“It’s all because of you.” You say.

Bucky smirked against your lips and slide his hand in the front of your panties. His fingers began rubbing your clit. You bucked your hips against his hand, wanting more. Bucky chuckles at your eagerness.

“Eager, aren’t you, babydoll?” Bucky chuckles.

You whined at his words and bucked your hips against his hand again.

“Patiences, doll face.” He says softly.

Bucky pulled away from your lips and kissed down your body, stopping just above the waistbands of your shorts and panties. He looked up at you, waiting for permission, which you gave him. He hooked his fingers in the waistbands of your shorts and panties, pulling them down in one go and threw them somewhere in the living room.

He kissed both of your hipbones before placing soft kisses on your inner thighs, making his way to your wet pussy. You shivered when you felt his breath on where you need him the most. Bucky licked in between your folds, catching you off guard and moaning to himself.

“Just as I thought.” He licks your folds again. “You taste amazing.” He practically moans.

His tongue licked from your entrance to your clit a few times before circling the tip of his tongue around your clit. You bucked your hips at the feeling. Bucky laid his vibranium arm across your hips to hold you down.

“Stay still.” His voice sounding husky. “I want to enjoy your sweetness before I fuck you.” He says.

Bucky latched his lips onto your clit, sucking on it while his tongue continues to lick your slick on your folds. He ate you out like a starved man. Your hands flew down to his head, your fingers tugging on his hair. You lifted your head up and looked down at him. Bucky’s eyes flickered up at you and winked at you.

You were caught off guard when Bucky slid a finger in your pussy. You moaned at the feeling of his finger rubbing along your walls. You got lost in your thoughts. You were curious to know how this man knows how to eat pussy like a pro, but has never seen boobs. That thought floated around in your mind till Bucky snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Did I make you go dumb with my tongue, doll face? I was expecting you to go dumb on my cock.” Bucky says cockily.

You just moaned at his dirty words. His dirty words turned you on even more. You threw your head back against the arm of the couch in pleasure, your eyes fluttering shut.

“Nuh uh.” Bucky’s vibranium hand gently tapped your cheek. “Eyes on me, babydoll.” He orders.

You huffed softly before opening your eyes and readjusted your head so you were looking down at him eating you out.

“That’s it.” He softly praises. “Good girl.” He praises again.

Bucky went back to eating you out. His tongue licked from your clit to your entrance. The tip of his tongue prodded your entrance, catching you by surprise and making a pornographic moan fall from your lips. Bucky smirked to himself and did it again, earning another pornographic moan from you. Your pussy also clenched around his finger.

Your orgasm began to build up and your legs started to shake a little bit. Your back arched off of the couch when his finger hit your sweet spot. His tongue continued to flick against your clit. You already knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

“I can feel you getting close, doll.” Bucky huskily said. “Are you gonna cum?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

“Yes!” You answered in a whimper. “Please let me cum!” You begged desperately.

“Cum for me, babydoll.” He says.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and a loud moan of his name left your lips when you came, soaking his fingers and face. Bucky’s tongue gave your clit one last flick before he sat up. His beard was drenched in your juices. He hovered over you, kissing you hungrily. You moaned against his lips.

Bucky pulled away from the kiss to take off his clothes. You watched with hungry eyes. You licked your lips when you finally got to see his perfectly sculpted body. Your eyes wandered further down his body. Your eyes stared at his cock. He’s big. His cock is hard and leaking with precum.

“My eyes are up here, gorgeous.” Bucky says, playfully snapping his fingers.

You sat up and reached for his Army dog tags, grabbing onto the chain and yanked on them to pull him closer to you. You kissed him with hunger. You moaned when you felt his cock against your pussy. You reached a hand down and stroked his cock, making Bucky moan softly against your lips.

“Fuck me please, Bucky.” You begged softly, letting go of his cock.

Bucky held the base of his cock, lining it at your entrance. He watched your facial expressions as he slid his cock in your pussy. Your mouth fell open when you felt him stretching you open.

“So big.” You say breathlessly.

You spread your legs wider to give him more access. Bucky’s hands rubbed up and down your waist before holding onto it. His thrusts started off slow and loving, but sped up enough to make it pleasurable. Your hands grasped onto his biceps, digging your nails in his skin and the vibranium.

You quickly got entranced by his dog tags dangling just above your face. His dog tags swung every time he thrusted. You grabbed onto them and pulled on them just enough to get Bucky to lean down to kiss you. The kiss was sloppy, but your lips with in sync with his.

Bucky pulled away from the kiss and moved back just enough to stare at your boobs, quickly getting mesmerized by them bouncing as he thrusted into you. He licked his lips at the sight. He dipped his head down to kiss softly along the swells of your boobs. While his lips were occupied with kissing your boobs, his right hand left your waist and found its way to your boob. His thumb rubbed over your nipple and circled it a few times before pinching it. A tingle shot through your body, along with a moan falling from your lips.

“Fuck, Bucky!” You moaned.

“I love the way you say my name.” Bucky huskily said. “Say it again.” He says.

“Oh Bucky!” You moaned again.

You moaning his name urged Bucky on. His thrusts got faster. You wrapped your legs around his waist, locking your ankles together and pulled himself closer to you. That made Bucky’s cock go deeper in your pussy. A loud moan left your lips when his cock found your sweet spot with ease. Your hands found their way to his back, digging your nails in his skin and making red line marks.

“Right there!” You tell him. “Right fucking there!” You say again, followed by a moan.

“Is that your little spot, babydoll?” He asks in a cooing voice.

You moaned in response. You arched your back in pleasure. You practically shoved your boobs in Bucky’s face, which he had no problem with.

Bucky’s vibranium hand snaked its way down to your clit and started rubbing it. You jumped slightly at the cool feeling, but quickly got used to it. Your pussy clenched around his cock at the feeling of his fingers against your clit, making Bucky moan at the feeling.

“Fuck…” Bucky moans.

Your orgasm built up the more Bucky rubbed your clit. You felt your lower stomach tighten. It felt like a rubber band was about to snap inside of you. You weren’t sure how much you could take.

“Bucky, I- fuck!” You moaned more in a whimper. “I’m going to cum.” You tell him. “Please let me cum.” You begged desperately.

“Cum for me, gorgeous.” Bucky says huskily.

His fingers rubbed your clit faster. That’s when you fell over the edge. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and his name fell from your lips in a loud moan when you came.

“That’s a good girl.” He praises. “Good fucking girl.” He praises again.

Bucky gave your clit one last rub and then focused on his own orgasm, which wasn’t too far behind yours. His thrusts got sloppy, but he quickly regain rhythm. Bucky’s head fell against your chest.

“I need to- fuck… I need to pull out, doll.” He says, panting.

“No!” You whined. “Cum in me.” You tell him.

“You can’t just say shit like that, babydoll.” He says.

“Just do it! I want to feel it!” You tell him.

“Dirty girl.” He growls.

Bucky came inside of you after a few more thrusts. His thrusts came to a halt. He unwrapped your legs from his waist and sat back on the couch. The two of you were panting and sweaty.

“That was…” You breathed, trying to find the right words to describe the best sex you just had with Bucky.

“Fucking incredible.” Bucky says.

“Mhmm.” You hummed, nodding your head.

Bucky looked over at you. He admired the hickeys he left all over your boobs.

“Thank you for helping me out with that.” He says.

“You don’t have to thank me, Buck.” You sat up. “I’ll show you my boobs anytime you want to see them.” You say and bit your bottom lip, shaking your chest to make your boobs jiggle.

Bucky grabbed you and pulled you onto his lap, making you squeal.

“You have great boobs.” Bucky says, licking his lips and making you giggle.

🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖

-Bucky’s Doll

[the-glenn-close-four]

IM BACK MOTHERFUCKERS!!!!!

[writingouthere]

neighbor!Sukuna x single mom!reader; your ceiling is leaking at 3 in the morning and you don't know what to do so you go ask for help from the man across the hallway(inspired by real life events that were not nearly so charming).

no need to have read the others in the series but can be read as a week or two after the aquarium date.

cw: Sukuna being a menace

Sukuna had always been a light sleeper so when there were knocks on his door at 3am, he was up instantly. The knocks weren't even loud but he found himself annoyed enough to stomp to the door. If he wasn't sleeping, the people below him didn't need to be either.

He yanked his door open, prepared to make whoever it was regret every moment of their existence but it was you, holding your daughter and clearly on the verge of tears.

You seemed contrite when you saw his expression but before you could even start to apologize, he was slipping on his boots and grabbing his key.

"What's wrong," he asked.

"It-it's the ceiling, I woke up and it was leaking water. It's getting everywhere and I don't know what to do and the landlord isn't picking up."

Sukuna rubbed your arm, trying to give you some comfort and you relaxed a little.

"Okay, let me come take a look. I can call the super, he's probably more likely to answer than the landlord." You nodded and he followed you back to your place. Holding his hand out to stop you at the door as he made to go in first.

Sukuna heard the water pouring in before he saw it. He had never been in your apartment before. It was clear that a woman there. There was color everywhere, more blankets than made sense for two people and the walls were covered in photos and artwork. It felt soft, it reminded him of you. And now, it was being ruined by water raining down from the ceiling.

"Why don't you wait in my apartment. You both look like you could use some rest. I'll sort this out," he said, handing over his key. You looked ready to protest but then your daughter started crying.

"Go, I got it."

You looked so relieved and he wiped away a few tears from your daughter's face and pressed a kiss to her forehead which helped bring the tears down to a more tolerable snuffling.

"Thank you so much, I don't even-"

"Don't worry about it. You two just go settle in the guest room and I'll wake you up when it's settled."

You smiled at him and you seemed to hesitate before you went up on your toes to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

Sukuna couldn't stop himself from grinning as you took your daughter out the door and towards his apartment. He turned around to look at the mess that was your apartment. It looked like a pipe must have burst in the apartment above yours. Annoying, but a quick fix when caught this early. He grabbed his phone, opening it to call the super before a thought came to him that just wouldn't leave.

It would be a shame if you had to terminate your lease because of unsafe conditions, after all you must still have a good six months left on it. He knew you didn't have any family in the area and it would be a lot for a working mom with a kid as young as yours to go apartment hunting all the sudden.

Of course, he did have that guest room. Plenty of space for the three of you and it wouldn't be hard to bring over the stuff you needed while you looked. His apartment was bigger than yours, even though it was just him.

Even if it was a tight fit, his lease was up at the end of the year anyway. You could always get a bigger space, one for your soon to be growing family.

Sukuna pocketed his phone and took a seat at your dining table, away from the water. He figured it would only take another hour before the damage passed the point of no return.

He hoped you and your daughter were resting well in your new home.

[sosasturns]

✶⋆.˚ REDDIT RABBIT HOLE n MOANS ,, MATT STURNIOLO IN WHICH MATT IS AN NSFW VOICE ACTOR ON REDDIT

u/MrMunch667 · 1d · Verified!

NSFW [M4F] Alone again… [Ramblefap] [Whimpering] [Male moans] [Tons of Begging] [Edging] [Real Orgasm]

LISTEN [10:58]

⋆˙⟡𓂃⊹ ⸝⸝⸝

it started as a joke. your friend—who was way too deep into the world of nsfw audio—sent you link after link, swearing up and down that the right voice could change your life.

"it’ll never be me," you scoffed, deleting the messages without opening them. but she was persistent, always bringing it up in conversation, laughing about the audios she found, talking about her favorite voice actors. eventually, one night, curiosity won.

you weren’t sure what did it, if it was boredom or intrigue, but you clicked on one. then another. and another. and suddenly, you were hooked. there was just something about the rawness of it, the way it felt so personal, like someone was whispering just for you. it was hot, undeniably so. so much so that you ended up making a reddit account just to save your favorites. you told yourself it was just in case.

then you stumbled across him.

u/mrmunch667.

nothing about his profile stood out—no personal details, no flashy bio, just a simple: new audios every week. male. i am 22. single. 18+ please dni if you're a minor (:

the backwards smiley caught your attention. it reminded you of matt. he always used them when he texted.

but that was stupid, right? it could be anyone.

so you ignored it. and you listened. and then you listened again. and again. every week, without fail, you found yourself checking for his new posts. saving. upvoting. sometimes, you even commented. and then, one day, you got a reply.

1 notification on reddit: u/mrmunch667 replied to your comment on r/gonewildaudio.

LMAO don’t wanna know what the means

that was when you knew you were in too deep.

⋆˙⟡𓂃⊹ ⸝⸝⸝

matt was just a friend. someone you saw in group settings, always surrounded by mutuals. you'd never hung out alone, never had a one-on-one moment that wasn’t just passing conversation at a party or game night. he was just matt. your friend.

so when plans got canceled last minute, leaving just the two of you, it was weird.

but he didn’t make it weird. he was casual, like always, inviting you in with a lazy half-smile and a scratch at his jaw. “guess it’s just us, huh?”

he gave you a quick tour of his place, leading you through the hallway with easy strides. “this is my room,” he said, pushing open the door. normal. plain. some framed posters, a neatly made bed, a desk setup. “desktop’s just for gaming ‘n stuff.”

stuff?

you didn’t ask. you just nodded. “cool.”

back in the living room, he threw on a movie—basic instinct (1992)—and settled in beside you. it was fine at first. comfortable, even. but then he started shifting. clearing his throat. adjusting the blanket over his lap. it wasn’t until the next sex scene that you noticed.

his breath hitched.

you glanced over. bad move.

his head was steady, eyes locked on the screen, but his fingers twitched against his knee. his thighs tensed. then, under the blanket, his hand moved. like he was hiding something.

“you good?”

he hummed. “mhm.”

suspicious.

but you didn’t piece it together until you leaned over him, reaching for the remote. his breath stuttered, a barely-there grunt slipping free.

your eyes snapped to him. “sorry. didn’t know you liked the movie that much.”

“no, i don’t—i mean, i do. it’s jus… your hand was close to my dick—.”

“matt are you hard?”

silence.

“…matt.”

he exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face before finally looking at you. his eyes were darker than usual, almost guilty, but there was something else there too. something like want.

he swallowed. “yeah.”

heat pooled in your stomach. you shifted closer, pulse kicking up. “would you… um. would you like some help?”

he blinked. then, slowly, he nodded.

you shifted closer, deliberate and teasing, letting your fingers trace over the outline of his cock, dragging your palm over his sweats just to feel the twitch beneath. he sucked in a sharp breath but didn’t make a sound.

even when you slipped under the blanket, hand slipping beneath the waistband, wrapping around him, he only let out these shallow, uneven exhales. restrained.

stingy.

so you pushed.

you stroked him slow, teasing, dragging your thumb over the leaking tip, pressing into the slit just enough to make his thighs twitch. he jerked in your grip, body betraying him, but he still didn’t give you what you wanted.

until you tugged his sweats down, freeing him, and replaced your hand with the wet heat of your mouth—warm, soft, perfect.

then he cracked.

a sound ripped from him, low and broken, like it had been forced out, something he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. and oh, that did something to you.

you hummed, letting him feel the vibration of it, and his whole body jolted. his hand flew to his mouth, teeth sinking into his knuckles, his other fisting the blanket like his life depended on it.

pathetic.

and god, that made you ache.

so you kept going, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm, dragging your tongue along the underside, sucking just enough to make him squirm. his thighs trembled beneath your palms, stomach clenching with every shaky inhale, but he was still holding back. biting down on his hand, muffling himself.

not for long.

you took him deeper, inch by inch, until the tip nudged the back of your throat. his abs tensed, a breathy oh, fuck slipping past his lips. his chest was rising and falling fast now, fingers digging into the couch cushion, every muscle locked up tight as he fought to stay quiet.

you wanted to ruin that restraint.

so you did.

you hollowed your cheeks, swallowing around him, keeping him there, waiting until his whole body shook before dragging off slow, sucking him back in like you needed it. like he was something to savor.

then he broke.

his hand slipped from his mouth, head tipping back against the couch as a moan ripped from his throat. not quiet, not restrained, just raw, desperate pleasure.

you felt it everywhere.

and then it got worse for him.

because now that he wasn’t holding back, he couldn’t stop.

the whimpers, gasped curses, frantic little please, fuck, feels s’good, more, don’t stop-‘s.

his voice.

his voice.

the realization sent heat flooding through you, a throb pulsing between your thighs. him. it was him.

you moaned against him, nails scraping lightly down his thighs, and his whole body jerked, another wrecked, ruined sound spilling from his lips.

he was falling apart, and you were loving it.

so you didn’t let up. you doubled down, took him deeper, swallowed around him until he choked on a sobbed moan, hips stuttering, thighs trembling. his body was so tense, like he was fighting against something inevitable—losing.

and then he did.

he came with a broken moan, hips lifting off the couch, cum spilling hot and thick down your throat as he trembled through it. his stomach clenched, his chest heaved, his hand flew back over his mouth—biting down again, probably to stop himself from making another noise.

again, pathetic.

you pulled off him slowly, swallowing, licking the corner of your mouth before glancing up at him.

his eyes were hazy, lips parted, chest rising and falling hard. absolutely wrecked.

you tilted your head, smirking.

“way better than being alone again, huh?”

matt just blinked at you, still trying to remember how to fucking breathe.

you never did find out if matt was mrmunch667. but after countless ‘hangouts’ later, you were pretty sure you could put a face to those sounds.

@ sosasturns

sosa’s notes: got nsfw va (sub)!matt on lockdown… props to my fren @bernardsbendystraws’s post for the idea. we outside w this 1 chat!

nsfw va matt:

[requiemforthepoets]

you’re the only friend i need ⟢ OP81

PAIRINGS: oscar piastri x female!reader

SUMMARY: you and oscar were always two peas on a pod. people would often wonder how you, a troublesome kid in brighton, had managed to befriend the calm and reserve boy, oscar piastri. it was truly a wonder.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, angst, heavy feeling fic, implied main character death (mcd), unsaid feelings, mentions of disease (leukemia), mentions of wound and bleeding, googled medical stuff, medical inaccuracies, inaccurate info, reader is a bit of a troublemaker, fast paced-ish, there are unrealistic medical stuff, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 12.3k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this fic is pure angst, there is no happy ending for this one. so if this is not your cup of tea, it’s better you stop reading from here on out. there will be no other part of this fic, bc i’m don’t really know how to pen the rest of the fic (sorry ><), i’m satisfied with the ending of this one. this fic is a love child of me loving childhood nostalgia and coming-of-age genre, and it was also the vibe the i get whenever i hear ‘ribs’ by lorde, bc i SWEAR that song never fails to make me feel stuff +++ the childhood drink, i only had googled it, so if i have any australian reader here, pls feel free to correct me. your comments/reblogs is always appreciated, i hope that you’ll like this one! :)

main masterlist | fic playlist

You and Oscar Piastri had always been inseparable, practically joined at the hip since the moment your parents introduced you as toddlers. Living right next door to each other in a quiet suburban neighborhood in Brighton, meant that your lives intertwined in a way that felt natural, as if you had always been destined to be a part of one another’s stories. Your parents, close friends long before either of you were born, often joked that it was inevitable that you two would end up being close. Whether it was playdates during the day or sleepovers at night, there was rarely a time when you and Oscar weren’t together.

Sleepovers were always your favorite. Your parents would bring you to Oscar's house with a hastily packed bag, and Nicole and Chris would always welcome you as if you were one of their own. Nicole always had snacks ready—popcorn, biscuits, and sometimes her famous chocolate cake, and how Chris would sometimes tease you both about staying up too late. You and Oscar never really did listen to him, though.

Once the lights were out and the world outside went quiet, you and Oscar would sneak flashlights under the covers, building forts out of blankets and couch cushions. Inside your makeshift castles, you would whisper to each other in the dark, sharing stories that veeted from spine-tingling ghost tales to ridiculous made-up adventures that had you both doubled over with laughter. It was not uncommon for you to laugh so hard your ribs hurt, clutching your sides as Oscar tried, and failed, to stifle his giggles so you would not wake his parents up.

Oscar, even as a kid, was calm and easygoing, which is a perfect counterbalance to your boundless energy and knack for trouble. He was steady, level-headed, and rarely got into trouble, whilst you had a knack for finding mischief, dragging Oscar along for the ride more than not—daring him to climb trees or riding bikes faster than you should’ve, to name a few.

Your parents, on more occasions than they could count, ended up at their wits end because of your antics. From sneaking out past curfew to explore the neighborhood to accidentally setting off store alarms because you thought it would be funny to hide in a display, you always found a way to test the limits of patience. More often than not, you did get caught—whether it was by a passing neighbor, security, or the occasional local police officer, you somehow always managed to land yourself in trouble—but never anything too serious.

It was usually enough to warrant a lecture from your own parents and a lot of head-shaking from Oscar’s. Despite it all, Nicole and Chris never seemed to hold it against you. They’re just kids, Nicole would say, a soft smile on her face. As long as you’re not doing anything dangerous, it’s fine. Chris would usually chime in on the conversation with a mock-serious, just don’t do drugs, alright? his tone was always lighthearted, but you knew they meant it. You would just laugh it off, promising to behave, even though everyone knew that promise would be short-lived.

Your bond with Oscar extended to his entire family. His younger sister—Hattie, Edie, and Mae, all adored you, looking up to you like the cool older sibling they didn’t have. You would play dress-up with them, let them braid your hair, and sometimes even join them for impromptu tea parties. They would giggle uncomfortably at your dramatic impressions of princesses and villains, their laughter echoing through the house. Nicole often remarked how good you were with them, and Chris would joke that you were training to be a babysitter.

Your home as well was equally a second home for Oscar. Your parents trusted him implicitly, often leaving him in charge when they needed someone to keep you grounded. He had this knack for calming you down whenever you’re in one of your hyperactive moods, his steady demeanor a much-needed anchor to your whirlwind of personality. Oscar often got praised by your parents, calling him the voice of reason in your friendship dynamic. But even they couldn’t stay mad for long when Oscar ended up being roped into your schemes. They would shake their heads and sigh, but deep down, they were glad you had someone like Oscar in your life—someone who did not just tolerate your chaos, but embraced it in his own quiet way.

Growing up with Oscar was more than just having a best friend, it was having a partner in every memory worth keeping. From lazy afternoons spent sprawled out on the grass, staring at the clouds, to winter nights curled up on the couch watching movies, every moment with Oscar felt like an adventure.

You had suddenly remembered that one time—it was the kind of night that felt alive, the air cool but not biting, sky’s a velvet canvas scattered with stars. You had been sitting on the edge of your bed, staring aimlessly at the analog clog, when the idea hit you—a reckless, wild idea that made your heart race with excitement. Sneaking out was not new to you, but this time, you wanted company. Specifically, you wanted Oscar.

Convincing him was not really easy. You had climbed through his bedroom window—something you had done far more time than you could count, and found him already half-asleep, wrapped in his favorite blanket with his hair sticking up at odd angles.

“What are you doing?” he mumbled groggily, squinting at you.

“Come on, we’re going out,” you whispered, a grin spreading across your face.

“Out where?” he asked, rubbing his eyes, though you could hear the reluctance in his voice. “It’s already late at night.”

“Just get dressed. Trust me, you’ll love it.” you smiled.

Oscar groaned, muttering something about how this was a terrible idea, but eventually, he swung his legs out of his bed and grabbed a hoodie. You knew that he would come around, he always did. By the time you reached the abandoned public pool, the chain-linked fence loomed in front of you, its weathered surface dotted with a big faded NO TRESPASSING sign.

He stopped in his tracks, crossing his arms. “You dragged me out of bed for this? We’re not getting in.”

“Oh have a little faith, would you,” you said, as you pull out a pair of heavy-duty bolt cutters.

He stared at you, blinking slowly. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” you replied, popping the p.

“You stole those, didn’t you?” Oscar questioned.

“Borrowed,” you corrected, grinning mischievously as you hefted the tool.

Oscar sighed, the kind of exasperated sigh he seemed to reserve exclusively for you. “You’re insane.”

“And you love it,” you teased, motioning for him to follow you.

You led him to the back of the pool area, where the bushes grew thick and wild, partially hiding the fence. Kneeling down, you positioned the bolt cutters against the rusted metal links and started to work. The snap of metal breaking was surprisingly loud in the quiet night, but you pressed on, ignoring Oscar’s whispered protest.

“This is such a bad idea,” he muttered, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting someone to appear. “If we get caught—”

“We won’t get caught,” you interrupted, voice calm but firm. “Relax, Osc. I’ve done this before.”

“That’s not exactly comforting,” he said, but voice softened when he saw the concentration on your face. “You’re weirdly good at that,” he admitted after a moment, watching as you expertly cut a hole big enough for the two of you to crawl through.

“Why thank you, my good sir,” you said, brushing the dirt off your hands as you stepped back to admire your work. “Now come on, ladies first.” you teased, to which he just rolled his eyes at you.

Oscar followed you through the gap in the fence, grumbling under his breath but too curious to stop. The pool stretched out in front of you, its surface shimmering faintly under the moonlight. Despite the place being abandoned, the water was crystal clear, a testament to whoever was still maintaining it.

“So this is your idea of fun in the middle of the night?” he asked, tone caught between disbelief and amusement.

“Yep.” you smiled.

Shaking his head, he trailed after you to one of the old sunbeds. You plopped down first, stretching out and tilting your head back to gaze at the stars. After a moment, he sat down beside you, arms resting on his knees. For a while, neither of you spoke. The night was so still that the faint rustle of leaves and the distant hum of crickets felt almost amplified. It was peaceful in a way that made the world beyond the fence feel far away and unimportant.

“You really come here a lot?” Oscar finally asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, but somehow, they found where I would sneak in and boarded it off.” you said softly. “It’s kind of my spot. No one bothers me here, and I can think peacefully.”

He glanced over at you, expression unreadable. “It’s nice,” he admitted, voice low.

“Told you,” you said with a small smirk, nudging him with your shoulder.

Oscar chuckled, shaking his head. “I still think you’re insane. But thanks for bringing me here.”

“See? You love it!” you teased again, but this time, your tone was gentle.

He didn’t argue back, just leaned back on his elbows and looked up at the stars. For all his initial protests, you could tell he was enjoying himself.

The quiet stillness of the night surrounded you as you sat on the sunbeds, gazing up at the sky. The stars seemed to shimmer more brightly than usual, scattered across the inky darkness like tiny diamonds. The gentle hum of crickets filled the silence, a soothing backdrop to your thoughts. You turned your head slightly, glancing at Oscar, who was leaning back, arms folded behind his head, and face relaxed but thoughtful.

“So,” you started this time, breaking the silence. “How’s karting going for you?”

Oscar turned his head towards you, brow lifting slightly. “It’s going good,” he said, tone casual, but there was a spark in his eyes as he spoke. “I’ve got another competition coming up soon. You’d know all about it if you actually came to one for once.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling a little. “You know that karting isn’t my thing.”

“Not your thing,” he repeated, almost scoffing, though there was no malice in it. “You’ve been saying that for years. You’ve never even given it a chance.”

“I cheer for you in spirit,” you said, leaning back against the sunbed with a grin. “That counts, right?”

Oscar let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You’re impossible. But seriously, you should come sometime. It’s not just about the racing—you’d see what it’s all about. Besides, my family would love to have you there.”

“I know,” you said quietly, gaze drifting back to the stars. “But I don’t need to be there to know you’re amazing. I’m always proud of you, you know that.”

He smiled softened at your words, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. Then, as if something had been weighing on him, he spoke again.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he began, voice a little hesitant, “I’m probably moving to the UK soon. There’s more opportunity there for racing. Better teams, better chances to make it in F1.”

The words hung in the air between you, and for a brief moment, you didn’t know to respond to Oscar. You felt a slight pinch in your chest, a dull ache you could not quite place. But as always, you pushed it aside, refusing to let it show.

“Oh, wow,” you said, turning to him with a smile that you hoped didn’t look forced. “So, you’re leaving me, huh?”

Oscar gave you a look—half amused, half exasperated. “I’m not leaving you,” he said firmly. “It’s just something I need to do.”

“Sure, sure,” you teased, poking his arm lightly. “Just don’t forget me when you’re already a big shot in F1, okay? Don’t pretend you don’t know me when I show up at one of your races, like, hey, remember me? The one dragged you into all her bad ideas?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Like I could ever forget you. You’d probably try and break into the paddock if I didn’t let you in.”

“Exactly,” you said with a grin, though your chest still felt tight.

Oscar tilted his head, looking at you more seriously now. “What about you?” he asked. “What do you want to do? Where do you see yourself in a few years?”

You hesitated, staring back up at the sky as if the stars might have an answer for you. The truth was, you did not know at all. You never had. The thought of planning your life out like that felt daunting, like trying to catch smoke in your hands.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” you admitted finally, voice soft. “As cliché as it sounds, I guess I’ll just…go with the flow. See where life takes me.”

Oscar studied your face for a moment, gaze thoughtful. “That’s not a bad thing, you know,” he said. “Some people tend to spend their whole lives planning and never stop to actually live.”

You turned your head to him, surprised by his words. You know that Oscar was philosophical in some type of way, and it always surprises you, but there was something reassuring in the way he said it.

“Yeah,” you murmured, offering him a smile. “Maybe.”

You reached inside of your jacket and pulled out two juice boxes of sunshine punch. You tossed one to Oscar, who caught it with a raised eyebrow.

“Sunshine punch? Really?” he asked, tone teasing as he turned the box over in his hands.

“I know, I’m the best, aren’t I?” you replied, already poking the straw into yours and taking a sip.

Oscar gave you a small shake of his head but didn’t argue. He was not a fan of the drink, you both knew that early on, but he appreciated the gesture. He poked the straw in, took a small sip, and scrunched his nose lightly. You just laughed quietly to yourself, looking out at the pool.

The water glistened under the moonlight, a perfect reflection of the pale orb in the sky. Silence between you was comfortable, just the two of you simply drinking your juice boxes, watching the faint ripple of water and the shadows cast by the surrounding bushes. But then, a sharp flash of light broke through the calm, your heart jumped as the beam of a flashlight swept across the area. You then froze, juice box in hand, while Oscar turned to look at you, confused.

“Finish your juice box,” you whispered urgently, quickly sipping the last of your drink and tossing the empty juice box into a trash bin.

“What “ Oscar whispered back, voice incredulous. “Why?”

“Just do it!” you urged, voice tight as your eyes scanned the area for a hiding spot.

Lscar grumbled, not really happy that you were hurrying him with his juice box, but he drank it quickly. You were already moving, searching desperately for somewhere you and Oscar could hide, but there was nothing. No bushes dense enough, no shadows deep enough. The pool shimmered ominously in your peripheral vision as the flashlight beam drew closer.

“Hold your breath,” you whispered sharply, grabbing Oscar’s wrist.

“Wait, what—” he started, but you didn’t give Oscar the chance to finish.

You yanked him forward, making him drop the juice box to the ground, and without a second thought, you pushed him into the pool. The water was shockingly cold against your skin as you followed him in, the splash louder than you had hoped. You gestured quickly at Oscar, motioning for him to stay under and not make any movement. His expression was a mixture of disbelief and panic, but he nodded, holding his breath as the two of you sank just beneath the surface.

The water muffled everything—whistle of the night, rustle of leaves, even your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. Above you, the flashlight beam danced across the pool’s surface, light refracting and breaking into shimmering fragments underwater. You held your breath as tightly as you held onto the pool ladder near you, praying you wouldn’t need to come up too soon.

Bright light lingered near the spot where you and Oscar were submerged. You could feel the tension radiating off of Oscar, his body still beside yours. The seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity, every muscle in your body tensed. Finally, the light shifted, moving away from your side of the pool. You waited until the beam disappeared entirely before you tapped Oscar’s arm and motioned upward.

Breaking the surface as quietly as you could, you took in a deep gulp of air. The guard’s faint muttering was distant now, but there was no time to relax. Grabbing Oscar’s wrist again, you pulled him towards the swimming pool ladder, the two of you moving quickly but silently. Once out of the pool, you didn’t even wait to catch your breath.

“Run!” you hissed, tugging him along.

The security had heard the faint splashing as you climbed out and turned, his whistle piercing through the night. “Hey! Stop right there!”

You didn’t look back. Your feet pounded against the concrete as you made a dash for the gap in the fence, snatching up the bolt cutters on the way out. You could not risk leaving it behind, your father would definitely notice that they were missing. Oscar groaned behind you, clearly annoyed but following without hesitation. He was the last one through the gap, and just as you turned to grab his arm and pull him forward, the security’s shouts grew louder.

“Go, go, go!” you urged, practically dragging him by his hand as you sprinted down the street.

The sound of your shoes hitting the pavement echoed in the quiet street of your neighborhood, both your breathing still heavy from running, then noticed the way his right sleeve moved awkwardly against his arm. In the faint glow of a nearby streetlamp, you caught sight of a tear in his hoodie, a dark streak seeping through the fabric. Without thinking, you reached out and gently grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

“Wait, Osc, hold on,” you said, pulling his arm closer to inspect it.

Oscar blinked down at you in surprise. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“You’re bleeding,” you murmured, tugging the torn fabric back slightly to reveal a shallow but angry scratch on his skin. The blood was fresh, glinting under the light.

He tilted his head at the sight of it, his expression calm. “Huh? I didn’t even notice.”

“I’m so sorry, Osc!” you blurted out, guilt immediately rising in your chest. “It must’ve happened when we were going through the fence. I didn’t—”

“Hey, stop it,” he interrupted, tone firm but soft. “It’s not a big deal. Seriously.”

You hesitated, still holding his arm as if that would somehow make it better. Oscar shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t apologize. It’s fine.”

Even though his words were reassuring, the sight of the wound made you feel uneasy. You let go of his arm reluctantly, murmuring a quiet apology one last time. Oscar just rolled his eyes, though there was no annoyance behind it.

“Come on, let’s get home before we freeze.” he smiled.

The two of you made your way to his house, the familiar sight of the front porch of his house coming into view. You slowed your steps as you approached, realizing that sneaking back inside was not going to work. Oscar’s soaked clothes clung to him, dripping water onto the pavement, and your own shoes squelched with each step. There was no hiding this from anyone.

Oscar gave you a pointed look. “You’re ringing the doorbell.”

You sighed but didn’t argue, stepping up to the door and pressing the doorbell. It wasn’t long before you heard soft footsteps from inside. The door creaked open, and Nicole stood there, face shifting from sleepy confusion to startled concern the moment she saw both you and Oscar.

“What on earth…?” she muttered, eyes scanning your drenched forms. She glanced behind you at the perfectly dry pavement and then back at you both, brow furrowing. “It didn’t rain tonight, what happened?”

You opened your mouth to explain, but she quickly ushered you both inside. “Come in, come in. You’re going to catch a cold standing out there like that.”

Once you were in the warmth of the house, she left for a moment and returned with two towels, handing one to you and the other to Oscar. You wrapped the towel around yourself, the fabric soaking up the cold water clinging to your skin.

“I’m so sorry,” you began, clutching the towel tightly. “It wasn’t my intention to get Oscar dragged into this.”

Nicole raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt, so you took it as a sign to continue. “We were just hanging out at the public pool, and when the security showed up, we didn’t have anywhere to hide, so we, uh, hid in the pool.”

At that, Nicole’s lips twitched, and then she laughed, a soft, warm sound that immediately eased the tension in your chest. “You two are really something else,” she said, shaking her head.

You blinked at her, surprised by her reaction. “You’re not mad?”

She smiled at you, expression fond. “No, of course I’m not mad. It’s just water. But next time, maybe pick a place where you won’t need to dive into a pool to avoid getting caught, hm?”

You nodded quickly, relieved. “I promise! And please don’t tell my parents.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Nicole smiled again, waving a hand dismissively. “Dry yourselves off, and Oscar, make sure you clean that scratch on your arm before you head to bed.”

Oscar glanced at the tear in his hoodie and nodded. “Yeah, I got it mum.”

Nicole turned to head back upstairs, but she paused, looking over her shoulder. “Oh, and you can stay the night if you want,” she said to you. “It’s so late, and you’re already here.”

You shook your head politely. “Thank you, but I’ll head home.”

She nodded in understanding, giving you both one last look. “Alright then. Oscar, don’t forget to lock the front door and turn off the lights before you head to bed.”

With that, Nicole headed back upstairs, her footsteps soft on the carpeted stairs. You and Oscar were left standing in the entryway, still damp but no longer worried about the consequences.

Oscar glanced at you, lips twitching as if he were about to laugh. “Well, that went better than expected,” he said, running a hand through his wet hair.

“Yeah,” you said, tugging the towel tighter around your shoulders. “Your mum’s the best.”

As a compensation for the troubles you had caused Oscar and waking up his mother, you decided to patch up his wound. You know exactly where their first aid kit was kept, so you wasted no time in retrieving it from the cabinet under the sink. The house was quiet now, save for the faint creaks of the floorboards beneath your wet shoes as you moved. With the kit in hand, you motioned for Oscar to sit at the kitchen counter.

“Come and sit, take off your hoodie. I’ll patch up your wound, it’s the least I can do for causing troubles,” you said softly, gesturing to the torn and bloodstained fabric.

Oscar hesitated for a moment but eventually tugged the hoodie over the head, wincing slightly when his arm brushed against the sleeve. He tossed the hoodie onto the back of a chair and sat down, resting his injured arm on the counter.

You opened the first aid kit and pulled out a bottle of antiseptic, some cotton pads, and a bandage. Setting everything down neatly, you grabbed a damp cloth first to clean the dried blood off of his skin. The scratch was not deep, but it stretched across his arm in a jagged line, red and raw.

“Alright, this might sting a little,” you warned, soaking a cotton pad with antiseptic and dabbing it gently onto the wound.

Oscar sucked in a sharp breath, face scrunching up. “A little?” he muttered through gritted teeth. “Feels like you’re pouring fire on it.”

You couldn’t help but grin slightly at his reaction, though you kept your focus on his arm. Stop being dramatic, it’s not that bad.”

“Says the person not being burned alive right now,” he shot back, though his tone was light.

You rolled your eyes, pressing the cotton pad a little more carefully against the scratch. “If you keep moving, it’s going to take longer. Hold still.”

Oscar sighed and complied, sitting as still as he could while you worked. Once the wound was clean, you grabbed the fresh bandage and carefully wrapped it around his arm, making sure it was snug but not too tight.

“There,” you said, trying off the bandage and stepping back to inspect your handiwork. “All patched up!”

He glanced down at his arm and flexed it slightly, wincing a little. “Thanks, Doc,” he said with a small smile.

You began gathering the used cotton pads and other supplies, discarding them into the trash and returning the first aid kit to its usual spot. As you wiped your hands on the towel draped over your shoulders, Oscar leaned back in his chair, eyeing the fresh bandage.

“Think it’s gonna leave a scar?” he asked casually.

You paused for a moment, glancing at the scratch before shrugging. “Probably. But at least it’ll be a cool story.”

Oscar snorted. “Yeah, breaking into an abandoned pool and almost getting caught by security. Real cool.”

You smirked, folding the towel neatly and setting it aside. “You’ll thank me when you’re older and tell this to your kids. Your crazy aunt gave me this scar.’”

He laughed quietly, shaking his head. “Guess I’ll have to keep you around just for the stories, huh?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile on your face. “Anyway, it’s late, or early, I guess. I should head home.”

Oscar stood up as you grabbed your jacket, which was still damp but less soaked than before. “I’ll walk you to the front door,” he offered.

The two of you made your way to the front door, house completely silent except for your footsteps. Oscar unlocked the door and held it open for you, the cool night air rushing in.

“Goodnight,” you said softly, stepping out onto the porch.

“Night,” Oscar replied, lingering in the doorway as you walked down the steps.

The streets were quiet as you made your way home, slipping into your yard and heading straight for the tool shed. You carefully returned the bolt cutter to its original place, making sure everything looked untouched. With that done, you grabbed the ladder that was leaning against the side of the house and quietly climbed up to your bedroom window. Halfway up, you paused and turned your head, glancing across to Oscar’s house, his bedroom window was lit dimly from the inside, and there he was, standing jusy behind the glass. Oscar noticed you looking and mouthed a goodnight, with a smile.

You smiled back and gave him a slight wave in return before turning back to your task. Pulling yourself through the open window, you landed softly on your bedroom floor, finally letting out a breath you had not realized that you were holding.

Years had passed since that night at the pool. Life, as it always did, moved forward, and the close bond you and Oscar had once shared slowly faded into memory. When Oscar left for the UK to pursue his racing career, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness, even as you supported him wholeheartedly. It was a bittersweet goodbye without an actual farewell—you didn’t get to see him before he left. Instead, you relied on Nicole to pass along your best wishes, trusting that she would tell him everything you could not.

Not long after Oscar’s departure, your own life took a drastic turn. Your parents had finally decided to move to Sydney for better work opportunities, a decision that uprooted you from the neighborhood you had ever called home. The weeks leading up to the move were a whirlwind of packing boxes, sorting through childhood memorabilia, and saying goodbyes to the people who had been part of your life for so long—the Piastris were among the hardest to leave behind. Nicole hugged you tightly, and Chris offered his usual kind words, and Oscar’s sisters promised to write, though you all knew how unlikely that was to happen.

When the moving day came, you left quietly. There wasn’t much time for sentimentality—just final glance at the house you grew up in before climbing into the car. Sydney will be a fresh start for your family—as how your parents had put it, but you could not shake the feeling that you were leaving a piece of you behind.

The transition to Sydney was not easy, but somehow, you managed. The city was bigger, busier, and an unfamiliar territory, yet you adapted, throwing yourself into a routine that kept your mind occupied. You rarely thought about the past, though every now and then, something would remind you of Oscar—a fleeting mention of his name in news and online articles, or a memory that surfaced at the most unexpected times.

Nine months after moving to Sydney, something changed yet again. What started as fatigue and unexplained bruises turned into something far more serious. One day, your parents rushed you to the hospital after you fainted at home. Series of tests were run, questions were asked, and finally, a doctor say you down with an expression that left no room for doubt.

Stage two leukemia.

The words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. You felt entirely detached, as though they were speaking to someone else. Your parents’ reactions were immediate—your mother bursting into tears and your father was gripping your hand tightly. But you were just sitting there, silent and still. You didn’t cry. You didn’t scream. You didn’t ask why this was happening to you. Instead, you felt a strange sense of calmness wash over you, a quiet acceptance that settled over you like a blanket. Maybe it was shock, or maybe it was the realization that no amount of questioning or anger would change what was already done.

Later that night, after the initial flurry of doctors and paperwork, you sat with your parents in the sterile quiet of your hospital room. The fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead, casting a pale glow on their worried faces. You looked at your parents, both were still trying to process what they had been told, and made a request.

“I don’t want anyone else to know,” you said firmly.

Your father frowned, forehead creasing deeply. “What do you mean? People will want to support you—”

“I mean it, dad,” you interrupted gently but resolutely. “Let’s keep this to ourselves. I don’t want anyone worrying about me.”

Your mother hesitated, voice breaking. “What about Nicole and Chris? They’re family to us—they’d want to know.”

You shook your head, your gaze steady. “No. Please. If they find out, they’ll tell Oscar, and I just don’t want him to worry. He’s got enough on his plate, he doesn’t need to hear about this.”

There was a long pause. Your parents exchanged a glance, the kind of silent conversation that only comes with years of partnership. Finally, your father sighed and nodded.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “If that’s what you want, we’ll respect it.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, leaning back against the pillows.

Just like that, the secret was sealed. Life shifted into a strange new rhythm—hospital visits, treatments, moments of hope, and days of despair. Through it all, you kept your diagnosis close to your chest, unwilling to burden anyone else with the weight of it.

It had been nearly a year of chemotherapy—long days of sitting in cold hospital rooms in silence, hooked up to IVs that dripped chemicals into your veins. Each session left you feeling more drained than the last, your body growing weaker as the fight dragged on. Still, you clung to the silver of hope that the treatments were doing something, anything, to slow down the disease. But hope has a way of unraveling.

Your latest round of tests came back, and the news was worse than you could have imagined. The chemotherapy was not working. Instead of improving, your condition had worsened, and now the doctors were delivering the words you had dreaded since the beginning.

Stage four.

You sat still inside the small consultation room, the sterile white walls closing in around you as the doctor explained your options. Words such as aggressive treatment and clinical trials floated in the air, but you were not really listening to what the doctor was saying. Your parents were, though—you could see the desperation in their faces as they clung to every word, searching for something to hold onto.

Later that night, at home, you lay in bed staring blankly at the ceiling with the weight of the diagnosis pressing down on your chest. You thought about the past years, about how much you had endured and how little had come from it. The endless cycle of nausea, fatigue, and pain had left you feeling like a shadow of yourself. What was the point of continuing if it wasn't even making you better?

The next morning, you asked your parents to sit down with you in the living room. They looked at you with concern, sensing that this conversation was different. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself before speaking.

“I want to stop the chemotherapy,” you said quietly but firmly.

Your mother’s eyes widened, a hand flying to her mouth. “What? No—you can’t mean that, honey. We’re fighting this, remember? You’ve been so strong—”

“I’ve been strong,” you whispered gently, meeting her gaze. “But I’m tired, mum. I’m so fucking tired. This treatment is no longer working on me. We all know damn well that it’s not working.”

Your father’s face was tense, his hands gripping the armrest of his chair. “The doctors said there are other options. Experimental treatments, new drugs—sweetheart, they haven’t given up on you, and neither should you.”

You sighed, trying to find the right words to make them understand. “I know you want me to keep fighting, and I love you for that. But this isn’t living anymore, every single day feels like a battle that I’m losing. I don’t want to spend whatever time I have left feeling like this.”

Tears welled up in your mother’s eyes as she reached for your hand. “There has to be something else that we can do. We can’t just stop.”

“I’m not giving up,” you said softly, squeezing her hand. “I’m just choosing a different path. The doctors mentioned alternatives, things that might help me feel better without the chemo. I want to try those instead, I want to focus on quality of life, not quantity.”

There was a long silence as your parents absorbed your words. Your father looked down at the floor, his jaw clenched, while your mother wiped at her tears. Finally, he spoke, voice low and strained.

“If this is what you want, okay, we’ll support you. But it’s not easy for us to accept.”

“I know,” you whispered, voice breaking. “I know it’s not easy. But this is what feels right for me.”

Your mother nodded through her tears, her grip on your hand tightening. “We’ll talk to the doctors tomorrow. We’ll figure out the alternatives.”

You leaned into your mother’s embrace, feeling a mix of relief and sorrow. It was not an easy decision, but it was yours, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could breathe.

You never thought that you would be back to where it all started. The sun was warm on your back as you stood in front of the old house, taking in the neighborhood that had once been so familiar. Everything seemed different now—houses, gardens, and even the way the air smelled, but the tree with the tyre swing still stood proudly in the front yard. The sight of it tugged at your chest, stirring a mix of nostalgia and longing. You remembered how you and Oscar used to spend hours climbing its sturdy branches, swinging so high on the tyre that your parents would often scold you to be careful.

You took a tentative step toward the tree, wondering if the names you and Oscar had carved into the bark were still there. You hadn’t really thought about that in years, but the memory was vivid of how the two of you had sat side by side, each clutching a small pocket knife that you were not supposed to have, giggling as you carefully etched your initials into the wood. Before you could reach the tree, a voice called out your name.

You turned around quickly, heart skipping a beat as you saw her—Nicole. Nicole just stood there, just as warm and welcoming as you remembered. Her face lit up in recognition, and before you could say anything, she crossed the distance between you and pulled you into a tight hug.

“Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed, arms wrapping around you with a familiar kind of affection that nearly brought tears to your eyes. “It’s been so long! Look at you—you’ve grown up so much.”

You smiled nervously as she pulled back, her hands still resting on your shoulders. “Hi, Mrs. P. It’s been a while.”

“Too long, my dear,” she said, voice tinged with both happiness and surprise. “I heard your family was back in town, but I didn’t think I’d run into you so soon! How are you? How are your parents?”

“They’re good,” you replied, voice steady despite the sudden nervousness creeping into your chest. “They’re inside, actually, talking to the realtor.”

Nicole nodded, eyes scanning your face with that same maternal kindness you remembered from your childhood. “And how are you, sweetheart? It’s been ages since I last saw you.”

Your throat tightened for a moment. She did not know. No one ever did, except your parents. You forced a small smile and nodded. “I’m doing okay. Just taking it one day at a time, you know?”

She smiled warmly, completely unaware of the weight behind your words. “That’s good to hear. It’s so nice to see you back, Brighton hasn’t been the same without you.”

You shifted slightly, glancing around the neighborhood before returning your gaze to her. “How’s everyone by the way? The whole family, especially the girls.”

“Oh they’re all doing great,” Nicole said brightly. “The girls are growing up so fast—you wouldn’t even recognize them! Then Oscar…”

At the mention of his name, your heart seemed to skip. You hadn’t thought about him in a very long time, and now, hearing his name felt both comforting and surreal.

“How’s Oscar?” you asked, trying to sound casual despite the flutter in your chest.

Nicole’s face lit up with pride. “Oh, he’s doing wonderfully! You wouldn’t believe it—he’s made it to F1! He was signed with McLaren.”

The words hit you like a burst of sunlight, flooding you with an overwhelming sense of happiness that you could not even describe. Your lips parted in surprise, and you felt your chest swell with pride.

“He did it?” you asked softly, almost in disbelief.

Nicole nodded, smile widening. “He did! It’s been such a journey for him, but he’s finally there. All those years of hard work have paid off.”

You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away, a wide grin spreading across your face. “I always knew he would make it. I never doubted it for a second.”

Nicole chuckled, her hand resting lightly on your arm. “He worked so hard for this, and I know he would love to see you. Oscar’s been so busy, especially with the races, but I’m sure that he’d be thrilled to know you’re back.”

You hesitated for a moment, the thought of seeing him again stirring a mix of emotions you were not quite ready to unpack. “That’s amazing,” you said finally, voice filled with genuine admiration. “I’m so proud of him.”

Nicole smiled knowingly, as if she could see just how much you meant it. “You should tell him that yourself sometime. I know that he’d love to hear it.”

You nodded, though you were not sure if you would.

You and your family are back yet again in Brighton. The day was unusually quiet, the kind of silence that made you feel every sound—rustle of leaves in the breeze, distant hum of cars passing by, faint creak of the porch beneath your weight. You were sitting there, knees pulled to your chest, gazing out at the familiar neighborhood that had shaped so many of your memories. It was strange to think that after today, this house, street, and view would no longer be yours.

Your parents were just inside the house, tying up loose ends with the realtor, discussing the final details of the sale. You had excused yourself, not wanting to be a part of it. The mere thought of walking through the now-empty rooms, stripped off the warmth and life they once held, felt too heavy. So you stayed outside, perched on the porch steps, letting the sights and sounds of Brighton seep into you one last time.

The air carried an unusual faint chill, and you hugged your arms around yourself as you scanned the street. It was still the same in many ways—neatly trimmed lawns, rows of houses with their uniform yet distinct façade. But it also felt different, as if time had moved on without you, leaving you as an observer rather than a participant. As your eyes wandered, something, or rather, someone had caught your attention. You straightened slightly, squinting to make sure that you were not imagining things. Walking down the sidewalk, with an easy familiar stride, was Oscar.

For a moment, you were struck by how much he had changed. He carried himself differently now, more confident, assured, as if the years away had molded him into someone who fully belonged in the world he had always dreamed of. But that was not what held your attention. Beside Oscar, her arm lightly brushing against his, was a girl. She was gorgeous in an effortless way that made it impossible to look away. Her hair shimmered in the sunlight, her laughter rang out softly as she spoke to Oscar, and her smile was the kind that lit up her whole face.

You felt it then—a sharp, unbidden pang in your chest. It was not jealousy, not exactly. It was something deeper, aching. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from them, from the way they walked together, so perfectly in sync, so natural. They looked so good together, like a pair that had been meant to find each other. And you? You just sat there, still and silent, feeling like an intruder on a moment that was not meant for you to see.

You hated the way how your mind began to spiral, unearthing old, buried feelings that you had tried so hard to forget and ignore. You thought you had moved past it, but now, sitting there, it was undeniable. You had loved Oscar, or at least something close to it. You never admitted it to anyone, not even to yourself. But it had always been there, in the way your heart quickened when he smiled at you, in a way you always wanted to make him laugh, in the way you looked for him in every crowded room.

But you never told him. How could you? He was Oscar—steady, kind, driven, and you were you. A troublemaker. Reckless. Always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. You had convinced yourself a long time ago that someone like him could never feel the same way about you, that you were not the kind of person he would ever want.

But now, watching him with her, it only proved what you had always known deep down. They looked perfect together, in a way you could never imagine yourself fitting into his life. She had the kind of refinement and grace that seemed effortless, while you were rough around the edges and acting on impulsive decisions.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to look away, but it was already too late. The image of them, of Oscar, was already etched into your mind, and as you sat there, you chest heavy with an ache you couldn’t shake, you knew that saying goodbye to this house and street was not the hardest part of leaving Brighton.

The hardest part was letting go of something you never truly had.

You were standing by your family car, hands crossed to your chest, waiting for your parents to finish up inside when you heard someone call your name. Turning, you saw Nicole walking briskly towards you, face lighting up as she reached you. Before you could even say anything, she had already extended an invitation for you and your family to come over to their house for the afternoon.

You hesitated, glancing towards your parents who were just stepping out of the house. A quiet panic bubbled inside you, this was not what you were expecting, and you certainly were not in the mood to socialize. But you did not want to be rude, especially to Nicole who had always been warm and kind. So, with a quiet nod, you agreed.

The Piastri house hadn’t changed that much. The familiar scent of home cooking and the subtle hum of conversation greeted you the moment you stepped through the door. Your parents were warmly embraced by Nicole, their chatter filling up the air as if no time had passed since your last visit. You lingered near the entryway, unsure of where to place yourself, when you heard excited voices. Hattie, Edie, and Mae appeared out of nowhere, voices high-pitched with excitement as they spotted you.

Before you could even say a word, they wrapped you in a tight group hig, their arms squeezing you with an intensity that left you breathless. You tried to laugh it off, but it came out as a wheeze, your words muffled by the weight of their embrace.

“Alright, let her breathe!” Oscar’s voice cut through the chaos.

The three of them reluctantly stepped back, each of their faces flushed with excitement. You caught your breath, offering a weak smile as they began firing a series of questions at you in rapid succession.

“How have you been?”

“What are you up to these days?”

“How are you finding Sydney?”

The questions came at you like a tidal wave, and you barely managed to mumble a response before another question followed. It was overwhelming, too much all at once, and just when you felt yourself starting to falter, Oscar intervened again.

“Okay, that’s enough interrogation,” he said, tone light but firm as he stepped between you and his sisters. “Give her a minute to breathe, yeah?”

Relief washed over you, but it was short-lived. Now, it was just you and Oscar, and the silence between you felt louder than anything his sisters had said. You looked at him, unsure of what to really say or where to start, and in the end, you settled for the safest and simplest thing you could ever think of.

“Congratulations by the way,” you said, voice quieter than you intended. “On making it to F1.”

His lips curved into a smile, soft and genuine. “Thanks. It’s been a crazy few years.”

You nodded, really unsure of how to respond, and the silence threatened to stretch on uncomfortably. But then he added, “I’m back in Australia for the Grand Prix.”

“Oh, that’s amazing,” you said, meaning it. “I’m proud of you, Osc. Really.”

Oscar tilted his head slightly, a smile turning into a more playful one. “You still don’t watch the races, though, do you?”

You laughed softly, the sound surprising even you. “No. It’s still not my thing.”

“Figures,” he said, laughing along with you.

The moment felt almost normal, a small glimpse of the easy connection you used to share. But it was fleeting. Oscar shifted slightly, his expression changing as he turned towards the doorway.

“Oh, by the way,” he said, tone casual. “I want you to meet Lily, my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend.

Lily. There she was. She stepped into view, her presence effortless and magnetic. Up close, she was even more stunning than you had realized, her features flawless and her demeanor warm. She smiled at you, and it was not forced or polite, it was kind, genuine, disarmingly sweet, and most of all, welcoming.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she said, extending a hand. Her voice was soft, yet it carried an ease that made you feel immediately out of place. “Oscar had told me so much about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” you shook her hand, offering a small smile in return. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

As she spoke, her kindness and charm were really undeniable, and you found yourself unable to summon any ill will towards her—it even made you feel bad for even thinking about something badly about Lily. She was lovely, perfect even, and though you wanted to find a reason to dislike her, you couldn’t. Lily was everything you were not—poised, polished, radiant.

The three of you stood there, exchanging conversations. You couldn’t help but take in the way Oscar looked at Lily—the softness in his eyes, the way his smile lingered when he spoke to her. It was clear how much she meant to him, and as much as it stung. You felt a lump rise in your throat, but you swallowed it down, forcing yourself to smile and nod along to the conversation.

It was going to be a very long day, and you just have to get through it. You reminded yourself that this was not about you—it never had been.

The Piastri household was buzzing with life as the afternoon was painted with golden hues. Inside, everyone seemed immersed in their own words. Your parents were deep in conversation with Nicole, their laughter and voices carrying through the air as they caught up on years of life. Hattie, Edie, and Mae were busy entertaining themselves, their giggles occasionally echoing from another room. Oscar and Lily sar close together, their connection evident in the way they talked and laughed, though they were kind enough to include you in the occasional exchange.

Observing what was happening around you, you can’t help but feel out of place, as though you were floating on the edges of a scene that didn’t belong to you anymore. You forced a polite smile, and excused yourself with a mumbled explanation about needing to grab something from the car. No one seemed to question it, and you slipped out of the house unnoticed.

As you closed the door behind you, you let out a breath that you hadn’t realized you had been holding. The tension that had coiled tight in your chest while you were inside slowly began to unwind. You stuffed your hand into your black leather jacket pockets and started down the quiet street, letting your feet guide you without much thought.

The familiar streets brought a wave of nostalgia, and as you walked, your mind wandered back to simpler days. Eventually, you found yourself wondering if that small family-owned store—one where you and Oscar used to visit after his karting victories, was still there. It felt like eons ago, but the memory was sharp and vivid—you and Oscar bursting through the shop’s door, with Oscar still giddy from the races, and celebrating his win with an ice cream as though it were the most important ritual in the world.

When you turned the corner, there it was. The modest storefront stood just as it had all those years ago, the paint already slightly faded but otherwise unchanged. The familiar bell above the door chimes as you step inside, and the scent of sweet, aged wood mixed with the faint aroma of candy hits you instantly. The store looked exactly the same. Shelves lined with old fashioned sweets, rows of snacks, and that unmistakable freezer filled with ice cream in the corner. Your eyes scanned the small shop, and behind the counter stood great old Uncle Roger, his face lighting up with recognition as he spotted you.

“Well, well,” he said, settling down a box he had been unpacking. “If it isn’t trouble itself!”

A wide grin spread across your face. “Hey Uncle Roger,” you greeted warmly. “You still remember me?”

He chuckled, stepping around the counter to stand in front of you. “Of course, I do! How could I forget the little rascal who used to hide in my back room to hide from the chaos she caused and would sometimes scare my customers away?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I wasn’t that bad.”

“Oh, really?” he shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Need I remind you of the time you pulled that prank with the balloons and the flour? Or the time you locked that bou Tommy out of the store and wouldn’t let him back in?”

You laughed again. “Okay, maybe a little chaos.”

“And poor Oscar,” he continued, tone light. “You used to drag him into all your mischief. That boy was too patient for his own good.”

You softly chucked as you nodded. “Guilty as charged,” you admitted. “Though, to be fair, Oscar was a willing accomplice most of the time.”

Uncle Roger let out a hearty laugh, the sound filling the small shop. “That he was. Good kid, though, and look at him now—a big shot race. His folks must be over the moon.”

“They are,” you said, smiling faintly.

“And what about you?” Uncle Roger asked, rone softening as he studied you. “What have you been up to all these years? You look different. Grown up.”

You hesitated, not wanting to delve too deeply into everything. “Life has been…pretty interesting,” you replied vaguely. “Moved to Sydney, tried to figure things out. It’s been a ride, that’s for sure.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing there was more to the story, but he did not push. “Well, you’ve always been a fighter,” Uncle Roger said kindly. “I’m sure whatever it is, you’re handling it like a champ.”

You smiled at his words, though a part of you felt the weight of them in a way he could not even understand. “Thanks, Uncle Roger,” you said softly.

He grinned again, stepping back towards the counter. “Now, I assume you didn’t just come in here to reminisce. Let me guess—you’re here for the ice cream, aren’t you? Same flavor as always?”

You laughed, a genuine sound this time, and nodded. “It wouldn’t feel right to leave without it.”

“Coming right up,” he said, already moving to the freezer. “Some things never really change, do they?”

The hours slipped by without you even realizing it. Time seemed to pause within the walls of Uncle Roger’s store, the air filled with the nostalgic hum of its old ceiling fan and the occasional chime of the doorbell. You had taken it upon yourself to help behind the counter, ringing up purchases and chatting with customers as though you had been working at the store for years. It wasn’t part of the plan, but when Uncle Roger had laughed and handed you an apron, you could not resist.

“I’ve always wanted to work at a place like this,” you had told him earlier with a grin, and he’d chuckled.

“Well, here’s your chance to experience it. Just don’t scare off the customers,” he’d teased before heading to the back to work on inventory.

Now, perched on a stool behind the counter, you twirled a lollipop between your fingers, its sugary sweetness lingering on your tongue. The small television mounted by the corner played a rerun of an old sitcom, the laughter track punctuating the quietness of the store. You glanced at the clock, realizing just how much time had passed since you had walked through the door, but you didn’t mind.

The familiar chime of the doorbell pulled your attention back to the counter, and you straightened instinctively. “Hello, welcome to Uncle Roger’s!” you greeted brightly, a practiced smile already in place.

When your eyes landed on the customer, your heart skipped. It was Oscar.

Oscar’s smile was warm and slightly amused as he approached the counter. “I had a feeling that you would be here,” he said, leaning casually against the edge of the counter, eyes flicking to the apron you wore, and his smile widened. “But I didn’t expect to find you working.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Well, it’s not everyday you get to live out a childhood dream. I figured, why not?”

He chuckled, shaking his head lightly. “Of course you would.”

He made his way to the drinks section, scanning the shelves before grabbing a couple of items. When he returned, he placed the drinks on the counter in front of you. You glanced at them as you reached for the scanner, hands immediately pausing when you recognized the brightly colored packaging.

It was a sunshine punch. Two juice boxes.

Your eyes flickered to Oscar briefly. “Sunshine punch, really?” you asked casually, though you couldn’t hide the slight surprise in your tone. “I thought you hated this stuff.”

He shrugged, expression unreadable. “Maybe my taste has changed,” he said simply.

You just hummed un acknowledgement, though you couldn’t help but wonder. From what you had remembered, he could barely stand the smell of it, let alone drink it. Then you wondered, maybe it was for Lily and him, you thought silently, and the thought of it tugged at something in your chest.

As you rang up the items, you kept your tone professional, if not, a bit playful. “Would you like to bag these?” you asked.

Oscar shook his head, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “No bag, thanks. Gotta save the turtles, right?”

You laughed softly at that, handing him the total. “Fair point,” you said, watching as he counted out the cash. You handed him his change, slipping into a mockingly formal tone. “Thank you for shopping at Uncle Roger’s, please come again!”

The two of you burst into laughter at how silly you sounded, with your laughter filling the quiet store. It felt easy, natural—like stepping back into a moment frozen in time. But as the laughter faded, a sigh escaped your lips, unbidden.

Oscar laughed outright at that, shaking his head as he pocketed his change. “You sound way too serious. Are you sure you haven’t secretly been doing this for years?”

You chuckled, leaning your arms on the counter. “Hey, I’m just trying to be professional. Gotta make a good impression on the boss.”

“How about we go to that public pool that we used to go to as kids?” Oscar said as he lingered near the counter while you glanced back at him, processing his unexpected suggestion.

“The abandoned pool?” you repeated softly, a mix of surprise and curiosity in your voice.

It had been years since you had even thought about that place, let alone considered even going back there. The idea felt surreal.

“Yeah, it’s still around,” he said with a small shrug, tone casual, though there was a glint of something, maybe akin to nostalgia, in his eyes.

You hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yeah, sure. Alright, let’s go,” you agreed.

You head towards the back of the store, pushing open the swinging door to find Uncle Roger hunched over his clipboard, meticulously counting boxes.

“Hey Uncle Roger,” you called gently, not wanting to startle him.

He looked up from his work, expression softening when he saw you. “Finished already?”

You gave him an apologetic smile. “I think I’m going to clock out for the day. Oscar and I are heading out for a bit.”

Uncle Roger’s gaze flickered to the counter, where Oscar was waiting patiently. A wide grin spread across his face as he stepped out from behind the storage shelves.

“Well, now. Look who decided to stick around,” he said, tone warm and teasing. “And in my shop, no less. Oscar Piastri, the Formula 1 driver!”

Oscar laughed lightly, hands tucked into his pockets. “You make it sound way more impressive than it is, Uncle Roger,” he replied modestly.

“Nonsense,” Uncle Roger said with a wave of his hand. “I always knew you were destined for greatness the moment you sat in that kart. It’s good to see you, son.”

Oscar smiled, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “It’s good to see you too.”

Uncle Roger’s attention turned back to you, eyes twinkling. “Having you two here today, it’s just like the old times,” he said with a wistful sigh. “You, running around causing trouble, and Oscar, trying to keep up.”

You chuckled, feeling a wave of warmth at his words. “Well, as you said, some things never really change,” you said lightly.

Uncle Roger patted your shoulder. “You’ve been a big help today, my dear. I’ve been meaning to start on that inventory for weeks, but I couldn’t leave the counter. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Anytime,” you said earnestly. “I’ll visit whenever I’m back in Brighton, I promise.”

He nodded, expression softening even further. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Before leaving, you stepped forward to give him a hug, the kind of hug that lingered just long enough to let him know how much his kindness meant to you. You removed the apron and switched it for your black leather jacket. Oscar chimed in with a quick ‘take care, Uncle Roger,’ and you both made your way out of the store, the bell chiming softly behind you.

Relief mingled with a touch of surprise as you nodded your head. “Alright then.”

When you arrived at the abandoned public pool, it was like stepping back in time—a time capsule. The cool air carried a faint scent of earth and old concrete, and the quiet hum of the town surrounded you. You immediately made your way to the part of the chain-link fence that you had cut through all those years ago. A crude, jagged hole that had somehow withstood the test of time. You crouched down to inspect it, your fingers brushing the edges of the worn out metal.

“I can’t believe that it’s still here,” you said softly, more to yourself than Oscar.

The faintest smile tugged at your lips when you noticed the hole had clearly become a regular entrance for others. “Looks like I set the blueprint for sneaking in, huh?”

Oscar chuckled behind you, voice warm. “Yeah, you’re a trendsetter,” he teased.

You ducked through the opening in the fence, Oscar following close behind. The pool area was almost unrecognizable, yet unmistakably the same. The once-pristine tiles were faded and cracked, the pool itself empty and hollow, walls were now layered with colorful graffiti—messages, drawings, and names scrawled over one another in a chaotic tapestry. Though the old sunbeds still lined the deck, many were now broken and rusted. The whole place felt frozen in time, yet irrevocably changed.

Your gaze landed on one particular sunbed, its white paint chipped and the straps slightly frayed. “Oh, that’s the one,” you murmured, walking over to it.

Dusting it off with your hands, you lowered yourself onto the sunbed, letting the weight of the moment settle over you. Above, the stars were scattered across the vast expanse of the night sky, their light faint but steady. The air was still, and for a while, it felt like the world beyond the place didn’t exist. Oscar settled down on the sunbed beside you, legs stretched out, and arms resting on his knees. Like you, his gaze was fixed on the sky. For a long time, neither of you spoke, the silence between you comfortable—familiar.

You were so lost in your thoughts, mind drifting through memories of this place, that you didn’t notice Oscar moving until you felt something brush against your hand. Turning your head, you saw him holding out a juice box of sunshine punch. The drink you thought that Oscar bought a shop were for someone else, turns out that it was for the two of you.

Your breath hitched slightly as your eyes darted from the juice box to his face. “You bought this for me?”

Oscar smiled, a little sheepishly. “For us,” he corrected. “Figured it’d be fitting.”

A soft laugh escaped you as you took the juice box from his hand, the cool surface pressing against your palm. “Thanks, Osc,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

You popped the straw into the box, taking a slow sip. The familiar tangy-sweet flavor hit your tongue, and for a moment, you could almost imagine that you were back to being kids again—hanging out in the abandoned public pool, celebrating one of Oscar’s karting wins with ice cream from Uncle Roger’s, inciting chaos, and never ending laughter.

Breaking the stillness, Oscar’s voice came, quiet but steady. “How are you?”

It was a simple question that has an easy answer to it, but the question hung in the air, heavy despite its simplicity. You paused, gaze fixed on the sky above. After a moment, you decided to answer, keeping your tone light.

“I’m fine.”

Oscar turned his head towards you, his expression curious but patient, waiting for you to elaborate. You took another sip of your drink, stalling for time. Finally, you added, “you know, the usual. Just…life.”

It was not much of an answer to Oscar’s question, really, and you knew it. But it was the only answer that you were willing to give him. You’re glad that he didn’t push, though his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he looked back up the sky.

“Any plans?” he asked after a pause.

You exhaled softly, lips curving into the faintest of smiles. “Plans,” you repeated, as if testing the word. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ve stopped making them.”

Oscar’s brows furrowed slightly at your answer, and you felt his gaze on you again. You tilted your head back, eyes tracing the constellations.

“Plans are funny, you know?” you continued, voice thoughtful. “You make them, and then shit happens. Sometimes, you end up where you thought you’d be, and other times…” you trailed off, shrugging lightly.

Oscar tilted his head slightly, watching you.

You smiled faintly, letting out a soft laugh. “It’s like what I told you back then? Last time that we were here, on the exact same sunbeds we’re sitting on—wherever life takes me, right?”

He smiled at that, the memory lighting up his expression. “Wherever life takes you,” he repeated softly, as if testing the words in his own voice.

“You know…Lily’s amazing,” you said, tone light but sincere. “She’s a very lovely girl, Oscar. I mean, she’s gorgeous, obviously, but more than that. She’s kind, and has this certain warmth to her that makes it impossible not to like her.”

Oscar glanced at you, a small smile forming on his lips. “She really is,” he agreed softly, voice carrying a sense of pride.

You nodded, your own smile growing. “You two are like a perfect match. Yin and yang, you know? She really balances you out. You know that you’ve always been on the quieter side, but Lily brings out the best and talkative part of you.”

Oscar chuckled at your statement, eyes briefly meeting yours. “She definitely doesn’t let me stay quiet for long.”

You laughed softly, though your thoughts remained bittersweet. “I saw the way she looks at you,” you continued. “It’s so full of love. It’s the kind of look people dream of, you know? You’re really lucky to have her.”

His expression shifted slightly, as though he was not sure how to respond to the unexpected depth of your words. He gave a small nod, his smile turning a little shy.

“I’m proud of you, Oscar. Really.” you added, voice a little quieter now. “For finding someone like Lily. She’s good for you, and I’m happy knowing that she’ll be there for you.”

There was a pause before you continued on, tone suddenly turning more painful, though there was a weight beneath the lightness of it. “At least now I know that someone will be by your side when I’m gone.”

Oscar frowned slightly, he felt a little chill and was caught off guard by your words. “What do you mean by that?” he asked, confused.

You hesitated for a moment, quickly realizing how your words could have sounded. You forced a small laugh, hoping to brush it off. “I just mean, you know, since I had moved to Sydney,” you said, tone casual. “I’m not here anymore. I can’t be by your side like I used to back when we were kids.”

His expression softened, though he still seemed a little bit puzzled by your words. You just smiled softly, looking up again as you added, “but it’s okay. You’ve got Lily now, and she’s amazing. You’re in good hands.”

The walk back from the abandoned public pool was quiet. The kind of quiet that was not uncomfortable, but heavy with so many unspoken words. The sound of your boots scuffing against the pavement and the faint rustling of leaves in the cool night air were the only things breaking the silence. Your hand stayed inside the pockets of your black leather jacket, the smooth lining a small comfort against the cold night.

Oscar walked beside you, his own steps steady and unhurried. You could feel his presence, solid and familiar, yet neither of you made any effort to fill the stillness. There was nothing pressing to say, and perhaps, that was enough.

When you finally turned the corner leading back to your neighborhood, the headlights of your parent’s car came into view, cutting through the dim light of the street. Your parents were standing beside it, their postures relaxed but expectant, while Nicole leaned casually against the hood, arms crossed. As soon as they spotted you, your mother straightened up, relief softening her features.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, voice a mix of mild concern and amusement. “We were starting to wonder where you’d gone off to.”

Oscar was quick to answer, tone light and easy. “We were at Uncle Roger’s shop, just catching up.”

Your father nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips, while Nicole’s expression softened, her gaze flitting between you and Oscar. “It’s so good to see the two of you spending time together again,” she said warmly.

Your mother stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on your arm. “We should get going, sweetheart,” she said softly, eyes kind but tired.

The goodbyes came swiftly after that, each one carrying its own weight. Nicole pulled you into a tight embrace, warmth and familiar scent grounding you for a moment. “Take care of yourself, okay?” she said, voice quiet but firm.

When Nicole let go, it was Oscar’s turn. He stepped closer, arms wrapping around you with a firmness that caught you off guard. It was not one of those quick, polite hugs—it was the kind of embrace that lingered, as if he were trying to hold onto something fleeting.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” he murmured, voice low and sincere. Then he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, a small, boyish grin appearing on his face. “And you have to come to my race one of these days. No more excuses.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “Alright, we’ll see,” you said lightly, though you both knew it was not a promise.

With that, you turned and walked towards the car. As you reach for the door handle, something makes you glance back over your shoulder. Oscar was still standing there, hands tucked into his pockets, watching you with an unreadable expression. You gave him a soft smile, lifting your hand in a casual salute. He returned the gesture, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Sliding into the backseat of the car, you buckle your seatbelt as your father starts the car. The low rumble of the engine filled the silence, and as the car began to pull away, you could not resist a one last look at Oscar through the rearview mirror. Oscar was still standing there, framed by the faint glow of the streetlights, his figure growing smaller and smaller until he disappeared from the view entirely.

You did not look back again, you never looked back. But something in you stirred—a quiet, unshakable feeling that this night, this moment, would never come again. Neither of you could have known that this would be the very last time you would see each other. The very last time Oscar would ever see you.