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talaok · 2 months ago

Text

Be the one to do it

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You've always had a crush on your neighbor Joel, and once your friend Jordan suggests you ask him to help with a little "problem" of yours, it turns out he had never been such an unattainable dream.

Warnings: basically pwp. smut| big ass unspecified age gap, virginity loss, oral sex (f and m receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, kinda breeding kink and size kink, dirty talk, he talks you through it, Joel calls reader with a bunch of pet names and probably more stuff but i need to go to sleep.

a/n: this is the farthest it can get from original. you've probably read 10 other fics with the same premise but i just wanted to write some sweet and filthy virginity loss sue me

"I can barely get a sentence out around him and you think I'm gonna ask him to have sex!?"

"well yeah" Jordan laughed "It makes sense"

Your friend was looking at you like she'd just suggested getting ice cream, while what had really just come out of her mouth was really, exponentially different.

"you're out of your mind if you think-"

"just shut up" she interrupted, rolling her eyes "It would be a fucking walk in the park"

Your eyes widened exaggeratedly at that.

Did she have any idea about what she was suggesting?

The last time you'd interacted with Joel Miller all he had to do was ask how summer break was going for your face to get as hot as the sun and for you to end up muttering some nonsense and running away.

"He'd never say yes"

Again, Jordan's eyes rolled back.

"Y/n listen I love you but sometimes you can be real fucking dumb," she said, fighting a smile "The guy probably hasn't gotten laid in years!" she huffed a laugh "And with you? With a hot young piece of ass like you!? No guy on the planet would say no"

"You-you're just saying that... and you don't know him"

"I know men"

__ __ __

You didn't even remember how you'd gotten there, all you knew was that Joel Miller was right in front of you, opening the door to his fucking house.

"Hi"

Your face was already getting warm and your voice was just an inch above unhearable.

"Hi darlin'" he greeted you, smiling with that slow, easy smile that made you want to cry every single time.

How could a human being be so hot?

"Come on in" he nodded behind him "What's goin' on?"

Now here was the problem. You had no plan whatsoever, and this was setting itself up to be a complete shitshow.

"I..."

You weren't even meeting his eyes, you could see him trying to catch a glimpse of your gaze but you couldn't do it- to be quite frank you were already starting to panic... and to regret your decision.

"you want something to drink?"

You looked up at him, your mouth slightly open as your words died on your tongue.

Jesus, he was handsome.

You hadn't gotten the chance to really look at him before, but now there he was in all his glory… huge strong muscles fighting against his shirt and all.

"c'mon, I'll get ya some water"

You didn't miss the smirk on his lips as he caught you ogling his arms.

Definitely not off to a good start.

He handed you a glass of water, and you took it, willing your hands not to shake.

The golden light of the afternoon sun seeped through the curtains of his kitchen windows, illuminating the space with a calmness that completely contrasted with your state.

"boy problems?"

You almost flinched at the sound of his voice.

"gotta beat somebody up?"

He must have thought you were dumb with the way you were staring at him all wide-eyed, not daring to speak a word.

You needed to think of something, preferably right now.

"n-no, nothing like that” you shook your head, forcing a smile.

A beat of silence passed before you decided to take back already what you’d said.

“well actually sorta"

He frowned, shifting his stance from one foot to the other.

He was waiting for you to expand on your words, but the birds chirping on the nearby trees were the only sound in the room.

"you can talk to me doll, I ain't gonna bite"

You could feel your cheeks get hot.

Jesus it's like everything he did was scandalously sexy- every time he spoke with that sweet drawl of his, every pet name he used for you... he could have peeled his clothes off slowly as he gave you a lap dance and the effect on you would be the exact same.

"Well I just..." you started "I've got a... problem"

He looked even more confused.

Were you about to tell him you're pregnant? No that would be impossible, he'd never seen you with any guy around here... but maybe at college.

For some reason, the thought of you with another guy... with a boy... didn't sit right with him.

Actually, he knew the reason, throughout the summer he'd caught himself staring a little too long at you more times than he'd like to admit- it was like all of a sudden you had grown, and the sweet little kid living next to him was now suddenly a gorgeous woman. He didn't really know what to do with that information, with the inappropriate feelings and urgings weighing in his gut every time his gaze fell upon you and you squirmed embarrassed like a shy little thing.

"alright..." he urged you to go on.

"Sarah's not home right?"

His brows drew closer together as he frowned.

Why would you ask that?

"She's at a friend's"

You nodded, suddenly looking more resolute, even if the way your teeth tortured your poor bottom lip was enough of a tell of how nervous you were.

You had decided. Jordan was right. There was no harm in trying, and if it didn't go right you'd just avoid him for the rest of your life.

"I'm a virgin Joel"

You saw his eyes widen before your own words had even registered.

"O-oh"

That's all he could stutter. I mean what was he supposed to say? That seconds before he thought you were about to tell him you were pregnant? That he could not understand how someone as beautiful as you, with the billion contenders he was sure you had, still had not found a single one to have sex with?

"And I... well the thing is that I don't want to be anymore"

He tried to get back to how cool and collected he was before- you were here to talk to him after all, the least he could do was be as helpful as possible.

"right" he cleared his throat "you want some advice on how to navigate this thing?"

The silence and the look on your face told him quite the opposite.

What were you here for then?

"No- I- the thing is that... I was wondering if maybe you'd agree to-" you bit your cheek as you finally spat it out "to be the one to do it"

Joel was sure his heart had stopped.

"babygirl-" The words had barely left your mouth and he was already stopping you.

You felt tears prick your eyes... you knew that tone.

"I'm sorry it was a stupid-"

Goddamn you Jordan.

You were already planning to run out the door when he spoke.

"darlin' I'm pushing forty here"

That's not what you expected him to say. He wasn't disgusted, or amused, or angry...

"yes but-" You tried to speak but he was talking over you again.

"you're twenty... you ain't even old enough to buy a six-pack, I-I- that ain't something you're supposed to do with me"

Joel would have never admitted it, but he was saying those things mostly to himself- to desperately fight the instinct that took over him the moment you explained the reason you were at his house... the instinct to take you up the stairs and fuck you so good no one else would ever compare.

"b-but it's what I want"

You weren't giving up. You didn't know what, but there was something about the way he was going about it that told you there was still a sliver of a chance.

Only there was a lot more than a sliver... and the way you were looking up at him with those desperate doe eyes was upping your chance as you spoke.

"I trust you, Joel," you said "You're the only man that I know that I would trust with this"

He sighed, shaking his head "If your dad found out- Jesus I wouldn't live to see another day darlin'"

Your hand found his chest, strong and solid as rock beneath your palm.

"I won't tell" you murmured, your words verging on pleas "I-I won't tell anyone Joel I promise" you swore, looking up at him as his own eyes bore into yours.

"You're the only one I want to do this with... the only one I trust"

You could see the resolution, the fight, leave his face.

How the hell was he supposed to say no?

Christ, not even a priest would have that amount of self-control.

"fuck sweetheart" he shook his head before looking up, a long breath leaving his throat "You're gonna get me killed"

You didn't even try to hide your excitement.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute as you asked "Is- is that a yes?"

His eyes- his beautiful, big, hazel eyes were back on you.

"'f course it is"

You smiled so wide your cheeks hurt.

It was really happening.

You were gonna lose your virginity to Joel fucking Miller.

"A-are we gonna do it now?" you asked, almost breathless with joy "I-I mean only if you feel like it of course"

"If I feel like it..." Joel couldn't help but laugh "You really have no idea do ya?"

Your mouth parted in confusion.

Did you say something wrong already?

"About what?"

A beat passed as he stared down at you, almost amused.

"About whatcha do to me, sugar"

__ __ __

The door to his bedroom closed with a soft click, and all of a sudden, you were the only two people on earth.

His eyes didn't leave you for even a second, and although you felt very much on the spot, you liked his gaze on you.

"If you change your mind at any point darlin'," he said, walking closer to you until his right hand could gently move some hair out of your face "You tell me, and I'll stop, ok?"

"mh-mh" you nodded, although you were more than sure no changing of mind would happen... God, you didn't even know how long you'd dreamed of this.

"Don't gimme that doll, use your words" he corrected you, his thumb drawing circles on your cheek "Later too"

"O-ok, yes, I-I understand"

He smiled, amused.

"there's no need to be nervous sugar, we'll go real slow ok?"

"y-yes"

He couldn't help but chuckle.

"what can I do to make it better?"

You had an immediate answer in mind. The only thing you had been able to think about since he got this close.

"Can... could you kiss me?"

Jesus H. Christ.

Joel had to fight the urge to laugh. He'd drop to his knees and lick every inch of you if you asked, and you were wondering if he could kiss you...

"I can do whatever you want, babydoll" he murmured, as he slowly leaned closer.

You placed your hands on his big strong chest as you raised yourself on your tiptoes, and before you knew it... his lips were on yours.

You were holding your breath as the sound of your beating heart pounded in your ears.

This was really happening- this was real-

But before you had time to take it all in, the sweet feeling of Joel's lips on yours, of his beard, his nose, his hands, it was like something switched, a knob turned in his brain, and Joel wasn't kissing you anymore- no, he was devouring you.

He'd tried to go as soft and slow as he could but the moment you let out a little whimper... it was like he got possessed.

The hand on the back of your neck forced you impossibly closer as the one on your waist tightened enough to bruise, and he was... his tongue was desperately savoring every inch of your perfect mouth, swallowing all your pretty sounds.

His lungs screamed for relief but breathing was the last thing on his mind.

He'd never kissed like this.

Your panties were soaked once he finally pulled away.

He was about to apologize for losing control, but by the way you were looking at him, there was nothing to be sorry about.

"I'm gonna take off your clothes now doll, ok?"

You nodded, your breathing ragged, your cheeks on fire.

With just one kiss, he'd rendered your mind an empty mess. You doubted you could remember your address at the moment.

"What did I say 'bout usin' your words?" He murmured, his thumb tracing the shape of your swollen mouth.

"Sorry," you whimpered weakly.

He wouldn't have heard you if he had been but an inch away.

"Y-yes, you can take my clothes off"

He smiled at that, leaving another soft kiss on your lips before both his hands reached underneath your shirt.

His big, warm hands detoured to caress your sides, leaving shivers in their wake, before he brought your top up until he slid it off.

His eyes fell on your tits, still covered by your bra, and he looked up at you to check if you were alright before oh so slowly undoing the clasp and letting the garment fall to the floor.

He had to stifle the groan climbing up his throat because Jesus, he wanted nothing more than to take each of your perfect fucking nipples in his mouth and suck until begged him for more...

but he didn't, he let his self-control win this time as he reached for the waistband of your shorts.

He watched like a hawk every inch of skin that he uncovered until the shorts pulled at your feet and you stepped out of them together with your sandals.

Your breathing still hadn't gotten back to normal, and every fucking inch of your skin was on fire, burning with the intensity of his gaze.

He didn't say anything as his fingers slid past the waistband of your panties and with a quick movement pulled them down, leaving you completely bare.

Not able to stop himself, he groaned this time, his hands taking a tour of your body from your collarbones, to the valley between your breasts, to your belly, until his thumbs were but an inch from where you were burning with desire for him. But he didn't touch you there, no, his hands reached your waist as he stared at you 'cause god bless his heart, but he couldn't stop looking.

He liked his lips, as if he was hungry- starving- and you let out a small whimper, realizing you had held your breath all this time.

"You're... perfect babygirl"

You prayed he wouldn't judge you when he saw the mess that had become of between your thighs.

He can't say stuff like that and expect me not to melt.

His eyes were finally back on you, and the pure lust in them almost made you gasp.

He looked like a completely different man.

"Sit on the bed"

Your brain took a second too long to register his words.

I mean it's not every day you're naked in front of Joel Miller.

Joel's old mattress creaked as you sat on it, and you stayed there, diligently frozen in your spot as he took his sweet time to come closer.

He wanted to preserve the image of you sitting on his bed, naked, waiting, looking like a damn dream, in his brain for all the lonely nights of the rest of his life.

He stood there, towering over you, looking down at you as you looked up at him, and you felt even smaller.

You were about to speak, to beg him to please do anything, touch you in any way, put you out of your misery, when he crouched down, his eyes now level with yours.

His hands found your thighs and another whimper escaped your chest.

"Spread your legs f'me, doll"

And so you did, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Good girl"

This time, it wasn't a whimper that fled your mouth, but a small little moan.

Fuck

Heat rose to your face again and you looked away, embarrassed.

Of course, you liked to be told you're a good girl.

"None of that" Joel tsked, his right pointer forcing you to look back at him "Eyes on me"

You were so turned on you wanted to cry. But you didn't, you nodded, and just like that... Joel was leaning closer and his mouth... oh god his mouth had found your neck.

You gripped the sheets as your whole body started going on fire- as his mouth left hungry wet kisses under your ear, on your pulse, on your collarbones, on your tits, and when his lips wrapped around your right nipple... when his tongue toyed with your hard bud you swore you saw heaven.

Soft little moans started spilling from your mouth as he sucked and sucked and sucked, his hands going to support your boobs, pushing them together as his mouth went from one to the other again and again until you didn't even remember what it meant to breathe like a normal person.

It felt so good.

Who knew it would feel so fucking good?

Joel only stopped when your nipples were swollen and utterly drenched with his saliva, and you were about to protest when you felt his mouth traveling south...

"Joel" you whispered.

He looked up at you with that sexy fucking smirk on his face, not stopping the trail of kisses down your belly.

"Yes, doll?"

"What are you-" your sentence was interrupted by a gasp when his lips found your mound "W-what are you doing?"

His smirk only widened as his mouth dived lower.

"I'm gonna lick your pussy now darlin'" his low and lustful voice was enough to make you orgasm alone.

You could only blink, and then swallow, and then open your mouth... just for no words to come out.

Joel chuckled before kissing your inner thigh, sending a shock of pleasure to your core.

"'s that ok with ya?"

"Yes," you heard yourself blurt out before you even knew it, which made him laugh, a soft, vibrating laugh that fanned your core and rendered you all the more desperate.

"That's good to hear" he grinned, his mouth lowering until he was kissing your lips... your other lips.

Oh Jesus Christ

You spread your legs wider to accommodate him and he hummed in approval, taking them in his hands and forcing them on his shoulders.

Oh sweet Mother of Christ

He granted himself one look at your perfect, beautiful fucking pussy, before his eyes were back on you, and his tongue darted out without warning and licked your whole core like an ice cream cone.

"Oh"

Your hips spasmed for a second but before you had time to feel embarrassed, his tongue was back in action, only this time he was eating you as if he were starving.

He groaned in pleasure at your taste as his tongue explored every inch of you he could physically reach. His nose was rubbing against your clit and his beard felt so nice against your skin and oh god if you thought you'd seen heaven before you were wrong because the moment his lips wrapped against your bud angels opened up the pearly gates for you.

"Oh my god" you cried, your left hand getting a mind of its own and grabbing Joel's soft hair "Oh my fucking- Oh wow"

This was nothing like what you'd experienced before- nothing your own fingers had ever produced, this was... so so good.

"You taste so fucking sweet sugar" he groaned into you, sending another wave of pleasure through you "y've got such a perfect lil pussy babygirl" he continued in between lapping at your core "wish I could have it for breakfast every day"

You could only moan in response, and you could feel his smile on your skin as he watched the effect he was having on you.

Goddamn, you looked like an angel biting your lip as you moaned for him, your face flushed, your hand in his hair... this was the best decision he ever made- who gave a fuck if your dad put him in the ground, at least he got to see this.

"Gonna come for me doll?" he teased once he heard your cries get louder and your grip on his hair tighten "Gonna let me taste all your sweet juices like a good girl?"

Those words, once again, had their effect because in no time your hips were grinding onto him and breathless gasps were forcing their way out your throat as the best orgasm of your life shuttered through you,

"Just like that" he praised you as you rode the high "thatta girl- give it to me baby"

You were only partially aware of where you found yourself as you came down from the orgasm.

you were breathing heavily, your eyes closed as Joel made his way up your body, his lips pecking every inch of it until he finally kissed your mouth.

"You ok darlin'?"

Your eyes opened at once, the dreamiest look in them,

"I'm great" you grinned, making him smile before he kissed you again, slowly this time, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He only pulled away when you whined, your hands gripping his arms desperately as your body begged for more.

He sat up on the bed against the headboard, and it was then you finally realized he was still fully clothed...

You were naked from head to toe and he was still dressed... you had no idea why but that made you even hornier, which is why you hastily sat up.

"A- are we gonna do it now?"

He huffed out a laugh as his hand invited you closer.

"not quite yet sugar," he cooed as he guided you to sit on his lap, your back against his chest and your ass against... oh wow.

You could very much feel through his jeans the print of what felt like his huge cock right against your backside.

You couldn't help it, you shifted your butt, not so subtly grinding against him, and when his only response was to grab your waist, you couldn't help but do it again... and again, until you not only heard, but felt a groan rise up his chest.

"babygirl..." he murmured against your ear, making you shiver "You might wanna stop that"

You bit your lip, doing it again "Why?"

He inhaled sharply, his grip tightening "'cause baby, if you keep on goin' I'm gonna come, and you ain't gonna get what you came all this way for"

That made you want to stop and keep going at the same time.

The thought of Joel Miller coming because of you doing what you were doing...

"Don't ya even think about it sugar" He anticipated your actions as if he'd read your mind. You felt him smirk as he kissed you right under your ear.

To that you surrendered, stopping your movements at once.

He hummed, satisfied, inhaling your scent as his right hand slowly moved down your belly.

You held your breath as his fingers found your clit and his mouth your neck.

You couldn't see Joel from this position, but you didn't need to, you could feel him.

His ring and middle finger started circling your clit in a slow and precise motion and moans were already spilling from your lips.

"Joel" you breathed.

"'m right here" he promised, his voice husky, clouded by his lust.

His fingers continued their torturous path until he found your hole.

You could only gasp as his fingers dived inside of you.

Oh god.

"You ever done this to yourself doll?" he asked, his fingers thrusting in and out of you lazily.

You could both hear how unbelievably drenched you were, but that was the very last thing on your mind... what seized your attention at the moment were the sparks of pleasure Joel was igniting in your core.

"mh?" he hummed once you didn't answer, still kissing your neck.

"I-I did" you swallowed, your words interrupted by yet another cry when his fingers curled, sending much more than a spark of pleasure to your brain "Like... like twice"

"just twice?" Joel asked

"It just... it doesn't feel good"

His movements continued, making your breathing get more and more uneven.

"How does it feel now?" he accentuated his words by making whatever gesture he made that had your walls tightening around his fingers.

"G-good"

"Now that ain't gonna do" he cooed, his fingers all of a sudden leaving your core.

"B-but-" you were about to protest turning his way, but his voice took over.

"'s alright darlin', gimme your hand"

You looked down to see his hand waiting for yours, and without even thinking you did as he asked.

He placed his palm big palm on top of your hand, engulfing it, and he guided it down your body, past your belly button, until you were right where he was seconds ago.

"use these two fingers" he instructed, showing you the ones he was talking about.

"good, now get 'em all nice and wet" he murmured, guiding them through your slick folds to do just what he'd said.

You were back at your hole and your mind had stopped working.

You were just a doll, following his every instruction, watching closely his hand move yours as your core ached with desire.

"Now slide 'em in" he whispered, his honeyed voice hypnotizing.

And so you did, you pushed your ring and middle finger inside of yourself.

Why was this so fucking hot?

"Now go in and out" his words were your command, literally.

Again, the sound of your slick pussy spread through the room as you did as he asked.

"how's that feel?"

You weren't gonna lie, not to Joel.

"It's... it's ok" you breathed "Not as good as before"

He smirked, his tongue darting out to lick your pulse as his free hand traveled higher, finding your boobs.

Well of course it felt better before his fingers were two times yours.

"curl your fingers" he ordered, his palm caressing your tits "Like this," he said, showing you exactly what he meant.

He did almost like a "come here" motion, and although skeptically, you replicated it, and well... Joel Miller knew what the fuck he was talking about cause goddamn...

You cried out at the sudden burst of pleasure.

"Again"

And so you did it again, only this time, Joel's fingers had found your left nipple, and the way they toyed with it just as you fingered yourself made the feeling triplicate.

"Keep doin' that babydoll" Joel breathed, his mouth leaving hot, wet kisses on your neck and shoulders as his fingers tweaked your pretty nipples.

"just like that" he hummed as you cried out louder and louder, as you squirmed above him, your free hand gripping his thigh to have something to hold on to.

"that's it... look so pretty like this sugar" he continued "making yourself come like a good girl..."

Jesus his cock was begging for attention... this was the hottest fucking shit he'd ever seen.

Your legs were starting to close as your orgasm approached, and your voice, calling out Joel's name, was getting more and more desperate.

"so good" he groaned, his fingers pinching your nipple without warning "Y'look so perfect when you come babygirl".

That's the last thing you heard as a tsunami of pleasure overtook your whole body.

You were pretty sure you were shaking and wailing like a madwoman, but all you could really be sure of was what happened once you finally reopened your eyes.

You felt so very spent and you hadn't even done what you came here for yet.

Joel's eyes were boring into yours, his hands caressing your sides.

"Still with me?" he asked.

"Yeah," you smiled wide once again.

You felt like you were lying on a cloud, no thoughts or worries going through your head... just pure bliss.

"You still sure about this sugar?"

You had no hesitation.

"Yeah"

He smiled, kissing your lips for a brief second before leaning away.

The moment you realized he was finally taking off his clothes you were wide awake.

You sat up just as he discarded his shirt to the floor.

Je-sus.

This wasn't the first time you'd seen Joel shirtless. It wasn't a coincidence you chose to sunbathe every time he was mowing the lawn...

Yet, the breath was still knocked out of you.

He was broad, like seriously so. He was big and although you couldn't say he had a six-pack it was plain obvious the man was strong.

You didn't think it was possible, but you were getting even wetter.

You wanted nothing more than to let your palm caress his chest, the sparse hair on his pecs, the v lowering towards his pants...

Speaking of which, a gasp fled your throat the moment he took off his jeans, and by the time his boxers were off your mouth hung open in awe... and worry.

"you're..." you had to swallow to try and get some water to your dry mouth "Joel you're-- huge"

You weren't looking at him as he laughed, but at the big scary cock against his stomach bobbing with the movement.

"how would ya know, babygirl?"

You had to force yourself to look away from his manhood, and once you did, you found his gaze again.

"I... I've watched... stuff"

A side of his mouth twitched mischievously at the confession.

"Oh yeah?" he teased "My good little girl watches porn? 's that whatcha telling me?"

Why was it hot in here all of a sudden?

"N-No I just..." heat rushed to your face as you bit your lip "I-I mean-"

He laughed, cutting you off "'s ok sugar, I won't tell"

You could only offer him a little smile because to be honest, your focus was still on the reason you'd even broached the subject.

Your eyes were back on his dick, and while yes it was a worrying size, it also sparked curiosity and need deep inside of you. Which is why you moved closer to him, kneeling on the bed so that his cock was right before you.

And holy mother of God.

"Can I..."

You didn't even need to finish the sentence.

Jesus, if he were to be honest even just seeing you in this position was getting him close to coming.

"You can do whatever you want babydoll, I told ya"

You nodded, hesitantly leaning a little closer.

"I-I've never..."

"As long as my dick is in your mouth I'll be a happy man darlin'"

You gulped, biting your lip as you tried to understand where to even begin, and just then, a tiny bit of precum leaked from his manhood- so naturally, you acted on your first thought... and licked his head, tasting the tang of him.

You heard him inhale sharply as you continued licking, first just his head, then the sides, every ridge and vein... but it was only when you finally wrapped your lips around him that he lost it.

"Fuck"

He groaned like an animal and that only gave you all the more reasons to go further, forcing his dick into your mouth until it hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag.

"Fucking- Jesus Christ"

You looked up at him now, your hands finding his legs as you bobbed your head up and down, sucking so very well every inch you could fit... which was barely half.

He'd gathered your hair to the back of your head, but he wasn't guiding your movements, it was all you.

"Babydoll" he rasped, "I think that's enough"

But you didn't wanna stop. This was so hot... feeling him in your mouth, hearing him moan for you...

"Baby" he grunted "I ain't gonna be able to fuck you if I come down your throat"

Those crude words brought you back to reality... and made you even hornier.

You pulled away from his dick, letting it slap back against Joel's stomach.

"Lay down f'me"

You did, without question.

He stifled a groan at the sight, at the fucking image displayed before him once you obeyed his command and spread your legs.

Fuck.

He looked at your eyes, watching for any sign of doubt, of a second thought... but he found none.

It was then he finally took his cock in his hand, giving it a much-needed pump and making you swallow drily.

He was silent as he guided his tip to your folds, making it slide between them and catching on your clit... but you weren't.

You were letting out all sorts of little cries and whimpers and moans as he toyed with you.

But you too, fell silent once you felt him stop at your entrance.

"Mh-" you were starting to hum, biting down your lip as he began pushing inside when he suddenly stopped.

"Fuck- forgot the condom"

You blinked, trying to make sense of what had happened as he reached into his night table.

"Joel" you called for him, making him turn around, condom in hand.

"'m sorry darlin', should've remembered sooner"

But that's not what you wanted to say.

"Joel can we..." you gulped "can we not-- use it?"

He frowned as his dick damn near exploded.

You wanted him to fuck you raw?

"Jesus sweetheart you tryna kill me today or somethin'?"

You smiled, your hands fidgeting.

"N-no I just... this is my first time... I- I wanted to feel it, y'know?" you murmured "A-and I'm clean and if you... if you use it with all the other women then you must be clean too, so..."

Joel had the urge to laugh.

"That ain't what 'm worried about, pretty doll"

It was one thing your dad finding out he'd fucked you... a different thing if he'd fucking got you pregnant.

Your mouth formed an o shape as you remembered.

"O-Oh no, I-I'm on the pill"

I shouldn't do this.

There's still a risk.

I'm old enough to be her father I shouldn't be doing this for countless different reasons.

I shouldn't.

I really fucking shouldn't.

And yet Joel had already gotten rid of the condom and had made his way on top of you.

You smiled before he kissed you, taking away all the oxygen from your lungs.

"I need you to relax now sugar" he murmured, his hand guiding his dick to your entrance once again.

"O-ok" you nodded, feeling the very tip of him push inside you.

"Just like that" he praised, kissing you again "Doing so well f'me"

It burned.

The stretch got more and more demanding as he tried to push himself deeper into you.

"Ah!" you gasped, your hands gripping his biceps as he kissed your neck.

"I know baby, I know"

"I-it's big" you cried, planting your feet on the mattress to try and ground you.

"You want me to stop?" he asked, looking you in the eyes, although yours were shut close.

"N-no" you shook your head "I just... " you hissed from the pain as he slid in an inch further.

"You can do it babygirl" he whispered, still planting kisses everywhere he could reach.

"B-but it's too big" you whimpered desperately as he still kept going. It felt interminable.

"Don't ya worry 'bout it honey" he said, moving some hair out of your face "I'm gonna make it fit"

That got him the first little moan of pleasure, which coincided with you letting him get an inch deeper.

"Yeah you like that?" he cooed "You like the idea of me filling you up with my cock to the very brim?"

You moaned again, louder.

"I know you do sugar." one of his hands had traveled between your bodies to find your clit, making you cry out even louder "Want nothing more than to be full of me, do ya?"

"'s ok sweetie, we're almost there" he promised, his breath sending shivers up your spine "You're taking me so well... letting me stretch this perfect little pussy for the very first time..."

It still burned, but the worst was done, and his words were making you forget half the pain.

"such a good girl" he cooed "There we go, like that, lemme in babygirl... fuck"

You'd done it.

"Oh my god" you gasped.

You felt utterly and completely full, like your body had been missing a part of it all this time.

"Joel" you cried, your grip on his arms tightening.

"You ok sugar?" he asked, although you could hear the restraint in his voice.

"Yes" you breathed opening your eyes to look at him "Yes please do- do something"

He smirked as he gave you a quick kiss.

"I'm gonna start moving now, ok?"

You nodded hastily "Y-yes- please".

And so what could he do, if not exactly what you'd asked?

He retracted his hips just to thrust in again, and... wow.

"O-Oh my god" you cried, as he did it again, finding a slow and oh so very deep pace.

He was rolling his hips, grinding against your pelvis every time he trusted in, making fireworks explode in your body.

"Fuck, doll" he groaned, his pace quickening "Y'feel so good... so tight for me"

You could only moan at his words, your legs wrapping around him.

"it's like you were made for my cock" he said, staring at you although your eyes were closed.

He didn't want to miss even a second of this.

"To let me fuck you like you need" he hissed, having to refrain himself from coming too soon.

That had been a danger since the very first inch of him had entered you.

You just felt so fucking good.

"You're such a good girl baby, y've got no idea" he groaned, kissing and licking your neck "Taking me so well"

"J-Joel!" you basically screamed once the fingers on your clit resumed their work.

"I know baby" he cooed, continuing to fuck you thoroughly "I know it's a lot, but you can take it"

The sound of your skin slapping with his bounced off the walls with each thrust together with the creaks of the mattress.

"I-I- Joel" you kept on crying, your breathing getting more and more ragged as your belly tightened expecting the approaching orgasm.

"what is it darlin'?" he purred, "need me to fuck you harder, softer?" he murmured "Tell me what you want and I'll give it to ya baby"

"M-more"

He could only smirk as he picked up his pace, now slamming into you harder, feeling your walls tighten with each thrust.

"Oh god- O-Oh shit--"

"C'mon doll," Joel groaned as your nails dug into his skin "Be a good girl and come for me- let me feel you come around my cock"

He didn't even need to ask.

"like that" he rasped as your eyes shut tight and you cried as loud as your vocal chord permitted "Just like that- good fucking girl"

Each molecule of your body rearranged itself as the orgasm overtook your body, mind, and soul.

You were sure you had ascended to another universe, the only thing that grounded you was Joel's words as he reached his own peak.

"Fuck doll, 'm gonna come" he grunted " 'm gonna fill you up babygirl- like that- take it sugar-- take it all"

It took a long while for you to gain back consciousness, and when you did, you found yourself lying under Joel's blanket, his hand gently drawing patterns on your arm as he... he was watching you.

"There she is"

You could only find it in yourself to smile as you leaned closer to him, leaving a soft, quick kiss on his lips.

"Thank you, Joel"

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forthegothicheroine · 5 months ago

Text

Tanith Lee Recs

Since Tanith Lee deserves to be known for much more than having been plagiarized, I thought I'd share some recommendations. She had a HUGE body of work, and I've seen it suggested that the reason she never became a household name in fantasy and science fiction is that she wrote so many things that were different from each other, rather than staying in one easily labeled niche. I've only begun to make a dent in her catalogue, but here's the stuff I liked the best.

Note: A lot of her stuff can be disturbing, and I can't remember everything well enough to give perfect trigger warnings.

Red as Blood and Redder Than Blood: These fairy tale collections are being talked about now for the title story, but my favorite is The Golden Ladder, an incredibly creepy and hot version of Rapunzel, or perhaps When the Clock Strikes, a horrifying beautiful take on Cinderella.

The Weird Tales of Tanith Lee: As you can see, I love her short stories. These are all the ones published in Weird Tales, which includes some of the above fairy tales (including When the Clock Strikes) but also Arthurian, steampunk and science fiction stories. It's a great sampler of all the things she could do.

Blood 20: One more short story collection! This one is (most of) her vampire stories, so I know you goths will like it! There are things erotic, fantastical and grotesque in here, but to me the most haunting is the tragically mundane The Vampire Lover.

The Secret Books of Paradys: In this series, an alternate history of Paris, bad things happen. Supernatural things, sexual things, horrifying things. And sometimes good things happen, such as a man saved by a Jewish sage an his beautiful daughter who then actually converts to Judaism.

The Secret Books of Venus: I've only read the first entry in this similar series about an alternate world version of Venice, but once again it leaves the reader feeling totally transported to this sometimes sinister, sometimes lovely place where romance and cruelty live next door to each other.

Vivia: This tragic medieval plague-influenced vampire story is maybe the darkest thing of hers I've read, but dear god can she paint a picture with words. Along with The Birthgrave (which I didn't like as much), George RR Martin definitely pulled a lot of Danaerys's story from the title character here.

Islands in the Sky: And now for something completely different- a children's book. I remember finding this at the library as a kid and wanting to cry when it was over, because it gave me an equal sense of wonder and happiness as The Lion the Witch and the Wardobe, which I hadn't known was possible and worried would never happen again.

...but if you're like me, you'll just see which of her books you find at the library and used bookstores. You may not love every single thing, but it will always be interesting!

#tanith lee #books

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 4 months ago

Note

i’ve never made a request before so sorry if this is bad but if you could write something about matt murdock with a fake dating trope like that would be so cute, especially if there’s feelings realized during/after it :)

a/n: i swear, i tried to just keep this short and sweet like how i usually keep requests, but then the fantasy i came up with was just too fun and too much like a fucking romcom not to just let myself go ham and turn it into a full-on long fic

word count: 3778

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

Leaning your weight against the bar, you waited for Josie to return with another round of beers for you and your friends, who still remained exactly where you’d left them, all clustered around the pool table further into the space.

Absentmindedly, you fiddled with the ring so often glued to your fingers, passing the heirloom from each digit and sliding it onto the next. It had been your grandmother’s, and ever since her passing, the simple golden circle with a little jade embedded at the cusp of it, rarely stayed in your jewellery box as the act of simply glancing down at it on your finger somehow offered you a drop of comfort in moments of mundane gloom.

As the heirloom arrived at your left ring finger and slid down over the knuckle, a familiar voice suddenly emanated like an echo after the bar’s front door had swung open.

“Y/n?” your whole body froze up at the unexpected timbre.

Slowly, you twisted around to discover none other than your ex, wide eyes trained on you as he clutched the hand of a leggy blonde.

“Henry!” you gasped, hoping they mistook the horrified look on your face for innocent shock, “oh my god…”

Without any warning, the next thing you knew, he’d yanked your stunned form into a hug, “how the hell are you?” he clapped your shoulder as if you were old school chums, “it’s been so long.”

“I’m–, uhm, fine,” you managed to reply.

“Yeah?” he smiled, the insincerity in your tone completely flying over his head, “that’s great.”

Simply to be polite, you awkwardly asked, “…how are you?” even though you truly didn’t wish to know the answer.

“I’m good, yeah, life’s been kinda crazy lately because–, oh,” he suddenly paused to glance back at the girl by his side, “Y/n, you remember Rebecca, right?”

“Mhm,” you hummed and offered her a glance, fearing steam might billow out of your ears at any moment, “hi.”

“Hey,” she smiled brightly as she tossed her luscious locks over her shoulder, “and please don’t mind him,” she clapped a palm over Henry’s chest, “he’s just freaking out, you know, usual guy stuff before finally getting tied down.”

“I’m sorry,” you blinked, nearly pinching yourself to test if this was a nightmare or not, “before what?”

Rebecca then held up her left hand to flash you the massive rock nestled on her fourth finger.

“I finally popped the question!” Henry grinned and draped an arm around his fiancé.

“Wow, oh wow, that’s–…” you sputtered as the blonde promptly shoved her hand in your face for you to get a better look, “that’s a really big rock, right there, on your finger…” your touch floated up and tilted her palm slightly, the light from the neon sign close by glinting in the diamond, “congratulations…”

“Thanks!” she smiled down at the ring herself before her fingers suddenly captured your own and twisted your hand around, “oh wait, congrats to you too!”

“What?” you still simply tried to keep breathing through this agonising gut-punch of an encounter.

“I know they say that size doesn’t matter,” Rebecca eyed the tiny green stone that adorned your grandmother’s ring, “and it doesn’t! I mean, that’s so pretty,” she uttered in a sugary sweet and insincere tone that made you feel as if you were back in high school again, “understated, simple.”

“Ah, no way,” Henry peeked down at your hand, “you’re engaged too?”

“Uh…” you let out a shaky breath, “yep,” the lie then suddenly flew out past your lips before you had a chance to stop it, “that’s me! I’m getting married.”

“That’s amazing,” your ex let out an airy chuckle, “who’s the lucky guy?”

But before your lips could part and let out another lie, Josie returned, “here you go, hon,” and slid four beer bottles across the bar to you before adding, “and would you tell Foggy to stop sitting on the edge of the pool table? It’s old and I can’t be responsible if it breaks on him.”

“Sure thing,” you promised and snatched up the drinks.

“Is that your man?” Henry cast a glance to the lawyer Josie had gestured to, “Foggy, was it?”

“Foggy?” a soft giggle couldn’t help but bubble out of your lungs, “no! Don’t get me wrong, he’s great, but no, sadly, he’s already taken.”

“Then who is it?”

“Is it the other guy over there?” Rebecca chimed in as they both sent their glances towards your friends, “the one in the light blue shirt and tinted glasses?”

“Uh, yeah…” you squeaked as you slowly turned to look at Matt as well, “that’s–, uh, that’s him,” you watched as he readjusted his grip on the cue stick in his hand, “that’s my future husband…”

“Hm,” a sliver of judgment slipped out of Henry, “wouldn’t have pegged him to be your type.”

“Well, maybe my type has changed,” you stated, letting your lingering resentment show before you noticed how harsh it had come out and your stomach immediately began to twist and knot in regret, “I–…” you swiftly winched, “sorry,” and averted your gaze, “have a nice evening, uh–, I’m gonna go back to my friends,” you stumbled as you tried to escape.

Though as you turned to walk away, Henry’s voice found your ears one last time, “bye!” before you heard his fiancé turn to him.

“Pookie? Would you order me a cosmo?” her voice began to fade into the background, “I’ll go find us a table…”

You simultaneously felt as if a truck had just run you over as your feet carried you back towards your friends, yet also completely numb, as if you’d been turned into a floating ghost of the person you used to be.

“Who the hell was that and why do you look like you’re about to throw up?” Foggy asked cautiously as he grabbed two of the bottles in your grasp and handed one off to Matt.

Passing one of the remaining drinks off to Karen, you then lifted your own up to your lips before tipping it back and downing around half of its contents. Once you tilted the dark green bottle back down, you were out of breath as you began to explain, “that,” you wiped your bottom lip with one of your knuckles, “was my ex,” you used that same finger to hazily point back over your shoulder, “and his fiancé,” your eyes stayed fuzzy as you added, “who happen to be the girl that he cheated on me with for a year before I one day finally caught them together.”

“Oh my god…” Karen breathed, her bottle frozen halfway on its journey up towards her lips.

“It was on easter,” you shared, “he thought I had gone back home to see my family, but I’d actually decided to secretly do this whole big surprise, like I thought I was in fucking rom-com or something,” you sighed at your past self, “but then when he got home from work, and I was all decked out, waiting on the bed, in bunny ears and everything,” you heatedly gestured to the top of your own head, “he wasn’t alone.”

“Wow…” Foggy stared.

“Yep…” you exhaled heavily, taking another swig before you made the mistake of glancing back over your shoulder just as Rebecca shrugged off her coat and slinked onto a stool at one of the small tables, “fuck!” you exclaimed as if you’d just stubbed your toe, “she’s even hotter than I remembered. How is that possible?”

“Oh, she’s not that pretty,” Karen tried, but you swiftly cut her off.

“You shut your face, she’s basically a human-sized Barbie,” your glare roamed one last time from the top of her platinum locks to the bottoms of her high stilettos, “god…” you sighed as you finally averted your gaze and lifted your bottle to drown your sorrows, “I was such an idiot back there. It was like my brain just stopped working and–, oh my god!” your palm shot up to cover your mouth as you then suddenly recalled the lie that had slipped out. Slowly, your wide eyes drifted to Matt, who still remained silent, “oh no…”

“What is it?” Foggy chimed in.

“Matt…” you uttered tensely, knowing your friend well enough to be aware of just how much of the interaction with your ex he had overheard, “I am so sorry…”

“What?” Karen’s glance darted between you both, “what’s going on?”

Paralysing embarrassment churned your stomach and choked out any attempt you made to share the truth. But luckily, as your erratic heartbeat thumped and found Matt’s sharp ears, he eventually filled in instead, “…they thought that she was engaged as well and then assumed that I was the guy.”

“I am so, so sorry,” you gasped, “I don’t know why I didn’t correct them.”

But to your amazement, Matthew simply shrugged and offered you a reassuring smile, “it’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

“I was just fiddling with my ring and then they just–…” you then snuffed out your frantic explanation and instead repeated once again, “I’m sorry…”

Saddling up beside you, Karen planted a palm on your shoulder, “hey, if that was my ex, then I’d wanna give him some of his own medicine as well,” she stated, “if not just straight up cut off his balls, which is what he really deserves.”

A faint smile then began to soften your expression as you glanced around at your supportive friends, Foggy briefly reaching out to pat your other shoulder.

But as you averted your eyes to the nearly empty bottle in your grasp, a thought suddenly struck you like a bolt of lightning, “wait, I have an idea…” your gaze slowly lifted to lock on Matt, “I mean, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, I totally get it, but would you mind, just while they are here, to–, uhm…”

Cocking his eyebrow, he finished your sentence, “…to pretend to be your fiancé?”

“I know, it’s stupid, and I should probably just go home right now instead of playing some weird and immature game of revenge or whatever,” you uttered as you made the decision to lie in the grave you’d dug for yourself, “but I would forever be in your debt, I'm serious.”

Sucking in a breath, he barely had to think about it before he murmured, “sure.”

“Really?” you gasped, your brows shooting up, “you’ll do it?”

“Yeah, why not?” Matt shrugged, “it’s the very least he deserves for treating you like that.”

“Oh,” you crossed the short distance between you two and threw your arms around him. It took a second before you felt him hug you back, but when the alcohol got to your head and made you mutter, “I love you,” into his shoulder, a low chuckle rumbled in the lawyer's chest before you parted ways.

��So,” Karen then began to fish out the colourful spheres and roll them back into the green felt, “do we still wanna play another game?”

“Hell yeah,” Foggy picked a cue stick back up before adding a playful threat, “you’re not beating me again this time, Page.”

Once the table was set up for another round of pool and you were a few turns in, your gaze couldn’t help but wander back towards the other end of the bar too often to keep track of. Though, soon on one of the fleeting looks, your eyes grew wide as you discovered you weren’t the only one sneaking glances.

Discreetly, you shifted closer to Matthew and leaned in to whisper, “he’s looking over,” however, when he then draped an arm around your frame, you couldn’t help but stiffen up, as you hadn’t thought that far in the plan yet, “what are you–”

“Shh,” Matt hushed your squeak, “just lean into me,” he shifted to stand tall behind you, arms enveloped around your form as he slowly drew you back against his chest, “smile,” his low voice tickled the shell of your ear and caused goosebumps to erupt across your skin, “and don’t look at him.”

Redirecting your vision back towards the game before you, you narrowly managed to catch sight of the silent slut-shaming the other lawyer flashed his friend with but a glance, before he went back to the mischievous mission he was on.

“Foggy, would you quit it?” Karen grumbled at the man beside her as he wildly waved both of his hands in her periphery, successfully knocking off her concentration as she tried to line up her shot.

“No way,” he kept up his flapping, even causing Karen’s golden locks to get picked up by the breeze he produced.

“You’re cheating.”

“Nope, I am not touching you nor the table,” he stated as if he was in court, “distracting you doesn’t break any rules.”

And as she finally made her attempt, the ball didn’t go in, causing her to explode in a roar, “damn it, Fog!”

“Ha, ha, yes!” he jumped as she straightened back up, “you know, I taste something right now, what could that be? Oh yeah, victory. And it tastes sweet as candy store.”

“Urgh,” Karen rolled her eyes at him before her glare landed upon the both of you, “Matt, your turn. Would you please set him in his place?”

“Gladly,” Matt chuckled, and as he shifted closer to the pool table, he nudged your side and asked, “hey, would you give me a hand?”

Swallowing a chuckle as you already knew he very much didn’t need it, you cocked an eyebrow, “you want my help?”

“Yeah,” he uttered clearly and let his real message seep through his tone, guiding your gaze to flicker back toward Henry, who’s stare was still locked upon you both, “so come help me.”

“Oh!” it finally clicked in your brain, “right,” and you swiftly slid in beside him.

With bated breath, you grabbed Matt’s hand that wasn’t clutching the pole, and guided it over the ivory ball that rested close to one of the corners. As you began to map out and tell him where each of the other spheres were, your eyes flicked over to notice just how close you now stood, as your nose nearly grazed against his stubbly cheek as you murmured guidingly. When you retracted your touch, you barely noticed how a few of Matt’s fingers reacted, faintly following your fading palm for but a second before it floated back down to the white orb below it.

Once he’d made his shot, you lingered in the proximity and whispered, “do you think they’re buying it?”

“Hm?”

“This,” your eyes momentarily flickered back towards your ex across the bar, “us.”

Matthew’s brows then floated up as you reeled him back in to the matter at hand, “oh, I–, probably.”

“Or should we do something else?” your mind kept on spinning, “I don’t know, I feel like I’ve completely forgotten how all of that works,” you shared, “kinda just numbed and cut off that part of myself after he broke my heart, it was just how I had to get through it, shut down a little bit because suddenly romance was terrifying…”

“...can I ask you something?” he asked quietly after a breath, and when you offered him a hum in confirmation, he uttered, “are you still in love with him?”

Time stretched out before you finally replied, “I was, for a very long time…” your voice stayed small, “…but no, not anymore… I kind of thought I was, but then seeing him again cleared it all up. All I feel when I look at him now is rage,” you exhaled, “and pity, just because I know him too well, know everything that’s messed up about him…” silence encumbered you both for a moment before you then opened your mouth once more and said, “so, should we hold hands or something?” you asked plainly, though when a genuine laugh then began to billow out of Matthew, your eyes blinked up at him as your brows swiftly knit together, “what?”

“You know,” he tried to snuff out his chuckle, “if I was actually your fiancé, I wouldn’t just stand around and hold your hand all night,” he then leaned in the short distance till his lips nearly tickled the shell of your ear, “I would have dragged you into the bathroom by now and forced the whole bar to hear us fuck.”

“I–, u-uhm,” you flusteredly stammered as your face began to heat up, “y-yeah, yeah, that’s good too,” you barely registered your own words as they slipped out past your lips, “if that’s what you wanna do–, I mean! Shut up!” you squeezed your eyes shut as soon as you regained your own senses, “just hold my hand, you dick,” you cursed over his laughter as he swiftly slipped his palm into your own.

“Cut it out, Karen,” Foggy’s voice cut through your haze and caught your attention.

Glancing over, you spotted as Karen was giving him some of his own medicine, pettily leaning into his eye line, “what? You were the one saying that distractions weren’t against the rules,” she continued to glare in hopes of throwing him off his game, “why? Is this not working? Do you need me to scream directly in your ear instead?”

“Oh, would you?” he sarcastically looked to her, his pitch climbing up high at his words, “going deaf in one ear is exactly what I need to beat you.”

As your wandering gaze then flickered back towards the opposite end of the bar, your eyes grew wide as you spotted only Rebecca still seated at the small table, pink cocktail in her grasp.

“Shit,” you spotted Henry as he crossed the room, confidently walking precisely in your direction, “he’s coming over,” you hissed, and in your muppet-like panic, your hands clasped each side of Matt’s face and yanked him in for a kiss.

At first, he froze up as you continued to freak out, but then, as his broad palms slowly slid over your waist, all of your alarm began to melt away. It felt as if you were drifting off to sleep as you relaxed into the kiss. Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined that kissing Matt would feel like this, not that such a fantasy was something you pondered often or even at all, but as you felt his tongue flicker out to dance softly against your own, your knees beneath you wobbled as you lost yourself completely. How long the peck drew out remained a mystery, as when you eventually parted, the reasoning behind it wouldn’t emerge in your memory no matter how hard you tried.

Though as you stood there, blinking back at Matt, still utterly spellbound by the unexpected feelings currently bubbling and bursting inside of you, the man now standing off to the side cleared his throat and brought you back down to earth.

“Bunny–, I mean, Y/n,” you whipped your head around to catch sight of your ex, “just thought it would have been awkward if I didn’t come over here to introduce myself before me and Becca took off,” he muttered before his gaze fell to Matt, his arms slowly fading from your form, “I'm Henry, nice to meet you,” your ex then offered his hand, though the lawyer by your side didn’t grasp it, even if his heightened senses had lent him to pick up on the gesture.

“Matt Murdock,” he uttered on a cold exhale.

Stuffing his rejected palm into his pocket, Henry then asked, “what do you do?”

“Matthew’s a lawyer,” you took over, slotting yourself into Matt’s side before you dramatically clasped a hand over his chest, “saves people for a living. That’s actually why we’re out celebrating tonight, he just won yet another case.”

“Oh, well congratulations then,” Henry offered in well-forged petty politeness.

“Yeah, I was there, watching him do his thing,” you uttered as some bitter goblin of resentment then took over your soul and caused you to say, “and oh boy, I tell you, if only it would have been socially acceptable for me to interrupt the trial just to rip his clothes off, because wow.”

A scoff then rippled in Henry’s chest, “okay, sure,” his stare upon you narrowed as he then grumbled, “we both know you’re not exactly the groupie type of girlfriend.”

“Well, maybe your sorry ass was never worth her supporting you in that way,” Matt suddenly cut in, “maybe because you never bothered treated her that way in return,” his guess hit the bullseye, “and maybe that has a little something to do with why I was the one to put a ring on her finger and not you,” your heart thumped in your chest as Matt’s touch returned to the small of your back, protectively sliding over your waist as he continued to speak in a low and chillingly stern tone, “that or you really are as terrible of a lay as she told me you were, during those very first nights when she finally learned what it was like to be with someone who wasn’t a complete fucking idiot.”

Utterly stunned, you watched Henry’s expression as he scrambled his brain for a way to crawl back from that, but eventually, when no suitable words came to his pea-sized brain, his feet slowly began to shuffle back till his hand had snatched up his fiancé’s and he’d yanked her with him out of the bar.

As the door swung closed behind the pair, a celebratory squeal burst from your lungs, “oh my god! Matt, that was incredible!” you jumped in place before throwing your arms around him, “I don’t know how to thank you.”

Tangling his own arms around you, he uttered, “I’m sure we’ll come up with some way you can make it up to me.”

And as you withdrew, just enough to smile back at him, your gaze began to drift back down towards his lip just before Foggy’s voice cut through the palpable tension.

“Do I need to remind you guys that you’re not actually engaged?”

“No,” Matt then murmured as the two of you parted ways, quietly enough for his words to be completely inaudible, “but we could be...”

“What?” you glanced over at him.

“What?” he echoed in return, though a bit too quickly.

“Did you say something?”

“Me? No,” he tried to conceal his lie with a cough, “I-I, uh, think it’s your turn,” he then changed the subject, gesturing to the pool table behind you.

#lea’s writing #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #matthew murdock imagine #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #matthew murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #matt murdock hurt/comfort #matt murdock fic #daredevil fanfiction

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inseobts · 4 months ago

Text

1st Anniversary

what would they do for your first anniversary together?

gn!reader

characters: luffy, zoro, sanji, law, ace

words count: around 0.5k - 0.7k each

masterlist || ko-fi

── .✦ Monkey D. Luffy:

The sun rises over the Thousand Sunny, casting golden light across the deck. You stretch and yawn, rubbing the sleep from your eyes when a sudden weight crashes into you.

"Y/N!" Luffy yells, tackling you with his usual enthusiasm.

You groan but laugh as he wraps his arms around you "Luffy, it's too early for this—"

"IT'S OUR ANNIVERSARY!" he shouts, grinning ear to ear.

You blink. Oh. Right. Your first anniversary together.

Luffy’s never been the best at remembering dates, so you didn’t expect him to bring it up at all. But here he is, vibrating with excitement like a kid who just found a pile of meat.

"You remembered?" you ask, surprised.

Luffy nods eagerly "Of course! I mean… Sanji wrote it down for me… and Nami yelled at me to not forget… and Robin told me what an anniversary even is—but still!"

You chuckle, shaking your head "So, do you have something planned?"

Luffy puffs out his chest proudly "Yup! Captain’s orders: today is Luffy and y/n Day! No crewmates allowed!"

From across the deck, you hear Usopp yell "THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS!"

Luffy ignores him.

"But," he continues, "I, uh, don’t actually know what people do on anniversaries, so I just made some rules!"

Your curiosity piques "Rules?"

Luffy grins, grabbing a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolding it dramatically "Yup! First rule: We gotta eat as much meat as possible!"

You snort "Of course."

"Second rule: No pirate stuff today. Just fun stuff!"

"That’s… actually kind of sweet" you admit.

"And the last rule…" He suddenly scratches his head, cheeks turning a little pink "Well… um…"

You tilt your head "What is it?"

Luffy huffs, clearly frustrated "It's a secret rule! I’ll tell you later!"

You laugh but decide not to push it "Alright, Captain. What’s first on the itinerary?"

It starts with a massive breakfast, courtesy of Sanji (who glares at Luffy the whole time for stealing food off your plate). After stuffing yourselves, Luffy drags you across the Sunny for various "Luffy-approved" activities.

First, there’s an intense game of tag—where Luffy cheats by using his rubber powers. Then, he insists on fishing, though he gets distracted halfway through and jumps in after the fish himself. After drying off (and avoiding Nami’s wrath for getting seawater everywhere), he decides you both need a nap—because "eating and playing is tiring!"

You wake up with Luffy curled around you like a koala, snoring into your hair.

"You really are like a cat" you mumble, gently brushing his bangs aside.

Luffy stirs, blinking up at you sleepily "Hmmm?"

"Nothing" you whisper, smiling.

As the sun starts setting, you and Luffy sit on the deck, watching the waves. The usual chaos of the crew is still happening in the background, but for once, it’s peaceful.

Luffy suddenly perks up "Oh! The secret rule!"

You sit up straighter "Finally. What is it?"

He fidgets, uncharacteristically nervous "Well… I heard anniversaries are for saying important stuff, right?"

You nod "I guess, yeah."

Luffy rubs the back of his neck, looking out at the sea "So… my last rule is… that I gotta tell you something important today. Something really important."

Your heart skips a beat. Luffy isn't usually serious—when he is, it means something big "Okay," you say softly "I'm listening."

He takes a deep breath, then grins, his usual carefree self again "I love you!"

You freeze.

He’s said he likes you before, in his own way—"You're my favorite!" or "I like having you around!"—but he’s never actually said that.

He tilts his head "Was that good? I was practicing in my head all day."

Your eyes soften "You practiced?"

"Yeah!" He laughs "I mean, I already knew I love you, but I wanted to say it today ‘cause, y’know, it’s our thing. Our anniversary thing!"

You shake your head fondly, grabbing his hat and plopping it onto your own head "You’re such an idiot."

Luffy pouts "Hey—"

Before he can complain, you cup his face and kiss him. He makes a surprised noise but quickly melts into it, smiling against your lips.

"Best anniversary ever" he mumbles.

You laugh "You say that now, but wait ‘til next year. You’ll have to top it."

Luffy grins "Easy! Next year, I’ll make a million rules!"

You sigh, shaking your head "What have I gotten myself into?"

Luffy just laughs, pulling you closer as the sun dips below the horizon. The crew groans in the background, but you don’t care. Because as chaotic and ridiculous as he is, Luffy’s way of loving you is perfect.

And that’s all you could ever ask for.

── .✦ Roronoa Zoro:

The sun hangs low over the Thousand Sunny, painting the sky in warm hues of orange and pink. The crew is scattered across the deck, each lost in their own evening routine, but your attention is on one person alone—Zoro.

The swordsman leans against the railing, arms crossed, eyes closed. To anyone else, it looks like he’s resting, but you know better. He’s thinking.

You step closer, hands behind your back “Oi, Zoro.”

His eye cracks open slightly before he turns his head toward you “Hm?”

You smile, rocking on your heels “Happy anniversary.”

For a second, he looks at you blankly, and your heart sinks a little. Did he forget?

Then, with a small smirk, he straightens up “Tch. You really think I’d forget?”

You cross your arms “Honestly? Yes.”

He scoffs “Give me some credit.”

Your curiosity piques “So… you actually planned something?”

Zoro rolls his shoulders, looking away for a brief moment before nodding “Something like that.”

You raise an eyebrow “Wait. Seriously?”

Before you can press further, he jerks his head toward the deck “C’mon.”

He leads you to a quieter part of the ship, where the sounds of the crew fade into the background. A small blanket is laid out on the deck, two cups and a bottle of sake sitting neatly in the center. The sea stretches endlessly before you, the breeze carrying the scent of salt and adventure.

You blink in surprise “Did… you do this?”

Zoro sits down, grabbing the bottle “Sanji might’ve helped. But don’t tell him I said that.”

You chuckle, sitting beside him “Didn’t take you for the romantic type.”

“I’m not.” He pours a bit of sake into your cup, then his own “But I figured… a year with you is worth drinking to.”

Your chest warms at his words. Zoro isn’t one for big, flashy gestures—but when he cares, he shows it in ways that truly matter.

You clink your cup against his “I’ll drink to that.”

As the two of you sip in comfortable silence, you glance at him “So, what was the first thing you thought when we got together?”

Zoro exhales, setting his cup down “That you’re stubborn.”

You laugh “Me?”

“Yeah.” He leans back on his elbows, looking at you “You wouldn’t back down, even when I tried pushing you away.”

You tilt your head “Did you want to push me away?”

Zoro’s gaze softens “…I didn’t want you to be a distraction, you know”

You stare at him, heart squeezing “And now?”

He lets out a slow breath “Now, I know you’re not.”

You smile “Good answer.”

After a few more drinks, the night fully settles in and Zoro turns to you, expression unreadable.

“…I have something for you.”

Your eyes widen, surprised “You got me a gift?”

He reaches into his haramaki and pulls out a small object. He places it in your hand—it’s a charm. It's like a small version of his earrings turned into a pendant and attached to a thin string.

Your breath catches “Zoro…?”

He rubs the back of his neck, looking away “It’s stupid, but… I had it made a while ago. For you.”

You run your fingers over the smooth surface, heart pounding sooooo hard “It’s not stupid. It’s perfect.”

Zoro smirks “You’re stuck with me.”

You laugh, tightening your grip on the pendant and leaving a kiss on his cheek.

── .✦ Vinsmoke Sanji:

The kitchen of the Thousand Sunny is filled with the warm, mouthwatering aroma of freshly cooked food. The scent of caramelized spices and grilled seafood lingers in the air, a sure sign that Sanji is in his element.

You lean against the doorway, watching him work his magic. He moves with effortless grace, flipping a pan, the flames from the stove reflecting in his blue eyes. He hums softly to himself, a tune you recognize as the one he whistles when he’s happy.

You smirk “Cooking me a feast, Chef?”

Sanji turns at the sound of your voice, and immediately, his expression melts “Ah, ma chérie, you’re early.”

You cross your arms, pouting “So I’m not supposed to be here?”

Sanji chuckles, wiping his hands on a towel before stepping closer “I wanted to surprise you...” He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear “But I suppose I don’t mind if you ruin the surprise—after all, you’re the guest of honor!”

Your heart flutters at his words. Sanji has always been charming, but there’s something different about the way he speaks to you, softer, more genuine, as if you’re the only person in the world.

You glance past him at the beautifully arranged table, complete with candles, fine plates, and a bouquet of flowers “You really went all out, huh?”

He grins, taking your hand and spinning you playfully “Only the best for my love.”

Sanji pulls out a chair for you, as the great gentleman he is “Sit and relax. Let me take care of everything.”

You obey, watching as he presents dish after dish, each one plated to perfection “Alright, Chef, walk me through the menu.”

Sanji gestures dramatically “For the appetizer, we have a delicate seafood bisque, infused with saffron and a touch of white wine. For the main course..." He lifts a silver lid, revealing your favorite dish "...a meal crafted specifically for my one and only.”

You gasp, touched “You remembered my favorite?”

Sanji scoffs as if offended “Do you take me for an amateur? Of course I remember.”

You laugh and take a bite, instantly melting at the burst of flavors “Oh my god. I think I just fell in love all over again.”

Sanji chuckles, resting his chin in his palm as he watches you “Then I must be doing it right.”

After finishing the meal and complimenting him so much that he nearly combusts with joy, Sanji disappears into the kitchen. When he returns, he’s holding a small plate with a single dessert on it, a beautifully crafted heart-shaped pastry.

“Happy anniversary, my love” he murmurs, setting it in front of you.

Your eyes soften “You made this just for me?”

Sanji kneels beside you, taking your hand in his “Everything I make is for you, mon amour. But this… this one is special.”

You pick up the dessert, admiring the delicate details. As you take a bite, your taste buds explode with sweetness and spice, just like him.

“It’s perfect” you whisper.

Sanji smiles, but there’s something more in his expression tonight—something deeper “I’m glad,” he murmurs “Because you are, too.”

Your breath catches as he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“Sanji…”

He exhales, resting his forehead against yours “Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done”

Your heart swells, and for once, he’s the one left breathless when you lean in and kiss him.

The chef who’s always served everyone finally gets a taste of something just for himself... a love that’s his to keep.

── .✦ Portgas D. Ace:

The Moby Dick is quiet tonight, the usual noise replaced by something softer (Ace had made sure of it).

You step onto the deck, your brows furrowing as you notice the absence of drunken laughter and boisterous yelling. Instead, a familiar warmth spreads through the air, not just from the ship’s lanterns, but from the flickering flames dancing lazily around a certain freckled man's fingertips.

He’s waiting for you.

“Hey, you’re finally here” Ace calls, grinning as he waves you over “Took you long enough.”

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms “You were the one who told me to wait in my room. What exactly are you up to?”

Ace scratches the back of his head, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips “Well… it’s our anniversary, right? So I wanted to do something special.”

Your heart skips a beat. He remembered.

You step closer, noticing that he’s set up a "date night" on the deck. There’s a blanket spread out beneath the stars, a small box of food beside it (probably stolen from the kitchen), and a few lanterns hanging. But the real highlight is Ace himself, his flames glow softly around him, casting warm hues against his skin.

“Ace…” You blink, touched “Did you do all this?”

He grins, patting the spot next to him “Well, I had some help from Thatch—mostly because I kept burning the food.”

You laugh as you sit beside him “That sounds about right”

Ace chuckles, handing you a small bowl of your favorite food “I figured I should at least try to do this properly.”

You take a bite, humming in approval “It’s actually pretty good.”

“Damn right it is! I didn’t burn this”

You shake your head, smiling “You’re impossible.”

Ace leans back on his hands, watching you with a lazy grin “Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

Your cheeks warm. He’s not wrong.

After finishing your meal, the two of you lay side by side on the blanket, staring up at the endless sky. The sea is calm, the ship gently rocking beneath you, and Ace's warmth seeps into your skin where his arm brushes yours.

He turns his head, watching you “Y’know… I never really thought I’d make it this far.”

You glance at him “What do you mean?”

Ace hesitates, then exhales “I used to think I wasn’t meant to have stuff like this. Someone who sticks around, someone who actually...” He pauses, then looks at you with a rare softness “...someone who loves me just for being me.”

Your heart aches at his words. You reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his “You deserve this, Ace. You deserve love, and happiness, and everything good in the world.”

Ace stares at you for a moment as he swallows hard.

Then, without a word, he pulls you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your shoulder. His body is warmer than usual but you don’t mind. You hold him just as tightly.

“…Thanks,” he mumbles “for staying.”

You pull back slightly, cupping his face “I’ll always stay.”

Ace lets out a shaky breath, then suddenly grins “Good. ‘Cause I don’t plan on letting you go either.”

Before you can respond, he kisses you, slow and deep.

As he stops you narrow your eyes at him “Alright, spill it. How did you get everyone to be this quiet?”

Ace blinks, then smirks “What, you think I can’t get them to behave when I want to?”

You cross your arms “No, I know you can’t.”

Ace laughs, rubbing his nose “Fine, fine. I might’ve… bribed them.”

You raise an eyebrow “With what?”

He looks away, mumbling under his breath.

“What was that?” You lean in.

“…I promised to do chore duty for a whole week.”

You gasp, eyes wide “You WHAT?”

Ace groans, throwing his head back “I know! But it was the only way! Do you have any idea how hard it is to get this crew to shut up for more than five minutes?”

You burst into laughter, clutching your sides “Oh, this is priceless. You, of all people, voluntarily doing chores?”

Ace grumbles “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I hope you appreciate the sacrifice I made for this romantic evening.”

You wipe a tear from your eye, still giggling “Oh, I definitely do. I'll make it worth for you, don't worry” you wink at him.

Ace huffs but smiles, pulling you back into his arms “It's already worth it”

You hum, resting your head against his chest.

── .✦ Trafalgar D. Law:

The Polar Tang hums quietly beneath your feet as you make your way toward Law’s quarters, your heart pounding just a little faster than usual. Today marks your first anniversary with him, and while you know Law isn’t the type for grand, sweeping gestures, a small part of you wonders if he even remembers.

You wouldn’t be upset if he forgot, he’s busy, after all. But still… a year together means something.

You take a deep breath and knock.

“Come in.”

Pushing open the door, you step inside and immediately stop in your tracks.

The usually cluttered room is different. His desk is cleared, save for a single candle flickering softly beside a small plate of food, your favorite. A delicate piece of folded paper rests next to it, and on the bed, a neatly wrapped package.

Law stands nearby, arms crossed, watching your reaction with an unreadable expression “Took you long enough” he mutters.

You blink at him, then at the setup “You… did this?”

“Tch. Who else?” He glances away, scratching the back of his neck “It’s not a big deal.”

Your heart swells at the effort. It is a big deal, because Law doesn’t do things like this unless they truly matter to him.

Smiling, you walk over to the table and pick up the folded paper “What’s this?”

He doesn’t answer, just watches as you carefully unfold it.

Your breath catches the moment you realize what it is.

It’s a hand-drawn sketch. Of you.

Your fingers tremble as you take in the intricate details, the way your hair falls around your face, the softness in your eyes, the careful shading that brings it to life. He’s captured you perfectly, every detail very precise. But what gets you the most is the expression he’s given you, serene, happy, loved.

“Law…” Your voice is barely above a whisper “You drew this?”

He shifts uncomfortably “Yeah.” His gaze flickers to the side “I… started it a while ago. Just never had a reason to finish it until now.”

Tears sting the back of your eyes, and you clutch the drawing to your chest, overwhelmed. You knew Law was skilled in many things, but this? This is beyond anything you could have expected.

He clears his throat “There’s more.”

You glance toward the package on the bed, wiping your eyes before carefully unwrapping it. Inside is a book... an old, well-kept copy of one you once mentioned loving but never found again.

You stare at it, stunned “How did you—?”

“You talk in your sleep sometimes.” He smirks, finally meeting your eyes “You kept mumbling about it a few months ago, so I figured I’d find it.”

You let out a small, watery laugh “You found this for me?”

Law shrugs, but there’s a flicker of pride in his expression “It’s not a big deal.”

You set the book and drawing aside before closing the distance between you, your hands resting on his chest “It is a big deal,” you murmur, looking up at him “Thank you, Law. Really.”

He exhales softly, his fingers ghosting over your waist before settling there, pulling you a little closer “Didn’t want you thinking I forgot” he mutters.

You smile, reaching up to cup his face “I wouldn’t have minded, you know. Just being with you is enough.”

His golden eyes search yours, something unspoken passing between you before he finally gives in. His lips find yours in a slow, deliberate kiss, one that speaks of everything he doesn’t say out loud.

He tastes like mint and tea, his hands firm yet gentle as they slide up your back, pressing you against him. The kiss deepens, his fingers threading through your hair as he tilts your head to deepen the connection. Your breath hitches when he nips at your bottom lip before soothing it with another lingering kiss.

When you finally part, your foreheads rest together, both of you breathing a little heavier.

“Happy anniversary” you whisper.

His smirk returns, softer this time “Yeah. Happy anniversary.”

You grin “Think we’ll make it another year?”

Law scoffs, tilting your chin up so he can steal another kiss “I know we will.”

And in that moment, with his arms around you and the warmth of his lips lingering on yours, you have no doubt he’s right.

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spotsupstuff · 2 months ago

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List of things that sparked joy in my little Ancient culture enthusiast heart:

The moths in the Ancient Urban are essentially pigeons, including the fact some of them are tagged.

Finally a proper and canon confirmation that Ancients really did have pets, positive relationships with animals and weren't Only stuck in glass cubes on display like Moon implies once. It can also mean that they did research into animal behaviour, such as tracking migrating and such. From how biologists are in real life, we can assume they were even genuinely passionate & happy about these type of things.

All the pottery and plates in that workshop room,

A confirmation that they did have paper and used scrolls for writing stuff down,

alongside with the pearls that they, too, could perhaps freely read or one of those things on the shelf there might be a pearl reader, if it is more technologically based (CDs type information keeping)

I also wonder if those things there are books- with stone tablet pages or paper ones? digital things hidden in hardcovers?- or something else entirely. Do they maybe hold orders for earthenware?

The masks on the wall, they feel so real compared to the murals.

Are they of the same person or is it of the workers there or maybe a family? Some of them look similar to those in the murals.

While at the concept of family, they had creches, but it doesn't sound like it was an outright job in the sense that they seem to have been community-raised (I fuckin' knew it I can put down my tin hat now).

They had hard beds, similar to what used to be used in old china iirc, along with that pillow/headrest

This kinda thing. They were made out of porcelain to keep the head cool in the night, but I think some where out of wood too.

The bustling of the city.

The normalcy of people going about their day, talking, the vehicles zipping by (they had some kind of motor vehicles!!!!).

The architecture, in both the Ancient Urban and the Outer Rim (those roofs made the right side worth it to me, that's how much I love these bastards)

I find it very funny that what looks to me like a REALLY poor ass cable management seems like the height of decorative prowess to them. Also some insight into how the void ,,bath" actually looked like.

The toys... just the toys.

Alongside these dialogues

And the one about him remembering the halls he ran through- oh when I say that I adore the fact that this Echo is a kid stuck here, lonely and vulnerable with polite speech not plaguing it.

The original Echoes combined with the Iterators' distaste for the species as whole painted the Ancients as these heartless things lazer focused only on the Ascension, religion and rituals. There wasn't much space for thinking about them in a more human manner and I feel like most of the fandom did depict the Ancients only as the impression was given. Bunch of posh full of themselves suckups, uncaring much for one another or anything around them.

I get kinda annoyed when there's an insistance that some kind of sapient species has done only bad. With humans, too, I just about had it with the demonization, negativity and staggering blindness to the beauty and good we can and do create- in both fiction and reality. Same goes for these dumbasses.

Disko kid here begs to challenge that impression. He's lost and alone and kind of scared, stuck here not knowing how to move forward. He mourns the regularity and simplicity of his room, the nostalgia of shelves and toys, the golden sunrays sneaking in through the windows. He brings a certain humanity into the consideration of Ancients.

That maybe, only maybe.. they deserve to be mourned.

#spot says stuff #rain world #rw #rw watcher spoilers #rw ancients #and ofc that window look that one made me actually stop breathing for a second. they were MOVING right in FRONT OF ME-#it was essentially seeing a dead man casually walk up.#i swear if videocult published a 500 page book on the Most basic regular shit in the Ancient culture I'd end up memorizing it.

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sha-n-dowbannedlol · 2 months ago

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Phainon — Meant to Be Yours

cw: royal knight!phainon au, fem!princess!reader, violence but not very detailed, usual shan stuff lol

went into amphoreus not caring about anyone, went out loving the cute golden retriever man. also, i've been hyperfixated on epic the musical lately, so i may or may not have been inspired by odysseus in the ithaca saga for some parts here lol

In the whispering winds of fate, it was always said karma had a way of catching up with you—silent, inevitable, like shadow hot on your heels. In a world that spins in circles, our deeds reverberate and circle back, a reminder that what goes around comes around.

So, it was never a surprise, not really, when your father—the king, draped in the shadows of corruption and tyranny—was torn from his throne in a storm of blood and fury, undone by the very hands he once crushed beneath his own. The storm of revolution, fueled by the flames of injustice and the cries of the downtrodden, descended upon the castle walls like a vengeful deity, casting the king from his lofty throne into the harsh reality of his own making.

In the unforgiving tides of change, the pendulum of justice swung without regard for innocence or guilt, and revolution—in all its fury—can easily blind you with its smoke. You never stood by your father’s cruelty; every protest smothered beneath his iron will, your voice swallowed beneath the weight of his crown. Yet, to the eyes of the enraged masses, you bore his blood, wore his sins like a second skin.

And so, you too, must burn.

But he wouldn't let them.

Your escape dissolved into a blur in your mind; Screams tearing through the air, a sea of crimson rage, and his hand gripping yours like a lifeline. In the other, his sword sang death, striking down anyone who dared raise a hand against his liege. His white hair caught the glow of the mobs' torches, almost golden in their flickering light. His blue eyes, usually so gentle, were now steel-cold with purpose. His once-pristine armor streaked with blood, icy to the touch, but his hand... his hand wrapped around yours is....

Warm.

Then, it hit you all at once.

The sudden, jarring shift from chaos to stillness.

One moment, the world was fire and fury—voices raised in furious chants, torches blazing, the glint of sharpened weapons amidst the mob.

The next, silence.

Heavy, almost sacred. The kind that presses into your ears like cotton, makes your breath sound too loud. The forest wrapped around you like a blanket soaked in earth and rain, grounding and unreal all at once.

And then—him.

A pair of blue eyes, wide and searching, locked onto you. Worry etched into every line of his face. Not just concern, something more akin to fear. Like he'd just watched you disappear, and wasn’t sure if you were really back.

"Your Highness?" Phainon’s voice breaks the quiet, low and cautious, like he’s afraid even the sound might shatter you. He doesn't move closer, just watches, eyes flicking over the slight tremble in your hands, the way your breath stutters like your body hasn’t quite remembered how to breathe in peace.

You’re pale, shaken, and at the sound of his voice, as quiet as it was, you finally look at him. No longer through him, but at him.

He takes a cautious step forward, each movement measured like he’s approaching a wounded creature, because in some ways, he is. You’re already so close to unraveling, and the last thing he wants is to be the thing that pushes you over the edge.

There was no point in asking how you were. It was written all over you; in the tight set of your shoulders, the haunted glaze still clinging to your eyes, the way you swayed slightly, like your legs weren’t entirely convinced they could keep holding you up.

So instead, he does what Phainon always does—chooses gentleness.

"May I carry you?" he asks quietly, his voice a breath softer than the rustle of the leaves around you. He doesn't reach for you, doesn't presume. He has never touched you without your explicit permission. That’s just who Phainon is. Always waiting, always asking.

Always yours, for as long as you'll have him.

"We need to find shelter for the night," he adds, glancing around the thick trees, the canopy swallowing what little light remains. "We’ll be safer here than anywhere else in the kingdom.”

You don’t say anything—just stare at him, eyes wide and unreadable, like you're still somewhere between this moment and the last. But then, slowly, your head moves in a small, almost imperceptible nod.

It’s enough.

Phainon hesitates for just a breath longer, searching your face one last time for any sign of protest. When he finds none, he steps closer and carefully lifts you into his arms. You don’t resist. You don’t flinch. You just let him. He holds you like you’re made of glass and memory, something fragile, something precious. Like a wounded creature he’s afraid to hurt more than the world already has. His arms are steady, though. Warm. Grounding.

"With my honor as a knight," he murmurs, barely above a whisper, his breath brushing against your hair, "I’ll protect you."

And with that promise hanging between you, he carries you deeper into the woods, away from the flames, the shouting, the wreckage of a day that nearly stole everything. Searching for somewhere—anywhere—you can finally rest.

You didn’t know how long he walked, only that the rhythm of his footsteps and the steady rise and fall of his breathing lulled you into a kind of daze. Time slipped sideways, minutes, hours, you couldn't say. You barely registered the way his arms tensed, his body instinctively bracing at the distant sound of hooves pounding against earth.

But you did notice when he began to lower you, gently, beneath the rough arch of a shallow cave. The cool stone met your back, and suddenly the thought of him letting go was unbearable. Your hands clung to the fabric of his cloak, your fingers trembling, eyes searching his like they could stop him from leaving.

He paused. Saw the silent plea in your gaze.

"Stay here," he whispered, his voice warm and low, as if it could wrap around you like a second cloak. His eyes held yours—steady, unwavering, like they always had. "I’ll be back."

Phainon stepped out of the cave, his movements measured, deliberate, planting himself firmly between the riders and the one thing he would not let them take, the shadows of the cave behind him concealing you. There was no fear in his eyes, only steel. A cold, quiet confidence etched into every line of his face.

"I’d like to believe no good men would pursue the royal heir to do her harm," he said, voice calm, almost conversational.

The riders stared him down, eyes narrowing, hands tightening around the hilts of their weapons. Their silence said everything, fury simmered behind their eyes—righteous, bitter. The kind that doesn’t listen. They were revolutionaries, that much was clear.

The one at the front swung down from his saddle, his boots hit the earth with a thud, knuckles bone-white, clutching around his weapon.

"Step aside," he commanded. "The princess has to pay for her father’s crimes."

Phainon didn’t move.

"She’s done nothing wrong," he said quietly, the edge in his voice sharp enough to cut. "You’d punish a girl for her father’s sins?"

One of the other riders let out a bitter laugh. Disgust curled his lip.

"Not her mistake? That bastard’s blood runs in her veins. She is part of the throne. And you.." he spat, full of scorn. "What has become of you, Phainon? Some fallen knight guarding the tyrant’s daughter? You’d betray us? Turn your sword against your own people?"

Phainon didn’t blink.

"If protecting the innocent is treason," he said, "then yes, I'll proudly be a traitor."

His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.

"Kill her father. Burn the palace to ash. Do what you will, if that’s what your justice demands... but you will not lay a hand on her."

Silence followed. Heavy. Suffocating. The forest itself seemed to still, the only sound the restless whisper of leaves caught in the wind.

The riders didn’t respond, but they didn’t have to. Their expressions spoke volumes—feral and cold, eyes flicking between each other, weighing the cost of moving forward.

Because they knew who he was.

Phainon. The perfect warrior. The man whose blade had never faltered.

And here he stood, sword unsheathed not for the king or the palace…

But for the fallen princess.

"This is how you defend your people, knight?!"

The rider at the front steps forward, fury distorting his features into something near feral. His eyes burned with a hate that had nothing to do with justice.

"You’d betray us, betray your oath, betray this kingdom, and the country you swore to protect… for some pampered little princess?!"

Something in Phainon’s expression shifts. The air grows colder around him, the atmosphere dense with a sudden, cutting stillness. Gone is the composed mask he always wears; what replaces it is anger, sharp and honed like the edge of his blade. His gaze narrowed, sharpened into something unforgiving.

"Don’t you dare pretend this is for the country’s sake," he said, voice low and laced with venom. "You’re not here for justice. You’re here for blood. You’re no different than the king you claim to hate."

The words land like a slap. The other riders stiffened, anger radiating off them in pulsing waves, but it was their leader who reacted first.

"Don’t you dare compare us to that bastard. We’re trying to fix what he ruined. We’re trying to build something better." His sneer deepens, lips curling in disgust.

Phainon took a step forward, slow and deliberate, never breaking eye contact.

"I don’t care what you're trying to do," he said, voice quiet, but sharp enough to cut. "Do what you must. Raise your banners. Burn the city. I don’t care..."

"...But you will not harm my liege."

The leader lets out a laugh, dry and mocking, tinged with disbelief.

"Your liege?" he spat. "She’s the tyrant’s spawn. And you, great knight? You've been reduced to a loyal lapdog, clinging to a dead order."

Phainon’s grip on his sword tightened, knuckles paling, the cold in his eyes enough to send out a warning for the rider to seize his comments.

"Watch your mouth," he says darkly. "I don’t care what your grievances are with her father. She is not him. And I will not let her suffer for his sins."

"She’s his heir," The leader snarled. "She’ll turn out just the same. She’ll sit on the same throne, make the same decisions, spill the same blood… And a traitor like you will be right there at her feet, worshiping her like a good little mutt."

"You don’t know a thing about her." Phainon snaps, "She’s nothing like her father. She’s been silenced, like a doll on display, dressed up and paraded around as a symbol. If you think she’ll become a tyrant, you’re blind."

"Gods, don't tell me you've fallen for her?" The leader’s expression twisted, ugly and mocking. "You really think she gives a damn about you?"

"Of course not," Phainon replies swiftly, flatly. "That doesn't matter."

The leader just laughs again, louder this time, leaning into the sound like it shields him from the weight of Phainon’s glare. His smirk grows wide, sharp, vicious.

"Then why, oh why, are you risking your life for her, hmm?" The leader’s voice drips with mockery, his posture relaxed, his amusement dripping into every word that slips past his lips.

"What do you get for defending the princess? Her favor? A smile, perhaps? Or something better…" He grins, teeth flashing. "Like her body?"

Something snaps.

In a blink, Phainon closes the distance—no hesitation, no warning. One hand fisting the leader’s collar, the other drawing his sword with a metallic hiss. He slams the man hard against the nearest tree, bark cracking under the force, the blade pressed to the vulnerable skin of his throat.

"Keep your tongue in check." Phainon’s voice is barely a voice at all, more like a growl ripped from deep in his chest. "Don’t you dare speak of her like that. Not another word. Do you hear me?"

But the leader only grins wider, unshaken even with a blade to his throat. In fact, he seems to revel in it.

"You protect a woman who’d throw you to the wolves the moment it served her," he spits out, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "You think you matter to her? You’re nothing. Just a pawn she’ll sacrifice to save herself."

"I’m not protecting just any woman." Phainon sneers, a rare sight for the kind knight. "I protect my liege. I don’t give a damn if she values my life or not. That’s not the point. You speak of things you don’t understand."

He presses the sword harder against the man’s throat, but still, the man smiles.

"You've been blinded," The man hisses, smirking like a man with nothing left to lose. "She doesn’t care about anything but herself. Just like her father. A pampered, selfish princess."

He leans forward just enough for his words to feel like poison he’s trying to inject right into Phainon’s veins.

"And you? You’ve doomed yourself for her. She’ll stab you in the back the second her life’s on the line. Mark my words."

Phainon doesn’t flinch.

"You don’t know her."

Phainon's words are quiet. More breath than voice, like a warning carried in the wind. He presses the blade closer. The tip bites skin. A thin bead of crimson wells up where the blade meets the skin of the leader’s throat.

"And I’ll cut down every last fool who dares to speak of her that way."

And then… he does.

One swift motion.

Clean.

Precise.

The forest falls silent.

The only sound is the soft thump of a body hitting the leaves crumpled on the ground.

A moment later, the man’s head rolls across the ground, eyes wide with the last expression he ever wore; that twisted smile, frozen in time.

None of them move.

Phainon stands over the body, sword slick with crimson, breath slow and steady.

No triumph.

No rage.

Just duty.

The other riders could only stare, stunned into silence, eyes darting between their leader’s lifeless, decapitated body and the knight who stood above it. Phainon remained still, breath heavy, blade lowered but still slick with blood.

"You… y-you killed him…" one of them whispered, the words cracking with disbelief.

Phainon didn’t even blink.

"I did."

His words hung in the air.

The riders exchanged nervous glances, shifting in place. One man’s hand trembled as it hovered near his blade. Another backed toward the horses.

"You’re a murderer," one of them dared to say.

Phainon’s head turned slowly in the speaker’s direction, his eyes sharp and full of disdain.

"I am a knight."

He took a single step forward, slow, steady, like he had all the time in the world.

"And you..." He swept his gaze across them.

Chaos nearly erupted. One man lunged for their fallen leader’s sword. Another tried to mount a horse that reared up and shrieked in fear. Hooves thundered against the forest floor, the horses stamping nervously, catching the scent of blood. The rest froze in place, unsure whether to fight or flee.

Still, Phainon didn’t move. He simply watched. Detached. Unbothered. Like he was watching children flail through a game they didn’t understand.

Then, he spoke again. Calm, quiet, and chilling.

"None of you are going anywhere."

The words cut through the rising noise like a blade. And just like that, everything stopped. Horses snorted, pawing the ground nervously. The riders froze mid-movement, caught between instinct and dread. No one moved. No one dared breathe.

"Y-you… you’re going to kill us too? Just like him?" One of them, voice trembling, forced himself to speak.

Phainon’s eyes flicked to the corpse at his feet, then slowly back to the man.

"It’s nothing personal."

His voice was calm. Too calm.

"But as long as any of you breathe, my liege remains in danger."

Another step forward.

The air grew heavier.

"We’re falling back," someone said quickly, hands half-raised, as if they could bargain their way out. "Our leader’s gone… we won’t hurt Her Highness anymore,"

But it was already too late.

Phainon gave no reply because the time for words had ended.

The forest was filled with the sound of quick, brutal justice. Thuds of bodies hitting the earth, gasps cut short, steel slicing through flesh. Phainon moved like death made flesh—silent, unstoppable, precise.

When it was over, the woods were quiet again.

Only he remained standing.

Him and the horses.

Phainon stood among the fallen, sword in hand, his breath steady once more. He wiped the blood from his blade on the tunic of one of the fallen men, then he turned back toward the cave, toward the only person who mattered.

Back to his liege.

You didn't say anything when his gloved hand appeared in your vision again. You didn’t flinch at the crimson streaks staining his armor, didn’t ask about the blood still clinging to his sleeve. You didn’t have to. The stench of iron lingered in the air, faint but unmistakable. And still, he looked at you with utmost gentleness.

"Let’s keep going, Your Highness," he said, voice soft and warm again, like it hadn’t just spoken death into existence. He smiled, gentle and careful, as if that alone could soothe the storm in your heart, your mind.

And of course, you took his hand.

Neither of you spoke as he guided you deeper into the forest, looking for somewhere to stay the night. His grip is steady, his pace measured. The silence between you was no longer heavy, just there. Present. Like a companion rather than a burden. The first time the silence was broken was when the trees thinned and a clearing revealed itself, a meadow bathed in moonlight. Not ideal for rest, but safe enough for a fire. The tree line was distant enough not to catch if the flames rose too high.

Phainon didn’t hesitate.

He swiftly went to work, gathering timber and stacking firewood, his movements practiced, and you watched confusedly as somehow, someway, he coaxed a spark into a flicker, then into a steady flame—a pleasant warmth against the biting cold of the night, casting a golden light against his blood-slicked armor and you tried not to look too closely.

He turned toward you, eyes softening again.

"Please," he said gently, gesturing toward a nearby rock. "Have a seat, Your Highness."

The rock was jagged, uninviting, but it was better than the ground. And somehow, the offer didn’t feel like an order. It felt like kindness, one born out of genuine concern.

You sat.

Phainon got down on his knees before you, slow and deliberate, the firelight casting golden shadows across his face, his eyes meeting yours, those bright, steady blues searching for something, asking without words. For what, you weren't sure, but you trusted him enough to give him a small nod.

As you did, he reached for the hem of your dress, lifting it just enough to expose your feet, still in those heels. He handled them like something sacred, fingers brushing delicately over the worn straps as he undid the fastenings around your ankles. Then, the shoes slipped off with barely a sound.

A quiet sigh escaped him as he took in the damage: raw, red skin and blisters blooming along your soles. His expression twisted into something pained, like it physically hurt him to look.

"You should’ve told me," he murmured, the words barely louder than the crackle of the fire. His brow furrowed, soft and earnest, looking at you akin to a puppy kicked by its owner. "I would’ve carried you."

"It’s fine, really." You shook your head gently, trying for a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. "You've already done enough. I didn’t want to ask more of you."

"It's my duty to care for the princess."

"And I'm no longer one."

"You'll always be a princess."

You pause at his response, glancing to meet his eyes as he met yours with unwavering devotion, no hesitation in his voice, no doubt in his features.

"For as long as I live," He added, "You'll always be a princess to me."

The silence that followed was heavy, not uncomfortable, but weighty, like something unsaid hung in the air between you. You had to look away, unable to hold the intensity of his stare, you let your gaze drift back to the fire, its flickering light dancing across the clearing like it, too, was trying to avoid the weight between you.

Behind the veil of quiet, you heard the soft clatter of metal as Phainon shed his armor. Piece by piece, it hit the ground with dull thuds, leaving him in the worn fabric beneath. Then came the rip of cloth, sharp in the still night, and you realized he was tearing his shirt.

He didn’t say a word.

Just reached for your feet again, gently cradling them in his hands as he wrapped the makeshift bandages around the blistered skin, his touch impossibly careful.

"Phainon." You said his name softly, as he continued his current task.

"Why didn't you join them? Why didn't you kill me?"

That made his hands still.

His gaze flicked up to your face, searching. He was quiet for a beat, before responding.

"Killing you is never an option." Was his simple, yet blunt response. "I could never do such a thing to you."

You frowned, unable to make sense of it.

"But… of all people, you have the most reason in the kingdom to drive your sword through my chest," you murmured, "The only thing standing between you and your freedom is me. You don’t have to do this. Any of this."

There's the slightest hint of a sad smile on his face, chuckling softly at your words, but there's no humor in the sound.

"I don't 'have' to do anything, princess. I choose to protect you of my own free will." His eyes softened.

"But your oath-" You opened your mouth to protest, to remind him of his oath, of duty, of his supposed loyalty to the people.

"Was to you." He cut you off, quiet but firm. "Not to the King. Not to the throne, not the palace or its people."

He paused, voice dropping to something barely above a whisper.

"My oath has always been to you."

You paused at his words, trying to make sense of them. His loyalty… his devotion... it didn’t make sense. Not in a world that had taken so much from both of you.

"You’re the son of my father’s personal knight. From the moment you were born, you were shackled to me." Your voice softened further. "Our births are only months apart. That wasn’t a coincidence."

Phainon didn’t interrupt. He let you speak, his hands still and steady at your ankle.

"You were forced to train and to be my shadow since we were children, don't you ever wish to be free?"

"Forced?" he repeated softly with a smile, almost amused. "I’ve never been forced to do anything, princess."

"But you were." You looked at him fully now, your brows furrowed. "Just like your father before you. And his before him... and if the system hadn’t been dismantled… your children would’ve been bound to mine. The cycle would’ve never ended."

There was a long beat before he spoke again.

"My family never regretted our duty. We’ve protected every heir of your bloodline with our lives," he said, his voice quiet but sure. "And I’ll do the same for you."

Then something in him shifted. His features softened, the faintest of smiles tugging at the corners of his mouth—gentle, knowing.

"But... you’re wrong about one thing." He looked at you with a strange tenderness in his eyes.

You blinked, caught off-guard by the warmth in his voice. He didn’t look away. Didn’t even blink.

"My children...." he said slowly, voice laced with something unreadable, "...won’t be doing the same for yours."

"What do you mean?"

But all you got in return was that smile. That quiet, secret-laced smile, like he was tucking something important behind his tongue. He gave your ankle a gentle squeeze. Comforting. Familiar.

"You’ll understand later," he murmured, voice almost lulling.

"Don’t push yourself, Your Highness," he said softly, skillfully shifting the topic. "We’ve got a long journey ahead tomorrow."

He stood, gathered the remnants of his torn shirt, and moved to tend the fire again, like he hadn’t just shaken your world with a few quiet words.

"I'll try..." you murmured, your voice tinged with hesitation, your eyes fixed on his back as he knelt by the fire, tending to the flames with care, keeping it alive to somehow keep the coldness of the night at bay.

"Thank you... for everything."

Phainon glanced over his shoulder at you. Your weariness was plain on your face, carved into the way your body sagged slightly under the weight of the day.

“There’s nothing to thank me for.” His tone was quiet, like it always was, but beneath it was a quiet warmth that never seemed to leave whenever he spoke to you. “Get some sleep, princess.”

You didn’t protest again.

Despite the jagged rock beneath you, despite the ache in your limbs and the open sky above, it didn’t take long for sleep to claim you. The day had wrung you dry—body, heart, and mind—and the sound of the crackling fire, the distant rustle of trees, and Phainon’s steady presence nearby became the lullaby that finally allowed your guard to fall.

It wasn't until your breathing had evened out, deep in sleep, that Phainon stood up from the fire. The flickering glow cast long shadows across the clearing as he moved, silent as a ghost, towards you. He crouched beside you, eyes tracing your features like he was memorizing every curve, every eyelash. His fingers reached out, brushing a few strands of hair from your face with a gentleness that didn’t match the crimson stains still dried against his skin.

"My kids being the knights of yours?" He muses, a quiet laugh curling at the edge of his lips. "Don't be ridiculous... my kids wouldn't be doing the same for yours..."

"Because my kids will be yours too, princess."

His expression stayed soft, but there was something darker flickering beneath it—a quiet hunger, possession cloaked in tenderness. His hand moved again, hooking a single lock of your hair around his finger, bringing it close to his face. He breathed in, eyes fluttering shut for a moment, as though the scent alone grounded him, drawing it in like a man savoring something he believed— no, he knew belonged to him.

“Yours,” he whispered, “You hear me?”

The wind rustled gently through the trees, carrying his words into the night, where they vanished like smoke with no one else to hear them but himself. He stayed like that for a moment, eyes locked on your sleeping face, watching the faint shifts of your breath, the flutter of your lashes. You looked peaceful. Vulnerable.

"I'm sorry for what happened, princess. But you understand, don't you?" He questions you quietly, as if you could hear him, still making sure his voice is quiet, so as to not wake you.

"Your father was a tyrant, a dictator..." He murmurs, his fingers moving to caress your cheek, watching as you stirred faintly under his touch, but did not wake, "He was going to marry you off to someone else."

"Surely, you understand why I urged people and started the revolution, don't you?"

His fingers trail lightly down your cheek, pausing at your lips, his breath hitching ever so slightly as his thumb grazes over the soft curve of your mouth. He exhales shakily, as though even this contact is almost too much.

"The only reason I was born was to be yours,” he whispers, a quiet conviction in his tone. “And thus, you, in turn, have always been mine. Law of equivalent exchange.”

His voice is low, fond, but there’s an undercurrent of something far heavier—something dangerous—coiling just beneath. He inhales sharply, as if steadying himself, and glances away from your lips like a sinner resisting temptation.

"That old man never should’ve tried to interfere," he adds, almost as an afterthought, his jaw tensing like the memory alone is enough to reignite his fury—the same fury that led to your father's downfall.

His finger lingers against your lips, then shifts, trailing down to hover just over your abdomen, his eyes now fixed there, unblinking. The soft rise and fall of your breathing beneath the fabric of your dress seems to hold him captive.

"Once all of this dies down.." he murmurs, more to himself than to you, "I’ll take you somewhere quiet. Somewhere no one knows your name. A little house, tucked away from the world… where you’ll be safe. And then—"

His breath hitches again, this time heavier, filled with desire.

"Then I’ll give you my children. As many as you want."

His gaze darkens as it lingers on your stomach, and his lashes lower as he exhales through his nose, eyes fluttering closed like he can already see the future blooming there. His future. Your future. Your shared future.

"I’ve waited my whole life," he breathes, almost dreamlike. "And now you look at me like I’m your savior...."

There’s a pause, still heavy, and then his eyes open again, trained solely on your face. His expression softens at the sight of your sleeping features.

"It’s only a matter of time," he says softly. "Just a few more years... or months, if I’m lucky."

His thumb traces the corner of your mouth again, delicate and adoring.

"Right, princess?"

A soft chuckle escapes him, warm and hushed and laced with something that doesn’t quite sound sane.

"You don't need the palace, the crown, the throne.... I'm already here. I am all that you need." He murmurs, fully believing his own words.

"You're mine." He breathes out, a silent declaration with only the stars above as his witness.

"You will be mine."

#phainon #phainon x reader #phainon hsr #phainon honkai star rail #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #phainon x you #phainon x y/n #yandere phainon

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rafessecret · 1 month ago

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

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

YOU'LL ALWAYS BE HIS.

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

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

You freeze.

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

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

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

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

You know you locked the door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But that boy is gone.

Now you’re left with this.

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

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

©RAFESSECRET ⋆˚࿔ est. 2025

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tttabii · 7 days ago

Text

── 박종성 HERE ALL ALONG ; PARK JONG-SEONG

pairing୭ football captain! jay x dancer! reader

word count: 4331 ; jay is also in a band and plays the electric guitar, reader has a boyfriend, fluff. taesan and jaehyun from bnd mentioned.

YOU WERE THE STAR OF YOU SCHOOL'S dance team—graceful, confident, loved by every single person lucky enough to know your name. It wasn't just your talent that drew people in, but your essence. So naturally when Jay saw you first, at the pep rally, gliding across the gym floor like it was your stage, he was hooked.

He had it bad.

This man did not fall easily for anyone. Jay was the school's golden boy—guitar player, lead singer of a local band, football team captain, sharp jawline, quiet but devastating charm. He wasn't the type to crush easily, but something about you made him fall hard.

Then he found out you were dating Taesan.

Of course it was Taesan. Smooth talking, perfect hair, cocky basketball captain, with a small army of cheerleaders ready to jump whenever he said jump. Which made him loathe to see Taesan hang his arm around your waist, the way he'd press a kiss to your cheek so casually, like he didn't realize just how lucky he was.

Or maybe he did—which was what made Jay even angrier.

Jay had only confessed once. Just once. But you had sweetly said no, you already have a boyfriend. Which cut him deeper than he would ever let on. Who did he think he was? Just some guy with a guitar who had a crush bigger than his heart.

But what hurt more was that Jay remembered something, a conversation you had with Jake when things were still casual with you and Taesan. You had gone through a list of what your ideal type was—could sing, could play electric guitar, athletic but shy, a good cook, gentle but assertive, you had even laughed when you said "A guy who can kiss well wouldn't hurt either,".

Jake had told Jay all of that.

Jay was all of that.

And maybe you didn't know this then, but you were describing him, not Taesan.So he waited. He watched you from afar, and clenched his teeth every time Taesan kissed you. He could treat you better than he ever could. Love you better than he ever could.

It wasn't about popularity—he didn't need it. He just wanted you.

One day, Taesan brought you a coffee before practice. You smiled, thanked him, but the taste didn't sit right anymore. Recently you had been unable to stomach coffee. Not when you'd grown so fond of the comforting experience of oolong tea–that mysterious oolong tea that just sat on your desk every morning. You always wondered who it came from.

Until, one day, you noticed the little note tucked under the bottle: "From your secret admirer ;)"

You smiled to yourself, your heart fluttering just a little bit. You didn't know who it was from, but the feeling behind it was warm, considerate, and oddly familiar. You didn't think much of it—just a cute admirer wanting to make your day.

You had no idea it was Jay. And he was still willing to fight for your love.

૮₍˃ ⤙˂ ₎ა

Another long evening at 1009 Studio, the mirrors fogged from the level of movement and intensity. You wiped the sweat from your forehead; your body still buzzing from the high of practice. The bass of the latest K-pop track still pulsing through your head as you threw your stuff into your bag and waved to a few dancers heading out.

You swung open the studio door and stopped short—rain. Seriously, rain. Because this wasn't just rain; it was torrenting rain. The kind of rain that drenches the pavement in a matter of seconds. With a big sigh, you pulled your phone from your pocket and called the one person you were hoping would rescue you from being soaked.

"Taesan," you said when he picked up. "Can you get me?"

"My car is in the shop, babe. Can't you just grab a cab or something?"

You bit the inside of your cheek. "I forgot my wallet back at the dorm."

Silence. And then a distracted, "Sorry, I can't help right now," and the line went dead.

You frowned at your screen in disbelief before shoving it into your hoodie pocket—and sighed again. Of course. You considered running for it. It was going to be a pretty miserable walk. The dorms weren't super close—it was 5 minutes by car. But what else could you do?

Then, as if in a really cheesy twist of fate, someone called your name.

"Y/n?"

Turning your head, you saw a familiar figure walking toward you, an umbrella in one hand and a cold caramel frappuccino in the other.

Jay.

He looked surprised—but happy—to see you. "What are you doing out here?"

You let out a sheepish laugh, shifting your bag over your shoulder. "Practicing. I'm here most evenings."

Jay glanced at the rain behind you, and then back to you. "Do you need a ride?"

You shook your head politely. "It's fine, I'll figure it out-"

"It's pouring," he interrupted, stepping in closer, eyes gentle. "C'mon. I'll just drop you off. I'm not trying anything, I promise."

There was a kindness in his voice you weren't used to. Not the kind that some guys back at school use to impress you, though. You lingered for a second longer before nodding. "Okay. Thanks."

His car—a slick black BMW—was parked just around the corner. The inside smelled of cologne and rain, which was a pleasant change. The seats were soft and warm, especially compared to the cold leather in Taesan's flashy ride.

You sank into the passenger seat, and quietly buckled yourself in, still feeling a little strange. After all, you had recently rejected him, and here you were—wet and in need—and he was still offering solace. Jay drove in silence at first, the slight hum of the rain filled the space between you.

You caught a glimpse of the caramel drink resting in the cupholder, and looked maybe a little too long. Your throat was parched, and now the mere thought of sweet was causing your mouth to slightly water.

Fortunately for you, Jay caught your gaze and smiled to himself."You want it?" he asked nonchalantly.

Your eyes widened. "No—I mean—uh, you already drank from it. I can't-"

"It's fine," he said, nudging it toward your side. "I don't mind."

There was something about the way he said it. Like he noticed you needed something and didn't think twice about offering it.You hesitated even longer before taking a small sip.

It was your favourite: exactly how you like it, sweet and smooth. You honestly hadn't realized how badly you needed something warm and familiar until that moment.

"...Thank you," you said quietly, meeting his eyes.

Jay glanced over at you, one hand on the wheel and a faint smile on his lips. "Anytime."

The following morning, your desk was no longer bare.

A beautifully wrapped caramel cookie—your favorite from the little bakery downtown—was plopped in the middle. Underneath, another note:"For the girl with the sweet tooth and softest smile. – Secret admirer ;)"

Your brows furrowed together. You looked around the room, but the early morning light streamed through mostly empty seats. Nobody seemed to be watching you, and no one was close enough to have just dropped it.This wasn't the first gift, and it was starting to get... personal.

Whoever it was, they had some knowledge about you. Your drink preferences, your favorite bakery. Things that you didn't exactly scream to the world.

You took a slow bite, savoring the cookie while letting your mind reluctantly drift to yesterday—to Jay. To how he held the umbrella just right to keep you dry. The way his voice had warmth, and the way his eyes softened when he told you it was okay to take the drink.

You blinked and shook your head, cheeks on fire.

No, you weren't cheating. You just shared a drink. There was nothing to it.But the more you thought about it, the more your chest ached.

Taesan didn't even bother looking. Didn't call a cab, not a friend's ride, nothing. Just dismissed you, and then literally left you there standing in the rain as if you weren't even worth it.And then Jay came—someone who didn't owe you anything for, but still arrived exactly when you needed someone the most.

You were still chewing on the cookie when the classroom door opened again. You looked up. Taesan.

He walked in like he owned the place, varsity jacket draped over what just looked like his shoulder. Although he was casually walking in; he was tense, and there was something sharp in his eyes as glared at the note, then the half-eaten cookie in your hand.

"You're actually going to eat that?" he said, voice low but stupid sharp.

You blinked. "What?"

"One of my buddies saw you getting in a car with Jay yesterday, Jaehyun. Said it was a black BMW remember? That's his car right?" His voice was growing sharper, and bitter. "What the hell, Y/N?"

You got out of your chair with your eyebrows scrunched. "I called you, but it was raining and I had no wallet, and you told me to figure it out. Jay was just around! He was just giving me a ride!"

"Right," laughed Taesan, moving in closer to you with his combination of concern and sarcasm. "The guy that confessed to you? The idiot you rejected, and he was just being nice? Come on, Y/N. Do you think I am stupid?"

A few of your classmates streamed in, stopping right in their tracks at the palpable tension between you both.You crossed your arms. "Maybe if you been there for me, it never would have happened."

"That guy is obviously just trying to get in your pants like every guy that's drooling over you."

You stared back at him, hurt. "What makes you better than them then? Huh? What if you're just trying to do the same thing, Taesan?"

Silence. That one question was like a jolt of lightning in the air, even enough for a few of them to be caught in the passenger seat walking to class. Someone in the back softly said something and caused a gasp from someone next to them.

His jaw clenched. "Baby, you know I'm not like them..." Except this time his tone wasn't freestyle warm. It was tired. It was defensive. It was weak.

You swallowed thickly. "Then maybe start acting like it."

Your words weren't yelled. You didn't need to raise your voice to make the room feel colder than it already was. The silence between you stretched out. Everyone around was quiet, eyes darting between you both.

And somewhere, just outside the classroom door, Sunghoon stood with his hands in his pockets, having just passed the cookie on Jay's behalf minutes earlier. He heard every word. And he couldn't wait to tell Jay the gossip.

When Taesan stormed out of the classroom, his shoulders tense with unspoken rage, all eyes slowly shifted to you. But you didn't even flinch.

You slid back into your seat, pulled your laptop back toward you, and took another measured bite of your cookie. The sweetness tasted like a cruel joke to the bitterness still churning in your chest.

You could feel the weight of their scrutiny like needles. You lifted your head slowly, narrowed your eyes. "What? Never seen two people argue before?"

That quieted them.

It had a completely different tone, the tone you normally used to approach them. It was sharp, edged, cold. And that's what turned their eyes away. They were not used to that side of you—the one who didn't play nice. You took a deep breath and turned your attention back to your screen, trying to still your fingers which were shaking slightly.

The words on the keyboard morphed for a moment. Maybe it was frustration. Maybe because you were just exhausted-tired of everyone's idealization of you, to just be prodded and ripped apart for a misstep.

Sunghoon practically sprinted across campus the second the break bell rang. Jake barely had time to open his energy drink before Sunghoon skidded to a stop in front of him and Jay, eyes wide.

"Dude. You're not going to believe what just happened."

Jay, who was just lounging on a lifted bench outside, raised his eyes from his phone. "What?"

"Y/n and Taesan. Huge fight. In class."

Jake raised an eyebrow. "For real?"

"For real," Sunghoon nodded. "Whole room heard it. They brought you up too, Jay. Apparently, Jaehyun snitched about your car."

Jay blinked. "Me?"

"Yeah, people are talking, like, crazy," Sunghoon added as he laboured to catch his breath.

"Football captain vs basketball captain, over the girl that everyone lowkey has a crush on." Jake whistled low. "Damn. I thought we would have a peaceful lunch break."

Jay didn't say anything for a moment, glanced down at his drink, his expression was unreadable. Sunghoon nudged him. "Come on man. You're her secret admirer. Cookies today, oolong tea the entire week, you're literally halfway from being the leading character in a campus drama."

Jay gave a small chuckle, as he shook his head slowly. "I'm not trying to steal her," he said plainly, his eyes calm, but the sincerity in his voice was striking. "But if things ever end with him... I just wanted her to know there is someone out there who treats her better."

When break finally came around, you had snapped.

The whispers followed you like shadows. Girls who used to smile at you with fake sweetness were now watching you with smugness, as if hoping your relationship was falling apart so they could slide into Taesan's life.

The boys had given you space earlier, now they were hanging around a little bit longer in the hallways. Smirks. Flirty comments. Trying to create their own opportunity just because they heard that you had some kind of fight.

The worst part were the gossip vultures—those who didn't want either of you, but just lived for the chance to watch other people fall apart so they had juicy bits to share. You were done with it.

As you walked past a group of girls who were loud in their whispers by your locker, you didn't even hesitate. "Maybe you all can try focusing on your own love lives before worrying about mine. Oh wait—all you can worry about is that none of you have one."

They all went silent, shocked. You didn't even turn your head. You were finished being the sweet girl for them to play with.

You made your way to the cafe just off campus, needing a moment away from the stifling gossip and your own tumultuous thoughts. The jingle of the bell above the door rang softly as you stepped inside—and your gaze immediately went to them.

Jay, Sunghoon, and Jake were tucked in the back booth—the best light, the cozy window where you always sat. The three of them were talking, laughing quietly about something you didn't catch until you walked in, after which Jake effortlessly brought up football, and Jay reclined, glancing your way once then just as quickly looking away. Too quickly.

You made your way to the counter, got your drink, and paused for a moment before walking over. "Hey," you said, sounding more lighthearted than you felt, "is it ok if I sit here? This is sorta... my spot."

Sunghoon was the first to smile. "Would've been rude not to offer."

Jake adjusted and gave you a bit of space. "You're basically part of the team now," he teased.

You slid in beside Jay, your shoulder brushing his for just a second as you got settled. The air felt strangely calm around them—not charged or performative like it always did when you were with Taesan and his crowd.

They were surprisingly funny, bouncing off each other with a rhythm that made you laugh without thinking. Sunghoon made dry comments under his breath, Jake was dramatic with everything, and Jay... Jay had this quiet wit, that low kind of sarcasm you didn't expect to enjoy so much.

But every once in a while, you would find Jay's stare lingering just a little longer. You weren't bothered. You knew about his crush—everyone basically did—but you weren't sure if he still had it. And to be honest, you didn't feel like figuring that out just yet.

You began to get into the conversation as the topics turned lighter. Jake mentioned dogs—of course he did—and Sunghoon jumped in with stories about his excessively spoiled French poodle, Gaeul.

Jake proudly looked for a picture of his golden retriever, Layla, and you couldn't help but grin as he got lost in the details like a proud dad. You got to chime in, too, about Wonie, your little Pomeranian, who acts like she's royalty.

"She essentially owns my apartment," you said, smiling. "She'll bark at me if I don't fluff her blanket exactly like she likes it."

Jay was just listening with a little grin, still pretty quiet, as usual. But he was totally engaged—his eyes darting around with interest, as if he were cataloging every single part of it.

You can't deny it felt different. Talking about animals with Taesan was hardly a conversation. Taesan would roll his eyes, say things like, "Why waste my time on this?" or "You should go to this party instead."

And yeah, Jay had a reputation too—he had that edge to him, that kind of bad boy charm people whispered about—but somehow... his attention didn't feel like a game.

Not the way it did with Taesan.

You were still in a fit of laughter on something Jake said when you caught Jay again looking at you from the corner of your eyes. It was not as intense, but it was still warm. Like Jay was slowly soaking up all your pieces.

૮₍˃ ⤙˂ ₎ა

Things between you and Taesan had been dry for weeks now.

Hardly even a conversation. Hardly even a text. The most you got was a kiss on the cheek, and even that required him to remember to do it. Not even that.

Still—you made it to his game. You weren't sure why. Maybe it was habit. Maybe it was the hope of feeling as you used to. Jay was in the crowd too, a few rows below you, but he didn't say anything. You didn't say anything either. You clapped a bit when the game ended.

Taesan's team won. He celebrated like everything was normal, jumping and yelling with an arm over that girl best friend who he always said not to worry about. She was hugging him like it was a normal thing. You didn't wait for the team to come off the court.

You stood and left the bleachers while the crowd cheered you were over. Too loud. Too fake. You wanted to go back to your dorm and crawl into your bed.

On the way out, you paused by the vending machine. You dug out a few coins from your coat pocket and, for no reason other than lack of thinking, pressed the button for oolong tea. You'D grown used to it. You didn't even drink it that much before—but now? Your dorm was filled with thermal bottles of it. Neatly left on your desk almost every morning. Whoever it was didn't care about money clearly, or boundaries.

And yeah, you might have had a good idea of who it was. Maybe Jay. But you weren't entirely positive.

He was next to you right as the bottle dropped into the tray. You didn't say anything right away. Just took it and leaned on the vending machine. "I knew I should've just stayed in tonight," you said quietly.

Jay didn't say anything. Just looked over at you. You were about to say something else when Jake came rushing over from the main building.

His face was off. "Yo. You guys—listen. I saw it."

You turned to him. "Saw what?"

"Taesan kissed her. The cheerleader. Full on. Right on the court."

You stared at him for a second. And then breathed out a little. "Right," you said. "Of course he did."

By that point, it wasn't even heartbreak. Just that quiet, numbing disappointment that you knew was coming. It still stung though. He couldn't have at least waited? But no. He had to make it loud. He had to make it... public.

Jay ran a hand through his hair, jaw tight. "He's dead."

"I'm over it," you lied. "I'm just tired."

Except Jay clearly wasn't over it.

Because the next morning, as you walked out of class with Jake, you saw Taesan standing by the hallway, waiting. Probably to explain. Probably to lie again.

And Jay was already heading toward him before you could say a word.

The second Taesan opened his mouth, Jay swung the first punch. Hard. Fist into Taesan's jaw. Taesan stumbled, and that's when he swung back.

Shit was chaotic in the hallway. People were backing up. A few were screaming. Others were recording. You stood frozen watching them throw punches, neither of them backing down. Jay was furious. You have never seen him like this, completely out of it.

Jay had Taesan on the floor, his jacket already off, black tank top already showing, flexing muscles with every shove he threw. You honestly didn't think he would hear you above everything. Until you grabbed his arm.

Instantly, Jay's body stopped moving. He looked at you; eyes wild, breathing fast. His face shifted. The aggression had evaporated like he suddenly forgot where he was. Who he was battling with. "Jay... stop," you said softly.

Then Taesan, still on the ground, looked up and laughed. "Figures," he spat. "You're just a whore and a cheater."

You didn't flinch. "Says you," you shot back, voice sharp. "Who kissed the girl he told me NOT to worry about. In front of the whole damn court."

"Come on. Let's go before I punch that guy too," you muttered under your breath, tugging at Jay's arm before things escalated even more.

He didn't even fight you, just pulled away from the crowd. The hallway was still buzzing, people whispering, head down as some stared at their phones like they already posted it. Most were on your side.

They witnessed the kiss. They saw Taesan act like he didn't have someone in the stands waiting on him. His reputation was literally blowing up—and it wasn't just among the students.

Word was spreading the basketball coach, who always had a weakness for you, said Taesan was done. Blacklisted. The team didn't want that kind of drama slowing them down.

Jay had a bruised hand. His knuckles were red and raw from the punches he threw, and you didn't notice until you stopped moving. "Give me that," you said, taking Jay's hand.

He blinked. "What?"

"Your hand, dummy."

You dragged him straight to the infirmary. Jake showed up halfway through, tossing Jay's bag onto the chair before shooting him a look like dumbass, I told you not to punch him but also I'm proud of you.

Inside the bag, tucked into the side pocket, was the same thermal bottle you kept waking up to on your desk.

You chuckled softly as you picked it up. "So it's you, huh? My secret admirer?"

Jay was sitting on the edge of the cot, still cooling from the fight, and as you looked up, caught him already checking you out. "You caught me," he said, his voice a little raspy.

You smiled at him, holding his hand as you cleaned up the cut on his cheek. Then, without thinking, you took his hand and placed it in your lap, as you took care of his bruised knuckles. His hand became still at the sudden warmth.

"Damn," he mumbled, looking down at your lap. "You really put my hand there, huh?"

"You were bleeding," you said, casually, trying to hide your smile. You could tell he was a little flustered.

His ears were slightly pink. "I guess I was a little blind," you said softly. "Clearly you were my type. Jake said so last night. He texted me. Said I ought to open my eyes."

Jay leaned his head back slightly. "So you finally listened to Jake for once?"

"Yeah. It just took one fight and some bruised knuckles."

Things changed after that.

He started being around you more. He walked you to class. You sat by him, Sunghoon and Jake at lunch. Everything felt different—more calm, better. Like something was happening. You were healing.

He took you to this tiny dog café one weekend. You spent the whole time petting every dog that was in the café, petting them and ruffling their fur, making a super soft voice all the while saying "good boy." Jay just watched you as if you had him under a spell.

Every time you laughed, he felt the tightening in his chest.

"I'm falling," he whispered to Jake.

Jake looked at him and smirked. "Bro, you fell the moment you said you'll be making her oolong tea everyday."

After football practice one afternoon, you walked over to him just as he wiped the sweat off the back of his neck with a towel. He naturally looked up when he felt the approaching footsteps, and he smiled very little when he saw who was looking at him.

"You should have made your move on me before Taesan did, you know," you said.

Jay chuckled. "Maybe I'm just shy."

"Aww," you teased. "Didn't take you to be a shy guy."

"Shut up," he replied, tossing the towel from his other shoulder and lightly slinging it over his shoulder. "You should have opened your eyes and seen I was clearly your type. I could treat you so much better."

He flexed his bicep slightly as he said it. You flushed.

"Shut up," you muttered, turning away with a grin.

"Oh, I heard from Jake you like guys who can kiss well," he said casually, dropping his voice a bit. "And I'm right here, baby."

Jay leaned in, cupping your cheeks before pulling you into a slow, deliberate kiss. the kind that made your breath catch a little. Sunghoon let out a low whistle. Jake coughed, "Jesus—get a room."

Someone from the team yelled, "Okay lover boy, bag her already!"

You just smirked against his lips, kissing him again like you weren't planning to stop anytime soon.

431 notes · View notes

cressidagrey · 26 days ago

Text

So High School

Pairing: Andrea Kimi Antonelli x Chiara Battista (Original Character)

Summary: Chiara prints his worksheets. Kimi pretends to forget formulas just to talk to her.

It was all working—until she stopped helping, and he realized he might’ve already lost her.

Notes: It's Italian Grand Prix Week! I kinda felt like a cradle robber while writing this, because Kimi is a few years younger than me, but YA was and always will be my first love, so I felt like this was very much in my wheel house.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

The school library was nearly empty that afternoon—just the low hum of fluorescent lights overhead and the steady scratch of pen against paper. Golden hour filtered through tall windows, softening the sterile white walls into something nearly warm. A lazy beam of light slanted across the long wooden table where Chiara Battista sat curled at the end, headphones in, highlighters fanned out beside her like a painter’s palette.

She was halfway through annotating a dense reading for their ethics seminar, blonde hair pulled back in a pencil-stabbed bun that had begun to lean to the left. She didn’t notice.

What she did notice was the sudden bang of the door slamming open.

She didn’t have to look up.

Only one person in their school had ever treated the library like a pit lane instead of a sacred hall of silence.

Kimi Antonelli.

She heard the sharp rush of his breath first—half-running, half-skipping steps echoing too loudly against the tile floor. He jogged toward her, slightly out of breath, sun-kissed and windblown from whatever race weekend he’d just flown back from. His backpack was hanging half-open over one shoulder, and there was a visible crease in the corner of his collar that said he’d either changed in the car or not at all.

“Hey,” he said, voice hushed but warm as he slid into her orbit like he belonged there. “Did we get that grammar packet? The one Mr. Rossi said he’d email?”

She didn’t even blink. “Printed you a copy,” she said, already reaching into her folder. “Figured you’d forget.”

He blinked, like he genuinely hadn’t expected that. “You’re actually a lifesaver.”

Chiara gave a small smile, sliding the neat stack of papers across the table. She didn’t say, I’ve been keeping a folder labeled “A.K.A.” for the last six months because you never remember anything and I never seem to mind. She just handed him the packet and returned to underlining a particularly obscure sentence about moral relativism.

Kimi didn’t move right away.

He stood there for a beat, fingers grazing the edge of the worksheet like it might slip out of his hands if he didn’t hold it gently. Like maybe he wanted to say something else, but couldn’t quite find the words.

Chiara glanced up from her notes.

“Did you win?” she asked, tone light, like this was all completely normal—like she didn’t secretly refresh live race trackers when she was supposed to be studying, heart pounding every time his name moved up the leaderboard.

“Huh? Oh—no.” He scratched the back of his neck, sheepish. “P6. But it was a decent drive. I think my engineer aged five years, though.”

Chiara smiled under her breath. “Poor man.”

“Yeah,” Kimi agreed, then added with mock gravity, “Pray for Bono.”

She laughed, and he lit up. Just for a second, like sunshine breaking through clouds.

“Thanks again,” he said after a moment, lifting the paper like a white flag. “You always think of stuff I forget.”

“You forget everything,” she teased, not unkindly.

His grin was all teeth, crooked and warm and just a little shy. “That’s true. But you don’t.”

There was something about the way he said it—soft and offhand but sincere—that made her glance up again. And suddenly they were just looking at each other.

It wasn’t new. But it was dangerous.

Because sometimes he looked at her like she was something steady. Something rare. And it made Chiara’s lungs feel too small for her chest.

She glanced back down, pretending to arrange her pens.

“Okay, I should—go,” he said, not moving. “Before Madame Ferragni starts hunting me down for Math homework I didn’t do.”

“You didn’t do it?”

Kimi immediately looked guilty. “I was a little busy driving a car at 300 kilometers an hour.”

She arched an eyebrow. “You had a week.”

“I was in Jeddah!”

“So was my cousin. She managed to post ten TikToks and finish the assignment.”

He laughed, short and surprised. “Right. Okay. I deserved that.”

She sighed but slid another annotated sheet across the table anyway.

He stared at it like it was a gift. “You even highlighted—”

“Don’t act surprised. You always forget the formulas.”

“I don’t forget. I just... deprioritize.”

“You forgot,” she said flatly.

“I forgot,” he agreed, holding up both hands. “But you didn’t.”

“You should go,” she said, more softly this time. “Library closes in ten.”

“Right.”

But he lingered.

“You coming to class tomorrow?” he asked, like he didn’t already know the answer.

“Unlike some people, I don’t fly around the world on weekends.”

He smiled again, that same quiet, unguarded thing he only gave her in empty hallways and between classes. The kind of smile that made her wish she could stop the moment and study it.

Then he nodded, tapping the edge of the worksheet against the table like a nervous tic.

“Thanks again, Chiara,” he said, voice low and sincere. “You’re kind of amazing.”

And before she could find anything to say—before she could ask him why he always came to her, why he always smiled like that but never acted on it—he turned and left.

The door shut softly behind him.

Chiara sat frozen for a moment, staring at her scattered notes, at the place he’d been standing. Then she exhaled slowly and picked up her pen again.

***

The courtyard buzzed with low conversation, the kind that floated lazily through the warm spring air alongside the scent of blooming wisteria and the occasional hum of a passing bee. A group of boys tossed a football across the far lawn. Someone played soft music from a cracked phone speaker. Birds chirped from the trees that arched over the stone pathways, as if even they were tired of studying.

Chiara Battista sat on the low stone wall near the edge of the flowerbeds, legs crossed at the ankles, sunlight warming the tops of her shoulders through her linen blouse. Her physics binder was open in her lap, pages fluttering in the breeze, her green highlighter spinning idly between her fingers like a coin she wasn’t sure whether to flip.

She wasn’t really studying.

Not in the focused, efficient way she usually did. Her eyes were on the formulas, but her mind kept wandering—to Miami, to engines, to a crooked smile and a hoodie that always smelled faintly like jet fuel and cinnamon gum.

Across from her, Giulia sat with her back against the wall, peeling a clementine with the kind of exaggerated slowness that said she wanted attention but was pretending not to.

The citrus smell was sharp in the air.

“So,” Giulia said after a beat, voice lilting and light in that deceptively gentle tone she always used when she was about to say something awful, “how long are you planning on being Kimi Antonelli’s personal secretary?”

Chiara blinked. “What?”

Giulia gave her a long, unreadable look, then popped a slice of clementine into her mouth with flourish. “Come on. You print out his notes. You remind him about tests. You keep spare pens for him like you’re part of his pit crew. It's kind of adorable. If it wasn’t so tragic.”

“I don’t—” Chiara began, heat creeping up her neck.

“You do,” Giulia interrupted, voice light and sing-song. “Which is fine. Really. He’s cute. I get it. He’s got the floppy hair, the whole baby-Mercedes-prodigy thing, the eyes. Honestly, I’d probably let him copy off my notes if he smiled at me the way he smiles at you.”

Chiara looked down at her highlighter, still gripped between her fingers, the green plastic suddenly too bright in the sun.

Giulia took another slow bite of orange and chewed, watching Chiara too carefully.

“But you’re smart,” she continued. “Like actually smart. You’ve got a shot at med school. Or engineering. Or politics, if you ever get over your allergy to speaking in public. And you’re wasting your time babysitting a boy who’s probably never even seen your handwriting on his own.”

Chiara’s fingers stilled. The highlighter slipped and hit her knee with a soft thud before rolling into the folds of her skirt. The green cap glinted in the sunlight.

Giulia leaned her head back, eyes squinting up at the sky like this was all just a mildly interesting observation, nothing personal.

“I’m just saying,” she added, quieter now, “he’s got his group. Enrico, Luca, all of them. You really think he’d still talk to you if you stopped printing out his worksheets?

Chiara’s lips parted, but no words came out. Her throat felt dry.

It wasn’t that the comment was harsh. Giulia wasn’t sneering or mocking her. That would’ve been easier to dismiss. No—this was worse. This was delivered like a kindness. Like honesty, served cold and sharp and gently poisonous.

The sun glinted off the green cap of the highlighter like it was mocking her. Chiara felt her fingers tense around it, her knuckles pale.

“I’m just saying,” Giulia said with a shrug, “I think he’s using you. Not, like, in a malicious way. Maybe he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. But he is.”

The words weren’t loud. They didn’t need to be.

They slid in quietly. Like they were meant to stay. Like they belonged somewhere deep inside her chest, where they could unspool later in the quiet hours.

Chiara didn’t say anything. She didn’t argue. There wasn’t a scene. She just shut her binder with a soft snap and reached down to tuck it under her arm.

Her smile came a second later—small, brittle at the edges, and practiced.

She stood.

“Where are you going?” Giulia asked, frowning.

“Inside,” Chiara said, without turning around. “I forgot something.”

She didn’t.

She just couldn’t sit there anymore. Not with the heat of the sun on her shoulders and those words seeping into her skin like ink.

She walked steadily, not fast enough to show she was upset, not slow enough to linger. Her shoes crunched over gravel, and her binder dug into her ribs with every step.

By the time she reached the hallway, her throat felt tight.

Because now all she could think about were the times he smiled like he meant it. The way he lingered at her desk like he wanted to stay. The way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t looking back.

And how stupid she must’ve been to think it meant anything at all.

***

It started small.

Kimi Antonelli wasn’t the most observant person when it came to school—he could memorize track layouts and sector splits like his life depended on it (because sometimes it did), but remembering whether ethics class was in Room 2B or 2C? Not his specialty.

But he noticed people.

And he definitely noticed Chiara Battista.

At first, he thought she was just tired. Exams were creeping closer, and she had that furrow between her brows that usually meant she was deep in study mode. But then she stopped handing him things before he even asked. No more worksheets quietly left on his desk. No more “Hey, by the way, Mr. Russo moved the deadline” in the hallway.

Nothing.

She wasn’t cold, exactly. Just… distant. Like she’d taken a step back and pulled some invisible curtain between them.

And he didn’t know why.

Kimi sat in class and stared at the side of her face while she took notes, neat and precise, a different-colored pen for every category. He used to tease her about it. She used to roll her eyes and pretend she wasn’t smiling.

Now she barely looked at him.

She hadn’t sat next to him during ethics the day before. She’d slipped into a seat near the window before he arrived. And when he’d caught up with her after class, breathless from literally jogging across campus to ask about the project, she’d answered his question with the same tone she used when telling the barista her name for a coffee order.

Polite. Blank. Forgettable.

And maybe that’s what scared him the most—that she seemed totally fine.

Kimi fumbled with the strap of his backpack as he walked across the courtyard, barely noticing when Enrico shouted his name from the steps. He waved vaguely in response, but his mind was somewhere else entirely.

Had he said something wrong?

Had she overheard him joking with the others and taken it the wrong way?

He ran through every conversation they’d had in the last two weeks like it was onboard footage. Looking for a mistake. A missed flag. Something he could fix.

But all he found was silence.

His stomach twisted the way it sometimes did before a wet qualifying session—the anticipation, the nerves, the uncertainty. Only this time, there wasn’t a helmet to hide behind or a lap time to chase. Just Chiara, sitting under a tree across the courtyard, her nose buried in a book he didn’t recognize.

And for once, he didn’t know if he was allowed to walk over.

He used to just know. That invisible thread between them used to feel real. Reliable. Like she’d catch his eye from across the room and there’d be a look—a shared joke, a spark, something warm.

Now, she didn’t even glance up.

He pulled out his phone and opened their messages. The last few were short. Blunt. He scrolled higher, to when they used to send stupid memes or homework reminders with four exclamation points. Her little typing bubbles had always come fast and familiar.

Now they didn’t come at all.

Kimi sat down on the edge of a low wall and stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the keyboard like it might offer some kind of answer.

Then, impulsively, he typed:

Kimi A.: are you mad at me?

He watched the “Delivered” stamp appear.

Then… nothing.

No typing bubble. No reply.

Just the quiet weight of not knowing what he’d done, and the uncomfortable realization that, for all the times he’d texted her for help, he might have never really said the things that mattered.

The things he meant.

And now it might be too late.

***

Chiara told herself it didn’t matter. She told herself it didn’t hurt.

That it was fine, really. Normal. Temporary. That people grew out of things like school crushes and imagined connections. That Giulia hadn’t said anything cruel—just honest.

Blunt, yes. But not wrong.

Because when she thought about it, stripped down past the little moments she’d been hoarding like secrets, what did she really have? A handful of library smiles. A few text messages. Some inside jokes about French grammar and his inability to remember his own locker code.

It wasn’t a relationship. It wasn’t even friendship, not really.

It was habit.

And maybe it was better to know now, before she got in any deeper. Before she built something out of glances and half-grins and the way he said her name when he was tired. Before she mistook kindness for something more.

So she stopped being proactive.

No more reminders. No more extras printed and labeled in neat folders with his name in the corner. No more nudging him in the hallway to say, You missed this, or, He changed the deadline. She didn’t ignore him—Chiara wasn’t cruel—but she was quiet.

Polite. Distant.

Unmistakably different.

And of course, that was when Kimi Antonelli started texting her more than ever.

Kimi A.: hey, did Mr. Russo say what the final project deadline is?

Chiara B.: Next Thursday.

Kimi A.: right. thanksKimi A.: do you know if we’re supposed to use the same groups as before?

Chiara B.: No, new groups. He said so in class.

Kimi A.: oh. I wasn’t there lol

Chiara B.: I know.

The “Read” receipt sat on the screen like a silent accusation. Four minutes passed.

She didn’t move. Just sat at her desk in her bedroom, textbooks spread in front of her, phone in hand, the quiet pressing in too tightly.

She should’ve been used to this by now—the ghosting, the silence, the slow burn of realizing someone was thinking about you less than you were thinking about them. But this was Kimi.

And Kimi was different.

Wasn’t he?

Her phone buzzed again.

Kimi A.: are you mad at me?

Chiara stared at the message until the screen dimmed and locked. Then she pressed the side button and brought it back again, as if the words might have changed in the dark.

Am I mad at him?

She wasn’t even sure.

Not exactly.

It wasn’t like he had done anything. He hadn’t broken her heart. He hadn’t stood her up or lied or made a promise he didn’t keep.

But he also hadn’t stayed.

He hadn’t noticed how much she gave. How quietly she rearranged her life around his chaos. How she’d memorized his schedule, his absences, his patterns.

He hadn’t noticed when she stopped.

And maybe that hurt more than anything else.

Not the rejection—but the realization that she was so easy to replace that he didn’t even notice when she disappeared.

Chiara glanced around her desk, at the binders and notebooks and that one stupid green highlighter he’d returned to her months ago after she dropped it in the hallway. It still had a faint smudge of oil on the cap. She still used it.

And every time she did, her heart did that annoying stutter.

She thumbed a reply.

Chiara B.: No. Just busy.

It wasn’t exactly true. But it wasn’t a lie either.

Final exams loomed. Graduation was a red circle on the calendar. Everything was ending—school, schedules, this weird little tether between them. And she had other things to worry about. College. Her future. Finding somewhere she belonged that didn’t hinge on how well she organized someone else’s life.

She had to stop wasting time wondering if every “you always think of stuff I forget” actually meant something.

She set her phone face down and tried to get back to her reading. But the words swam, rearranged themselves, refused to sit still.

The next morning, just after first period, her phone buzzed again.

Kimi A.: can I be in your project group?

Chiara read it. And read it again.

She should’ve said no.

She knew she should’ve said no.

But some part of her still ached to believe in him. Still wanted the version of Kimi who lingered after handing her a worksheet. The one who smiled like she was the only thing in the room worth looking at.

So she typed slowly.

Chiara B.: If you actually show up this time.

His response came faster this time. Too fast, like he’d been waiting.

Kimi A.: I will. Promise.

She stared at the screen.

Then locked her phone before she could respond.

Because even now, even after everything, even with doubt wrapped tight around her ribs—

Part of her still wanted to believe him.

And that part?

That was the most dangerous of all.

***

Kimi Antonelli was supposed to be having lunch.

Instead, he was having a crisis.

“She’s not mad,” he muttered, arms crossed, pacing back and forth behind the table like he was walking a qualifying line he couldn’t quite stick. “She just… shut down. Like—quiet. Polite. It’s worse than yelling. She doesn’t even send me emojis anymore.”

Ollie Bearman, lounging like the human embodiment of ‘this is not my problem’, was leaned so far back in his chair he was practically horizontal, chewing absently on a pen cap. His Haas polo was wrinkled, and there were granola bar crumbs clinging to his collar, but he looked entirely unbothered by Kimi’s spiraling.

“You mean,” Ollie said, “she’s treating you like a classmate and not a potential boyfriend?”

“Exactly!” Kimi threw his hands up. “She used to send me PDFs with color-coded annotations. Now it’s just… black text. Periods. Not even an exclamation point! She used to remind me about class changes. Now she lets me walk into the wrong room and doesn’t say anything.”

“Yeah, no, that’s horrifying,” Ollie deadpanned. “Have you tried talking to her like a normal person?”

“I am talking to her,” Kimi snapped. “She’s just only replying about school stuff. Like, cold. Precise. Linguistically devastating. I asked if we could work on the physics project together and she just said, ‘if you actually show up this time’. That’s lethal.”

Ollie winced, cringing like he’d been personally struck. “Oof. That’s—yeah. That’s girl-code for ‘you’re on thin ice, bucko.’”

Kimi dropped into the chair next to him, slumped dramatically with his face buried in his hands. “This is hell. Actual hell.”

There was a pause, long enough for Ollie to sip from a sports bottle with exaggerated slowness.

“I still don’t get why you haven’t told her you like her,” he said, not for the first time.

Kimi looked up, hair flopping into his eyes. “Because she’s smarter than me. Because she has beautiful handwriting and perfect grades and probably thinks I’m just an idiot in fireproof overalls who forgets his own password and uses ‘vibes’ to explain physics.”

“You punched her ex-boyfriend for cheating on her,” Ollie pointed out.

Kimi groaned. “That was your idea!”

“My idea was defend her honor, not uppercut the guy into next week!”

“You said, ‘make it clear he can’t treat her like that.’”

“Yeah! With words, not fists!”

“I panicked!”

“You panicked,” Ollie echoed, nodding like a therapist scribbling on a clipboard. “Because you’re in love with her.”

“Exactly!”

“I said to say something,” Ollie continued, exasperated, “not commit assault outside chemistry class.”

“I didn’t assault him! It was one punch!”

“One punch that required ice and a parental meeting!”

“I panicked!”

“You keep saying that like it’s a defense and not a personality trait!”

Kimi let out a strangled sound. “I don’t know how to do this! I know how to defend in Turn 1. I know how to nail a flying lap. I don’t know how to tell a girl that I remember her favorite pen color and I highlight things in green just because she does and I save her texts even when they’re about grammar exercises.”

There was a beat.

Then a voice cut through the chaos, dry and mildly horrified.

“…I don’t get paid enough for this.”

Both boys froze.

They turned simultaneously.

Toto Wolff stood in the doorway of the Mercedes junior debriefing room, espresso in one hand, jacket draped over his other arm, and the expression of a man who had walked into a live-action soap opera during what was supposed to be a technical meeting.

Kimi immediately sat up straighter, trying to brush his hair out of his face. “Hi, Toto.”

“Hello, Kimi.” A nod. Then: “Bearman.”

“Sir,” Ollie said, suddenly very upright, as if his posture might erase the incriminating conversation still echoing in the air.

Toto took a long sip of his espresso and closed his eyes like it might give him patience.

“Alright,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose with the kind of weariness that only came from mentoring teenage boys with fast cars and faster hearts. “First: no more punching. You are supposed to be a functioning adult, not an F1-themed vigilante.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Second…” Toto looked between the two of them, gaze settling on Kimi. “Tell her how you feel.”

Kimi blinked. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“But what if she—”

“If she doesn’t feel the same,” Toto interrupted coolly, “you’ll survive. It will hurt. But you’ll get over it.”

Kimi swallowed. “And if she does?”

Toto raised an eyebrow. “Then you’ll stop spending engineering meetings texting her instead of listening to race strategy. Win-win.”

Kimi opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked mildly betrayed by logic.

Toto gave him a long look. “You’re not the first young man to like someone smart and good and feel like you didn’t know how to deserve her. Tell her. Before someone else does.”

He pointed at Ollie without even looking. “And don’t take advice from him.”

Ollie gasped like he’d been personally wounded. “I’ve been offended by a team principal. That’s going in my memoir.”

Toto turned to leave. Then paused in the doorway and added, without turning around:

“And if you must punch someone, do it off school property. Less paperwork.”

Kimi gaped. Ollie choked on laughter.

“I’m joking,” Toto said flatly.

(He was mostly joking.)

As he walked away, they heard him mutter to himself:

“I manage race strategy, investor relations, and now teenage hormones. God help me.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

Silence.

Then Kimi looked at Ollie. “…Did Toto Wolff just tell me to ask out Chiara?”

“I think you just got father-figure pep-talked.”

“That was terrifying.”

“Yeah,” Ollie nodded. “He’s weirdly good at it.”

Then, a beat later, Ollie grinned.

“So… are you gonna tell her?”

Kimi stared at the wall, like he might find the courage in the pattern of the plaster. “…I might actually die.”

“You might actually kiss her.”

“…I might throw up.”

“You’ve driven Eau Rouge in the wet.”

“That was less terrifying.”

Ollie grinned and clapped him on the back. “C’mon, lover boy. Time to make Toto proud.”

***

They met at her house.

Neutral ground.

Safe ground.

Her mother answered the door in an apron dusted with flour, squinted at Kimi for all of three seconds, then said, “Is this the racing boy?” with a bright, knowing smile.

Before Kimi could respond—still half in his jacket and caught between alarm and confusion—she turned and disappeared into the kitchen with the ease of someone who had already decided she liked him. “There’s biscotti on the tray. Help yourselves.”

The scent of lemon zest and almonds lingered in the hallway like some kind of warm welcome Kimi wasn’t entirely sure he deserved.

They settled in her room—Chiara cross-legged on the carpet, laptop propped on a cushion, and Kimi sprawled beside her, shoulders brushing the edge of her desk, legs half-folded like he couldn’t quite figure out how to sit in one place for more than five minutes.

They’d been working for over an hour.

On paper, it looked productive. Slides moved. Notes typed. Bullet points organized.

But it wasn’t real.

A few awkward comments about font sizes and slide transitions. Some neutral territory filler like “do we need another diagram?” or “can you move that image left a bit?”

Nothing real. Nothing honest.

And it was unbearable.

Chiara had always been good at pretending—smiling through awkward dinners, nodding during group projects, making herself useful. But this was different. This was him. And the quiet between them wasn’t peaceful. It buzzed. Sharp and heavy, like static before a storm.

So, eventually, she broke.

“You know,” she said, still typing, not daring to look at him, “you don’t have to keep pretending.”

Kimi paused, glancing up from his phone. “Pretending?”

“That this matters to you.” Her voice was steady, but it was too practiced. Too careful. “The project. School. Me. You don’t have to keep texting. Or asking me for things. I’m not going to print your homework anymore.”

She said it like it didn’t cost her something. Like her throat wasn’t tightening and her chest didn’t feel like it was caving in around her words.

He blinked. His whole body went still.

“You don’t owe me anything,” she finished, and even though she tried to sound nonchalant, her fingers curled tighter around her laptop, like she needed something to hold her together.

Kimi’s brow furrowed, confusion washing across his face. “Chiara—”

“I’m serious.” She finally looked at him, and the effort it took not to let her voice shake made her jaw clench. “It’s fine. I get it. I was convenient. You needed someone to keep you afloat while you were flying around the world winning races. I was just… useful.”

The words hung there.

The silence that followed wasn’t quiet. It rang. It roared in her ears.

Kimi sat up slowly, eyes wide, his whole body shifting like she’d hit him in the chest with something he hadn’t seen coming.

“You really think that?” he asked, and his voice was quiet, but not soft. It was stunned. Raw.

Chiara held his gaze even though it hurt. “What else am I supposed to think?”

Kimi leaned forward, disbelief written all over him. “I never used you.”

“You say that now—”

“I never used you,” he repeated, louder this time. The desperation in his voice cracked something inside her. “You are the only part of school I like! The only reason I didn’t drop out three months ago.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “Because I printed things for you—”

“Because I like you,” he said. It burst out of him like a snapped chord. Breathless. Raw. Unpolished and real.

“Because I look for you in every hallway. Because I come to class after red-eye flights and brutal back-to-backs just hoping maybe you’d say hi. Because I have no idea how to talk to you without sounding like a complete idiot! So I asked about worksheets. I pretended I don’t understand physics! Because that was the only way I could keep talking to you without blowing it.”

He kept going, voice lower now. “Because I saved every worksheet you gave me, even the ones I didn’t need. Because I still have the dumb green highlighter you let me borrow that one time. Because I thought maybe if I asked you enough questions, you’d start to like me too.”

Chiara froze.

Then she stared at him. Not blinking. Not breathing.

Kimi ran a hand through his hair and let out a shaky laugh, like he couldn’t believe he’d actually said it. “I thought if I said anything real, you’d look at me and realize I’m just… some guy who memorizes apex speeds better than grammar rules. That you’d stop talking to me completely.”

She stared at him.

Then blinked.

Then said—very softly, very brokenly—

“…Then why didn’t you ever say something?” she asked. Her voice wasn’t angry anymore. Just small. Frayed at the edges. “Why did you let me believe I didn’t matter?”

Kimi opened his mouth. Closed it again. Looked so impossibly helpless it nearly broke her.

And then—he didn’t answer.

And Kimi—stunned, frustrated, helpless in the way only a teenage boy in love can be—did the one thing he could think of.

He kissed her.

No warning. No hesitation. Just leaned in and kissed her like she was the finish line and he’d been chasing her all season.

It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t practiced. It was a little clumsy, a little off-center, his hand curling into the fabric of her sleeve like he was afraid she’d pull away.

Chiara didn’t.

Her heart stuttered, brain blank. And then—melted.

She froze, breath caught—then melted into him.

Her fingers curled into the hem of his hoodie before she even realized what she was doing. Her other hand slid to his cheek.

He kissed her like he was terrified she’d disappear the second he pulled back. Like she was something he’d been waiting to find and never thought he’d get to hold.

When they finally broke apart, her forehead rested against his. They were both breathing too fast.

Chiara blinked, dazed. Her voice came out smaller than she meant.

“…That was new.”

Kimi gave a short, nervous laugh, cheeks flushed pink. “Yeah. Sorry. I panicked.”

She stared at him for a beat longer.

Then smiled—soft, surprised, and entirely real. “Do it again.”

He didn’t need to be asked twice.

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